by Danae Ayusso
Shut up.
“Ellie heard you talking to someone last night in your room,” Price said, changing the subject. “Are you sneaking phone calls again?”
I laughed. “No. You said I didn’t need to.”
He nodded. “That’s why I asked,” he pointed out.
“I talk to myself,” I reminded him.
After the first time I slipped out the window and went for a walk, I found Price waiting on the front porch the second time I went out the window, waiting for me. Yes, it irritated me that he apparently didn’t trust me enough to take my word for it, but at the same time, I couldn’t fault him for it.
I wouldn’t trust a street kid like me either.
For over an hour, we walked together through the pastures, just the two of us, and I told him of some of the quirks I have. I thought it’d be good to give him fair warning without revealing everything. To my surprise, he nodded his understanding and admitted he talked to himself as well. Sometimes, when he got exhausted, it got bad and he didn’t realize he was doing it. Other times, it was a means to work through something.
Like father like daughter.
“If Grams is concerned, she should have knocked,” I said. “I don’t have a problem addressing her concerns. I’ve been talking to De’Von every day, helping him with his homework over the phone in the afternoon… I had gotten him enrolled in a summer science program at the Academy. He really enjoys science but he won’t admit it. Knowing about the circulatory and pulmonary, neuron and nervous systems isn’t something to brag about on the streets. It’d make him a target.”
Price pushed his hand through his hair in frustration. “If needed, I could see if your Uncle Greg would be available to help with De’Von’s homework. He’s a geneticist in Seattle and isn’t due back to the area until next year, but I don’t think he’d have a problem offering his expertise to a young student over the phone for his niece.”
“A geneticist in the family?” I asked.
He nodded. “Why does it surprise you that your father has multiple degrees, one uncle is a Sheriff, another a U.S. Marshall, and another is a doctor?” he mused.
“Honestly?” I said, pulling my knees to my chest in the passenger seat and hugged them. “For so long I questioned how it was that I could read and write, could do complex math equations in my head, could answer nearly every question on Jeopardy right… When I looked at Mom, it just didn’t make sense. She was beyond stupid. I couldn’t use polysyllabic words in her presence because she’d smack me for not understanding what I was saying. When we went to the welfare office, I’d have to read everything to her and fill out the forms because she couldn’t. I’m now starting to realize that she… I don’t know how you lowered yourself to that,” I said with a shrug.
Price sighed. “The woman you called Mom isn’t the same woman that I gave a piece of my heart to, Mikhail,” he said. “The woman you describe is a stranger to me. Noeline was not like that, at all. She used to read to me by the creek, her long fingers playing in my hair as I used her lap as a pillow. Sure, she had a bit of a temper, but it was rather sexy.”
Huh, that doesn’t sound like crackwhore at all. Maybe we were kidnapped?
That isn’t funny…
Something to think about.
Mom could have completely lost her mind, it happens. A psychotic break of sorts where she reverted to a temperamental, murderous, bitch that has it out for her only child?
Sure, you keep telling yourself that.
“Mikhail?” Price asked, shaking my shoulder and I jumped, startled, and pulled away from him, accidentally smashing into the side window. “Sorry,” he instantly apologized.
I looked around confused.
The truck was parked out front of Southgate Mall.
“How did… Did I fall asleep?” I asked, scratching my head.
Price looked at me, concern clearly visible on his face. “No. We were having a rather amusing, though slightly scathing at times, discussion of, what you called, our entitlement society. Are you okay?”
Again, I looked around.
I don’t remember that discussion.
Because I had it with him. Since you’ve been hogging Daddy Dearest, I thought I’d have a moment with him while you vegged out. You don’t mind, do you?
What in the…
How is that even possible?
Don’t know and don’t care. We had a good time. Jealous much?
I looked at Price; he didn’t seem scared or ready to size me up for a straightjacket so whatever Justice said wasn’t that terrifying or questionable.
“Yeah, sorry. I guess I got up way too early,” I said.
Price nodded. “That was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, opening the door when I did and got out. “I know I promised to give you space,” he said, eying the black Mercedes parked two spaces down, “but I’m concerned.”
When I joined him at the front of the truck, I offered a smile.
“I appreciate that you’ve kept your promise,” I said, walking with my hands in my pockets, and he walked next to me as we headed towards the entrance of the mall. “I know I must look crazy, walking around and talking to myself, but it’s been therapeutic.”
“What do you talk about, if I may ask,” he said softly.
That wasn’t something I wanted to talk about, but I suppose I owed him that much since Justice apparently had an hour-long discussion with him without my knowledge.
“My feelings on what happened that brought me to Anaconda,” I admitted in a whisper. “Why I reacted the way I did, why I feel the way I do… There was some guilt, or there should have been, but now I don’t feel bad that I’m not flooded with guilt for not being flooded with guilt.” I chuckled, shaking my head; the French delusion explained it so much better than that. “If it wasn’t for my self-therapy, I might have ran,” I admitted.
Price pulled me to a stop and I pulled away from him. “Sorry,” he instantly apologized. “You want to run?”
“No, but old habits die hard,” I admitted. “In your home, with you and your family, I feel safe and as if I’m home for the first time in my life. That scares me. It terrifies me to think that at any moment I’ll wake up and discover that it was just a dream, and that I’m still in a halfway house in Philly, waiting to be jumped by bitches in the shower because my eyes are natural green or my skin is too white. It terrifies me to think that you might not be real, Price. I’m scared, so scared, but I’m trying.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Sorry, this is why I talk to myself.”
A small, sad smile, pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“It’s okay, Mikhail,” he assured me. “Thank you for telling me how you’re feeling and what you’re scared of. Believe it or not, I’m just as terrified, if not more. I’m terrified that I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone, without a note this time. I’m terrified that whatever is looking for you back east will come knocking and you’ll see a side of me that you won’t like and it’ll cause you to turn from me, to run as your mother did-”
“I’m not my mother,” I sneered.
“I know,” Price assured me. “You’re a million times stronger than she could ever be, Mikhail. If you need to talk to someone in the afternoon or evening, if the morning isn’t helping anymore, I am more than willing to listen. It would be an honor to listen to your unfiltered words and mind.”
Yeah, that isn’t happening anytime soon.
I nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Price. It goes both ways. If you need to talk, I’ll always be here to listen and I won’t run.”
“Do you promise?”
“I only promise what I can guarantee,” I reminded him. “But I’ll make sure to say something if the feeling to run presents.”
Price chuckled. “Fair enough. Let’s see what we can find for you. I’m tired of seeing my beautiful daughter in Shep’s old gym clothes.”
“But your old soccer shirts are completely acceptable?” I teased.
>
“Yes, they are because they belonged to your father,” he teased in return.
For being nearly eighteen years old, going shopping in Montana at a small mall in the middle of nowhere was a first and kind of sad to admit. Sure, Blue Boy made sure he got me clothes in the winter, but most had stains from ink tags being removed. I was never with him when he did his little grab and run shopping sprees. I hadn’t actually been shopping for myself before. And it was more than obvious that Price hadn’t been shopping for a girl before either.
We both absently flipped through racks of women’s clothing, both of us making faces at what we found. Neither of us knew what my style was, but we were both hyper aware of what my style wasn’t.
“Is there a Footlocker?” I sheepishly asked.
“Oh thank God,” Price huffed, putting back the pair of jean cootie cutters he had pulled out by mistake. “Footlocker I can do and more than support.”
Of course, his discomfort made me laugh.
“Did you want to get dinner before we head back?” he asked, walking with his hands in his pockets next to me.
“I could eat,” I said. “I’m sorry I’m not making this very memorable, especially since it’s a first for both of us, but I’m not all that into shopping, apparently. I don’t even know what my style is, but I know what I like. I doubt I’d be able to find any of it though.”
“Why is that?” Price asked, motioning towards the Footlocker that appeared when we rounded the corner.
“Vintage old school hip-hop style, I suppose,” I said with a shrug. “I love baggy sweats, tank tops, hoodies and sweatshirts, beanies… I love beanies.”
For some reason, he laughed.
“What?” I asked, embarrassed.
“As a father of a beautiful teenage girl, that is a relief to hear,” he informed me with a smile.
“Some people’s dads,” I huffed, rolling my eyes and a smile filled his face.
Inside the store, I didn’t bother to look around. I waved the clerk over because I knew what I wanted and hoped they had them.
“Welcome to Footlocker,” the young man greeted with a smile. “Can I help you find something?”
“White on white shell-toe Adidas,” I started, ticking them off on my fingers, “white with black stripes shell-toe Adidas in a men’s eight. Black with white Nike Cortez, pink and white Nike Cortez, and pink and black Cortez all in a men’s eight-and-a-half. And a pair of those black and red retro Air Jordan’s displayed in the front window,” I added with a smile, just then noticing them.
He gave me a look. “Uh, let me see if we have those?”
When he walked off, I looked to Price.
“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” I complained.
He shrugged. “I haven’t a clue what you just asked for, but I’m hoping they have them so this trip wasn’t a complete wash from the clothing aspect. Take a look around and see if there’s some clothing in here that’ll work for you,” he suggested, his attention being pulled towards the windows along the front of the store.
“Okay,” I said, sensing that he was about to ask if he could step away for a moment. “I’ll be around and might try a couple of things on. Do what you gotta do.”
Price gave me a look.
“You’re about to run out the door for some reason,” I said, giving him a look in return and he chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, like father like daughter. Go, I’ll be playing in the hoodies.”
Absently I flipped through a rack of clothes, my attention going to the outside of the store where Price was standing, talking to someone. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew it was a she by the neck breaking height of her high heels. The way she talked, her hand waving around as if there was a cigarette between her fingers, made me laugh.
“What’s amusing?”
I jumped, startled, and looked to the left of me where my French delusion stood.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered. “This isn’t self-therapy time,” I hissed, looking back to Price, making sure he didn’t see me talking to myself.
Of course, the Frenchman gave me a look.
“Don’t give me that look, I invented that look,” I grumbled under my breath and continued flipping through the racks. “Jesus, a hundred dollars for a fucking hoodie?” I choked.
“You are paying for the name,” he said, as if it were obvious.
“I know, but still. I’d never… Why are you here?”
A smile filled his face, looking between me and to where Price was outside the store, talking still.
I looked around before finding a dressing room with an open curtain. “Go!” I hissed, pointing.
He moaned contently then disappeared before reappearing in the dressing room and beckoned to me join him with his finger.
I glared then joined him, pulling the curtain closed behind me.
“First that annoying bitch I share a head with has a bonding moment… Never mind,” I huffed, catching myself; it isn’t therapy time. “What are you doing here? We talk in the morning, remember?”
His black eyes moved over me many times. “You didn’t like the white,” he eventually said, motioning towards his fitted black sweater that masterfully presented his muscular physique.
The sweater he wore looked good on him, and I liked it more than I should, especially considering he’s nothing more than a figment of my deranged imagination.
When I licked my lips, a smiled filled his face.
“You approve, I can tell,” he smugly informed me.
I hate how much I like being this close to him, this close to something that doesn’t exist but I can’t tell anyone about because if I got professional help for it, it’d make him go away.
I wasn’t strong enough to give him up just yet. I needed him, needed his company and ear, I even needed the bizarre, where they came from I couldn’t figure out, stories he told me in the moments between my ramblings.
His attention stayed on my mouth and when he licked his lips, a whimper started to build in my chest and my hands balled into fists.
“You shouldn’t be here, not now,” I whispered, leaning into him more.
A normal person would have been questioning their sanity, or lack thereof, for conversing, picturing naked, and for sniffing a figment of their very damaged mind. Not get turned on by his unique scent of French lilac, cotton, and something without a name but was unmistakably masculine. A normal person with all of their faculties wouldn’t be standing in a dressing room, trying to keep their voice down, while they struggle to get their vision to go back to the darkened hole in their head that they had crawled out of. A normal person wouldn’t be trying to figure out how they can make the unbelievably sexy delusion real so they could feel his lips against theirs.
As if he could read my mind, which wasn’t that surprising considering, he leaned down, bringing his lips closer to mine.
I want to.
The Devil knows I want to.
But doing that would confirm I was completely insane and that Price should have me fitted for a straightjacket.
“You need to go,” I whispered then shivered when his warm breath washed over my lips.
The curtain to the dressing room pulled open and I jumped, startled.
Price stood there, a look of panic on his face.
“You scared the hell out of me!” I hissed.
He looked around the small, empty dressing room. “Sorry. You disappeared and I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I should have knocked. Did you find anything?” he asked, looking around the empty dressing room again.
I nodded then shook my head. “There’s no way in hell I’d let you pay a hundred bucks for a hoodie, Price. That’s crazy, and I’m crazy enough for the both of us already.”
Price chuckled. “For this type of stuff it’s normal. The clerk has the shoes you want on the counter. Why don’t you grab some comfy clothes and you and your old man can play some soccer or basketball when we get home tonight.”
It was
a good suggestion, one I wanted to take more than anything, but I wasn’t there yet. There is no way I can accept that type of splurged spending, especially on me.
I wasn’t worth it.
“Pick out some stuff for De’Von and we’ll send it to Philly for him,” Price said.
My eyes widened and my bottom lip started to quiver.
“Come on,” he said, waving me back towards the showroom. “Don’t look at the price tag and just pick what you want and need, and what De’Von needs. Okay?”
Quickly I nodded before using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe my eyes.
This man is seriously killing our street cred… I hope no one rolls up on our brat when rockin’ a pair of Jordan’s.
You and me both.
****
After shopping, I was too emotional to take in public so we got some takeout and parked and ate on the tailgate of Price’s truck. The view was amazing, overlooking the college town and Clark Fork River below. Neither of us said anything, not that there was anything to say really, and ate in silence. Price knew I was upset about the ungodly amount of money he spent on clothes for me and De’Von. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but I could tell it was for him. The thought of having someone spend money on me, it made me feel indebted to them and that they would want to collect later in a means that I had seen too much of on the streets…
That Mom made sure I was familiar with at a very young age.
“Are you okay?” Price whispered once we finished the last carton of Chinese food.
I shook my head.
“Did you want to talk about it?” he offered.
“Not really. I need to, and you deserve to know why it’s affecting me like this, but it resurrects memories I don’t want to relive…” my words trailed off and I used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe my eyes.
Thankfully, Price nodded his understanding and didn’t press it.
“When I was younger,” he said after nearly an hour of silence. “My parents worked for everything we had. It was a hard life, you worked at a very young age, as soon as you were old enough to walk really. I never resented them for that life though because it made me appreciate everything I have now and how hard I’ve worked for it. If it were easy, if the money came easy, I wouldn’t be happy in life. You can ask your uncles: I very rarely spend money unless I’m spending it on those I love. There’s no strings attached and I don’t expect anything in return, not even a thank you, Mikhail.”