by Andy Lewter
"We're starting our holiday off early," he announced, almost business-like. "We're leaving in the morning and won't be back till the Sunday before school starts."
"Oh, what's today? Wednesday, right?"
"No, today is Thursday, Abbs."
Crap. That means next week is even closer than I thought.
He stood up and put his phone back in his pocket.
Olivia barged in like she normally does, rummaging through her backpack and mumbling to herself. She sat down next to me on my bed and kept searching — her mind preoccupied with something else and clearly not paying attention to our conversation.
I was happy to see Miles and Olivia had gotten over the awkwardness around each other after the whole lunch date confusion. I had literally forced Miles to talk to Olivia about how the lunch date was a misunderstanding — but by the time he had talked to her, she was already interested in another guy. Figures.
"You're leaving?" I asked, pathetically.
"Yeah," he stood up from the desk, hesitantly. "Call me if you need anything."
"Ok, have fun," I pushed for enthusiasm but failed miserably.
I listened to his noisy footsteps go down the stairs and heard the front door open, then shut.
"Abbs, did you take those notes for me?" Olivia asked absentmindedly while rummaging through her bag.
"No. But Miles did. I wasn't feeling well today in trig."
She stopped rummaging and focused on me, narrowing her eyes.
"But you feel better now? You better not be contagious. I can't afford to be sick."
"If I was contagious then I'd tell you to leave the country," I said without amusement. "I'm okay now. I think I just needed some sleep." I could only wish.
"Okay good — cause if I got sick then that wouldn't go over well with me going to Texas and all that…" she prattled as she opened her bag up and started digging again.
"I can't find a blank piece of paper for the life of me!" She glanced up and walked to my desk. "Do you mind if I have a piece of paper?" she asked while picking up a notebook. But it wasn't just any notebook. It was the purple notebook — my diary.
"No!" I dashed across the room and yanked the notebook out of her hand. "I mean — there's an essay in here, it's not finished and I can't lose it." I lied, flipping it open to the back where the pages were blank and pulled a sheet out. I handed it to her, trembling. That was too close for comfort.
"Jeez, I haven't seen you move that fast since that time I told you there was a snake in the toilet," she said almost discourteously.
"Did you say you're going to Texas next week?" I said, flustered.
"Yeah, Tiffany's Aunt and Uncle live in Dallas. We haven't decided what all we're going to do yet — but it's Dallas, we'll find something to do. And we're leaving in the morning. I just convinced mom to let me go a day early." She smiled at her most recent accomplishment.
I plopped onto my bed and slumped. Not only did I have all week to myself, but all this weekend too. I sighed pathetically and threw my face in my hands.
"Whoop, whoop! Oh Yeah!"
An exuberant holler came from downstairs. Olivia and I narrowed our eyes. Apparently we were sharing the same thought.
"Whoooo! Oh yeah, oh yeah!"
We both booked it out of my bedroom, pushing one another down the hallway and tripping over our feet on the way down stairs — fighting to be the first one in the kitchen.
Olivia somehow wedged her way ahead of me on the last step, but hit the rug just right at the bottom of the landing and slid across the floor, knocking over a lamp that sat on a small table next to the couch.
I stumbled into the kitchen, laughing from Olivia's ungainly collision and abruptly halted in astonishment. "Mom… are you doing the Mashed Potato?"
She wobbled her legs with exaggerated kicks, singing a song I'd never heard of with the phone receiver in her hand.
Olivia slid in the kitchen on her socks with a shattered lamp base in one hand and started mimicking the exact dance moves as our mom.
I watched them both for a short moment, amused at both my mother's eccentricity and Olivia's knowledge of the old fashioned dance.
My mother grabbed us both in a tight squeeze and squealed while stamping her feet on the linoleum.
"Are you going to tell us what you're celebrating for, or not?" I said from under her arm.
She jostled us both a bit, then collected herself. "That was my boss from the bank — I just won a week off work with full pay and a massage for two at the Surepose Salon & Day Spa!" She released us and continued dancing, Olivia following her lead.
"That's great mom, but I need to announce a horrific tragedy…" Olivia puckered out a fake pout while holding up the cracked lamp base.
Without missing a beat in her dance or a note in her song, my mother took the lamp base out of Olivia's hand and deliberately dropped it on the ground. It shattered in thousands of pieces at our feet and they both continued dancing as if nothing happened, laughing uncontrollably.
My mom twirled in a circle and then pointed both of her index fingers at me.
"You. Me. Massage. Tomorrow," she beckoned me towards her, stepping backwards toward the pantry where the broomstick was located.
"What about school? And don't you have to work tomorrow?" I asked her smiling at the thought of getting some much needed therapy. A massage should be perfect for my newly found insanity.
"You're sister's not going to school tomorrow and I can spare one day of my vacation leave." She opened the pantry and pulled out the broom, spun around one more time and held out the end of the stick toward me like a microphone.
"What do ya say?" she asked me, sounding as if she were a game show host.
Elated, I grinned wider. "I say I'd consider myself insane if I said no." There was double meaning in my statement, but I knew they wouldn't have any idea what I was talking about.
In that moment, I felt a ray of hope. The amount of hope I felt didn't matter — what did matter was despite all my new experiences today; I had the tiniest feeling, the smallest inkling, that everything was going to be all right.
Chapter 5
I stepped through the familiar door, turned at the stairway and walked past the strewn articles of clothing. I ignored the blinding light from the window, and walked into the kitchen.
But he wasn't where he normally was.
He was missing.
I looked left and then right again. I shook my head in confusion. Then a tingle on the back of my neck alerted me, my instincts telling me to turn around.
Rough, thick fingers grasped my shoulders and shook me urgently. My father's brilliant blue eyes pierced straight through mine — his haggard expression completely diminished.
"Abigail! You must run — convince your mother and sister to get out of here as quickly and as far away as possible. You must run and hide!"
"Dad… what are you talking about?"
"Do as I say, Abigail!" he demanded. He released my shoulders and backed away, cocking his head eerily to the side to get a better view of me.
His eyes shifted into a darker pigment, his skin turned into a rich tan color. He started growing, morphing into someone taller — younger. He turned around completely, covering his face, seeming ashamed of his features.
"Dad?"
He slowly turned back around, his eyes excited with a warm expression playing on his lips.
This wasn't my father.
This was someone I'd never met before. This new man had dark brown, almost black hair with copper brown eyes. He stood just about as tall as Miles and looked as if he spent every day working out in the gym. He smiled warmly and held out his hand.
"Hello Abby, my name is Nicholas."
****
"Oh!" I sat up and realized I was lying on the floor — the morning light poured in the window. I rubbed my eyes and tried to recall when I had fallen out of my bed during the night.
I saw the time but didn't register what it read. I stood
up and stretched, stiff from apparently sleeping on the floor, and padded downstairs for some breakfast. I flipped on the TV for some background noise while I poured a bowl of cereal. It was set on the weather channel and I wasn't in the mood to search for something else, so I left it.
I was halfway done with my breakfast when I noticed the same quotes being repeated from the TV. "…Strange weather that's impossible to predict. If you check the radar here, you can see an immense amount of cloud cover gathered indicating rain and possibly thunderstorms, and then the clouds disperse quickly — making predictions impossible. These strange appearances of rain clouds have been coming and going all morning and don't seem to carry a pattern we can follow…"
"Good morning, beautiful!" My mother beamed as she walked into the kitchen, interrupting the weather forecast. "Are you ready for some much-needed therapy?"
"Depends on what kind of therapy you're trying to talk me into."
"Oh, stop being such a pessimist," she joked.
If she only knew.
"What time is the massage appointment?" I asked between bites of cereal.
She fiddled with her juicer and started dumping in random powders and vegetables. "The appointment is at ten, don't make us late"
"Challenge accepted." I finished my breakfast and put my bowl in the dishwasher. Climbing the stairs, I started finger combing my knotted hair and walked into the bathroom to shower. I grabbed my toothbrush and, without thinking, looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes grew wide at what I saw. Perfect, glowing skin — a fit body beneath my loose clothing and robe.
No, no, no! This can't be real! I tossed a towel over the mirror and cranked the hot water on in the shower. I peeled my clothes off, stepped in, and started scrubbing my skin the hardest I could in hopes to bring my 'old skin' back. After the water turned cold, I wrapped a towel around myself and opened the bathroom door.
"Abby, it's raining outside!" My mother yelled down the hallway.
"Okay? What about it?"
"I have matching ponchos!"
"I am not wearing a poncho." I padded into my room and started rustling through clothes.
"My day — my rules!"
I picked out a thick sweater and some jeans — perfect for covering up. I wasn't ready to look at the new person in the mirror and was perfectly content to remain in denial. I preferred to wear a turtleneck, and thought seriously about rummaging through Liv's closet. But I was pretty sure everything she owns is pink. No thanks.
"Mom, you really aren't going to make me wear one, are you?"
****
"I can't believe you made me wear a poncho," I grumbled.
"Quit brooding. You're adorable!" She smiled while turning the car into a parking space at the massage parlor and then shifting into park.
I frowned. "It's pink."
"There is absolutely nothing wrong with pink."
"We match like cheesy brown-nosers that try too hard."
She tilted the rearview mirror and blotted her lipstick. "Are you ready, or are you going to mope all day?" She opened her door and stepped outside.
I sighed heavily and opened my door — pouring rain pattered noisily against the cheap plastic of my poncho. Sloshing through the cold puddles, I kept my head down and hoped no one from school would recognize me. As we opened the door, calming music and the aroma of chamomile and lavender filled my senses.
"Welcome to the SurePose Spa & Salon," a young blonde said in hushed tones. My mother walked to the front desk and talked with the receptionist while I took a seat on a sofa against the wall.
Just then, a couple of young men walked through the door. Warm, brown eyes met mine, followed by a crooked smile that made my heart pound.
"May I take your… trash bag?" the blonde asked, holding out her hand next to me.
Frowning, I turned my attention to her. "It's not a trash bag. It's a poncho, and my mom is making me wear it, and — "
"Sweetie," she interrupted and leaned in, talking loud enough that the young men could hear. "Please, hand me the trash bag. You're soaking the sofa."
I heard snickering from the direction of the two guys, and then felt the heat of a blush flush my cheeks. "Excuse me." I stood and started walking where I assumed the restrooms were.
"Restrooms are this way," the blonde said with a faux smile, pointing in the opposite direction I was headed. I clenched my fist and turned where she pointed. My shoes squeaked annoyingly down the hall, and then I shut the bathroom door behind me. I pulled the poncho off and threw it on the ground in frustration. Stupid, pink poncho! I turned on the faucet and splashed my face with cool water to calm down.
"Oh, there you are!" my mother said as she opened the bathroom door. "Your massage therapist is ready for you." Her eyes went to the floor. "You dropped this, here." She smiled, picked up the poncho and handed it to me.
"Thanks." I said, tightlipped. She opened the door and waited for me to walk out. A short, dark-haired lady waited for me with a nervous smile.
"This is your massage therapist — I'll see you in a bit." My mom said and turned on her heel, leaving me.
"This way." The therapist waved. I followed her into a dark room with lit candles and soft music playing in the background. She motioned toward the massage table. "I'll have you face-down and in-between the sheets to start out with. Any questions?"
I shook my head. She stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. I slipped my clothes off and followed her instructions, pulling the sheet up to my back. A few moments later, I heard a slight click of the door as the therapist stepped back in.
A dull sound started humming. Too soon, it was all I could hear and it overtook me, just like in the classroom. I pulled in calm, steady breaths and clung to the sheets with tight fists. Eventually, the sound lessened, and I sensed what was happening.
I cleared my throat. "Are you feeling alright?"
Soft weeping came from the corner of the room. "No, I'm so sorry." She blew her nose. "My boyfriend just called and said my cat got ran over."
"How awful — is it okay?"
"He's taking her to the vet right now." She blotted her cheeks with a tissue.
I sighed. "You should see your kitty. She probably needs you more than I do."
She gave me a wet smile. "Thanks for understanding — I'll tell the front desk." She waved apologetically and hurried out the door.
Frustrated, I pulled my clothes back on. So much for "therapy". I found my way down the hallway and sat in a chair in the front lobby to wait for my mom. I rested my head and closed my eyes, wishing I were back at home.
"Excuse me, Miss?" a receptionist with honey brown hair asked a while later.
"Yes?" I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
"You forgot your…"
"Poncho. It's called a poncho," I interrupted and took the pink wad from her hand. She smiled and walked back to her desk.
Sudden giggling echoed through the building. "You were so tight — you'll have to come see me again. I'll work those knots out for you. How about next week?" The blonde batted her eyelashes, turning toward the young man that had caught my attention earlier.
"Hmm, I'm not sure if I'll be here still." He raked his perfectly messy hair.
"Please?" she pouted. "I only had time to finish half of what I started.
"We'll see." He shoved his hands in his pockets.
"So I'll make the appointment?" She bit her lip in anticipation.
"I mean, if you want —"
"Done!" She giggled, interrupting him. "Your friend should be out soon." She winked at him and thoroughly checked him out before walking back down the hallway.
I swallowed and turned my attention away — trying to not make it obvious I was eavesdropping. Stupid girl.
He took a seat across from me, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I feel amazing!" my mother exclaimed, turning into the lobby. Her hair was all sorts of messy and she held a cup of water. "Are you ready?" she ask
ed and started digging in her purse for the keys.
"Allow me," the young man said as his eyes locked onto mine. He stood from the couch and opened the door with a crooked smile. My heart started palpating wildly in my chest.
"Oh, what a polite young man!" My mother patted his head like he was a small schoolboy. "It's nice to see chivalry isn't dead."
I blushed and looked down, following her quickly out the door.
"Abby, why aren't you wearing your poncho?" she asked loudly.
"Mom, you're embarrassing me," I whispered. The man chuckled quietly behind me.
"That's nonsense! It's raining and you'll get sick, especially if your undergarments get wet." She nodded.
Absolutely mortified, I practically ran to the car, soaking my shoes and pant bottoms as I splashed through the puddles. When my mom unlocked the car, I slid in and slammed the door.
"So, does pizza sound good for dinner?" my mother asked as she plopped into the driver’s seat, not noticing my embarrassment.
"I want to go home." I said, trying to mentally mend the teeny particles of my pride back together.
She frowned. "But this is our girls' day."
"Sorry." I shrugged.
"What about ice cream?" she pleaded.
"Then go to the grocery store and buy some." I buckled my seat belt. I just want to lie in my bed and disappear.
A few moments passed before she tore her eyes away from me and pulled out of the parking lot. "Olivia is much more fun," she mumbled quietly.
"Of course she is. I'm nothing like her, so why would I be any fun?" I snapped. Dead silence hung in the air. I could tell by the way she started biting her nails that she was holding back tears.
Instead of apologizing, I disconnected. A welcomed numb feeling came over me and I was able to take a deep breath for the first time today. My mind was blank — black without any realization of what was going on around me. This is perfection.
When we pulled in the drive, I smiled in relief as the house came into view. Once the car was shifted into park, I stepped out and welcomed the rain droplets that dripped down my face. I opened the front door and stumbled up the stairs, tossing off articles of clothing along the way. Once I reached my bedroom, I plopped onto my bed and buried myself under the heavy covers. Finally relaxed, I slipped deeper into a beautiful state of numbness, with full intentions to come back to reality whenever I decided.