Sia

by Grayson, Josh

  I glance at Beatriz, aware that isn’t the truth, but she ignores my look. I understand what’s going on. Sadly, it looks like Beatriz has a lot of experience with this kind of thing. “Mom, you look tired,” I suggest carefully. “You should go lie down.”

  Beatriz winces and squeezes her eyes shut, which I don’t understand.

  Suddenly, Mom’s bloodshot eyes are on me, her hands in her hair. “I do?” She wails in horror. “I look tired? Oh, Sia! That’s just a nice way of saying I look old!”

  Now I get Beatriz's reaction. “Come on upstairs, Mom. I’ll tuck you in.”

  “Oh, my baby!” she says, vodka slurring her words. “I love you so much. Do you know that?”

  “Yes, Mom. Now let’s go.”

  “I’m sorry I’m such a bad mom. You deserve a good mom, but I just wanted—”

  “It’s okay, Mom,” I say, sliding one arm around her waist. Beatriz takes the other side, and we start to lead Mom toward the stairs. “You’re a great mom. Really.”

  “I just wanted to give you everything, you know? You deserve everything.”

  The stairs go on forever. We balance Mom between us as we climb upstairs, but she keeps stopping to talk to me.

  “You have given me everything, Mom. Look at all this! You’ve given me a terrific life.”

  “Aw, sweetie. You’re such a good girl. And so, so beautiful! Yeah, we have a nice house and car and everything, but the truth is I failed. Oh, Sia,” she sobs. “I failed!”

  By the time we reach her bedroom, Mom’s eyes are starting to roll back in her head. Beatriz and I maneuver her into bed and tuck the sheets around her.

  My mother smiles placidly up at me, and the words ooze awkwardly from her lips. “I’m sorry, baby. We were doing so great. Now we’re going to lose everything. It’s all a disaster. I don’t know—” She slips out of consciousness and immediately starts to snore.

  “What’s she talking about, Beatriz?”

  Beatriz eyes me uncertainly.

  “Please. I deserve to know.”

  She sighs. “Let’s go back to the kitchen.”

  This time, we sit at the kitchen table, and Beatriz pours us both a glass of lemonade. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Your mother has been drinking like this for about a year now,” she says.

  “Why?”

  She scratches the back of her neck, then frowns, looking uncomfortable. “Your parents’ company did really well for a while. But they made some bad choices. They’ve had a lot of box-office flops.” She quirks a smile. “Your mother can’t stand people talking about her. Not unless they’re saying good things, that is. She’s used to people loving her. She used to be a model, you know. That’s why there are so many beautiful pictures of her in the house.”

  “Oh. I was wondering about that.”

  “She was really popular. People always wanted to be near her, kind of like you at school. Till recently, everyone wanted to be like the Holloways.”

  “So that’s why my dad’s not home much?”

  She tilts her head one way, then the other, as if she’s balancing her words out before she says them. “He’s doing what he can. He works very hard, you know, looking for great screenplays, interviewing better casting agents, and looking for talented new actors. He’s doing everything he can to save the company from going bankrupt.”

  I blink. “Bankrupt? Tell me you're kidding.”

  “I wish I was,” Beatriz replies with a light shrug, “but I am serious. Things aren’t looking good. Actually . . . ” her mouth kind of twists to the side “ . . . it gets worse.”

  “How?”

  “I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this. In fact, I probably shouldn’t even know all this,” she says, “but your mom talks a lot when she drinks. She mentioned that this house is close to foreclosing. And the cars may be repossessed.”

  Shock makes me dizzy. I’m starting to understand where all my stress came from—the stress that had brought on the amnesia. “And my parents? How are they dealing with all this?”

  Beatriz reaches across the table and puts her hand on top of one of mine. The intimacy of the movement scares me most of all.

  “Sia, your parents’ marriage is in trouble. They’re in counseling, but it’s . . . well, it’s serious.” She squeezes my hand. “I hope it’s okay that I told you all this. But since you knew it all before, I don’t see why I have to keep it a secret now.”

  I shake my head slowly, feeling completely drained. “I’m glad you told me. Thank you.” I glance at our joined hands, then pull away and rub my fingers on the bridge of my nose. My eyes are burning. “You know, Beatriz, I think I need some air. I’m gonna go outside.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I don’t stop in the garden. I go through the back gate and keep on walking. As I walk, I think about what Beatriz had told me. After everything I’d learned at school, I hadn’t expected the day to get any worse. But it had. What had seemed like such a perfect life was only a shell, a fragile one that was cracking all around me.

  I think of Carol, of the wisdom shining in her eyes, and of the way she remained calm even in the storms of such a confusing, impoverished life. I decide that no matter what my parents say, I am going to find Carol. I am going tell her what I’ve discovered and ask for her advice.

  I turn at the next corner, following the sidewalk. It’s a beautiful late afternoon, and a lot of people are out walking. I smile at a couple of elderly ladies as they come through a door. Then I inhale a wave of sweet air emanating from the shop behind them. BooBoo’s Bakery, the sign says. I can’t resist. I seem to have developed a passion for fresh bread, and right now it’s calling my name.

  The bakery is actually a long room with a counter at the front and a few small tables clustered in the back. Jazz music sets the mood and makes me smile even more broadly than the delicious, yeasty, buttery, sweet aroma of the delights coming out of the ovens. It is exactly the kind of break I need. The display behind the counter is loaded with sinful pastries painted with glistening sugar and chocolate. I practically salivate as I stare at them all.

  In the back of my mind, I remember seeing this place once before, when I’d been out walking with Carol. We’d both imagined what it might be like to waltz right in and buy whatever we wanted, to sink our teeth into something soft and sticky and sweet. Now I’m back, and this time, I actually have money. I picture Amber’s disapproval back at lunch, when I’d filled my tray with food Amber says “we” don't eat. All the more reason to eat this. I lean closer to examine all the treats.

  “Can I help you?”

  I straighten, but my eyes are still glued on the buns. “Yes please. I’d like—”

  “Sia?”

  “Kyle! What are you—this is your bakery?”

  “Yeah.” He flushes slightly. “BooBoo’s Bakery. Lame, I know.”

  “Not at all! I think it’s cute. And this place . . . ” I close my eyes and breathe in, grinning with pleasure. “It smells incredible.”

  He smiles briefly, then looks away. “So what can I get you?”

  Something about the way he does that bothers me, the way he cuts off all casual conversation intentionally. Almost as if he’s afraid to get along with me. I thought our little talk after school had cleared things up between us, that he’d forgiven me. But from the look on his face, I don’t think he has.

  “Um . . . I’d like a cinnamon bun, a chocolate donut,” I say, trailing one finger along the case’s glass window, “and a croissant. And butter to go with that, please.”

  “You want this to go?”

  “No, I’m staying.”

  “This is all for you?”

  “Yeah,” I say, sighing. “I’m having a lousy day. I deserve it.”

  Kyle hands me the tray, looking at me strangely. “That’ll be four dollars.”

  I hand him a five dollar bill. “Thanks,” I say, then touch the warm croissant and almost purr with happiness.

  He gestures to t
he back room as he hands me my change. “Looks like we have tables open.”

  “Right.” I smile, embarrassed. I hadn’t been thinking straight. I had actually planned to take it outside to eat it. Like I would have with Carol.

  He gives me a puzzled nod as I head back.

  I pull out a chair and dive into the chocolate donut. The dough is soft and sweet, just as I knew it would be. The chocolate sticks on my lips and cheek, but the need to devour everything pushes me on, and I grab the croissant next.

  Just as I’m taking a bite, I become aware that the room has gone quiet. The weight of a lot of eyes begins to bear down on me. I slowly sit straight, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

  A few feet away, at the table just behind me, I notice a boy and two girls from my school. I recognize them from the cafeteria, and I feel unreasonably guilty when I recall they are Kyle’s friends. Losers, as Amber calls them. The only one whose name I know is Ben, the curly-haired boy Duke tripped in the cafeteria. He’s staring hard at me, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to say a word. I don’t know the girls. But they seem know me because they’re watching me with a mixture of fascination and something very close to revulsion.

  “Hi,” I say uncomfortably, aware that my mouth is still partially full.

  The other kids don’t say anything.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  One of the girls exchanges a weird, brow-lifted look with her friends. Like they have a secret and they sure as heck aren’t about to let me in on it. Her smile is more like a smirk than anything else. She has long, dark hair, tinged with red, and her bangs almost touch her eyelashes. “Nothing. I just didn’t think you ate this stuff,” she says.

  I snort. “Yeah, well, this is the new Sia.”

  They continue to frown at me, but I refuse to back down. Really, what do they want from me? I smile, then chew and swallow, still looking back at them.

  Finally, the girl with the Hawaiian-looking, exotic features allows her frown to melt into something more friendly. There’s a noticeable toughness about her, but the curl of her lips suggests she’s laughing at me. “I think I like this new Sia,” she says.

  “Yeah? What’s so different from the old version?” I ask.

  The group looks away, not wanting to share. Again. Even Kyle, who’s been watching from behind the counter, finds something to occupy himself with.

  I take a breath for courage. “Come on. Tell me. Was I a snob like Amber?”

  “Worse,” blurts smiling Hawaiian, who isn’t smiling anymore. “Much worse. Out of all of them, you were the most ruthless.”

  I feel all the blood drain from my face, and the sweet remnants of chocolate in my mouth suddenly lack taste. Worse than Amber? How can anyone be worse than Amber?

  The other girl nods, pensive.

  “You made our lives a living hell,” the most talkative one says flatly.

  Tears swell in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I drop my gaze to the table. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I—I didn’t know.” This is a nightmare. Worse than Amber? I couldn’t possibly be. Not me. Not like her, of all people.

  I am so caught up in my grief and guilt that I don’t even see them leave. The bell over the door rings cheerfully as they open the door, then again as it latches behind them.

  After a few moments, I look up and see they’ve gone. The table is vacant, its shiny red surface still littered by crumbs. Evidence that I hadn’t been dreaming. No, this is definitely real. I’m not going to get out of it that easily.

  In this moment, I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt before. More alone than I’d felt huddling in the rain under a bridge, lost and desolate, which felt like a lifetime ago. It was worse than when I’d woken up in the park and realized I didn’t know who I was.

  Ignorance was bliss. I’d give anything to change things as they were, fix this shattered existence. It burns at my chest and makes my breath arrest as I ponder this.

  Could it be different? Nothing is set in stone, right?

  With this, a swift determination brings me to a decision: I will never be alone again, not like this, ever. “I can change. I am not her anymore.” I tell myself as tears trickle down my cheeks. “I know I’m not.”

  Kyle clears his throat from a few feet away. “Do you want a bag so you can take that home?”

  I glance up quickly, startled. With everything else on my mind, I’d forgotten all about him. I blink at the cinnamon bun, confused for a moment. My appetite is gone, but the pastry is still there, its frosting shining under the fluorescent lights. As I stare at it, a new clarity works its way into my mind. “Yes,” I say quietly. “In fact, I’d like a big bag. And I want to fill it up.”

  “Okay. Anything in particular?” he asks.

  “All different things. Whatever you can fit into the biggest bag you’ve got.”

  “You still hungry? Or is this for tomorrow?”

  In my mind, I picture Carol and the others, hungry but surviving. “I have some friends who will really appreciate it.”

  “Who?”

  I get to my feet and go to the side of the counter. “You know how you told me you sometimes bring day-old bread to the soup kitchen?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Well, I’m thinking those same people could use a little after-dinner snack.”

  Kyle frowns at me as he gently stacks the baked goods in the bag. “You’re going downtown tonight? Nuh-uh. Don’t do it. It's dangerous down there at night.”

  I put some twenty dollar bills by the register. “Actually, I have to go. I need to find my friend Carol and let her know I’m okay. She’ll be worried.”

  “Your friend? Really? A homeless person?”

  “Yes,” I spit defensively, “a homeless person is my friend. And friends miss each other when they’re apart.”

  His eyebrows lift as my words sink in. “You’re right. I shouldn't have said that.”

  I reach over the counter and take the bag. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later.”

  He nods, but he’s frowning. “Wait,” he says as I reach the door. “You’re going like that? Armed with nothing but a bag of doughnuts and rolls?”

  “Ha-ha,” I reply, scowling at his wry expression. “Not exactly. I have mace in my purse. I'll be fine.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” he says slowly.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I reach for the doorknob and the friendly little bell over the door gives a jingle, but I stop when Kyle speaks again.

  “You know,” he muses, “there is a difference between doing something charitable and doing something incredibly stupid.”

  I scoff. How dare he suggest I’m stupid?

  He sees my reaction and shrugs. “I’m just saying. Take a minute to think about what you’re about to do.”

  “I have.”

  “That so?”

  “Yes,” I snap. Still holding his gaze, I jerk my chin toward the street. “I was homeless for a week, remember? I know how dangerous it is out there. I know it firsthand, better than most. I can handle it.” I straighten, but to be honest, his suggestion has me a little concerned. Am I being too impulsive? Even if I am, I refuse to back down now. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm going.”

  He shakes his head. “You are one strange girl, Sia.” His eyes soften just a little, and a smile curls one side of his mouth.

  He’s actually quite handsome.

  “Do me one favor?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “Be careful.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The night seems darker than I remember it. Maybe I should have listened when everyone said to stay away, but it feels important that I be there. Especially now. Starting tonight, I am determined to change my life, to become the kind of person I should have been all along.

  The familiar bridge looms in the distance, a ghostlike gray in the night, and I pick up my pace. At least I’d left those ridiculous high heels at home.

  From out of
the night staggers a man. I shriek, suddenly not so brave. I can see the whites of his eyes, wide in a filthy face. His arms are stretched out before him, and from his strange, swaying stride I could swear he’s a zombie.

  “We're all dead!” he screams.

  I skitter back out of the way, avoiding his outstretched arms and clutching the BooBoo’s bag even tighter.

  His eyes are bloodshot and his open mouth shows me teeth that are either missing or black with rot. His hair is matted, clinging in greasy, dirty clumps around his neck. He keeps coming, forcing me to retreat until my back is against the cement barrier beside the road.

  “Get away from me!” I yell, digging in my purse for the mace.

  “The apocalypse is near! You’re doomed! Doomed!”

  “Go away!” There it is. My fingers close around the canister just as the creature grabs my arm. I scream again and struggle to get a grip on the can, which keeps slipping out of my sweaty fingers.

  “Hey! Get lost, lunatic!” says Kyle as he appears and marches right up to my attacker.

  I’ve never been so happy to find out someone’s been following me. My knees wobble with relief.

  “The end is near! We’re all gonna die!” the man screeches.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kyle mutters. “Just go away.”

  The manic eyes blink, unsure, but when Kyle keeps stalking toward him, he disappears into the night he’d creeped out of.

  I let go of the mace, feeling spent. My entire body is shaking. “Oh, Kyle! Thank you so much! I don’t know what—”

  He is furious. “Of course you don’t know!” he shouts. “I can’t believe you actually went through with this! Do you know how stupidly reckless it was? You could be killed out here, Sia.”

  “Hey!” I say, matching his mood. “I’m not stupid. You can’t call me that!”

  “Why not? You’ve been calling people much worse for years.”

  Anger surges through me. I’ve had enough. “Haven’t we been over this already? I apologized. I told you I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “No! Don’t you ‘whatever’ me.” All the frustration of the day bubbles up, and I let it out. “You all treat me like I’m a monster, only I’ve told you I don’t remember a thing. Why doesn’t anyone believe me? What do you need, a doctor’s note?” I puff out a breath and shake my head. “Well, I’m not doing that. I don’t have to prove anything to you or anyone else. I've already apologized. And if you’re not mature enough to accept it, well, that’s your problem, Kyle, not mine.”