by J. Q. Davis
I knew that she did try calling, and he silenced her call. I was asking myself the same question when I saw him do it. The impromptu meeting with Sonny was becoming annoying.
“Sonny, I…I honestly don’t know,” I said. I made sure to give her an irritated tone so she would get the hint.
She sat back in her chair and stared back at me. There was a moment of silence and I started to wonder when the hell she would get to her point.
She finally spoke. “Okay, Grace. Listen.” Her voice was low. “I’m only going to tell you this one time, and one time only. Tristen doesn’t need your help. He will never need your help. I know you have this…crush… on my boyfriend. If you think for one second that you have any chance in hell of somehow stealing him from me or trying to pry into our relationship, you are sadly mistaken. He is mine. He has always been mine.”
She stood up from her chair and took a step toward me. I sat up firm, gripping onto the cot again. She lifted her perfectly manicured finger and pointed it in my face.
“Playing the damsel in distress and passing out in front of him is not going to win him over. If you don’t back off, I promise you…I will make your life hell. Besides, he is way out of your league.”
She turned on her heel and whipped her strawberry blond hair around before sashaying back out of the door. I exhaled a deep breath and slumped into the cot. Why didn’t I just grab her hair when she turned around and pulled it out of her skull? She was threatening me. And I wasn’t sure if my feelings were of fright, defeat, or determination.
After Mom checked me out of school, we walked over to the car in silence. I wasn’t sure if she was upset, although she didn’t seem happy. As we secured our seatbelts and Mom started the car, I decided to find out.
“Mom, are you…upset with me?”
“No, Grace. I’m not,” she said without expression. “I just have a lot on my mind. How are you feeling?”
“Better. I just wanna go home and lay down.” I was truly feeling drained.
“Not before you get some food in you.”
I decided this was the moment to bring up what happened last night.
“Mom, I wanted to ask you about last night. Why did you make all that food for Tristen and I?”
“What do you mean, Gracie?” She chuckled. “I was being a good mother and providing a meal for my daughter and her friend. Is that a bad thing?”
“No, it’s not. You just know how I have been feeling lately about…eating. And with what happened the night before… I just felt like you were trying to purposely humiliate me.”
“Humiliate you? Why would I want to do that?”
We pulled up to the house and made our way inside. Mom headed straight for the kitchen to begin cooking for me. I followed and sat at the kitchen table.
“Well, dear?” she asked as she grabbed ingredients out of the fridge.
“I don’t know. I was wondering the same thing. I mean, I know you said you didn’t agree with Tristen and me hanging out. I just thought that—”
“Grace, I was trying to give you advice about the situation.”
I felt annoyed. “Yeah, but you don’t agree with me hanging out with him.”
“You are right, I don’t.” She stopped prepping and looked over at me for a moment. “I am just trying to protect you, Gracie.”
I sighed. “Protect me from what, Mom? From someone that I like, who likes me back?”
“He likes you too? Are you sure?”
I looked away. “Well, I’m pretty sure…”
“Then let him come to you. Do not pursue him. If you get into the middle of his relationship, then it will not end well.”
This piece of information seemed pretty valuable. In some ways…well most ways… she was right. I should not come between him and Sonny. He could break up with her, bring her down gently, and then come to me. However, because of our lovely encounter and her incredibly bitchy I’m-better-than-you attitude, I was not bowing down so easily.
“So, about the night before last. What do you think that was about?” I asked casually.
“What about it?” she asked immediately.
Was she serious?
“Um…by the way I looked and felt, I’m assuming that something was wrong with me. Not to mention all of the food I devoured in like…thirteen seconds.”
“Oh, honey, I’m not worried. You are seventeen years old. Your body is evolving. You are going through hormonal changes right now. You will be fine.” She didn’t seem at all worried. This made me feel a bit better.
“Okay, I guess. I just haven’t been feeling…myself lately.”
She stopped and peered over at me. Now she seemed concerned. “Well, what have you been feeling?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Just tired, I guess. I have been really, really hungry all the time. When I eat, I feel much better. But when I’m hungry, my body feels…beaten up or something. I feel like I need to eat all the time. And I’m just so hungry.” I grabbed my stomach, suddenly feeling starved.
I could tell she was concerned, but there seemed to be an emotion in her eyes that I couldn’t quite figure out. Sadness?
She turned around to the stove and continued cooking. “Well, you’re fine Gracie. I’m sure of it,” she said over her shoulder.
I watched her as she continued on with her chef-like duties. My mother was quite a woman. With a curvy, statuesque figure and wavy, dark shoulder-length hair, she was a looker. I have witnessed with my own two eyes older men checking her out when we had gone to the supermarket…even younger guys.
She carried herself with class, and she was very polite and proper. But something told me deep down that Mom had a crazy side to her. I was almost positive that in her younger years, she was wilder than I was. Maybe even Phoebe.
But besides her looks and personality, my mother was a very educated woman. She was top in her class through high school and medical school. She became a neurosurgeon and was awarded Doctor of the Year a few years before I was born. Apparently, a few years after I was born, she got into an accident and lost her index finger. Being that her job entailed having to operate on tiny nerves, it was important for her to be able to hold medical equipment properly. So, she had to resign. A couple of years later, a friend of a friend needed an assistant her in New Orleans, so my mom decided to take the job.
Working as an assistant to a forensic pathologist was a far cry from being one of the best neurosurgeons in the state of California. Not to mention, it was completely different working with deceased people than a person who was actually alive. But she was able to stay close to her medical roots and she seemed satisfied. She didn’t really like to talk about her time as a surgeon. She had told me little things here and there, and I could tell by her glow whenever she talked about it that she had really enjoyed it. I still felt like her calling was cooking, though. Maybe it was her attention to detail and her training as a neurosurgeon to be incredibly meticulous. Either way, cooking was certainly something she did well.
With all of her capabilities and her looks, I often wondered why she had never remarried. I was sure she could have any man she wanted.
And if she was claiming that I was okay, I believed her.
Chapter 6
The Beef
After a pre-dinner snack of chicken pot pie, the main course soon followed. Mom and I sat silently, for the most part, at the dinner table. With a belly full of meatloaf, salad, mashed potatoes, bacon wrapped asparagus, cranberry sauce, and corned beef hash, I headed upstairs to get some homework done. Mom informed me that Mrs. Turner was going to allow me to retake the test on Monday. When I opened my textbook to begin studying, I realized it was Friday and I had all weekend to study up. Silly me.
I plopped on the bed and booted up my laptop. It was time to be nosey. I was aware that it was Friday night, and being home poking around on Facebook was not exactly something a teenager should be doing. The only person I really wanted to hang out with was Phoebe, but of course, she wa
s too busy trying to woo Eric.
As soon as I logged into my profile, there was a message in my inbox. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be Tristen? Was he worried about me? I didn’t know Tristen as well as I was hoping to get to know him just yet, but I was sure that he was as compassionate as they come. I mean, he skipped school to accompany his girlfriend to the doctor. I could just see her pouting to get what she wanted. Puppy dog eyes, bottom lip glowering more and more as she looked at him, sulking just enough for him to finally give in. Although, I still wondered what the appointment was for. A case of something really embarrassing, I hoped.
I clicked on the inbox as I my heart skipped several beats. A message from…Sonny? Oh this should be good.
There was a link to a picture. I opened the link, curiosity coursing through me.
It loaded…and low and behold, a picture of her and Tristen, kissing. Under the picture, a caption read:
You will never have this. XOXO, Sonny.
I melted into my headboard and stared at the picture. I’ve got to say, it was a sweet photo. They were facing each other. Her hair was flowy and beautiful. Her ruby lips were puckered and his lips were touching hers. He was smiling a bit. It was charming, and although it hurt to see him seem really happy, I pictured it was me.
So this was how she wanted to play the game. Our little rendezvous in the nurse’s office was frightening to say the least, simply because I was worried for my safety, but it also showed just how insecure she was about their relationship. If she didn’t feel threatened by me, why would she have wasted her time anyway? She reassured me during that meeting that she was ready to fight a war, and I was ready to win it. I may be a girl with simple tastes who played video games and enjoyed watching B-rated slasher movies rather than plotting revenges on innocent people, but this was a special circumstance. Sonny was not so innocent, and it was time to think of something to prove to her that it will be a tough battle. Besides, I had better hair than she did.
Right as I was about to shut down my computer, an instant message pinged. It was Tristen.
Tristen Miles: Hi.
Grace Watkins: Hey.
Tristen Miles: How are you feeling? I was worried about you.
My heart jumped. He was worried.
Grace Watkins: Much better.
Tristen Miles: Good.
Okay. Small talk. I could do this.
Grace Watkins: Did you do well on your test?
Tristen Miles: I did better than that. I am pretty sure I aced it, thanks to you
Grace Watkins: Me…not so much. Mrs. Turner is letting me retake it though.
Tristen Miles: Well I would hope so! If not, I would have to have a talk with her.
Standing up for me…I liked it.
Grace Watkins: Lol! So, did I miss much from the rest of the day?
Tristen Miles: Not really. After I carried you to the nurse’s office, I wanted to stay but I had to meet up with Coach.
He what!?! I couldn’t breathe. He carried me to the office? I stared at his words, double checking to see if I read them correctly.
Tristen Miles: Grace?
Grace Watkins: Sorry. So, you carried me?
Tristen Miles: Well, yeah. As soon as you fell, I ran over to you. I was worried you’d hit your head. Mrs. Turner and everyone else were just kind of shocked that you had just passed out in front of the class and I didn’t want you just lying there. I didn’t know what was wrong.
Embarrassment washed over me.
Grace Watkins: Oh…I just didn’t eat enough this morning.
Tristen Miles: Well, thank God it wasn’t anything more serious. With your mom’s cooking skills, I’m sure you were very satisfied when you got home.
More than he knew. My stomach growled.
Grace Watkins: I’m sure if Sonny saw you carrying me, she would not have been happy.
Ugh…why did I just type that?
Tristen Miles: She did see us actually. Everyone did. The bell had just rung.
Great. Everyone saw. And so did Sonny. That must have been what pushed her to confront me. This was my chance.
Grace Watkins: So… have you thought more about Halloween? I mentioned it to Phoebe and she said it would be cool for all of us to hang out. She wants to bring Eric too.
Tristen Miles: A double date?
Oh God. Coming on too strong, too soon. Not good.
Grace Watkins: Um…well…it wouldn’t be a double date…I mean, it would just be friends…hanging out.
Tristen Miles: Well, count me in.
Wow, that was easier than I thought. My smile could not have gotten any wider. But it faded quickly when I felt an ache in my belly. Oh please not now.
Grace Watkins: Awesome. I’ll let Phoebe know.
Tristen Miles: Cool. Well, I better get going. I have to go meet up with the team and kick some ass in bowling.
Grace Watkins: Okay. Have fun.
Tristen Miles: Thanks. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Grace. I was really worried about you.
Grace Watkins: Well I’m just sorry you had to carry my dead weight across campus.
Tristen Miles: Lol! Trust me, I was okay with that. See ya.
I was too busy trying to find a breath to answer him back. My chest caved in and before I could respond, he was offline. He took care of me, he was worried about me, and he didn’t mind carrying me? I didn’t want to make quick assumptions, simply because I truly was taking what my mother said about being let down into consideration, but I was pretty positive that he was showing me some interest. I knew not giving up would pay off. Although making an ass out of myself in front of the whole class was not done intentionally, it certainly brought me up a few points.
A stabbing pain deep in my belly made me haunch over. I grabbed my stomach and grimaced. I needed food. I rushed downstairs as fast as I could and headed towards the kitchen. I reached into the fridge and began pulling out leftovers. Suddenly, I turned my nose up to the air…something caught my attention. A different smell. A smell that seemed familiar, but I wasn’t quite sure.
It was pungent…and appealing. Iron maybe? Raw. Like raw meat. That was it.
I ignored the smell, continuing on with my quest to satisfy my hungry stomach. However, the smell of raw meat overpowered everything. My mouth was watering, and I wasn’t sure if it was the smell of the leftovers or the raw smell of meat.
I uncovered the dishes and dug in. My mother’s food was so delicious, but I couldn’t stop thinking about raw meat. Where was it coming from, anyway?
With a hunk of meatloaf in hand, I began sniffing around the kitchen, trying to pick up the raw meat scent. I stepped into the living room for moment, just to make sure it wasn’t radiating out of there, but it definitely smelled stronger in the kitchen. I searched around with my nose. Maybe Mom dropped a piece somewhere while she was cooking.
I sniffed the counter tops, the sink, the kitchen table, and even the floor. I went to the fridge. I could smell it a little stronger, but I didn’t find any raw meat. I opened the freezer and the smell smothered my face. It was without a doubt in the freezer.
I investigated. The smell should have been nauseating, but it was actually quite appealing. My mouth continued to water as I stood in front of the freezer, taking in the bloody smell. I inspected, not completely sure of what I was looking for. The meat was all in individual gallon bags. They were assorted, I was guessing by red meat, poultry, and game. My mother was the cook, I certainly wasn’t. There were times when I would try to look over Mom’s shoulder to learn how she did things, but she always shooed me away. She would say that one day she would teach me all that she knew and that as long as I lived under her roof, I could count on her calling the shots in the kitchen. This was okay by me. I didn’t believe I could ever be the amazing cook Mom was.
Wait a minute. Was frozen meat even supposed to smell? I knew that there was a slight odor, but not as strong as when it was raw. The smell that I was getting was as if my mother brought a cow i
n here and chopped it up about five minutes ago. It was…inviting. The smell swirled around me, and my stomach began to rumble.
What did raw meat even taste like? I pulled out a bag of dark meat. A date was written on the package in my mother’s handwriting. I observed the bag, turning it over and around to get a good look at it. I became…curious.
I opened the bag and breathed the smell. My eyes rolled as I inhaled. Oh, it smelled heavenly. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I reached in and slid my index finger over the frozen carcass. I knew I wouldn’t be able to just grab a piece, it was frozen.
I licked my finger to see if I could get a taste. There was something, something that I could no longer resist. I brought the bag to my mouth and bit down. My lips wrapped around the meat and my mouth began sucking. It was surprisingly not as hard as I thought the frozen meat would be, and I could feel my teeth sink in. I couldn’t bite completely into it, but it was enough for me to get a nibble. It was tantalizing. I closed my eyes in satisfaction and I stood in front of the open freezer, holding the bag full of frozen meat to my mouth as if it were a hamburger.
“Grace?”
It took everything out of me to turn my head away from the succulent meat.
Mom stood in the doorway, confusion written all over her face. When she realized what I was doing, the color of her face changed to white.
“Grace! What are you doing?” she asked as she rushed over to me and attempted to pull the bag out of my hands. I threw my hand back, realizing what she was trying to do. She paused and gave me a puzzled look. I had never undermined my mother before.
“Grace. Give me the bag,” she said sternly.
I shook my head no. I wasn’t completely sure what I was feeling at that moment. All I knew was that the bag was mine.
She tried again to snatch the bag, reaching over my shoulder. I grabbed her wrist with my free hand and squeezed. We were face to face, and the look in her eyes resembled a mixture of pain, disconcert, and fury. I couldn’t say anything. My mission was to protect that bag.
