“Go on, then!” She shouted.
I stumbled over to the bathroom with a change of clothes, flicking on the shower. As I waited for the water to warm up a little more than arctic blast, I stared myself in the mirror.
This is what life is going to be like, I told myself. At least for a little while. I can always find another way once I’ve got my footing. Maybe I can hitchhike out to the city and find myself a job waiting tables.
I shook my head.
The last time I pulled that stunt, I got lucky. Things could have ended up so bad… Like with those bikers back at the bar…
Can I be lucky a second time? A third?
I doubted it. I’d used up most of my luck living this long.
Once the water was finally just warm enough to climb in, I settled into the shower. She only had a single bar of soap, so I tried to lather off the top layer before rudimentarily scrubbing down my body.
I needed it. The thin layer of oil and grime came off.
I’d only been in the shower less than ten minutes before the water starting turning bone-chillingly cold again. Shrieking and fighting the faucet, I hopped back out and dried off, then dressed myself in my underwear, a graphic tee, and my miniskirt. All I had were some of my old bartending clothes. At least I felt human again…
I wandered into the kitchen, where my mom was watching her soap operas on a small countertop set.
Mom glanced over at me and scowled.
“You look like a hooker.”
“It’s just hot in here,” I told her sadly.
“Yeah, well, the A/C still ain’t fixed. Get used to being hot. Speakin’ of, you used up all my hot water, didn’t’cha?”
“I wasn’t in the shower long, Mom,” I reassured her, moving towards the refrigerator.
“Now how am I gonna shower?”
“I thought you said you didn’t need it?”
“Are you back-talking me?”
Fearfully, I glanced over at her. Mom’s eyes were wide and calculating, and I was afraid that she was going to lash out at me.
“No, Mom. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear!”
She glared at me furiously.
Finally, she huffed with a cruel smile.
“See that it doesn’t, baby-child.”
I nodded, and she turned her attention back towards her soap operas. Meanwhile, I scrambled as quietly but quickly as possible. She hadn’t gone to the grocery store or anything, so it was looking like breakfast was going to be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Scratch that… Peanut butter sandwich it is.
I toasted a pair of bread slices and waited the two minutes in painful, awkward silence. When they popped out, she jumped slightly, casting me a scowl, and I apologized and slathered one side with peanut butter.
“You gonna just sleep all day?” Mom asked as I was disappearing through the door behind her.
“No, Mom.”
“Good. See that you don’t. I have a friend coming over later. I need your help.”
“Help?”
I turned towards her, and she tilted her head as if to continue talking to me. Her eyes were still glued to the countertop television.
“Yeah. This place is a mess. Maybe you could show your appreciation for the roof over your head by cleaning up a bit. Been hard to keep the house up with my disability...”
“Who’s coming over?”
Mom turned to me.
“Someone like none of your concern.”
I could feel myself trembling. I didn’t know who was coming, but something told me that I wasn’t going to like it.
Mom’s face sweetened with pity.
“Oh Angel…I’m sorry. It’s just…you’ve been gone so long. All those sleepless nights, afraid that you were dead…maybe I’ve forgotten how to be good to you. Come here.”
I set my sandwich down and padded over to her. She threw her arms open, and I bent down to hug her.
Her embrace was strong. Warm. Relaxing.
“There, there…I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit grumpy today. I can’t find my medication. I know it does things to me when I don’t take it…”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I told her.
“That’s right. It’s okay. It’s all okay.”
I nodded, and we separated.
“Now, I’ve got something for you to do. Something to help you pass the time, at least. I won’t be having any more back talk.”
Mom pointed towards the kitchen at the huge stack of filthy dishes overflowing in the sink.
“Clean that up like a good girl, then you can start on the rest of the house. Now, let me catch up on my soaps, and I’ll take you into town later to get you some groceries. That sound good to you?”
I nodded reluctantly.
It was hard to keep from feeling a little uneasy. Something about this place seemed wrong. Wisps of memories flashed in and out of existence, but my time in this house was a dark blur. Fear. Sadness. Hopelessness…
Amidst them all, the one dark memory of this place I could still hang onto… The one I wished I could forget…
The night I ran away.
Trent
“You’re Angel’s grandfather?” I asked, thoroughly surprised. “She never said anything like that to me.”
Old Greg muttered under his breath as he popped off the cap and handed me a beer. With a deft maneuver, he effortlessly burst off the top to his own against the bar table.
“Ever since the accident, that’s one of those scraps of information she can’t seem to hold onto,” he grumbled. “Probably for the better.”
“She told me that she trusted you,” I commented.
For a moment, it looked like he might smile.
We sat in silence as Old Greg took a long drink. Over his shoulder, I saw something pinned up on the wall – a sheet of paper, heavily crumpled, and filled with the scratchings of a marker. It looked like a hasty note that had been squashed into a ball, then unfolded on second thoughts.
He followed my gaze.
“She left me a piss-poor excuse of a letter. I didn’t believe it at first, but when she wasn’t back the next morning, I knew it was true.”
“Why the next morning?”
His old chest sighed. “She’s walked out of here half a dozen times, but she always comes back.”
Old Greg glared at me for a moment.
“It’s hard to have your granddaughter almost taken from you. To watch her lay there, lifelessly in some hospital bed, barely clinging to life. You think there’s nothing worse in the world. Nothing besides death, at any rate… But then I got her back. She’s healthy as ever, getting better every day. Problem is, somehow, I’ve still lost her. She’ll never remember the times we’ve had together.”
He swigged from his beer, still glowering at me.
“And I’m a coward. I couldn’t tell her.”
“You didn’t tell Angel you’re her grandfather? What the hell is wrong with you?” I said.
“Some things are better left forgotten. That girl, she’s been through hell. Don’t want to go dredging up bad memories. That accident was a blessing in disguise. She was safe here, and now you’ve gone and lost her.”
“I’ll find her.”
“If I had keeled over these last few days you’d be fucked, and you know it,” he growled, pointing towards me with his beer hand. “Only reason you’re here is because you have no idea where else to turn.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, “and I know I’ve fucked up. I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out, and I’ll keep it from happening again. But I’ll fight through hell and never stop searching until I find her.”
“And why the fuck is that?”
“Because I love her.”
Old Greg laughed heartily. It was a sarcastic, holier-than-thou laugh, and it gradually contorted into a horrendous coughing fit.
I jumped up to help, but he waved me away and drowned it out with the beer.
“You
think you love her. What a fucking joke. You’re even more hopeless than I thought, dick-bag.”
“You don’t know me,” I reminded him tersely.
“Oh, I know you,” Old Greg chuckled, his breath rattling in his chest. “I know your type. You think you’re the hero in some bullshit romance, right? Just gonna swoop in and save the distressed damsel? Please.”
The old geezer was starting to seriously test my patience.
“If you’re not going to help, then just say so,” I demanded, crossing my arms. “But if you are, then we need to cut the shit now.”