“Not in my book, Nikki. Not in mine.”
She smiles again. Good. I’d rather have her smiles than her frowns.
“Are you going to sneak out in the morning again?”
A laugh rumbles through me. “No. I won’t sneak away this time.”
“But you’ll still leave me a cute note, right?”
“Of course.”
Haley settles down into me more, making herself comfortable within my warmth. The room is quiet. I can’t hear anything outside these four walls, and I like it. Before last night, it’d been almost ten years since I’d slept somewhere quiet, which is probably why I was able to get actual sleep.
I can tell she’s nearly asleep as her breaths begin to even out. There’s something weighing on me though, and I need an answer.
“Haley?”
“Yeah?” comes her soft reply.
“Why were you crying last night?”
She’s quiet for a long time, so long I’m certain she’s fallen asleep. Then she talks.
“Jealousy.”
“Jealousy?”
“Yes, Polly.”
Chuckling, I squeeze my arms around her, letting her have her non-answer. I can’t expect her to open up when I’m not.
“Goodnight, Gaige,” she mutters after a few moments of quiet.
“Goodnight, Haley.”
There’s a brief moment where I internally panic when I wake up in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped around an unfamiliar woman for the second night in a row.
An old fear grips at me, the one from years back where this was my normal. I can’t have this be my normal again. I have to get my shit together for them.
“Gaige?” A warm voice hits my ears and I relax, remembering where I am. Not a random person’s bed. Not a quick fuck. No. I’m safe, somewhere I’m comfortable.
“Haley, hey. Good morning,” I tell her quietly.
“Why are you awake? It’s, like, five AM.”
“I’m an early riser.”
“That’s it. We can’t do this again. I need to sleep until at least six. I don’t care if I feel more rested now than I thought I could possibly feel at this hour. Nope. I don’t care one bit.”
Her sleepy seaweed-green eyes meet mine. “Is this the crazy you warned me about?”
“Not even close,” she whispers jokingly.
Even this early in the morning, she’s fun. I like fun. I need fun. “You’re going to be a great friend, Haley,” I tell her seriously, spontaneously.
Her smile falters, and I wonder what I’ve said to make it do so. Is it friendship that scares her off? Or something else? Her lower lip juts out for just a moment, a small crease forming between her brows. Then suddenly, she smiles again. Blindingly. Beautifully. Brilliantly. It’s captivating, bright, and real.
I like real.
“I think I’d like that.”
Nikki,
Your feet are freezing! Wear some damn socks next time, woman.
Gaige
I’ve been walking around all day with my shoulders straight, smugness pouring from me. Why? Because I finally used my sneaky ninja ways for good.
Not only was I able to scribble out another note right under her nose, but I escaped the apartment undetected again. I feel like I’m testing my luck, but it kind of feels good to push it so much and get away with it.
Is it sad something so trivial makes me feel so tall? Probably, but fuck it. I’ll take it anyway.
It’s been a week since I met Haley. I’ve spent four nights at her apartment, each one of them ending with us tightly wrapped together, whispering goodnight. I try not to think about it during the day, but sometimes the thoughts creep in, and I begin to wonder what this all is. Then I remember I’m not thinking, and that’s okay. I like spending time with her and I don’t want to think too much on it and make it awkward. So, I’m going to just continue to…be.
Yeah. That sounds nice.
I wipe my hands on the oil rag and push away from my black Civic, thankful once again that I work in a mechanic shop where I can change my oil conveniently instead of crawling under my car in the middle of a parking lot or paying someone else to do it. The shop’s been closed for over an hour now, but I stayed behind to a) avoid going back to my craphole apartment, b) get this way overdue oil change done, and c) be alone. Option A holds the most appeal, but I can’t argue that option C doesn’t have its strong points. The loner in me loves the silence, craves it even. I think some of that has to do with the fact that I was an only child for ten years before not one, not two, but four siblings came along in rapid succession. My entire life changed after Gia, my oldest younger sister, was born. The moment they brought home the little pink bundle of cries and odd smells, I changed. Most kids would react to a younger sibling with love and acceptance.
I didn’t.
Think of the exact opposite. That was me. I resented her. I resented the noise. I embraced solitude and silence.
Do I sound like an ass? I must—I didn’t even want my own sister. Fuck. I was such a little shit back then.
I roll my shoulders once and shake out the tension in my arms. It’s amazing how one simple thought can lead to an unwelcomed slew of them and do an entire one-eighty on your mood. Why do we let ourselves get so wrapped up in shit we can’t change? Why do we torture ourselves with the what-ifs? Or maybe that’s just me. It wouldn’t surprise me if I were the only fucked up one.
Continuing to amble around my work space, killing time before my shift at Harold’s and pushing all my dark thoughts away, I pick up my loose tools with one hand and check my phone with the other. Smiling gleefully, I see a text from “Nikki” waiting for me.
Nikki: Thank you for my note…I guess.
I laugh as I think back to the short note I snuck in this morning.
Hales,
(I can call you that, right? I’m going to.)
You snore. It’s slightly annoying.
Your almost-friend,
Gaige
Me: You’re welcome. Took at least two minutes to come up with.
Nikki: It was very eloquent.
I chuckle, about to respond with something equally eloquent (not), when a call from my aunt fills my screen. Unease creeps into my bones, my stomach turning from starved to queasy in only a matter of seconds. My mood was lifted, excited; now it’s down and ugly, a scowl crossing my face. If Tuck was here, he’d make some smartass comment and I’d toss one back, not really meaning a word of it.
But this? Talking to Aunt Mercy? It makes me feel sick, makes me feel itchy and angry.
It’s never gone unnoticed by me how little Mercy has in common with her name. Kindness, tolerance, and forgiveness are nowhere near anything she shows me—more like contempt, indifference, and disapproval.
And I deserve it all.
Mercy was twenty-one when my mother was born. The two sisters were never close and I’m certain the huge age gap played into that. At thirty-seven, Mercy’s life fell apart when her husband of fifteen years died suddenly. She grew callous and mean. Then the stroke happened. After that, any shred of manners or care she had left in her evaporated. She became cold and methodical, never letting herself feel again. By that time, I was living with her, and it was a hard transition to navigate, especially for a teenager. The result is the strained relationship we have today as she acts as guardian to my four siblings.
Reluctantly, I swipe the green button and bring the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello, Gaige.” Her tone is already flat, unfeeling. “I wanted to remind you about the program at Graham’s school tomorrow night.”
“Yes ma’am, I remember.”
“A surprise,” she says plainly. “There’s been a change of plans…”
I grit my teeth, mildly annoyed by this last minute notification—then I mentally slap myself. I have no right to complain, not to Mercy, not about the kids. I swallow the annoyance and urge her on. “That’s fine. What is it?”
“My feet are too
swollen for me to walk. There’s no way I’ll be able to drive.” She stops talking as a coughing fit rumbles in her chest. It’s loud, sad, broken. She’s getting worse, sicker and sicker by the day. Pretty soon she won’t be able to drive at all, and I’ll be doing more favors for her. As wrong as it is, I’m looking forward to that responsibility because it will mean I get more time with my siblings.
“You will need to take Graham.”
The saddest part of this entire conversation so far is how unsteady that request makes me. Graham and I…we’re complicated. Yeah, he’s only eight, so complications shouldn’t be an issue with us, but they are. Big time.
She coughs again, and I feel terrible for worrying about how to talk to my little brother rather than my ill aunt.
Asshole.
“Mercy—”
“And,” she interjects loudly, “the twins and Gia will be going with you.”
Silence. Dead fucking silence. From both parties.
She wants me to take the kids out? She’s letting me take the kids out? Mercy is trusting me to take the kids out? I glance around the shop suspiciously, looking for a hidden camera, because this has to be a joke. It’s been about two months since she’s let me take them anywhere. I don’t know what happened, but ever since I took them to a barbeque at Hudson’s a couple months ago, she always comes up with a reason I can’t take them out again—not that I take them out often. In fact, I’ve probably only had six total unsupervised outings with them since I’ve been wiggling my way back into their lives.
“Now, please understand this would not be the case if I were able to go myself. This does not change things.”
“It could.” The words tumble from my mouth. My immediate reaction is regret, but I take it back quickly, because I mean it. This could change things. I want it to change things, but her deafening silence on the other end is a sure indication it won’t.
Finally, after what seems like hours, she speaks.
“We will see.”
Three words.
Three measly, fucking insignificant words.
They change my entire day.
I end my call with Mercy on a high note. I shove away any shred of worry I have regarding her health, selfishly not wanting it to ruin my buzz, and bring up the contact list on my phone. My hands shake with excitement as I call Harold, hoping he’ll give me the last-minute schedule change I’m about to ask for.
“Harold’s Pizza. We make it great, or else.”
“Is that really the slogan?”
Harold laughs on the other end of the line, momentarily drowning out the background noise of the staff bustling around. “I’m testing it out. Not a winner?”
“Ya know, I kind of like it.”
“It’s nixed then.”
“That hurts, Harold.”
I don’t have to be standing in front of him to know he shrugs. I’ve known Harold for years. If anything good came out of the first ten years of my life, it’s him. He was my father’s best friend. After everything went to shit the second time, he was there to help put me back together. Next to Horton, he’s the best thing to ever happen to me.
“So, listen…”
An easy chuckle filters through the phone. “I knew this was a favor call, kid.”
“Now come on, old man. I’m not just about favors.”
“But mostly,” he teases.
“Whatever. Anyway, I was hoping to have the night off tomorrow…”
“Tomorrow? Hell, why don’t you have tonight off too? You’re fired.”
“You do know firing me every day doesn’t work, right?”
He sighs loudly. “I can’t get rid of you, huh?”
“Not a chance,” I say with a laugh.
“Fine, fine, but you really can have tonight off if you want. We have plenty of drivers, and I don’t foresee tonight being all that busy. I’d rather you take a night off for yourself than come in and sit around.”
A night off? What the hell would I even do with that? I could sit at home, maybe stream some Netflix (yes, I finally subscribed), but that would involve being home at an hour I most definitely don’t want to be home during. Maybe I could find some piddly shit to do here at the shop, which would not be taking the night off. I could go grab a burger at Clyde’s, but that would involve seeing Benny.
Actually, you know what? Fuck Benny. I’m going to go have a burger, and if I’m feeling frisky as fuck, I’ll order a beer.
Yeah. That’s what I’m doing.
“Are you sure?” I question Harold before I get too excited about my suddenly free night.
“Positive, kid. I’ll call you if we need ya, but like I said, I doubt we will. Go be wild for a night.”
“Wild, huh?”
“Not too wild. I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail—again.”
I can hear the teasing words in Harold’s voice, but they still sting. He’s only bailed me out once, but it was enough for me. I thought for sure he was going to beat my ass or turn me in to my parents. He didn’t do either, but I think his silence and clear disappointment hurt more than any beating my dad or Harold would have given me. Skinned me raw from the inside out.
“Well, shit. Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I’ll keep my ringer on.”
“Sounds good. Hey, I’m just being nosey here…what do you need tomorrow off for?”
“Uh…” I hesitate, almost afraid to say it out loud, fearing I’ll mess everything up somehow. Because that’s what I do: I get opportunities and I fuck them up—royally. It’s my MO at this point. Life hands me goodness, talent, and gracious chances. I hand life bad decision after bad decision. That’s the pattern I’m trying to break.
“Gaige?”
I jump, startled by the voice on the other end, having forgotten I was on the phone. Clearing my throat, I answer, “Graham has a thing at school.”
“Oh yeah? That’s cool.”
“I’m, uh, I’m sort of taking him.”
The loud voices I’ve been hearing in the background fade as Harold finds somewhere quieter to talk. “That’s…wow,” Harold says, sounding as shocked as I am as a door clicks shut in the background.
“There’s more.”
“More?”
“Yeah. I’m taking Graham and the rest of the gang. Gia, Gunner, and Gillian too. Mercy isn’t going.”
I hear him flop down into his office chair, the familiar squeak giving his location away. “I thought she cut you off a few months back?”
I squeeze the back of my neck with my free hand. “I thought so too, but I guess since she needs me now… It’s hard to get into a routine since she keeps yanking them away from me. Every time I get to be alone with them is like the first time all over again.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Do I fucking sound nervous?” I growl unintentionally.
Harold laughs, unfazed by my annoyance. “Nah. Cool as cucumber, kid. How’s Mercy?”
“She didn’t sound good.”
“Damn.” I hear a muffled voice come into the room, and Harold responds before coming back on the line. “I have to go. Someone’s claiming they didn’t get an order of breadsticks I know we sent because I packed it up.”
I mentally roll my eyes. “Everyone’s always out for free food.”
“Yep,” he says. “But listen, Gaige, it’s going to be fine. You’ll take ’em to the show, maybe get an ice cream on the way home, and that’ll be it. Don’t try to overthink it or stress yourself out. It’s gonna be what it’s gonna be. Just be you. Besides, no matter how sick that old bat is, Mercy will be able to see through any bullshit you try to throw her way.”
I chuckle, and before I can say anything, he continues.
“If I don’t tell you enough, I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way these past few years. You have a stable job, and even though it’s a questionable place, you have a roof over your head. You haven’t been in trouble in years either. You’re doing good. Just keep on keepin’ on.”
&
nbsp; Proud. He’s proud of me.
A clog of emotions tightens my chest. When I was younger, I spent most of my time alone in my room. My parents weren’t around much. They were just sixteen when I came squalling into the world, so they were nowhere near ready to be a mom and dad, and it showed. The parties, the binge drinking, the inability to get me to school on time. Responsibility and my wellbeing were not the first things on their priority list—well, not for the first ten years of my life, anyway.
Before Gia came along when I was on the tail end of ten, whenever I spent time with either parent, it was awkward. Stilted. Even at a young age I knew that wasn’t how a parent should love a child. Neither one of them showed me any affection. I can count the number of times my mom hugged me the first ten years of my life on one hand. My father? Never. Not once.
Now, this isn’t me whining about it. It’s simply the truth, and it is what it is. I had a shitty childhood, and I let it shape me into a shitty adult.
It’s no surprise I’m blinking back tears right now. Hearing anyone say they’re proud of me… Fuck. If there were an ocean in front of me in this moment, I’d swim it coast to fucking coast, sharks and all. Put a mountain in front me, I’d scale it. It’s amazing how four words can make you feel, how they can lift you to new heights.
It takes me two tries to clear my throat enough to speak. “Thanks, Harold. That means a lot.”
He knows. He knows better than anyone how everything was. He tried his hardest back then to make up for what I lacked in my home life, but the damage was done. Like I said before, he’s the best thing to come from all that crap.
“I mean it, kid.”
“I know,” I tell him seriously.
I do know, and it feels damn good.
Me: You busy tonight?
Nikki: That’s my line.
Me: I’ll take that as a no. Want to hang out?
Nikki: If “hang out” isn’t code for sex, yes.
Smiling, I shake my head at her quick retort. Honestly, the furthest thing from my mind this second is sex. Right now I want to chill with someone that makes me feel…like me. Someone who has no expectations. I’m going to need that before tomorrow. Abandoning my plans to go to Clyde’s because I’d like to keep this natural high I have going, and instead of hanging out in my hellhole apartment, I decide spending time with Haley is the best way to go about it, especially since I just came home to find my roommates already drunk. I could hear them loud and clear like they were in the bathroom during the shower I just took.
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