Twisted in You

by Fabiola Francisco

  I nod again, silence taking over. I know he’s right, but it’s still scary. In here, I had people, even when I hated them. Out there, I have no one. Sam says I have a support system, but it’s different than having them around daily. I can’t depend on them, though. I need to be strong.

  I wipe a tear that rolls down my cheek and wash my face again. This time, I feel more confident. The fear is all in my head. My back straightens when Tyler pulls me in for a hug. Despite my stiff arms, he holds me close. I’m going to miss him, even if I am staying at his house. What we had here may not exist outside of this place.

  He chuckles and releases me. “It’s a hug, Red.” I smile tightly. “Now that you can kick my ass, our next step is working on your social skills.” I begin to protest, but he raises his hand. “I’ll see you.” He squeezes my hand and walks out of the bathroom.

  My breath is shaky when I walk out of the bathroom, and my throat is sore from the emotions I’m holding in. I look around my room, collecting the sketch under my mattress and sneaking it into my sketchbook. I look around. Not that there’s much to miss since this room was empty, but it was my home for three months. I finally gave into the idea of living here, and now I have to leave.

  “Mikayla, are you ready?”

  “Yeah,” I reply to Sam.

  Although I spent plenty of time outside in the last couple of months, it feels different to walk out the door of Chasing Freedom knowing I’m free to move on. I take one last look back, and then look at Sam. Her smile is encouraging, but my heart is racing like a wild horse inside my chest. I don’t have a plan besides find a job—no idea where—and continue to work with Sam.

  The ride in Sam’s car is silent. I watch the trees fly by, and I slowly take in the view as we drive through Nashville. This is a part of the city I never saw when I first moved here.

  “We’re not far,” Sam says as she drives along the rolling hills. “Brentwood is a good area. You’ll definitely be safe.” I look at the houses and notice the difference between the ones I saw earlier and the ones in this area. I look at Sam wide-eyed when she pulls into a circular driveway. The house has a combination of brick and stone exterior that gives it charm, yet looks new. I step out of the car with the small bag holding the few belongings I own and stare agape.

  “This place is huge.”

  “Yeah.” Sam looks around. “Let’s go.”

  I follow behind her up the walkway that leads to the front door. She unlocks the door and shuts off the alarm. I bring my eyebrows together.

  “Tyler gave me all the instructions. This key is yours.” She hands me the key she used. “The alarm code is 5231.” She shows me how to set it and turn it off. It seems simple enough. She walks me throughout the house, stopping in the kitchen, the living room, and the downstairs bathroom. We climb the stairs, and I notice how the hardwood floor is the same throughout the entire house. The railing is smooth beneath my hand as I reach the top steps.

  “To the right is Tyler’s room,” she says slowly as if trying to remember what he told her. I watch her look around and then walk towards a door. “This room is yours. It has an en suite bathroom, so it should be comfortable.” I walk in and raise my eyebrows.

  “Wow.” A big bed is in the center of the room. It must be a queen size. Across from the bed, a television is hanging from the wall. There’s a lamp on the nightstand and on the left a dresser with . . . I point to each drawer. Twelve drawers. A mirror hangs above it. The furniture has a champagne-colored finish that adds a hint of shimmer to it and compliments the wood floor. It’s straight out of a fairytale.

  “Did he do this for me or was it already like this?” I can’t imagine that Tyler would have a room with such feminine finishes.

  “I don’t know.” Sam shrugs.

  “I don’t need all of this.” I wave a hand around the room.

  “No one said you needed it.”

  I walk further into the room and find the closet.

  “A walk-in closet?” I turn to look at Sam. “And a bathtub and shower?” I walk back out of the bathroom.

  “It comes with the house.”

  “This is insane,” I say. “I don’t know if I can stay here alone. It’s so big. What if . . . I’ll never know if someone breaks in.”

  “Mikayla, no one is going to break in. You have a security guard around all the time, an alarm you will set every time you leave the house or go to sleep, and I am only twenty minutes away. The house has a phone you can use. You also have this cell phone.” She hands me the small device.

  “What?” I croak.

  “This one is on me. I want to make sure you can reach me at any time, no matter where you are. If you need anything, call me. My phone number is already programmed.”

  “Thank you, Sam.” I smile, and my eyes well with tears. She’s so good to me. Tyler, too. What did I do to deserve this? I look around the room again and shake my head.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I think so.”

  “Come on.” We walk into the kitchen. “The fridge is fully stocked and the kitchen is complete with pots, pans, plates, utensils. Whatever you need. You know how to cook,” she confirms.

  “I do.”

  “Oh, you’ll find a yoga mat in the gym.”

  “There’s a gym?” I exclaim.

  Sam laughs. “Yeah. It’s downstairs.”

  “Three stories . . .” This is insane. How does Tyler own this house? Well, I know how, but it’s such a big house for him alone. “I can’t stay here for free. This house must cost a fortune. I need a job.”

  “Mikayla, relax. Tyler offered because he wanted to, not because he needs help paying a mortgage. Trust me. We’ll get a plan going and search for job ideas when we meet later this week. I can come to you, if you want and we can do our sessions here.”

  “That works, since I don’t have a car.”

  “About that . . .” Sam looks back towards the kitchen.

  “No.” I am not accepting a car.

  “Tyler has a couple extra cars that you can use if you need to.”

  “I don’t think there will be many places I’ll need to go to.”

  “Well, if you need to go to the supermarket or anything, the keys are hanging by the garage door.”

  I didn’t even think that far ahead. I don’t have much money saved, so if I want to eat, I’ll need a job, sooner rather than later.

  “Okay,” I tell her. The only reason I have my license is because we had Driver’s Ed in school, but I’ve never driven out on the street besides the practice that was required to get my license. Actually, I’ll probably need to renew it. I’ll talk to Sam about that later. Right now, I want to lie down and not let the size of this place overwhelm me.

  After Sam leaves, I walk up the stairs and unpack the few clothes I have and organize it in the drawers. I place my sneakers in the closet, leaving the rest of it empty. I don’t have anything to fill up that space. Maybe I can have a normal life finally and buy new clothes and shoes, work some place where I will actually need nicer clothes. I shake my head as I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower, locking the door behind me. I wash away the day, silently thanking God.

  I head downstairs once I’m dressed, clutching my new cell phone and make sure all the doors are locked and set the alarm. It’s still early, but there’s nothing for me to do than stay in my room and draw. Opening my sketchbook to a new page, I begin to do just that. This time it is a man’s portrait with hurt in his eyes. The shading on his face adds to his emotions. It’s not a familiar face, but the emotions are. I sigh and put it down once I’m done.

  Unable to sleep, I turn on the television. I have not see anything on a TV in so long. I skip through the channels, unfamiliar with the guide here, until I stop on a show that seems funny. I shrug and sit back, staring at the images on the screen.

  I look around the bright room, blinking the sunlight away from my eyes. I hadn’t thought about closing the blinds before I fell
asleep. I sink back into the bed and pull the covers over my head. When I finally get out of the bed, I notice the time on my phone says it is five past eight in the morning. Breakfast is being served in Chasing Freedom now.

  I stand in the center of the kitchen and look around, taking in the stark comparisons of this kitchen and the cafeteria in Chasing Freedom. The dark cabinets warm the space, but I can’t imagine this being a homey space for Tyler. That could be because of the lifestyle he lives. It’s a picture-perfect home, but I know how false picture perfect can be.

  I walk around the house, finding the stairs that lead to the gym. I flip on the light switch by the stairs, slowly walking down. I lean forward and peek in before taking the last step. The entire basement has been transformed into a gym, fully equipped with weights, treadmill, and a punching bag in the right corner of the room. I exhale and look back up the stairs.

  My heart is racing, but I walk further into the room, taking every detail into account. He has it all here. I find the mat that Sam mentioned and roll it out on the empty space near the free weights. I close my eyes and center myself the way Carrie would have us do. Then, I begin to move my body into poses that are supposed to heal and open me.

  After my yoga session, based off memory from all my sessions with Carrie, I walk towards the punching bag. I stay still, heat spreading through me. Were those foot steps? My eyes move around, but my body freezes, listening intently. I slowly look up to the ceiling. No, the house is locked. Waiting a few seconds and hearing nothing else, I get in position and hit the punching bag. I watch my form and do exactly what Tyler taught me.

  I stop, almost getting knocked back with the bag and look up again. It must have been the echo of my punch. No way someone is in here. And if there was, I have no escape down here. I don’t even know the address if I needed to call the cops.

  “Fuck it.” I run up the stairs and into the living room, looking around and listening carefully. The door that leads to the patio is locked. “I’m going crazy.” I flinch as I hear a noise and sigh, my shoulders relaxing, when I realize it’s my phone ringing. I see Sam’s name on the screen and answer.

  “Hey, Mikayla. I was calling to see how you are adjusting.”

  “I’m okay.” I sit on the couch.

  “Good. Remember to eat. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Thanks, Sam.” I hear someone speaking behind her, and I am almost sure it’s Tyler.

  “Red?”

  “You have a huge house,” I blurt out. He chuckles.

  “It’s alright. You good?”

  “I’m good, Tyler. Thank you for letting me stay here.”

  “Make yourself at home. I made sure everything you would need is there.”

  I close my eyes and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. I take a stabilizing breath before speaking.

  “Thank you.” No one has cared about me like this. Sure, my mom was my mom, but she was too busy denying what was happening in our lives and working.

  “There was no one to sit with me during breakfast.”

  “You’ll survive.” I smile.

  I make breakfast and sit on a stool at the island. Scrambled eggs and toast are easy and quick enough to make, but the fridge and pantry are packed with food. Unsure of what to do for the rest of the day, I wash up what I used to make breakfast and walk around the house. The yard looks nice, but I don’t want to be outside right now. I peek into the other three rooms, including Tyler’s. They’re all impeccable. I wonder if he has someone who cleans for him? Couldn’t that person watch after his house while he was away?

  I shrug and move on from his room. One of the rooms is a music room with a desk and guitars. He doesn’t have any pictures around the house and the décor is basic. His office has some awards and a platinum record. My phone beeps in my hand. I open the message notification and shake my head.

  Sam: Red, go into the room next to yours.

  It’s the last room left for me to peek into. I walk towards it and respond before opening the door.

  Mikayla: Did you take Sam’s phone from her?

  Sam: Shhh . . . don’t tell and go to that room.

  I smile and open the door. I see a shelf full of books. I walk further into the room, looking closely at the titles. I recognize some of them, others are unfamiliar. I run my hand through the spines. Then, I see an easel and canvases leaning against the wall. There’s a desk with paints and paintbrushes. How did he do this?

  Mikayla: Thanks . . .

  Sam: You’re welcome. You like it?

  Mikayla: You didn’t have to do this.

  Sam: I wanted to. I want you to know you can stay there however long you want

  Mikayla: It’s amazing.

  Sam: Good, now go paint and relax. Gotta go, Sam is coming

  I laugh and put the phone down on the desk. Aware that I’m still in my pajamas, despite having worked out in them, I move the easel and set it up close to the desk. Next, I grab a canvas and place it on the easel. He even got a palette. I pour some paints onto the palette and begin mixing, getting lost in the world of colors and images.

  After showering, the books on the shelf beckon me. Without even reading the synopsis, I grab one and sit on the couch in the living room. I don’t know if Tyler put thought into the books or how he ever got that room set up. I assume he hired someone to do that.

  About a quarter into the book I pull away and close it, staring at the cover. Electrified by Rachel Blaufeld. My chest is rising quickly. Does Tyler know what books were chosen? This has to be a coincidence. The beginning is different than the books I was used to reading, but I thought I’d give the romance genre a go. I have no idea why. But this, this is . . .

  I’m stronger now. It’s only a book, and if Sienna Flower was able to escape the life she lived, then so could I. Right? I place the book on the coffee table and take a break. Too many memories.

  I begin to pace around the living room, staring out the glass door that leads outside. These outdoors aren’t protected like the ones in Chasing Freedom. If I go out here, anyone can see me or get to me. Unless the gate is high enough for privacy. I can’t tell from here.

  I stare back at the book laying on the table, half taunting me and half tempting me. I grab my phone and go make something to eat.

  Mikayla: Can we meet tomorrow?

  I hit send and begin to prepare a grilled cheese. Sam still hasn’t responded by the time I finish making the sandwich, so I sit on the stool to eat my food. I grew up mostly fending for myself, one grilled cheese at a time, especially when my mom worked late nights.

  Sam: Yes. I’ll be there in the morning.

  Tomorrow, Sam and I can talk. She can help me brainstorm ideas for work and a more permanent living situation. I can’t stay here forever, no matter how nice it is. Tyler will want his space once he comes back home. Thinking about everything I want to talk to Sam about, I begin to absentmindedly open cabinets trying to remember where I grabbed the pans from this morning for breakfast. My hand freezes on the knob of the cabinet I opened. I stare at the contents it holds. This was here before he entered Chasing Freedom, and do I think he’ll never have another drink in his life? What is it to me? I close the cabinet, memorizing which one it is, and continue to search for the right place to put the pans away. I can’t stay here once Tyler is back.

  “Can we talk outside?” I look at Sam standing in the middle of the living room.

  “Whatever is comfortable for you.” She follows me out the glass doors and we find a table with four chairs.

  “How were your first two days here?” Sam asks as she pulls her chair closer to the table.

  “Good, but I realized I don’t know the address in case I have an emergency.”

  “Mikayla.” She sighs. “I’ll leave the address written for you. You can put it on the fridge, but we need to work on your thought patterns.”

  I nod and sit back on the chair.

  “So how were your first two days here?”

  �
�Boring.” Sam laughs at my response. “I worked out and painted. Then, I read a book. He set up one of the bedrooms with books and art supplies.” My eyes widen as I speak.

  “So you can feel at home. All those things will help you to continue your healing process. Can I see your painting?”

  “Sure.” I shrug and go get it in the room. I put the canvas on the table once I’m back outside and sit down. Sam takes a moment to look at it.

  “This is more abstract than your other paintings.”

  “I know.” I look at the portrait made with different colors. The woman’s expression is firm, but fading into the colors. The colors swirl around her like a rainbow despite her serious expression.

  “It’s a great painting. I think the use of all colors is interesting.” I raise an eyebrow. “You used a balance of all the colors instead of focusing on one. Balance. Have you done any mirror work?”

  “No.”

  “I know it’s difficult to express that love we have for ourselves. Many times, we think we don’t even deserve it because no one gave it to us, but only we can give that love to ourselves. We’re capable of love.” She gives me a sad smile.

  “Have you ever done mirror work?” I ask.

  “Every day.”

  I want to ask her about her life, but I know that’s crossing a line. It’s not my business. Instead I say, “I’ll do mirror work later today.”

  “It will help. You know, someone once told me colors have a significance.” She looks down at the painting. “This painting offers so much with the power of the colors. You’re talented.”

  “Thank you. Sam, I need a job. I don’t want to be dependent of others or feel imprisoned once again. I want to be able to do something more than focus on the past.”

  “What did you have in mind?”