Saving Her

by Mia Ford

  There were very few memories I took along with me when I moved out. Or to be honest with myself, things my father let me take. Casper was one of them, and the most important one at that. I remember my dad telling me that if I was going to be living alone, there might as well be a man in the house.

  Casper filled that role perfectly.

  I left him to devour his food, and made a mental note to make sure I walked him before I set out again. I kicked off my shoes, took off my shirt and began unbuttoning my jeans as I turned my laptop on. From where I stood, the large windows gave me a perfect view of the woodlands outside my apartment complex, and for a minute I lost myself in its tranquility until the Windows chime brought me back.

  Casper bumped into me as I quickly brought up my email window, and I giggled as he tried to get my attention. “We’re going out, don’t worry,” I said. “Just calm down, will you?”

  I quickly checked my mail, deleting the spam that somehow still found its way into my inbox, and cursed under my breath when I read the message from my publisher. They had changed the publishing schedule again, and that meant I had to double my daily word count just to catch up.

  “No time to lose,” I said and made my way to the bathroom, Casper close behind me. I undressed quickly, turned on the water and stepped into the shower.

  I closed my eyes as the cold water washed over me. I had managed to evade my father as much as possible, but I knew that if he didn’t call me tonight, he was definitely going to talk to me in the morning. I felt like shit, really, not at all happy with what I had done. Even though it had felt fucking incredible. The diner was our bread and butter, and my father had slaved for decades to turn it into what it was today. Just thinking my actions could ruin all that made me feel even worse.

  I had started working at the diner when I was only sixteen, and after my mother had decided that Kent was too small for her ambitions, I was taking on a lot more responsibility than a girl my age should have. I hated her for doing that to me, for deciding to see the world while I had to stay back and pick up the pieces. Still, over the years, Kent had slowly turned from ‘that town you want to get away from’ to a place I couldn’t imagine ever leaving.

  My father had been good to me. He kept food on the table, helped pay through college so I wouldn’t be burdened with student loans, and made damn sure I grew up to be the strong woman he could be proud of. Obviously, fucking in the storage room was not one of the things he’d approve of. Then again, there was very little he approved of. He had given me hell just for moving out.

  “Why the hell do you want to pay rent when you have a perfectly good room right here?”

  His voice still echoed in my head every time I thought back to that night. It hadn’t been easy to explain, and when I thought about it now, I still couldn’t really voice my opinion. I had wanted out, I guess. A little independence, maybe. I loved the man to death, but a girl has got to be able to be on her own without her father constantly looking over her shoulder. Besides, I wanted to be able to bring a guy home without worrying about my father waiting in the living room with a shotgun.

  Besides, I liked living alone. And at the age of thirty, the fact that I had still been living with my father was a little ridiculous.

  I stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dried myself quickly, before wrapping another one around my head and stepping out into the apartment naked. Another perk I had grown very fond of over the years. I checked my mail again, answered my publisher quickly, and then slumped down on the couch.

  The diner was definitely a handful, and I cherished the hour or two I had between coming back home and driving out to the lake where I liked to write. A good cup of coffee would have made this perfect, if I hadn’t been too tired to get up. I pulled over the small blanket I kept to one side and covered myself, laying my head back on the cushions. If I was lucky, I could maybe get some shut eye before hitting the midnight oil.

  I tried to think of the story I was writing, running through the rough plot I had in my head and tweaking the edges of it where I thought the story could really expand. For a few seconds, I let myself be dragged into the novel, standing to a side like a silent spectator as scene after scene played in front of my eyes. I smiled to myself.

  I had started ghostwriting a couple of months out of college. There weren’t a lot of jobs in Kent for Lit majors, and the fact that I wasn’t going to be leaving any time soon made things even harder. Besides, running the diner was never easy, and I doubted any other full-time position would have given me the chance to help out as much as I currently did.

  Ghostwriting was the perfect gig for me. Working wherever I wanted, a nomad as long as I had my laptop and an internet connection. Over the past two years, I had gotten really good at it, too. The work was paying for rent, gas and a few other bills, making my life a lot more comfortable than the pay from the diner alone would have done. I sometimes wondered if it was worth having two jobs, being harassed with deadlines while I slaved away at the keyboard. But it all seemed to pay off when the stories were done, when the manuscripts were sent in and well received, and even more work would come flooding in.

  Besides, I was writing erotica, and that was always fun.

  I opened my eyes just as Casper began to nuzzle against me, and I remembered that he still needed to be walked. I got up quickly, raced into the bedroom and pulled on the first pair of jeans I could find and a Slayer t-shirt. ‘Music of the devils’ my father had always said, although secretly, he would listen to a few heavy metal bands himself when he thought no one was looking.

  I grabbed Casper’s leash, fought to put it on him as he raced around my legs, eager and excited, then lead him out of the apartment. A slight breeze had begun to pick up, and the smell of summer filled my senses. Casper led me along our regular route around the complex and onto a small path leading through the woods behind us. At the end of the path was a clearing that had been turned into a picnic area a couple of years back. Luckily for me and Casper, not a lot of people knew about the path through the woods. Which meant we usually had it all for ourselves.

  The minute we reached the clearing, Casper struggled against the leash until I let him loose and he charged off. The picnic area was pretty crowded this time of day, and beyond the large clearing I could see North Main Street where the main parking lot was. Usually Casper had the good sense to stay close to me, and that gave me enough breadth to really relax while he played with whichever children were willing to give him the time of day. I found a shaded spot near a tree, sat down and pulled my knees to my chest. Days like these made me feel alive, and with the crowd around me enjoying the summer afternoon, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander.

  I must have dozed off for quite a while. When I finally opened my eyes, the sun had begun to set and the skies had turned a brilliant orange. Casper was dozing off beside me, and he quickly perked his ears and looked at me when I shifted positions and stretched.

  “You were supposed to wake me up,” I told him, ruffling his fur before reattaching the leash. He got up even more reluctantly than I did, and with little protest let me lead him back to the path home. I looked at my watch, cursed and picked up the pace. If I didn’t get a move on, I’d never get any writing done today.

  Working at home had become harder and harder, and despite the workstation I had set up for exactly that purpose, I had recently found myself becoming distracted by the smallest things. For the past week, I had begun the routine of writing at a small café near the diner, close enough to pop in if needed, but far enough not to be called upon for every little thing. The only problem was the café had a habit of attracting an evening crowd, especially college students, which meant I never really got anything done anyway.

  Looking at my watch again, I realized that if I got moving now, I might only be able to get a couple of hours in.

  Better than nothing. You’re never good at tackling work when it’s piled up.

  I rushed up the stairs, quickly grabbed
my laptop and headphones, made sure Casper had his food and water, then raced back out.

  I bumped into Heath Collins just as I was exiting the complex.

  “Whoa, there, missy,” Heath chuckled, catching me before I dropped the one most important piece of technology I owned. “What’s the rush?”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, smiling and embarrassed. “In a bit of a hurry.”

  And when it came to Heath Collins, being in a hurry was always the best option. To say I couldn’t stand the guy was an understatement, and the fact that his family owned the apartment building where I was now living made avoiding him even more difficult. Not to mention he was at Garth’s side most of the time anyway. They had been best friends since kindergarten. Thick as thieves, those two. Sometimes I wondered if the next time Garth decided to fuck me in public, if he might bring Heath along with him.

  “Where to?” Heath asked, blocking my way.

  I smiled at him and tried to keep my tone as polite as possible, a weak attempt at hiding my discomfort towards him. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, and I’m late,” I said quickly. “Sorry again, and thanks for saving my laptop.” I pushed past him, even though he left very little room for me to maneuver, and my thigh accidentally brushed against his crotch.

  Oh God, the asshole actually has a boner!

  “See you around,” Heath called after me.

  I didn’t reply, made straight for my car, and quickly got in. Only after I had pulled out of the parking lot did I let out the shudder I had been keeping in. I cringed at just the thought of Heath using me as his masturbation fantasy.

  I made a mental note to talk to Garth about it when I saw him, not that it would do any good.

  Chapter 5: Alex

  “What do you think?”

  Of all the places in the house that had special meaning to me, the attic was on the top of that list. When I had turned thirteen, my parents had finally agreed to let me move into it, and since then it has always been my getaway. I remembered the day my mother died, and how I had spent almost a whole month locked up in here, with my dad leaving me awkwardly made sandwiches at the door. It had been a difficult time for the both of us, and I never really got over it.

  Losing Janice a few years after Kelly was born had just made that even worse.

  “It’s okay,” Kelly said. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” I chuckled. “Sweetheart, this is the best room in the entire house. It’s got everything. Privacy, your own bathroom, and look here.” I pulled up one of the windows and pointed to the large ledge outside. “If you promise not to jump off, this place was great for reading.”

  Kelly raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Fine, for spending time on your phone,” I said.

  “Does the Wifi reach here?” Kelly asked, dumping her backpack on the floor and eyeing the room with scrutiny.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “We’ll have to ask Sam about that.”

  “If there’s no internet, I’m moving to another room,” Kelly warned.

  I shrugged and shook my head. “Suit yourself,” I said. “Just remember, the bathroom downstairs has no lock, and your grandfather could walk in on you by accident.”

  “Oh, gross, dad!”

  “Just saying,” I smiled, patting her suitcase as I made my way out. “Settle in, and I’ll see what your grandfather has got lying around that could pass for food.”

  “I have a feeling it’s going to be more than what we usually have,” Kelly called after me.

  “Love you, too, sweetheart!” I replied, taking the small staircase by twos to the second-floor landing.

  The house hadn’t changed much, mainly because my father had taken the downstairs guest room as his new bedroom and had left pretty much everything else the same. The master bedroom was locked, which I assumed was because he himself didn’t really want to go in, even after all these years. The other three rooms on the second floor were left unattended, unoccupied, and had a film of dust on every surface that would probably take a few days just to get cleaned up.

  I took the room closest to the attic, the one that had been mine before I had moved upstairs. The bed was small, the mattress uncomfortable, and the posters on the walls a reminder of a time when life was a lot easier. No dead mothers or wives, no shootouts, no drug rings killing away at our youth. My desk was at the same wall, under the window because my mother had believed that the view would help inspire me to work hard. Beside it was the closet that at one point in my life had seemed massive, and now just stood there collecting dust.

  I lifted my suitcase onto the bed, and took a step back when the dust flew up in small clouds. I was going to have to change the sheets, probably even clean the whole place up, and just the thought of it made me groan.

  Kelly’s room first.

  “Obviously, Janice,” I whispered in reply to the voices in my head. I shook my head, wondering just when I would start having full-on conversations with them that would make me look like I belonged in a fucking asylum.

  I opened the closet, cringed at the sight of the cobwebs, and closed the doors again. Out of my suitcase it is, I thought. The smart thing to do was get this place cleaned up now, but with the exhaustion from the drive and the fact that my leg was screaming bloody murder, I decided it could wait.

  Maybe even sleep on the couch?

  I sighed, stretched and ran a hand through my hair before exiting the room and making my way downstairs.

  My father was in the kitchen, the stove on and his nose buried in one of my mother’s old cook books. He was frowning, obviously confused by what he was reading and completely out of place with the flowery apron he had on.

  “Hey, dad,” I greeted, opening the refrigerator and being greeted by a sight I had gotten used to over the years; nothing. Well, beer and eggs, but little else other than what looked like baked potatoes with enough green on it to make you gag.

  “Hmmm,” Samuel offered in reply. He scratched his head and squinted at the page in front of him. “What the hell is a ‘dash of garlic’ anyway? How do you measure that?”

  I grabbed a beer, closed the refrigerator and sat at the kitchen table with a grunt. “When was the last time you actually cooked anything in here?” I eyed the pot sitting comfortably on the kitchen counter, gleaming in a way that assured me it hadn’t been used for years. Actually, the entire kitchen seemed spotless, the sure sign of a room unutilized.

  “I usually eat at The Red Roof,” he mumbled. “Anything I try to make ends up burnt anyway.”

  “Do you actually have anything to cook?”

  “Bought a few groceries on my way here,” Samuel replied. “Thought if I’m going to have to take care of two people other than myself, might as well make sure they eat properly.”

  “Thought this through, have you?”

  “Apparently not enough,” he answered, flipping through the pages and trying to make sense of what he was reading. I smiled to myself and took a drag from the beer.

  “This is hopeless,” he said, closing the book and taking the apron off.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “The colors suit you.”

  “Alright, wise ass, I get it,” Samuel smiled, shooting me the fatherly look he usually gave me when he was exasperated. “How’s Kelly settling in?”

  “Offered her the attic,” I said. “She’s asking about the Wifi.”

  “The attic, huh?” Samuel opened the fridge and took out a beer for himself. “Alex Logan giving up his hideout?”

  “Passing it on,” I replied as he sat down. “She needs the space more than I do. I think she’s sick of her old man.”

  “Kids her age usually are,” Samuel waved. “You weren’t any easier at her age.”

  “She’s twelve and already acting like I should be sending her off to college.”

  “They grow up faster these days,” Samuel nodded. “Surprises me every time.”

  I shrugged and took another swig of the beer. Samuel sighed, took off his hat and wipe
d his brow with a handkerchief. He looked great for his age, but it was only now that I noticed how deep his lines had become and the bags under his eyes.

  “I’m waiting for the day she asks me for her own place,” I said.

  Samuel chuckled. “Believe me, when she’s gone, you’re going to wish she had stayed.”

  “I know,” I smiled. “It’s not easy, though.”

  “Preaching to the choir, son.”

  “I was a treat.”

  “You were a little brat,” Samuel said with a laugh, drinking his beer. “Reckless, stupid, and didn’t listen to anything I said. I’m surprised you found a woman who would put up with you.”

  “A lot easier than raising a girl.”

  Samuel gave me a bemused look. “Really?”

  “Yeah, at least you didn’t have to explain why blood came out of me every month.”

  “Did you teach her how to put on make-up as well?” Samuel asked. “Go dress shopping with her?”

  I laughed. “Fuck you.”

  Samuel chuckled and raised his beer to me, taking a long swig. “You’re doing a good job,” he said, looking at me seriously. “She’s a strong girl. Gonna make you proud one day, that one.”

  “She already does.”

  Samuel eyed me for a moment, smiled and nodded. “Good boy.”

  I watched my father for a few seconds, really taking him in. I owed the man a lot, and sometimes I wished I could be half the father for my daughter that he had been to me. I never really appreciated everything he’d done for me until I was stuck with a three-year-old, on my own, with nothing but YouTube videos for support.