"Hey, Aunt Dee?"
"Yes honey?" She prodded at the pancakes. I was almost drooling as I watched them bubble before she flipped them onto a plate.
"Has Britt's mom not been around for a while?”
Aunt Dee had a puzzled look on her face, like she was thinking really deep. She carried the plate of pancakes over to the table and gestured for me to follow.
"Well what makes you ask a question like that, honey?" She scooped two pancakes onto my plate and one onto hers before sitting down.
"Oh just curious, I mean, gosh, being fifteen it would have been weird not seeing my mom every day." I was really curious as to why Brittany would be looking for her mom in the woods, and hoped not to make it too obvious.
Aunt Dee looked over my shoulder, nodding, I guess she was making sure Brittany's door was closed.
"Well," she whispered. "The last time I can remember Brittany seeing her mom, before she passed, was kind of…" She stopped, like she was searching for the right words. "Well, it wasn't pretty."
"How so?" I doused my pancakes in syrup, only looking down briefly before returning my attention back to Aunt Dee.
"Joni was never the most trustworthy person, and she sure knew how to take advantage of people." Aunt Dee put a napkin on her lap.
"It was a few years ago, she told me she wanted to start seeing Brittany again, and that was something I sure wasn't happy about. And I told her that." She started cutting her pancakes into tiny little bites. "Joni didn't take no for an answer either."
She plopped a piece of pancake into her mouth, and kept on proceeding with the story as bits of pancake came out of her teeth as she spoke. I was too engrossed in the story at this point to really care that she was practically spitting on me. My mother would have probably said something at this point, but I wasn't about to stop her. For one thing I didn't want to hurt her feelings, and for another thing I wanted to hear the story.
"She was staying with some guy off Old Conger Road and started meeting Brittany in the woods over by there."
"So Brittany was meeting up with her in the woods?" I rested my chin in my palm and leaned forward to get a better listen.
"Yes of all places! As it turns out Joni was just looking for money as always. Told Brittany she wanted to see her, but was always having her bring money." Aunt Dee wiped her mouth. "It started out with Brittany just emptying her piggy bank, but when that wasn't enough she started taking money from me…"
"How much money?" I wondered if I was being too forward, but I remembered how open Aunt Dee was when I first met her, and thought she would trust me enough to tell me the details.
She looked down. "Within about six months I almost lost the house, since Brittany had taken almost everything from my checking and savings."
My mouth gaped open. I couldn't believe it. "Oh my God! Aunt Dee!"
"Shh!" She put a finger to her lips and pointed at Brittany's door. "And don't use the Lord's name in vain." She tapped my hand, meaning for it to come out like a slap on the wrist. I don't think she really wanted to hurt me.
"Oh sorry…" I whispered. "Well, what did you do?"
"The only thing I could do. Even though she was my daughter. I had to get the police involved." She sighed. "However, Joni ended up running away again, with all of our money. She left poor Brittany trying to go back to those dang woods for weeks to try and find her. Brittany even believed she could still talk to her there after she passed."
"What did you do about the money then?" I pondered between bites of food.
"Well, I had to cash out some old stocks and bonds, but we ended up being alright. Don't you worry about me Libby." She patted my free hand. "We are just fine."
I popped another bite of pancake in my mouth as Aunt Dee and I sat in silence. You could hear every scrape of our forks as we cleaned our plates. Brittany still was not up yet, and my stomach was feeling bloated. I had consumed more carbs in my two days in Louisiana than I had my entire freshman year of college.
"Hey Aunt Dee?" I leaned in on the table as she started clearing our plates.
"Yes dear?" She took a sponge to her plate, not looking up from the sink as she spoke.
"I think I am going to go for a run before work. Is that alright? I promise I won't be too long." My thighs could really use it.
"Why sure honey, go right ahead. I'll clean up here and when you get back we can head on over to the paper." She looked up and smiled at me through those Coke bottle glasses. I had only known this woman a few days, but I already knew why Blaine and everyone seemed to like her so much.
∞
I used to run every day in college. I prided myself on being one of the only girls in my dorm that actually lost weight instead of gaining the freshman fifteen. Some say they chalked it up to the fact that when you are in the spotlight all the time, or just a new sorority pledge, forces you into the binge, purge, and run habit. My parents thought all my troubles at school were drinking and partying with my sorority sisters.
They never really paid attention to why the water was always running when I was in the bathroom, or how I was missing class because I just HAD to stay up to be the designated driver for the older members with the rest of my pledge class.
All these thoughts crossed my mind as I got dressed for my run. I so badly wanted to just put on an oversized tee shirt and some sweat pants to run, I could just feel my pants getting tighter, but it was just too hot. I put on a sports bra and a pair of yoga pants, at least with them being black it had a slimming affect. I strapped my iPod on my armband and put in my earbuds to be surrounded by the sounds of pop music. It was a nice break from Brittany's weird rock music or Aunt Dee's twangy country music.
At eight in the morning it was probably already about ninety degrees. I was glad that I put my hair up because I could already feel the sweat dripping down my neck. I thought I would do just a mile or two and run down to the end of Aunt Dee's street and back. Which was a pretty long way. I was focused on my music and the road ahead of me, the lyrics filling my ears.
Finally getting to see Elsbury in the daytime, it looked a lot different than what I was expecting. In high school we had to watch Gone with the Wind, so I was expecting that every southern town looked like Civil War era Atlanta. Needless to say, Elsbury was nothing like that and Tara wasn't anywhere in site.
Even though it had been years since a hurricane went through, parts of the town looked like they just had a recent storm. I passed dozens of houses with big orange X’s on the door and there were even some areas where it was nothing but cement stairs. I'm sure the stairs used to lead right up to the front porches of someone's home, but now it was just these random stairs to nowhere. I felt like it was kind of a metaphor for my past year. Each step was a different path I took my freshman year of college and where did that lead me? Nowhere.
After getting lost in my own thoughts, I snapped out of it when I heard something to the right of me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw some guys working on a road crew in front of a white house off of a little side street. Their bright orange vests could have blinded anyone, and since they were standing in front of some big, yellow machines I don't think I could have missed them.
"Damn if I would have known they made girls this good looking I would have moved to this Parrish a long time ago." A very tan Cajun-looking man whistled.
Two other guys nodded along with him, as they looked over whatever giant road equipment they had. Then I saw him out of the corner of my eye, it was Blaine, the last person I really wanted to see.
At first he didn't notice it was me, but when he did his blue eyes got wide. I smiled and turned away from him, giving a wink to the other three guys as they whistled and shouted some pretty graphic things. I beamed thinking maybe those pancakes weren't sticking to my thighs, but then I was taken back to reality as I felt Mr. Vice Grip yank me back.
"Hey!" I stopped and pulled out my ear buds as I glared at Blaine. "What was that all about?"
"What the hell is w
rong with you?" I couldn't tell if he was narrowing his eyes at me, or if he was just squinting from the sun, but either way I could tell he was not happy.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" I blew a stray strand of hair out of my eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you? You can't just go around grabbing girls all the time. That is not how you make friends!" I pushed his arm off of me.
"Well do you think you are really going to be meeting people running around half-naked and hitting on road crew guys?" He crossed his arms over his chest, the veins bulging from his muscular arms. I had to snap my head away from them so I would stop staring.
"Aren't you a road crew worker?" I tilted my head.
"That's not the point."
I smirked. No matter how built he was, and how much I wanted to stare into those blue eyes, this guy was really pissing me off. I don't know where he got off always telling me what to do, but it was really getting irritating.
"Then what is the point Blaine? That you like to tell me what to do? That you seem to get off on trying to stop me from what little bit of fun I am having in this stupid town?"
He opened his mouth to say something, but I stopped him before he could speak.
"No. Just stop it Blaine. Let's get something straight here." I poked my index finger at his chest. "You are NOT my father, you are NOT my family's keeper, and you are NOT my boyfriend. Hell, you are not even my friend. So stop acting like it's your duty to protect me from whatever danger I am in, and just leave me alone!"
I turned away from him and started almost sprinting back to my aunt's. I wanted to look back, but I knew if I did I might do something drastic. Like punch him right in those stupid blue eyes.
Chapter 7
Aunt Dee’s antique shop looked like someone just threw a bunch of stuff from their attic in an abandoned warehouse. Mom used to take me into these old, quaint antique shops near Galena that contained pretty china and old paintings on the wall, but Aunt Dee’s place had none of these. Unless they were hidden underneath one of the rows of old oil cans that lined the walls.
The shop was located on what would be called the "down town" I didn't know that a downtown could consist of a post office, fire department, one bar, and one restaurant, and that was the big draws. That was the signature downtown…about three city block's worth of entertainment.
The first time I went into the shop it was like I was some sort of circus freak. I thought I should dress up since it was my first day of work, and so I wore my black pants suit, my mom insisted that I bought one when I graduated from high school.
She also thought it would be a great work outfit for me this summer. Well, it looked like I was the only one that was dressed up. I guess my mom didn't account for the heat, that always seems to leave you covered in a fine mist no matter how long you've been outside, or that people don't really wear suits when you work at an antique shop.
The main are wasn’t that much bigger than one of my college classrooms. The walls wooden walls were lined with shelves containing dusty pottery and rusted, metal signs were plastered to the walls.
An older woman with salt and pepper hair sat in front of a giant rusted fan, at the front counter, fanning her chicken arms that hung out of a sleeveless, ketchup stained shirt. The other women at the counter looked about mid-thirties and gawked at me from behind her crooked glasses and cheap lip gloss.
The back of the shop contained one closed-off office that was Aunt Dee's, and another small desk sat across from the office that was going to be mine. It definitely wasn't anything fancy, a large metal desk and an overstuffed, green, fake leather chair, which was probably bought from an Army surplus store, but it was a desk. It was a job, and I really couldn't complain too much. It could have been a whole lot worse. I could be in a hairnet.
I had decided to go to school for fashion merchandising. I had always loved fashion and always dressed pretty well. Honestly I would have rather picked another major, but when you're blonde, in a sorority, and your ACT score was only an 18, you weren't really cut out for too much. So I thought fashion merchandising would be easy, I was wrong.
It was hard to concentrate as it was when I was always up either doing something for Kappa or spending a late night at the gym. I couldn't make it to half of my Gen Eds, and my major classes…forget about it. Who knew so much math was involved in fashion? And I felt like I wasn't going to understand it by reading it over and over in my $150 text book.
My teachers really didn't believe in me, and my sorority made me the token blonde ditz. It seemed like Aunt Dee was the only one to actually believe in me. She didn't send me out to work on sorting through the new shipments that came in off the back of some guy’s truck. She actually sat me down and taught me how to do the books, I was going to be doing the shop’s accounting. I wasn't the dumb blonde holding up the car wash sign, I was the bookkeeper, and it was the first time I had felt proud of myself in a long time.
Chapter 8
My learning process was a slow process. Marion (chicken arms) and Dina (snaggletooth) frequently got frustrated with me. But Aunt Dee would just come out of her office, smile, and show me exactly what I did wrong and exactly how to fix it, until everything was balanced. After a week I felt like I was actually doing something worthwhile.
And coincidently it had also been a week since my run-in with Blaine. It wasn't that I wasn't thinking about him, and believe me I was, I wish I could get him out of my head. For some reason he was really getting to me. Brittany would constantly talk about how he hadn't been around Sarah's every time I would see her at dinner. In response, I would just nod and smile.
It was a typical day at the office; Marion was standing over the fan and constantly complaining about how hot she was, instead of doing whatever she was supposed to be doing. Dina was watching random videos on the internet and constantly applying lip-gloss (I guess that's what the sales manager does?).
I sat in my chair, twirling my ponytail, as I kept trying to figure out how we could be missing a random two dollars from the petty cash account, when I heard the bell on the front door ring. I expected it was another customer looking for some old broken teapot. But this person was not a customer, and was enough to take away both Marion and Dina's attention. I could hear them both swoon.
"Hey Blaine." Dina purred.
Blaine? My head popped up. What was he doing here? I was guessing to suck up to Aunt Dee some more, or hell, maybe he was banging Dina. I went back to working on the books as Dina went on and on.
"Are those flowers for me?" She giggled.
Flowers?
"Um..." Blaine stammered. "Actually, I'm here to see Libby."
Me? I kept my eyes down on the books; if he could go a week without an apology then he didn't deserve my attention. But flowers are always nice…
"Oh." Dina smacked her big overly-glossed lips together. "Well, you can see she's in the back." She nodded her head of messy curls over in my direction. I pretended not to notice as Blaine's work boots creaked on the old wooden floor.
"Um…hey…" He was standing right in front of my desk, a pathetic display of carnations that he probably picked up at the gas station in his hands. The red and white of the flowers sharply contrasted against his bright orange work vest.
I glanced up and blew away a stray blonde hair. "Hey." I went back to looking down at the books.
"Um..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I brought you these."
I put my pencil down on the desk and folded my hands in front of me as I looked up. "Gee, Blaine first you insult me, then you don't talk to me for a week, and now you come with cheap flowers?" I let out a single laugh.
"Wow, you really know how to impress a girl." That last statement dripped with sarcasm, and by that time we had the attention of the two gossip mongers in the front, and possibly some of the customers milling around the store.
"Look." Blaine leaned in as he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry Libby. I think we got off on the wrong foot". He placed the bouquet on the desk and set
both his hands down in front of him, so he could have more leverage to lean in.
"The wrong foot?" I cocked an eyebrow. "You basically called me a slut." I started putting my fingers up to count. "Um, I believe stupid." I put another finger up. "Oh, and a horrible niece and cousin." I put that last finger up with a sense of defiance. "Did I miss anything else?"
He sighed. "Look, Libby." I could almost see the sweat form on his brow. "I am sorry for all of that. I never really gave you a chance and I should have. You’ve been the talk of the town these past two weeks and no one has got anything bad to say about you."
"Go on." I rested my chin in my hand and leaned in closer. Our foreheads were less than a foot apart now.
"Well, I think I should make it up to you, and I thought maybe I could take you to dinner tonight. Your choice of the place." He cracked a nervous smile. I could tell it was a nervous smile because it was almost too toothy. He did have perfect teeth though, I noticed. It was like he had years of braces. As a dentist’s daughter I noticed these things. I also really paid attention, since I expected him to be missing a few teeth, but I think that was just me stereotyping.
"Hmm." I tapped my nails on my chin and looked toward the ceiling. "I don't know. You were awfully mean." I then looked back at him and let an almost Cheshire-like smile cross my lips.
"Aw come on Libby. Don't play it like that." His southern accent got thicker, and a little bit more playful as he leaned in even closer. We were only inches apart now.
I let out a sarcastic sigh. "Okay, but just this once."
He grinned, "Can I pick you up tonight around six then?"
"No." I slowly shook my head. "I'm busy. Its bridge club night, so I'm staying home with Britt."
"Okay. Fine how about tomorrow?" That nervous sweat was beginning to form again.
"I think there is a new TV show on that night."
"Oh come on!" He was visibly getting frustrated now as he balled his hands into fist.
My Paper Heart Page 4