Clarity

by Gabbie S. Duran

  “Of course not!” Jesse laughs. “We can handle that. We just need—well, we need a feminine touch around here—someone to knock some of the manliness off of the place.”

  “Okay,” I agree tentatively.

  “Pay’s fifteen an hour—on the books. I imagine it’ll be a few hours each weekday. If you’re interested you can start on Monday.” Jesse offers.

  I smile broadly as I answer. “Deal.”

  “Great!” Jesse says happily. “It’ll give me the push I need to finish unpacking.” He holds out his hand again. “Thanks a lot, Jordan. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  I give his hand one last firm shake before I go out the front door. “Take care.”

  I pause for a second in the front yard and glance back at the house behind me. This is all kind of perfect for me actually. No more boredom and some extra cash. A funny feeling washes over me and I shake it off. This will work out. It just has to.

  Work is about as uneventful as a Friday night can be at a bar until a little after nine. That’s when the hottie strolls in again. He saunters up to the bar and orders a burger and a beer. I try not to notice, but his presence is sort of impossible to ignore. I keep myself busy and am overly attentive to my section (blessedly the furthest section from the bar). I manage to avoid the sex-god all night, but again can feel his eyes bore into me the entire time. It’s a relief to get into the back and get my apron off. I do menial tasks—like polishing silverware for tomorrow—in hopes that he’ll leave and I can cash out in peace.

  I sneak a peek out the small window of the door that leads back out to the bar and see that it’s empty. I ignore my utter disappointment and remind myself it’s relief that I should feel instead.

  It doesn’t take me long to tally the tickets and enter the appropriate cash into the register. My tips aren’t half bad tonight (yay Friday!) and the register drawer closes with a ping. I recount my tips and jump when a voice says my name—not just any voice either—that deep rumbly voice that causes my spine to electrify.

  “Jordan, right?”

  Holy. Shit. It takes a second before my mouth begins to work again. “Yeah . . . hi.” I say cautiously. Why does his close proximity have such an effect on me?

  “You’re here late.” He says in an obvious attempt at small talk.

  “It kind of comes with the territory.” I answer. At least my brain is back to normal . . . even if my body is frozen in place.

  “I guess it does.” He chuckles. “You need a ride home or anything?”

  “Um, no thanks. I’m good.” What the hell was that? “I should get going actually.” If I can get my legs to work.

  “Oh,” Does he look disappointed? No. Fucking. Way. I need to get over myself. He continues. “Well, have a goodnight.”

  “You, too.” I watch him leave before I find the ability to move myself.

  It’s always tough for me during the day. I don’t have any real friends left here—the few acquaintances I do have leave for college after high school. We lose touch and now they’re just a distant memory. Any time I spend with Shirley is derogatory to my well-being so that’s out. It just makes me feel out of place—everywhere.

  This Saturday morning I do something that I never do. I stay in bed. I sleep in for me, but then I just lay there. It lasts for a little bit before I remember why I don’t let my mind wander if I can help it. Idle thoughts always come with the price of memories.

  I get up reluctantly and shower. I focus hard on soap and shampoo until I can push the memories back where they belong. I do it, but not before the fluid that runs down my face are more tears than water. Then I do what I do best when this happens. I throw on clothes and rush out the door before Shirley can say a word.

  Is it Monday yet? At least I’ll have the distraction of cleaning. Today will be much more difficult to fill. I check my wallet and see a few bills in it. What the hell? I drive to the movie theater and spend the rest of the time until work in an attempt to lose myself in the silver screen.

  It doesn’t surprise me when the sexy hunk of man meat is a no show at work tonight. A guy that hot probably always has Saturday night plans. He’s probably out with Marilyn right now. Why that thought feels like a strong punch to my stomach, I don’t know.

  Alright, maybe I know a little. The attraction I have towards the handsome stranger is undeniable at this point. My body may betray me at every turn, but at least my mind holds strong. No hot guy for me.

  It’s definitely below freezing when I make my way to my car. A cold front must be on its way. It makes me all the more grateful to have something to occupy my weekdays. My blanket-reading weather seems to have run out early this year.

  Last year I read in my car with the blanket over me instead of under me. I’ll put the heat on intermittently if I resort to that (which I inevitably will at least once in the next weeks) and let the car warm before I shut it down again. Hopefully my second job will prevent too much of that.

  When I pull into the small dirt patch which represents our driveway I notice something’s off right away. It’s silent. Even when the music isn’t blaring there’s always some type of noise that travels through the paper thin walls. Yet there’s nothing but silence.

  I don’t know what I’ll find inside and my overactive imagination sure doesn’t help things. I picture Shirley as she finally succumbs to the years of abuse she’s put herself through. I shudder at the idea of finding her dead. What if someone else is in there? What if she needs my help?

  I take a large swallow and build my courage. I don’t even lock the car in case I need to make a fast getaway. My hands fumble with the crappy doorknob lock because I shake from the combination of cold and fear. Finally I get it to open and step inside.

  It takes a moment for me to realize that we haven’t been burglarized (mostly because all of our stuff is crap) and that Shirley is just on a super rampage. I hear her towards the back of the trailer and she’s still at it.

  The door to the bathroom is shut and I can hear things inside of it shatter. I slip into my room and push the dresser in front of the door. Most of the time I can handle Shirley, but this extreme fit I can do without.

  I keep the light off and stay very quiet on my bed. Before long I hear the bathroom door open and the door to Shirley’s room slam shut. The tiny hallway is no buffer for the things that break while she screams. I have to cover my ears at her words. ‘Damn you, John! Why’d you have to leave me?’

  It makes me get up quietly and add a bit more to my barrier. I know why. It’s because of me.

  Soon the door opens again and I try not to jump when Shirley begins to bang over and over on my door. My tears fall silently as her words cut deep.

  “You little bitch!” She screams hoarsely and her words slur together. “This is your fault. You know what, princess? You can get the fuck out! You hear me? You’re not fucking welcome here anymore!”

  I don’t know if she’ll remember this in the morning, but even more so—I don’t know if I want to be here to find out.

  As much as it goes against my nature I take the coward’s way out. After Shirley runs out of steam and I’m sure she passes out I gather my clothes, toiletries and few keepsakes into a couple of garbage bags and put them in my car. I sneak back in and grab my sheets, blankets and pillows. I look around the small room I have spent so much of my life in. It’s so easy to empty. One life that shows so little . . .

  I don’t bother to pick up the mess Shirley leaves. I know I cause this pain she feels, but maybe if she has to clean herself up it will be therapeutic. I accept my guilt . . . I just think she’s better off without me. She’s only my step-mom after all.

  I lock the door and pull it shut behind me. Too bad I can’t leave my past behind me with it.

  As crappy as my life is at times, this is a first. Thankfully my shitty car is in my name because it’s the only shelter I have. I don’t even have work the next two nights to warm up in. I debate my next move as I pull over to count the bil
ls in my wallet. At least my tips last night are good. At least I’m not penniless to boot.

  I stop at the gas station, but only grab a coffee despite the grumble my stomach gives off. I go up to the counter to pay and see Jeremy from school is behind the register.

  “Hi, Jeremy—do you guys have a phone book I can look at quickly?” I ask.

  “Sure, here.” He plops the book on the side of the counter.

  “Thanks.” I say and flip through the pages until I find what I’m looking for. I grab a lotto card and the pen besides it to write down a couple of phone numbers before I return the book and pen to Jeremy.

  “Bye, Jordan.” Jeremy says before he helps his next customer.

  I wave and go back outside.

  The numbers I have are for a few local roach hotels. Some advertise everything from hourly (shudder) to weekly and monthly rates. I grab my phone and try to find a room I have a chance of affording.

  It boils down to two options. The most logical choice lies about twenty minutes away in a small country city. It’s not really a nice city, but definitely in my price range. One hotel here in town is affordable—but just barely. If I want to eat and drive (and I don’t know—buy tampons) I need to go to the shitty-city and suck it up.

  I don’t really know what’s in store, but I reluctantly call back the city hotel and reserve a room. I reserve it for one week in hopes that job two may bump me up to afford the room here in town next week.

  With the final swig of my coffee I begin my journey into country-urban hell. God help me.

  About the Author . . .

  Amazon Bestselling and USA Today Recommended Author Casey Harvell resides in the great Hudson River Valley of NY with her husband and their two sons. Casey is slightly zombie obsessed. She uses the word ‘boom’ and attaches ‘pants’ on the end of words frequently. You can find all of Casey’s books on her website http://caseyharvell.com

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  Other Books by Casey Harvell:

  Links can be found to all eBooks and paperbacks at caseyharvell.com

  The Decisions Series:

  Righteous Decisions (Decisions Series Book One) eBook always free!

  Harsh Decisions (Decisions Series Book Two)

  The Electric Series—USA Today Must-Read Romance Series!

  Charged ~Reboot~ (Electric Series Book One) eBook always free!

  Shocked (Electric Series Book Two)

  Stand Alone:

  Doesn’t Play Well With Others (18+)

  Lingering . . . (18+)

  Aliens, Death & Zombies: A Compilation of Short Stories

  Coming Soon (2014–2015):

  Soul Decisions (Decisions Series Book Three) *Final Series Book

  Wired (Electric Series Book Three) *Final Series Book

  Eclipsed Agony

  Don’t You Cry

  Proceed With Caution