Covet (Splendor Book 1)

by Janet Nissenson

  He gave her a sympathetic look. “You can’t keep doing that forever, Tessa. One of these times a cop will spot you, or someone might even try breaking into your car while you’re still inside. And I get the part about not wanting to stay in a shitty group home. I’d rather live in my car or even on the streets before I’d willingly trust the system to look out for me. Don’t you have any relatives somewhere you could live with? What about your father?”

  Tessa looked down at her lap where she was nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. “I don’t know anything about him,” she admitted. “My mom – I told you about her bipolar disorder, right?” At Peter’s nod, she continued hesitantly. “Well, one of the many symptoms when a manic-depressive is in a manic phase is, well – they, uh, have a lot of – um, sex. One of the articles I read called it hyper-sexuality. She apparently experienced one of these episodes around the time I was conceived, and never had any idea who my father was. From the little information I was able to pry out of her, it could have literally been one of a couple of dozen different men, none of whom she bothered to learn anything about.”

  “Holy shit.” Peter stared at her in disbelief. “That’s – wow. I was about to say crazy, but then I realized that your mom really was – uh -”

  “Crazy,” finished Tessa, nodding. “Not crazy, exactly, but mentally imbalanced. Except for the very short periods of times when she would actually take the medications they prescribed for her. But those times never lasted for very long. My mother hated being medicated, always claimed the drugs made her feel worse, that she wasn’t herself when she was taking them. She loved being in a manic state, was convinced that’s when she was at her most creative, and she’d literally go without sleep for a couple of days or more at a time and fill up an entire notebook with her writing.”

  “What sort of a writer?” inquired Peter. “Writing is my big passion, you know. Eventually I want to be a journalist, work for one of those big news agencies, and travel around the world covering stories. Probably never going to happen, but it’s been my dream since I was in middle school.”

  “Never say never,” she corrected him. “If you want it badly enough, I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it happen. As for my mother, she wrote fiction. She actually had three or four books published when I was still a little girl, and we lived off the royalties for a few years. And then her illness started getting the better of her, and the stuff she wrote was just a bunch of gibberish – nothing that made the least bit of sense.”

  “Do you still have copies of her books? I’d be interested in taking a look at them sometime.”

  Tessa shook her head. “We may have had a copy of one or two of them, but they would have been destroyed in the fire along with everything else. We moved around a lot over the years, and always left stuff behind when we did. All in all, I really didn’t lose all that much in the fire since there wasn’t a lot to begin with. Except,” she added morosely, “for my mother.”

  “Yeah.” Peter gave her hand a comforting little squeeze. “It sucks to be all alone in the world, doesn’t it? I know exactly how that feels. I mean, my mom is still alive, of course, but she’s never been there for me, never took care of me the way she should have. There are things – well, no family horror stories tonight. Let’s just say that I’ve been looking out for myself for a long time now so I understand what you’re going through.”

  “Your father isn’t around, either?”

  Peter made a horrible face. “No. But that’s a good thing. A very good thing. He ditched us when I was around six years old, and I was happy to see him go. He was an abusive bastard, drank too much, shoved my mom around, didn’t hesitate to give me a slap or a spanking when something irritated him.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Tessa told him sorrowfully. “It sounds like both of us had less than ideal childhoods, though at least my mom never once hit me or even yelled at me. She was a good person, just not a very good mother.”

  Peter paid the dinner check with cash, and then grabbed a paper napkin from the dispenser. “Do you have a pen handy?”

  She nodded and fished one out from her backpack, regarding him curiously as he began to write on the napkin.

  “Here.” Peter handed her both the pen and the napkin. “Those are driving directions to my house. Try to follow along behind me when we leave in a minute, but in case we get separated it shouldn’t be too hard for you to find the place. I wrote my cell number there, too.”

  Tessa raised a puzzled gaze to his. “I don’t understand. Why am I following you to your house?”

  “You’ll see,” he told her mysteriously. “I’ve got an idea for you. It’s not the greatest, but anything has to be better than what you’re doing now. We’ll talk more after we arrive. You ready to go?”

  “I, um, need to use the ladies room first,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “It might take me a few extra minutes since – well, I need to wash up for the night.”

  She could tell by the expression on Peter’s face that this particular dilemma had likely not occurred to him until now – that sleeping in one’s car meant you didn’t always have ready access to a bathroom when you needed one. Tessa had become quite adept over the past couple of months at washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing clothes in the backseat of her Toyota.

  During the short drive to the house where Peter lived with his mother, Tessa couldn’t help but wonder what the idea he was getting ready to propose to her might be. She shivered as the wind whistled through her broken window, and realized they still had to tape up the gaping hole until she could get it fixed. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too costly, as she really was trying to save up every penny she could pinch. Though, if Peter was in fact correct, she now had another whole year in which to save up for a security deposit and first month’s rent.

  The very thought of living this way for thirteen more months was more than Tessa could bear at the moment, and she refused to dwell on the matter. For quite some time now – and especially since she’d left the Wallace home in February – she had focused solely on living one day at a time, getting through from one day to the next, and doing the best she could to cope with a situation that would have sent most people spiraling into despair. There were times, however, when she broke down in tears or felt immensely sorry for herself, or, worse, had to fight off an overwhelming wave of depression. Those were the worst times – when she anxiously fretted that she was going to become like Gillian; that she, too, might succumb to the darkness one day, or have to battle mental illness all of her life. She’d begun more and more to watch herself for those types of signs, and to fret each time she felt a bout of depression threaten to come on.

  Tessa was puzzled when Peter drove right past the house that bore the address he’d given her, continuing on until the end of the block where he made a right turn. At the end of a much shorter block, he turned right again into what looked like a narrow alley of some sort, and then pulled into a mostly hidden driveway located at the back of a house. She followed along obediently, parking next to him as he got out of his car.

  “Is this part of your house or something?” she asked. The partially lit driveway was cracked and uneven, with straggly weeds growing up in between the cracks.

  “It’s an in-law unit attached to the main house,” explained Peter. “Except that it hasn’t been rented out to anyone in more than five years. There was a bunch of water damage caused by a leaky roof, and it shorted out the electrical circuits. My mother couldn’t be bothered to get it fixed up, so now she just stores a bunch of her junk inside.”

  Tessa had briefly felt a surge of hopefulness surge up when Peter had mentioned the in-law unit, but her heart sunk just as rapidly when she realized the place was likely uninhabitable. “I’m not sure I understand why you had me follow you here,” she told him uncertainly.

  Peter sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “I told you it wasn’t an ideal situation, and probably isn’t a whole lot better than what you�
�ve already been doing. But, well, I thought at least that you could park your car here every night. That way you don’t have to keep moving around so much, and definitely don’t have to worry about a neighbor or cop bothering you. As you can see, this driveway is pretty much hidden from sight. Hardly anyone even knows it exists and no one would notice your car back here.”

  “Oh.” Tessa tried hard not to betray the disappointment she felt, having harbored a momentary hope that Peter was actually going to invite her to stay at his house, and forced herself to paste on a smile. “You’re – you’re right, of course. That would be a relief not to have to move around so much, and to have a regular place to park. Your mother won’t mind?”

  Peter shook his head. “First of all, she works the swing shift, and usually doesn’t get home until almost one in the morning. And, second, she never comes back here, always leaves her car in the driveway. She’d never even know you were here.”

  “Well, if you’re sure she won’t mind, then that would be great. Thanks, Peter. It’s definitely a lot better than what I’ve been doing.”

  “There’s more.” He hesitated for a few seconds. “It’s possible that the bathroom in the in-law unit might still be functional. I mean, the electrical system got fried but I don’t know about the plumbing. We – you and I – could try checking it out to see. If the plumbing still works, and we give the place a good cleaning, then you could at least have the bathroom and shower to use when you needed it. Where have you been showering these past couple of months anyway?”

  Tessa gave a little shrug. “During the week at school after gym class. Weekends are a little tougher. I have to, uh, get creative.”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure I even want to ask. And I’ll warn you right off the bat. We’d have our work cut out for us getting the bathroom in decent shape. Provided we can even find our way in, that is.”

  She looked at him curiously. “What does that mean?”

  Peter rolled his eyes. “You’ll see. Let’s go have a look. We’ll have to use a flashlight so keep close.”

  He took a flashlight from inside his car before unlocking the door to the in-law unit and carefully easing it open. “Watch your step. It’s more of a disaster in here than I would have imagined.”

  Tessa’s eyes widened as she tentatively followed him inside the darkened room that positively reeked of mold and mildew. It wasn’t, however, the odor that caused her jaw to gape open in shock. Rather, it was the stacks and rows of cardboard boxes, plastic storage bins, and overstuffed shopping bags piled on every square inch of the floor, all the way up to the water stained ceiling.

  “What is all this stuff?” she asked in bemusement.

  Peter looked revolted. “This is part of my mother’s little shopping compulsion. The compulsion that turned into full-on hoarding a few years back. And this is nothing. You should see the main house and the garage. She’s got way more stuff crammed in there. In fact, the only two rooms in the place that aren’t overloaded with her junk are my bedroom and bathroom. And that’s only because I’ve put locks on both doors and she doesn’t have a key.”

  Tessa stopped in her tracks as Peter impatiently moved a stack of boxes aside so that they could walk through. “What does she buy? I mean, to have this much stuff, plus what sounds like three times as much inside the house, she must shop constantly.”

  “Yep, that pretty much sums it up,” agreed Peter, sounding both resigned and disgusted. “And she buys everything from toilet paper to socks to books. She spends her weekends hitting up every garage sale and flea market she can find, and brings back boxes of junk each time. She visits several thrift stores on a regular basis, and spends hours every week shopping at Walmart and Target and the dollar store. She used to order stuff constantly from those home shopping networks on TV until they shut down her accounts.” He made a sound of disgust. “She’s maxed out all of her credit cards, probably owes close to a hundred grand on them, and still she keeps shopping. You see, while your mother had a bona fide mental illness, my mom is just nuts. Here. This is the bathroom.”

  With the help of the flashlight, Tessa was able – just barely – to make out the outlines of a toilet, sink, and shower stall within the tiny, darkened room. The bathroom, too, was piled from floor to ceiling with more of Mrs. Lockwood’s junk, and Tessa realized it would take a good amount of physical labor just to clear the room out. She could only imagine the poor condition the bathroom fixtures must be in after years of neglect.

  But the hard work would be worth it if she didn’t have to rush through a shower after gym class at school, or make do with a hurried sponge bath on the weekends in a bathroom stall at the mall.

  “It would definitely take some work to clear all this stuff out, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” she told Peter firmly.

  He gave the room a grim onceover. “You might have second thoughts about that once we can actually get inside here and start scrubbing the place down.”

  Tessa shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to do some major cleaning after moving into a place. Some of the rooms and apartments we lived in over the years were pretty awful.”

  “If you’re willing to help, then we can get started right away. Not tonight,” he amended. “It’s too dark, and we’ve still got to rig something up for your car window. Plus you said something about having to study. But if you can spare a few minutes tomorrow morning we can try to clear out at least a few of the boxes. Knowing the kinds of things my mom tends to bring home, more than half the stuff in this place will need to be junked.”

  “Count me in,” agreed Tessa eagerly. “It would be awesome to have a bathroom to use when I need one. I’ll do whatever is necessary to get this one in order.”

  Peter shifted a bit awkwardly from one foot to the next, looking down at the ground as he muttered, “Like I said, it isn’t the greatest but at least a little better than what you’re dealing with now. And, well, I would have invited you to stay inside the house instead of sleeping out here in your car, but – well, things are – difficult with my mom. She – she’s not a very nice person, Tessa, and I don’t want to subject you to her meanness.”

  She placed a hand gently on his arm, frowning when even that light touch caused him to jerk away abruptly. “No, it’s okay, Peter. What you’re offering to do is way more than I could have asked for, hoped for. Especially considering that you and I aren’t exactly close friends. I mean, not that - “

  “I get it,” he assured her gently. “We’ve known each other almost a year now, but I think I’ve learned more about you in the past hour or two than I have in all that time. But you’ve always been nice to me, always said hello, and you’re one of the few people who doesn’t make me feel like some freaky weirdo. So even though it isn’t much I’d like to help you out when I can. I just wish things were different with my mom so that I’d feel comfortable inviting you inside.”

  “I understand. And I don’t want to make trouble for you, Peter, make things more difficult. It sounds like your life with her hasn’t been particularly happy. Or easy.”

  He scoffed. “That’s putting it mildly. You have no idea what that woman has put me through over the years. She’s a crazy, selfish bitch, and I don’t want her anywhere near you, Tessa. You’ve been through enough trauma of your own, especially these last few months, and the last thing you need is to be exposed to someone as evil as my mother. She’d make Michelle’s mother seem like a saint in comparison.”

  Tessa resisted the urge to pry further, sensing that Peter found the subject of his mother both distasteful and disturbing, so she didn’t ask any additional questions. He went inside the garage, emerging a few minutes later with a large piece of cardboard, a box cutter, and a roll of duct tape. Between the two of them they were able to tape up the broken window securely enough that the cool evening air didn’t make the interior of the car too cold.

  And even though she was still resigned to sleeping in her car for the foreseeable fut
ure, Tessa couldn’t help feeling safer and more secure than she had in a long time. It was enough, at least for now, to know that she had a friend she could count on – something that she had rarely been able to do for the better part of her young life.

  Chapter Five

  Six Weeks Later

  She had learned over the years not to get too attached to any one thing or person or place, whether that might have been a favorite doll that got left behind during a hastily organized move, or a teacher who had been kind to her, or the house that belonged to the man her mother had been involved with for a few months. It had been pointless, really, to form such attachments, or become comfortable with their current situation, because everything could and did change overnight on a regular basis.

  But this time around Tessa didn’t have to worry about Gillian suddenly hearing the voices in her head – her “spirit guides” as she’d been wont to call them – telling her to move to Santa Fe where she would be sure to find new inspiration for her writing. Or that they would have to sneak out in the middle of the night to escape a boyfriend who had become a little too demanding for Gillian’s liking. This time Tessa was the one in control of her fate and her future, at least as long as her case worker at Child Protective Services didn’t discover that she was more or less living in her car.

  With Peter’s help, however, she didn’t feel nearly as alone or desperate as she had since leaving her foster home with the Wallace’s. The two of them had put in long hours of work to clean out the bathroom of the in-law unit, work that had involved getting rid of dozens of boxes of junk that had contained everything from dusty books to moldy magazines to rusty kitchen utensils. Once the bathroom had been emptied of boxes, the real work had begun with scrubbing and sanitizing every surface, cleaning away several years of mildew and debris. But at least the plumbing worked – if one didn’t count the pathetically low water pressure in the shower, and the fact that the water temperature was lukewarm at best, tepid at worst.