I Still Hate You

by Marie Skye

  “Excuse me?”

  He glanced at me as he took a sip of his juice. “Did you want some toast?”

  “No, I don’t want some toast! Did you need something, or were you just standing in front of the door?”

  The toaster popped, and I watched as he grabbed it and took a bite before answering me. “I wanted to see how Crouton was.”

  I stared at him a moment before I realized he was talking about the plant. “It’s fine,” I said through gritted teeth. He nodded as he drained the rest of his juice, that was really my juice. He placed the empty glass in the sink.

  “Great, well let me know if it needs anything.” He nodded as he headed out the door. It was the way he said it that bothered me, but in a good way. What the hell just happened? It didn’t matter. This was good. Maybe he’s acting like it didn’t happen because it actually didn’t happen. Maybe I imagined seeing him through the window staring at me. In fact, maybe he didn’t see anything at all and I’m overreacting.

  11

  Ash

  What the hell was wrong with me? I had seen plenty of girls get themselves off, but for some reason, Perrie’s pussy was all I thought about all weekend. Not once did she come out of her room. At some point, I thought maybe she put herself out of her misery. I smiled thinking of the memory of the look on her face when she saw me —it was epic.

  She knew I knew. She might pretend I didn’t, but I won’t. But she had a boyfriend, at least I thought she did if that’s what you wanted to call him. I grabbed my laptop and headed to the workspace center for today’s meetings.

  While I don’t have a ‘degree’, I do have requirements for those wanting to work with me. You tend to learn a lot when you’ve decided to basically prostitute yourself to pay for your dying sister’s cancer treatments. Turns out, it was a waste. She died anyway.

  I did maybe fifty percent fucking and fifty percent acting as a therapist to women of all ages and sizes. There were days when I didn’t even know if I was going to need my dick that day or if I was going to need chamomile tea to get them through their bitchfest.

  But, I learned. I learned what they wanted. I learned what they were asking for. I learned what they wanted to hear and before I knew it, I didn’t have to fuck any of them unless I honestly truly wanted to. That’s why I do what I do, and I’m damn good at it.

  12

  Ash

  “I just don’t know anymore. What do you think I should do?” I focused my attention back on the redhead in front of me. Unfortunately, I had no idea what she was asking because my attention was on the so-called boyfriend of Perrie, who walked in with his hand practically glued to some woman’s ass. Maybe he and Perrie were just fuck buddies? I mean, who didn’t have a few of those, right?

  I started to stand up and walk his way before I remembered Paloma was still in front of me, waiting patiently for an answer. I turned to her. “Paloma, what did I teach you on day one?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “If it makes you happy, then go for it. If you have any hesitations, then don’t. If he’s pressuring you, then it sounds like he’s not the right guy for you. He’s not taking your needs into consideration.”

  She stared at her hands that were in her lap, and after a few seconds, she finally nodded. “You’re right.” No shit, I always am. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t need him.” She abruptly stood up and thanked me again before leaving. I turned back to my original mission. He was gone.

  Over the next few weeks, it was the same thing. Perrie’s boyfriend, or whatever the hell he was, would show up randomly, mostly after midnight, spend five minutes with her in their room then he left. I was beginning to wonder if he was paying her. He never did the job right of course. It was almost like she couldn’t wait for him to leave so she could play with her clit. She thought she was being quiet, but I still heard her. I practically envisioned her biting into her bottom lip to stay quiet as little whimpers escaped her lips. And each thought that consumed me, made me hard as fuck.

  13

  Perrie

  I took a deep breath before going up to the door to The Allis. The air alone wreaked of snooty rich pretentious people, who didn’t give a damn about anyone except themselves. To say I was nervous was an understatement. When Gerald reached out to me a few days ago, I was shocked. Why I agreed to a meeting, I had no idea, and yet here I was, about to do just that.

  As I was taken to my table, a few of the men smiled at me while their supposed wives faked a smile. Even though I was dressed nicely, it was like they still knew I didn’t belong. They knew I wasn’t one of them.

  “Thank you for coming.” He stood up, as the waiter pulled out my chair. He leaned over kissing me on both cheeks, which was awkward. I gingerly sat down as I looked at the two people in front of me. Gerald and Jacqueline. Two people, I haven’t seen in years. They each looked the same. Jacqueline, I’m sure had work done. Gerald, with his hair now fully grayed, was more or less the same.

  “How have you been? We heard you did well at the university. We’re both so proud of you.” What in the hell is going on here? ‘We’re both so proud of you?’ What kind of passive-aggressive statement is that? Like they were following my achievements since day one.

  “I always knew you would be extraordinary,” Gerald said as the waiter came and placed our Afternoon Tea in front of us along with the finger sandwiches and cakes. I looked this place up before I got here. People actually came here and paid over forty dollars a head for some damn tea and sandwiches that were half the size of a slider.

  I shakily picked up a spoon to stir my tea, scared to death I would drop it. “Thank you,” I whispered before taking a sip. After a few minutes of complete silence, Gerald finally spoke again.

  “I’m sure you have lots of questions about why we asked you here and our arrangement.” My head snapped to his. Those were the exact same words he said to me almost ten years ago once upon a time…

  “Pssst.”

  I jumped when a balled-up piece of paper hit me in the head. I just took the ball and set it to the side. Surprisingly enough, I was used to this. It no longer mattered to respond, they only laughed and teased me harder.

  I hated high school. Things were to get better, at least that’s what my ‘parents’ told me. They weren’t.

  Why can’t you be more like Hailey?

  Why can’t you dress as Hailey did?

  Why can’t you just be more?

  Hailey never had problems making friends.

  Hailey.

  Hailey.

  Hailey.

  Every day I was reminded about my sister. She was the golden child; I was the disgraced child. Us standing side by side, you would never know we were sisters. She had the perfect blond hair and blue eyes. She was considered perfection. I, on the other hand, was the exact opposite, taking more of my father’s features, with dark hair, that made it clear humidity was not on my side, dark eyes, and was considered the outcast. Oh, and there’s that small tidbit that no one knew we were actually sisters.

  And when I say no one, that also included Hailey.

  Once it was evident my father couldn’t give my mother the grand lifestyle she wanted after the loss of his job, she went elsewhere and looked for a man who could give her exactly that. It wasn’t long before she traded in dirty diapers for diamonds and bottles for Bentleys.

  She made sure to rope in the most eligible bachelor she could get her hands on, got pregnant, and left me and my dad without a second glance.

  Imagine showing up in Winnetka, Illinois, one of the most affluent neighborhoods in existence, on their doorstep with a backpack and a carryon. It took two hours to convince the butler that Jacqueline Lexington was in fact my mother, a lovely tidbit she seemingly forgot to tell her new husband, Gerald Lexington.

  It took two days for them to come up with a solution that I was the poor orphan child that was in need and they, oh so graciously, took me in. I was to never refer to her as Mom and was essentially treated like their staff.
If guests came over for dinner, I had to eat in my room so as not to bother them, since Jacqueline didn’t think I had the proper etiquette. “I’m sure you have lots of questions about our arrangement,” Gerald once said to me but never added in words beyond that. Now I knew firsthand an inkling of some of the experiences that Dido Elizabeth Belle went through in the 1700s.

  How may I be too high in rank to dine with the servants, and too low to dine with my family?

  It earned sympathy points for Jacqueline and popularity points with Gerald. I didn’t want to come here. I dreaded having to come here, but after my father died of cancer, it was either this or be put in a foster home. I regret that I didn’t select a foster home. At least then I would have had a family.

  But ergo, there was the constant comparing to Hailey. In fact, the only time Jacqueline ever really talked to me was to tell me how disappointing I was, and how the reason Hailey was no longer here was because of me.

  She was right, of course, she was. If I hadn’t shown up on their doorstep five years ago then maybe Hailey never would’ve gone to that party. Maybe Hailey wouldn’t have gotten into the driver’s seat completely drunk to drive herself home because I had to stay in to study. Unlike Hailey, I wasn’t given a buy-in to the university, so I had to have a beyond decent score on the ACTs. Or... maybe I just shouldn’t have told her no when she demanded that I come to get her from the party. Maybe Hailey would still be alive, and maybe, just maybe, my egg donor wouldn’t look at me as if I solely killed her daughter.

  The moment I turned eighteen, I came home from school and was prohibited from going past the foyer. When I looked to my left, all my things, which weren’t much, were sitting in a few boxes. I wasn’t exactly expecting a present of any kind, but this was highly surprising. Walt, the butler and basically my only friend, gave me the saddest look as he looked away when a tear escaped his eyes. “I begged her to let you stay, and—”

  I shushed him as I gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

  “You can stay with us; we have a small room—”

  “Walt,” I wiped his tears away, “it’s okay.” He looked away from me as guilt started to eat at him. “I promise, it’s okay.”

  “Let me try talking to her again. I think she just needs to be talked to, to understand. She’s not thinking right, you know she never has since…” He stopped, realizing what he was about to say.

  “Walt, I’m fine. I promise.”

  He took his handkerchief from his pocket. “Keep in touch okay? And we’ll be there for graduation, I promise.”

  I nodded as I gave him a hug, before picking up the two small boxes I had, and took them out to my 1996 Chevy Corsica. It was the only car I could afford, basically. I took a deep breath and looked up at the house to the window I often saw Jacqueline looking out of. Today was no different. She glared at me for a few seconds before finally turning and walking away. She was good at that after all.

  “Perrie, this is for you.”

  I turned to Walt who ran up to me with his wife, Martha. He held out a plain white envelope. I looked at him confused before opening the envelope. I stared at the money. “I know it’s not much, but Martha and I wanted to—”

  I shoved the envelope back to him. “I can’t take your money.”

  He shook his head as he handed it back to me, this time closing his fingers around mine. “Start your new life, but don’t forget about us. Make us proud.”

  I shook my head, tears running down my face. “I love you both so much, and I’m sorry if I’ve never said it before, but I do. I love you both.” Walt and Martha never had kids, it just never happened for them. Then I came along—a scrawny, barely in her teens little girl, that yearned for some kind of affection, some semblance of love to show that I mattered or at least one person cared about me. They gave me exactly that and more.

  I didn’t know it then, but that was the last time I would ever see Walt or Martha for a very long time—the only people I had in my life, that I could call family.

  “Clarence, great to see you.” Gerald interrupted himself to briefly make pleasantries with someone passing by before he turned his attention back to me as I tried to tune back in to whatever he was saying. He was rambling about who knows what, to ease the tension before it dawned on me what he said. “It’s been ten years,” I whispered, afraid of being any louder than that, out of fear I may cry. “Ten years,” I said again. “You said you heard I did well at university. How? How would you have known that?”

  Both of them looked at me but said nothing as Gerald I’m sure attempted to come up with something. “What did I major in?” I looked to Gerald, waiting for an answer. There was no point to even look at Jacqueline. She just stared at her tea. “You don’t even know do you? You think sending me a graduation present, which I sent back by the way, makes up for everything?”

  Gerald cleared his throat. “I admit, things weren’t thoroughly thought out then. You weren’t treated fairly—”

  I cut him off. “You’re just now realizing that?” I yelled not even being fazed that my voice was rising and I’m sure we were getting looks. Shaking, I reached for my tea to calm myself down, not caring that a few drops of tea from the spoon landed on the stark white tablecloth. I stared at the brown drops as they soaked into the linen. It wasn’t perfect anymore. No matter how much they cleaned the stain out, it would always be deemed perfectly imperfect.

  Like me.

  “You kicked me out the moment I turned eighteen. As in the very day, I turned eighteen. I came home from school to all my shit packed by the front door when I still had two weeks of school left. Most people get a cake for their birthday, I had the lovely task of trying to find a place to sleep. I needed a family. I needed someone to talk to if I was having a bad day at school. I had a sister that didn’t even know I existed when her room was across from mine! She never even knew we were sisters. She died not knowing that.” I felt the tears welling but it didn’t matter, it never did. The years of bitterness and rage that was in me was starting to come to surface. “Why did you call me here?”

  Gerald sighed and stared at his hands a moment before lacing his with Jacqueline’s. “I know that apologizing won’t make up for it. And you’re right, there are things you don’t know—”

  I cut him off. “I asked why did you call me here?”

  He ran a hand through his hair and tensed as if whatever he had to say was truly detrimental. “Your mother…” he paused looking at her. He loved her, that much was true, and maybe Gerald even loved me, but I would never know. They had years to show me any kind of love but they didn’t, so why would I want their love now? Jacqueline placed her hands on top of his before finally looking at me for probably the first time in ten years, and if not that, then the first time since I walked into this snooty place.

  “I’m sick,” she said quietly as she dabbed her eyes with the cloth napkin. I felt myself disconnecting after that. Memories of my own father being sick flooded my mind. We went to so many doctors and it felt like each one gave the same prognosis. Because they did.

  Death.

  “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

  I finally looked up at the two police officers standing in front of me. A third joined them. I’m not even sure when the third guy got here. Or was he here the whole time? Maybe he was here the whole time. He was much younger than both of the others. I looked around the small kitchen. Did I offer them anything to drink? Maybe I should offer them a drink. I didn’t even know what we had. Hell, we barely had anything. We barely spent any time home, and were practically at the hospital twenty-four seven. I moved us into the cheapest place I could find since neither of us would really even be here.

  Tap water would have to do. Ugh, the tap was disgusting. They seemed nice enough to not even care that it was just tap water. Did I have clean cups? All of our glasses were still in boxes. How embarrassing. So, so embarrassing.

  “Ma’am?” The first officer crouched down in front of me. “I think t
hat you’re in shock.”

  “I should make dinner, he has to have food with his medication,” I whispered. At least I think I whispered it. Something was dripping from my face, and I reached up and touched it. They were tears. Was I crying? Why was I crying?

  “Ma’am, is there someone we can call for you? A family member, or your mother perhaps?”

  My head snapped to his. Mother. If only I knew what that even was. I shook my head as I looked back at him. “It’s just me and my dad. He came home yesterday.” My eyes went to my dad, who was faced down on the kitchen table. His Daurismo and cytarabine pill bottles were both spilled. I quickly counted the tablets. Thirteen. There were only thirteen of the Daurismo and only three of the cytarabine. Where were the rest? These were both brand-new refills.

  The second officer knelt beside the other one. “How old are you, sweetie?” I blinked at him as if the question was not only ridiculous, but I debated telling him my real age since I had to lie that I was of age just to get this apartment and the several before that.

  “Ma’am, we need you to step away from the body,” one of the officers said gently. The body? What the hell did he mean by ‘the body’. It’s my dad. When he stepped toward me, I flinched, and he held up his hands to show he meant no harm.

  “Ma’am, I’m so, so sorry. I really am. I know this is a horrible situation for you right now, but…” he briefly hesitated as he turned back to the other officers before looking back at me. “He’s no longer with us. I truly am sorry for your loss.”

  “I was only gone for a few hours. He was fine. He was getting better!” The officer looked to the other officer in the far back. I heard myself getting louder. My hand gripped tighter to the hand that was cold to the touch on the table. I willed it to wake up. I willed it to warm up as I moved it.