Julie

"Inattentive! What the fuck does he mean – inattentive?" Her mind was screaming out with a new sprung migraine from the tension of the day. Julie just could not get her brain to stop working despite the immense ache in her head. Nor could she stop ranting at the wall in her empty apartment it seemed. "Hanging on every word, smile, and heartbeat of his for eight years is not inattentive! It's fucking obsessive!" If it were not in the middle of the day, she would have quieted down by now. But one look at the cheerful sunlight streaming through the window set her off, seething once more.

Julie's voice was becoming hoarse after the three hours spent in her apartment; blathering everything she probably should have thought of earlier in the café when unexpected news was thrust upon her was not such a good plan. "How in holy Hell does he think he can call me that? I did everything he ever asked, insinuated –"

Her voice trailed off and the tears took over again. She had not even cried when he told her; she could barely breathe then. Julie's blood had gone cold in her veins as she stumbled to the bathroom at the little bistro the two of them loved so much. After fifteen minutes of dry-retching at the toilet, she walked outside to find him gone. No note, no word – just gone. "Am I that easy to just throw away?!" she choked out between sobs. A little voice in her head answered as soon as she asked: Yes, and you always have been.

The shrill ringing of the phone caused her heart to leap into her throat. Rather than retrieve the wireless phone from her room she sank on to the floor, unable to come to terms with outside contact.

Five rings later the answering machine dutifully picked up. A voice Julie could not recognize as her own spoke in a perky tone. "You've called Julia's phone. Leave a message. What the beep."

"Julie, it's your mother. I just was wondering if you were ever coming back. Your father's birthday is coming soon and we were hoping you and Michael would decide to show up. And remember, no presents. Love you."

The linoleum flooring felt terribly cool under Juile's body, but her mind seemed to have finally slowed down. Even though the couch was near by and her bed only a small distance beyond that, sleep overtook her and became her respite.

Opening her eyes, Julie noticed the sun had gone down and her apartment was dark. She could not understand why she was on the floor or how she could have fallen asleep. A slight shrug brought her to a new realization.

Everything hurt. Her parched throat matched the agony in her heart and mind as did the knots in her back. Slowly standing erect, she stared at the only thing she could see in the room; the clock on the microwave. When she did not crash back down to the floor her eyes widened. The numbers meant more. She began remembering...

As quickly as she could, Julie grabbed her jacket and rushed out of the apartment. She had to know if it was really true – that Mike was not just pushing her away because of some slight annoyance. Didn't he say he just wanted a break, she reasoned. In the time it took to find her car keys, she almost thought she believed it was no more than that.

***

Two months later, Julie was back in her family home. After being away for so long, tending to the needs of her relationship with Michael had seemed so important. Returning to this comforting environment reminded her of how much she was wrong.

She appeared out of a late night mist a few nights after her mother, Gladys, had called. It was amazing how quickly Julie disposed of her apartment two states over. The furniture had all been provided by the owner of the building and all of her own possessions fit into her car nicely. And considering how cozy her apartment seemed on the outside, the landlord would have no trouble finding a new tenant. Leaving so expeditiously would have left her feeling some guilt had she not been assured by the nice landlord with a quick joke and hug goodbye.

Gladys had not asked any questions. The tears in her only daughter's eyes every time she even questioned Julie about a small thing in the past quieted every attempt. It was beginning to get on her nerves. If her daughter wanted to be comforted, then it would be best to get it out. But then again Julie had stopped being free with her years ago.

"You've been sulking in that chair all day." Gladys could not take the silence any more. Her husband had left for work hours ago it felt. In reality it could not have been more than a half hour. Breakfast was still on the table, getting cold while the pot of coffee on the counter continued to simmer. "Why don't we go for a walk or something?"

"No thanks, Mom. I don't feel much like walking." Julie's voice sounded hollow to her mother. "Maybe tomorrow."

Gladys wanted to give up there, but something told her to test her luck. "Would you rather talk about it?"

"Not really, Mom."

"Well, I'll give you a choice in the matter. Either you talk to me about why you've done nothing but waste away in my house since you got back or I'll have to use tough love on you."

Julie's gaze shifted from the window to her mother's eyes. "Tough love? What tough love?"

"I'll kick you out on your ass." Gladys's voice was curt and simple.

Shyly, Julie turned her head away from her parent's gaze. "Mike dumped me."

A pregnant pause fell into place as Gladys hoped her child would reveal more. No more came though.

"And?"

"That's all."

Pouring herself another cup of coffee more for the comfort of its heat than her need for it, Gladys found it difficult to handle the situation. "All right, you can try that line of hooey with your father, but not with me. If he just dumped you, you'd be berating him like any red-blooded woman. And I'd be agreeing what a stupid idiot he is to let you go." She clutched her mug and pouted, sweetly and motherly.

Getting up from her seat at the window, Julie gathered her glass of water and dirty dishes from the dining table. "Then I guess I'll start looking for another apartment."

Gladys slumped into her chair, feeling slightly defeated. "I wasn't being serious."

"I know, Mom." Before Julie left the dining room to continue her never ceasing moping in the privacy of her own room, she patted her mother's shoulder comfortingly. "I'm just not ready yet."

Without a second of hesitation, Gladys replied, "And I'll be waiting with bated breath until you are. You wouldn't want your dear old mother to die of asphyxiation, now would you?"

Julie just smirked back at her mother. "No, Mom." She returned her dishes to the kitchen and climbed the old creaky stairs to her room.

"And before you go up there to fester, remember your brother is coming home for his birthday. At least put on a happy face for him – for a little while, anyway."

Her mother's voice echoed as Julie climbed the stairs. The Barton family was never terribly social when it came to parties or get-togethers. But they always do require family members to be present and pleasant, she thought begrudgingly. If I stay in my room they will call me anti-social and will tip-toe around me. And there I would be, the Hermit.

After closing the door quietly behind her, Julie sighed. She really had been wondering how long it would take her mother to actually start asking questions. They were a very private family group, each person taking their own time with their issues. But they always muddled their way in before. Probably always will. She just did not expect it to take so long.

If Matthew were coming back for a party, he might stick around for a few days. The idea was comforting because Matthew was wont to cheer her up in the past. He was outgoing in all the ways Julie could not be; funny, charming, handsome, and remarkably smart. He would probably wait a day or so before confronting her. Then again, she was not certain if that was really a problem. It almost felt like she had been waiting for it. Especially since he disappeared after the last family party in August. They were close and always took care of each other.

"At least I can stand his friends," she cooed to herself as she pulled out a box hidden behind her dresser. The jewelry glittered as the sunlight escaped in through her window. The small-ish flask hidden in a leather pouch was quickly extracted from the bottom of the box.

"And this will help me stand myself." Julie's reflection looked ghostly as she quickly pushed it back into the leather bag, and into her back pocket. Then again, so would the five different bottles I've hidden around the room. A last remnant of the old days where Michael would manage to get alcohol and Julie hid them. Hoarding was his idea before they'd been of age and moved away.

A wave of guilt passed over her suddenly. It was not as if she did not know what she was doing. Or that it was wrong. Drinking broke no laws. She was twenty-six (still being carded, too) and her years at college were appropriately spent, alternating between intense studying and roaming over the campus, partying with Michael. Well, before he convinced her she no longer needed schooling. Then the intense studying became a waitressing job with hectic hours and helping Michael to study for his classes. After that the partying became no more than a memory and Julie was lucky if he would take her out to the damned bistro more than twice a week.

It was not that she needed the drink. Or that she was drinking because of him. She had not actually touched the bottle since leaving New York. But having it later will make socializing easier.

Julie patted her full back pocket. "Until later then," she whispered to no one in particular.

***

Upon his homecoming, Matthew could not help but grin. All of his favorite dishes were out, the house looked spotless, and his mother and father could not have exuded more pride upon seeing him. Even Julie had managed a happy face. All were greeted warmly at the door, including Matthew's two friends. Kara and Tim were, in his high school years, practically family. The trio had spent years forming a great friendship and bond. While they had kept in touch, they rarely had a chance to see each other and had planned a special outing after dinner.

"My son, a famous writer." George cried as Matthew got settled at the dinner table.

"Not exactly. Writing under a pseudonym has its benefits." His only son cheerily replied. "I'm famous without the whole personal fame. Plus people only buy the books to look at the pictures." Matthew wrote exclusively for an independent comic book company and over his three years of hard work their reader base covered the whole country. "I don't even do that part," he mentioned winkingly at his sister

Gladys had pondered Matthew's choice for the past few years, but still never managed to come to a solution about her next question. "But why not publish under your own name?"

"I don't think I'd like it. And I'll not try explaining it again, Mom."

Julie raised her glass of wine. "Well, I say cheers to the fine man with the pen of eloquence and a head filled with the most graphic imagery imaginable. Barton or not."

They all drank to that and there were soon cheers to his health and happiness in his next year of life.

After dinner, Matthew made his goodbyes and Julie was downtrodden. Just before they were to walk out the door, Kara noticed and pointed Julie out to Matthew.

"She looks a little sad. Or upset." Kara was a sweet-tempered girl and probably the closest friend Matthew had ever had. "Maybe you should talk to her before we go."

"Okay." Matthew called Julie out of her introspection with a simple hand gesture. She walked to the door to see what was keeping her brother.

"What's up, Matt?" She smiled at him a tad too broadly.

"It seems like you a little bit – strained, Julie. Are you all right?"

After a care-free sigh, Julie responded with the typical: "I'm fine."

"Fine?" He had never liked that expression when it came to his sister. It was usually the word she used to her parents so they would leave her alone. "You don't seem fine to me."

"No, really I'm fine. Maybe a little lonely, but I'm fine."

"Saying it three times doesn't make you hunky dory. And it doesn't convince me that you are either." Running his hand through his dark hair, he realized something. "Would you want to go out tonight? Tim, Kara and I were just going to a bar to meet up with some people. You want to tag along?"

Just then, Julie's heart beat a little faster. She wasn't good at tagging along – not without Michael. The pain of remembrance caused her countenance to break for a second before she recovered. "Wouldn't I just be bringing you down? It's your birthday and you should go out and have fun. With someone who couldn't blackmail you for it later." She smiled genuinely at her big brother and gave him a little nudge.

"Julie..."

"No really. Go out and have a good time. And I promise you can take me out another night."

Matthew half-heartily smiled. "Maybe next weekend. Or sometime soon."

A quick hug later, Matthew was gone into the night and Julie had finagled herself upstairs with a mixer. Her night had only just begun but would keep its solitary bent with only one change; the level of intoxication. Matthew would not be coming back the next day nor would she find solace anywhere except what kept her bubbly throughout dinner.

"Just one more and I'm done" was her mantra for the night.