Transcending Queen Read online

  TRANSCENDING QUEEN

  Published by SK Thomas

  Copyright 2014 SK Thomas

  https://twitter.com/skthomasauthor

  http://www.skthomasauthor.com/home

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  The second novel in the Pawned Queen series by SK Thomas

  Other E-books by SK Thomas: Pawned Queen

  Chapter_1_Reality_Crashes_In

  Chapter_2_On_a_Doorstep

  Chapter_3_Where_Are_We_Again

  Chapter_4_Out_of_the_Blue

  Chapter_5_We_Might_Be_Leaving_Sooner

  Chapter_6_The_Dream_is_But_a_Dream

  Chapter_7_The_Truth

  Chapter_8_Moving_On_Alone

  Chapter_9_Looking_For_a_Home

  Chapter_10_Lost

  Chapter_11_Keeping_Myself_Sane

  Chapter_12_Getting_There

  Chapter_13_Abandoned

  Chapter_14_Give_It_Up

  Chapter_15_Say_Nothing

  Chapter_16_We_Are_One

  Chapter_17_Roses_Have_Thorns

  Chapter_18_Say_You_Love_Me

  Chapter_19_A_New_Queen_Rising

  Chapter_20_Finding_Essence

  Chapter 1 – Reality Crashes In

  I awoke to a drab, cloudy day as silence filled the air. Lying there unwilling to move, I let stillness take over as I stare out one of my bedroom windows waiting for the rain. My ears rang as I thought I have absolutely nothing to do today, but really didn’t care.

  A knock on my front door pulled me out of my self-pity and back into the real world, this world I have learned to despise so much. I waited to see if whoever was out there would just go away as I closed my eyes listening to my breath coming in and flowing out. My living conditions were simple, not wanting to live without John. It consisted of marking time wanting so desperately for it to be turned back and regurgitated. The knocking persisted as it eventually turned into loud banging my neighbors were used to by this point. “Son of a bitch, he’s back again.” I mumbled as I got up pissed knowing he’s actually making me move. I flew out of bed and headed for the door.

  “Hey Jack, long time.” I voiced unenthusiastically holding the door open.

  “Why are you making me do this? Every week I make this call. When are you going to snap out of it?”

  “I’m not making you do anything! You came here under your own free will. No one is holding a gun to your head.”

  “How long are you going to hold yourself housebound while sitting here wasting your life? It’s been months since his death, Melissa.”

  “You don’t understand, Jack.”

  “You don’t see me tapping out and giving up, do you? People move on and this is part of the process. Truth be told, he was a son of a bitch.”

  “Reality doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”

  “Look at you, he left you with a mountain of debt, insisted you sign leases that you couldn’t get out of and now you’re just giving up all because of him.”

  “Shut up Jack! Your psychology 101 isn’t going to fly today. He wanted the best for me and thought by obligating his responsibilities onto me I’d be forced to run a business. He didn’t realize I’d sink and hit rock bottom.”

  “Still making excuses for him. You’re clinging onto an image of a person who never truly existed. You’ve made him into a saint. He was my best friend too, but I accepted him for who he truly was and not this knight in shining armor bullshit.”

  “Stop it, Jack. Please just stop.” I begged of him.

  We both took pause tiring quickly in regards to this argument. “The main reason I came by is to tell you we have another job. You and I agreed to run this business together, yet I’m the only one doing these assignments. It’s away from Barrington, which could help clear your head. Think about it, you need this.”

  “Leave Jack, if I’m interested you’ll be the first to know.”

  After he left, I snuck over and peered out the window watching as he walked back to his car and pulled out of the drive. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. John was the love of my life. I still wore my wedding ring and routinely smelled his clothes. Our photos were still on the wall and I couldn’t even bare to throw away his cigarette butts from the ash tray. The horrifically sad part of it is all too real, Jack was right. I had paid his mountain of debt, bought my way out of leases I had so stupidly signed and made good with others threatening to sue because of unethical business practices. Nobody cared that I was in mourning, depressed and needed the money myself. They smelled blood, swooping down like vultures as they savagely tore me apart limb from limb knowing an easy target when they saw one. They understood the circumstances and left me with nothing. For most of those months, I couldn’t think straight as my head swam in grief and humiliation. They didn’t care and just laughed as I got financially raped believing it’s just what I deserved. No one tried to toss me a buoy or reach out their hand to stop the insanity, but instead took turns grabbing their share and running away. Then, I was left alone.

  As I glanced into a mirror wondering who stared back, I settled in feeling beat down and realized I looked as old as I felt. Everything happened in such a little amount of time, life experiences that would live within me forever. I took a moment to remember the friends I used to have, now understanding I have lost touch and believing we have nothing in common any longer as I shuffled through the house surrounded by nothing but memories. I made my way back to bed comforted by the soft sheets still holding his scent while burrowing my way under the blankets drifting off to sleep praying that I wouldn’t wake up.

  A loud bang hit jolting me. I waited anxiously, hoping I dreamt it. Another loud bang hit as I looked out the window of my pitch black room to see the world still lay in darkness as well. My heart pounded out of my chest, no one ever came at this time of night. I checked the clock and confirmed it was just a tad after midnight. Once yelling ensued just outside on my porch, I snuck out to the foyer trying to place the voice.

  Bang … “Melissa, I know you’re in there. C’mon, it’s Carl. I can help you through this. Let me in so we can talk.”

  I didn’t answer. Carl had been one of John’s buddies, an older man who became jealous when John began dating me. He wanted a young girl for himself, a friend of mine perhaps and when I refused he became furious. He could be a nice guy as long as he’s sober, but once the drinking starts he turns into an overbearing and abusive jerk. Through all this he’s had a loyal girlfriend his own age, so why he’s standing on my doorstep at this hour is beyond all comprehension. I needed him to stay out there in the dark with all the other creepy crawlies.

  Bang … “Melissa, God damn it, answer the door. I want to comfort you in your desperate hour of need.”

  I deduced the fact he is definitely intoxicated. It was more like his hour of need, though I doubt it would take him anywhere near that long. Oddly enough, the idea of what he was talking about hadn’t even crossed my mind and not to mention with a guy I scarcely knew while he stood outside barely able to stand up straight. Some experts would attest that having companionship at this stage of the grieving process could help a person along, but they didn’t know Carl. I had been battered and thrown around enough.

  Bang … “Melissa, open up or I’ll call the cops. You’re not the only one who lost a friend and I’m grieving, same as you.” His voice roared louder. At this point, I was praying he’d call for assistance. I sat on the floor with my knees to my chest in the dark refusing to move an inch as the banging persist
ed. I curled up hoping he wouldn’t be able to bust through that door when I thought of Max. It took me back to that night he kicked unrelentingly, much like Carl, refusing to give me a moment of peace before sending me to the hospital for a second time. I must have been a real asshole in a former life to have karma kicking my ass around like an unwanted ragdoll, yet again. Amongst all my thoughts and when I wasn’t paying attention, silence eventually prevailed. I opened my eyes waiting before moving an inch; sure that Carl still lurked about at a window watching as he would try to prove his point. I felt helpless and unprotected refusing to allow a gun in the house. The last time I held a gun was over Max, I knew if John hadn’t stepped in when he did I would’ve pulled that trigger. I refused to put myself in that situation again. Eventually, I heard Carl get back into his truck and tear out of the neighborhood, again I sat alone.

  Early the next morning, my house phone rang until the answering machine picked up. It was Carl as he left message after message all morning until I finally yanked the cord out of the wall.

  “Did he not understand what he was doing to me?” I questioned when deciding to answer myself, “This in itself makes me a basket case.”

  Barely finishing that thought my cellphone rang, I looked at it in disgust while cocking my arm back to throw it across the room when I noticed it wasn’t Carl who was calling, it was my mom. “Yes mom, what’s up?” I asked.

  “I’m just checking on you since we hadn’t heard anything in a while. Are you coping ok?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for checking, but I got to go.”

  “Oh wait, I want to talk to…” I hung up before she could finish her statement. I’m in no mood for small talk and she had no idea how annoying that was.

  I glanced out onto the back deck and then beyond the trees to a creek. The ripples of a stream glistening in the sun caught my attention as I stepped out listening to it flow gently. The sound completely relaxed my nerves working its way around me like a soft, fluffy blanket giving a moment of peace and clarity.

  I grabbed my cellphone and called Jack, “Hey, it’s me. I need to get out of here, let me know when you’re leaving so I can shower and get packed.” I hung up as I took a deep breath in and exhaled while the weight of the world simultaneously placed itself back on my weary shoulders.

  “You’re doing the right thing.” John assured as he leaned back on the railing of the deck.

  Chapter 2 – On a Doorstep

  I held still at the door waiting, not one soul came to answer. I pushed the buzzer again and stood silent, nothing. I knocked and began to wonder if Jack had given me the wrong information.

  “Who are you looking for?” a voice behind me asked.

  A little startled, I turned to see a man walking his dog.

  “Father Clayton.”

  “Oh, he’s usually over at the church by this time handling confessions. You can probably find him over there.”

  “Good, thanks.”

  The church stood situated on the same block neighboring Father Clayton’s house within walking distance. Jack and I had landed in another small community, much like the one I grew up in. It seemed as if everyone knew each other and that’s exactly what I so vehemently tried to get away from when moving to Barrington. However, the universe being as it is and conspiring like it does threw me back into the very thing I ran from.

  Jack had given me very little information except for the fact that the investigation revolved around this church and their beloved priest. He didn’t let go of any more details and insisted I would understand as time went on. So here I am waiting to have a meeting with this man of God, unsettling as it is. I grimaced at the thought of entering another religious establishment at this point in my life. Being raised as Catholic, I had lost interest a long time ago to reach such required expectations and didn’t appreciate the tradition of it all. Forced to feel a strong sense of duty to live a certain way and attend church that is in no way relaxing with all the pomp and circumstance. Within the institution, they lacked anywhere to hide from such close-mindedness with many rules and no exceptions.

  Hesitantly, I began my long trek in his direction hoping I would run into him between buildings while each step brought me closer to my fears. They began to bubble up from my gut, through my chest and eventually reaching my throat forming into a gigantic knot that felt as if it was pulsating with a life of its own. I studied the outside of the church gazing up towards the sky, taking in how many stories tall the cross spanned majestically looking as if it reached far into the clouds when nauseating disgust threatened to stricken me. I became very aware of the enormous undertaking I had in front of me.

  Upon reaching the stairs hope set in, hoping someone would come out to let me know that Father Clayton had an emergency somewhere else, anywhere else. I stalled as long as I could, but with no one in sight I took a deep breath and entered the church unsure what to expect. I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other maneuvering around still holding my breath as if toxic gas threatened to infiltrate my lungs. There was no time to let ridiculous actions get in my way as I combed the area in search of religious human beings and found two of them up front reciting a chain of prayers under their breath. When I reached a basin of water, I couldn’t stand it any longer exhaling due to the burning sensation within my lungs as they begged for air. Catching my hand resting near the holiest of holy water, I swiftly removed it worried my skin might burn confirming more of my fears. Bypassing all other options I went straight for a source to ask, “Where can I find Father Clayton?” She pointed not daring to break the prayer chant when I then saw it. Like a full moon over a dark alleyway guiding a poor soul on a rainy, gloomy night, a light glowed brightly within the church above the confessional. He had indeed been detained longer than expected.

  Waiting, I took in the magnificent architecture wondering about people and if God really had this in mind. How did it all become about donations, strict rules, pomp and circumstance with a fistful of damnation thrown in for good measure? I could just imagine being stuck with some poor sap going on and on about sin they just couldn’t get over or better yet the person who sins all the time thinking as long as they confess their scandalous lifestyle, it can continue.

  The longer I waited the more uncomfortable I became. I tried to think about anything besides the church in which I sat, desperate to get to a more comfortable place when it happened. My throat swelled as that same pulsating knot came back and grew from within making it harder to breathe as it squeezed out air from every nook and cranny. I labored to draw in gasps as I made my way out those final doors propelling myself back into the sensation of warmth pouring down upon me. A cool gust of fresh air blew through miraculously somehow calming my fears enabling the knot to dissipate as I reclaimed my sanity and broke any constrictions shackling me. Stooped over and shaking, I tried to regroup and calm my nerves when I heard a deep voice pierce the air forcing my attention.

  “Good afternoon, how can I be of assistance?”

  “Ah no, I’m a little queasy, must have been something I ate.” I answered between gasps overplaying the nonchalant attitude.

  “Yes well, I’m the local priest around here, if I can be of any help you’ll let me know won’t you?”

  Of course he’s available now when I’m not in any shape for this, “Actually, I’m Melissa Greene. Jack set up an appointment for me.”

  “Ah, nice to meet you, I do have to apologize then. Parishioners always take longer than allotted for. Come now, the door is unlocked.” Father Clayton insisted.

  Once inside his house I glanced around to see a modest, simple home much like I expected.

  He took a moment to fill a glass with tap water while removing his clerical collar to get more comfortable.

  “Have a seat. So, Jack tells me you’re in need of my help.”

  I situated myself on the couch still not knowing what I am expected to say. He looked at me patiently, waiting.

  “Um, yeah, that is correc
t.”

  “Ok, so he already filled me in on your situation of recently losing your husband. He says the grieving process has been especially difficult for you. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “What would you like to talk about? What do you need my help with?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, Jack made this appointment but I don’t know if I’m really ready to open up to a stranger yet.”

  A period of time crept by as we both peered at one another until I slowly switched my gaze towards a picture on the wall that caught my eye. I took my sweet time studying the photo hoping he would get distracted. I awkwardly shifted my gaze back his way only to find him still staring at me.

  “So, you really don’t remember me do you?” he asked.

  His accent sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite place it. “I think I’d remember someone like you with your big frame and commanding voice.”

  “Then you should be able to recollect who I am.” He grinned.

  Perplexed, I nodded my head sure I couldn’t remember.

  “Tupelo, the Catholic church your family belonged to. I wasn’t there very long before they shipped me here.”

  “Oh, how could I have forgotten?”

  “Grief does funny things to our memory. I remember you though, ditching church to hang with your friends around town. I always refused to come running after you. It seemed harmless enough, not a whole lot of trouble to get into around there.”

  “A bored kid, I guess.” I said as my face became warm and flush.

  “You know, we need to get out of here for a while. Let’s take a ride, I think your car will work just fine.”

  A little taken back, I decided to accept his invitation and became secretly pleased he wasn’t the staunchly, old priest I had expected.

  “We can give these townspeople something to talk about, for old time sake.”

  I held back any comment I had concerning his antics restraining myself. I needed time to get to know him better. We enjoyed the drive as he gave the grand tour, which didn’t take long. After, I just kept driving partly to get reacquainted with him and reminisce about Tupelo until we ran out of interesting conversation.