by Hollye Davis
She had to force her stiff muscles to move and as usual she was the last to leave. When she finally cleared the skywalk she numbly followed the signs to baggage claim. Her stomach churned but it was her sore throat from suppressed tears that became dominate.
Once she arrived at the baggage claim area, she located her flight number on the digital board and leaned against the nearest pole. She closed her eyes and thought of her horse in Texas. The images had always helped her through very stressful periods of her life, just as her horse had helped her live with her mentally ill grandmother.
She imagined the power of the horse underneath her, his muscles bunching then releasing as they galloped together. The wind rushing past her as he took her across fields of green and out of this life, she could almost smell the freshly plowed fields…
A loud buzzer went off. She jumped as the metal machinery groaned prepared to dump baggage off. A piece of luggage circled around continuously, unwanted. A piece of baggage, unwanted…unwanted. The litany repeated in her head until a tentative tap on her shoulder jerked her from her self-pitying thoughts. She turned to find a petite blonde with a pixie-like haircut in an expensive red suit looking curiously at her.
“Are you Cloe?” she asked.
Cloe blinked at least three times trying to comprehend that someone knew her name. She answered hoarsely, “Yes.”
“I’m your Aunt, Claire Wilson,” she stated in a business-like manner.
Cloe felt intense relief unlike any other time in her life.
They stood silently watching each other. Her aunt obviously wanted Cloe to say something but she had nothing to say. Instead she looked off toward the circling bags and was immediately grateful when she spotted hers. It would give her time to adjust that she really had an aunt. A reality that seemed too good to be true. Once she had both embarrassingly falling apart bags in her hands, her aunt ordered, “Follow me,” then she gestured toward the automatic glass sliding doors, “I’ve parked in the short-term parking garage.”
Cole had no choice but to follow her as her aunt walked ahead out the doors. What felt like a hike through twenty football fields, they arrived at her aunt’s vehicle.
The car reminded Cloe of her aunt, petite, red, and it was flashy. It looked expensive too. Cole put her bags in the tiny compact trunk and slid into the cream leather seats. It was so soft.
“I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to recognize you!” her aunt stated enthusiastically, “I was able to dig up an old picture from your high school in Texas. I have friends there, you know?” Her aunt looked at her expectantly and then smiled sweetly when Cloe didn’t say anything. “That’s how I learned about you. A friend told me about what happened to your grandmother and grandfather and how CPS took you a way. It has taken me nearly a year to find you! Who knew my sister would end up overseas? So like her.” She paused then continued on unperturbed and oblivious that Cloe hadn’t supplied any contribution into the conversation, “It was perfect timing too. When I got in contact with your mot…,” her aunt awkwardly stopped then amended, “…my sister, she said that they had a new lead on a job and asked if I could take care of you.”
Her aunt’s amendment led her to believe she might have a better grasp on Cloe’s situation than what her aunt was letting on.
“Anywho,” her bubbly aunt continued, “I am so glad to have you here. I live by myself and it gets rather lonely. Maybe I realize that I’m getting older and have no family.” Then she gestured at her and said, “Besides you and of course my sister, that is.”
There was another awkward silence but it seemed her aunt had class and finesse, which wouldn’t allow for awkwardness.
“I hear you’re used to taking care of yourself, which is perfect because my job has me out at all hours.”
Cloe wanted to ask what she did for a living but she swallowed the question. Her father taught her that asking personal questions led to a slap across the face.
Luckily her aunt answered the unspoken question anyway, “I’m a child talent scout and travel quite a bit.” Her aunt spared her a quick glance, “I hope you don’t mind.”
Cloe couldn’t understand why she would mind. She’d spent the last year completely alone.
Her aunt watched her expectantly and she knew it was appropriate to answer something here but she didn’t know what to say so she nodded once. It seemed to appease her aunt and prompted her to continue on a monolog about mundane things and nervous chatter. Claire would occasionally point out landmarks and points of interest as they drove out of the city.
Cloe admired her aunt’s impressive conversational skills, especially since Cloe didn’t say a single word. More remarkable was that Cloe began to feel at ease with her aunt, which was rare. As soon as that thought entered her head, Cloe swallowed the feeling down. She knew better than to like or trust anyone. The drive felt like forever but at this point Cloe was so exhausted she had no comprehension if it was long or not. The stress, the flight, and her lack of peaceful sleep was affecting her ability to focus on anything. Therefore, when they took an exit and began to slow down to drive through a lovely gated community in what looked like a beach resort area, Cloe nearly cried out joyfully.
Sitting up straighter her foggy mind focused in on lovely cottages that were painted in bright colors. Beyond them was a massive ocean.
This couldn’t be where she would be staying, was it? Surely she wouldn’t be as fortunate to land in a place this opulent, could she? Looking for answers Coe turned a questioning glance at her aunt who was busy navigating through the small neighborhood.
Without the first word, her aunt swung her car into a very lovely soft yellow cottage. It was situated on top of tall piers with a long set of stairs that led to the main entrance. Cloe stared not at the house, but what was behind the house. It was the Pacific Ocean.
“We’re home,” chirped her aunt as she turned off the car.
“This…”Cloe swallowed working past her dry throat, “…this is home?”
“Oh yes, most people own these cottages as vacation homes but I love it so much I stay here year round.” Then she added, “Sometimes the weather gets a little hairy but nothing too scary.” As if the prove her aunts statement, a wave crashed in the distance but instead of fear, she found it peaceful.
“Wow,” was the only thing her blank mind could conjure up at the moment. Her aunt beamed at her, clearly pleased.
Cloe followed her up the numerous wooden stairs and through the front door into an entryway. It opened into a great room with a solid wall of windows and glass doors that overlooked the massive ocean. Cloe stood barely inside the door dumbstruck as her aunt moved off to explain something about the house. She wasn’t listening. She was stuck, rooted to the floor, unable to move.
After few moments of gaping, Cloe barely registered when her aunt grabbed her elbow. “I know you must be tired so let me show you your room,” her aunt chatted cheerfully as she led her into a hallway, “We will have time for a grand tour tomorrow.”
Her aunt released her when she walked through the first opening on the right. “This is your room,” she announced as she flounced off.
The first thing Cloe noticed was a double bed with a multitude of soft pillows. On its own volition, her hand reached out to touch the soft duvet encased comforter, while she suppressed a moan and fought the urge to sink into the softness that beckoned her. Willfully forcing her focus away from the temptation she lifted her head to take in another wall of glass that displayed the massive ocean as if it was a lifesized painting.
Her aunt thrust opened the glass doors that led out to a deck releasing a gust of fresh salty air. The instant the sea breeze caressed Cloe’s face, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Heaven, she must have died and gone to heaven. Slowly reopening her eyes she noticed her aunt walk to another door inside the room and disappear. Carefully leaning forward to see where her aunt went she was pleasantly surprised to find she had her own bathroom. Claire popped out of the door s
miling. Cloe snapped her jaw shut.
Not sure where her aunt was going next, Cloe stood very still as she watched her walk to another door. “You’ll like this,” she said as she opened a double door with a practiced flourish. Cloe took a step closer to peer into the gaping entryway. This door led into an empty walk-in closet, which reminded her of her bedroom in Germany.
Once again she was left dazed. This was her room? This was where she was going to live? Cloe swallowed down another reaction to her stomach. This was too good, too easy, too…something. She needed to get a grip. She must be dreaming.
Her mind continued to turn, what was the catch? Was she to be her personal slave? Did she have to pay rent? The thoughts came rumbling in like a storm and her stomach hurt. She swallowed down the pain, or tried too. Her aunt stood close, watching her, “Why don’t you take a shower and a nap. We can talk later.”
Immediately relieved, Cloe nodded once unable to speak for fear she would throw-up or crumble to the floor. Then her aunt would send her away like everyone else did.
After her aunt departed the room, Cloe forced herself to take a quick shower. She threw on an old t-shirt a neighbor had given her in Germany complete with holes but at least it was clean. She climbed into the softest sheets she had ever felt in her entire life and slept. She slept without dreams, without thought. It was the best night of her life.
Time was irrelevant when my soul was tired and my body awake
– Cloe’s Diary in the early hours before dawn.
Chapter Three Adjustment The soft sheets rubbed against her cheek as the smell of cleanliness assaulted her nose. She opened one eye to verify what her body refused to believe.
It was still dark outside.
She groaned and rolled over to try to go back to sleep but knew instantly it was a lost cause. She was awake.
The floor was cool but not uncomfortable as she slid her feet out of the bed and padded her way around her new room. She slowly opened the closet and peeked inside. It amused her although she didn’t smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she smiled and now feared she forgot how. She glanced at her ragged bag of rags then back at the closet. It was too embarrassing to hang the rags in a closet this fine.
She ignored the bags.
It was easier to avoid unpleasant things, she thought as she entered the deck through the double glass doors.
The breeze off the ocean was cool and salty and it ran over her like a much needed balm. She inhaled deeply filling her longs dispelling any sad thoughts.
It was pitch-black outside with not a star, nor moon in the sky. She looked around but there wasn’t anything disernable past the deck. Only the roar of the waves let her know what lay beyond. It wasn’t until a slight flicker of light in her peripheral vision drew her attention to a campfire off to the far right. Squinting she could just make out a few silhouettes of people. The firelight played off their bodies giving them an ethereal quality that kept her captivated. She strained to hear any of their conversation but the ocean obliterated any noise. Feeling vulnerable in her sloppy t-shirt, she left the deck and walked back into the cottage through the living room doors.
It was nice her aunt felt safe enough to keep all the doors unlocked. The seedy neighborhood in Germany required their door to be adorned with multiple locks. Sadly, it didn’t help with what already resided inside the apartment. A sharp pain stabbed her stomach. It time to focus on something else.
The living room had tasteful rich furnishings with leather couches and glass coffee tables. The colors were light and airy that gave the impression of space. The kitchen was off to the corner and opened into the living room. It had beautiful granite countertops and the appliances gleamed as if they were new, or maybe never touched. The only out of place object was a coffee pot that was situated catty-cornered on the end of the counter. It looked to be well loved, or at least well used.
She opened cabinets to find her suspicions were correct. No one cooked in this kitchen. All the necessary implements were there to make a meal: plates, pots, pans but no food. There was a surprisingly cheap plastic salt and pepper shaker, but no flour, sugar, or spices. The discovery of the “faux” kitchen made her feel purposeful for the first time in a long time. One thing that she was always good at was cooking. She could be some use here, she thought, a glimmer of hope and excitement blossoming.
She sat down on the glass kitchen table that seemed to fit in the “glass house” and began writing a grocery list. She would have to ask aunt for a loan, but she would find a way to pay it back. She was stateside now and old enough to get a job.
She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she remembered was the smell and sound of percolating coffee. Cloe lifted her head to see a very blurry person seated on the other side of the table who was snorting out giggles. It had to be her aunt. Cloe blinked a couple of times trying to focus.
To her horror, her aunt raised her hand to slap her. Cloe recoiled back nearly tipping her chair. To catch her balance, she swung back forward and luckily the chair reinstated itself. Cloe kept her face down preparing for the blow. But nothing came and slowly she forced herself to peer cautiously at her aunt.
The first thing Cloe noticed was a piece of paper dangling from her aunt’s fingers. The second thing she noticed was her aunt’s stunned expression. That was when it occurred to her the paper must have been stuck to her face and instead of her aunt trying to slap her, she must have tried to remove it. Embarrassed tears flooded her eyes leaking down her cheeks. Her aunt’s expression was full of condemnation and disgust.
Gripping the side of the glass topped table until her knuckles began to hurt she prepared for her aunt’s outburst. She deserved to be kicked out.
But that didn’t come either. She watched suspiciously as her aunt slowly rose from her chair and walked around to squat next to her. Looking straight into Cloe’s eyes, her aunt spoke slowly, “Honey, I don’t know what your life has been like before now, but I want you to know that I will NEVER hit you, I will NEVER abuse you, and I will certainly never look at you any less for whatever you did to survive.”
Cloe was stunned. No one in her entire life had been that nice or understanding to her. Not even her grandparents who looked upon her as more hired help and obligation than a granddaughter.
With nothing more to say, Claire stood and went to the coffeemaker to refresh her cup and then walked to the living room. Cloe watched her as she sat on the couch staring at the ocean. It was a relief that her aunt didn’t press unwanted questions or ask for explanations because …how do you explain you’re a spaz?
Later, after taking another hot shower, she found Claire still in the living room reading what looked like children‘s resumes. She had her laptop positioned with a picture of a shockingly beautiful girl displayed on the screen.
Cloe sat next to her prompting her aunt to look up from her work, “Well, I’m glad to see you refreshed. I’ve cleared my schedule of appointments so we can do whatever you like.” “Oh,” Cloe answered lamely. She didn’t think anyone had ever given her the option to do whatever she liked with someone else. In Germany her parents didn’t care what she did, as long as it didn’t bother them.
Her aunt continued, “I thought maybe we would go and buy a TV. I never got around it because honestly I really don’t watch TV at home. I know it is kind of weird for someone who is a talent scout, but I find I have to read scripts and parts so much the last thing I want to do is come home and watch it.”
“I don’t watch TV,” Cloe said softly looking out to the ocean.
“Oh, well that is…different,” her aunt frowned, “I mean most of the teenagers I meet seem glued to it.”
Not me, I am nothing like other teenagers, She thought. In Texas her grandparents had one channel for her grandfather to watch the nightly news. She was too busy with chores and too exhausted to even care to watch anything but her eyelids.
“Well I don’t,” Cloe mumbled after a long pause. She knew she wasn’t ma
king the conversation easy for Claire but she didn’t have a clue how to rectify the situation.
“Okay, there goes that shopping plan.”
Cloe watched as disappointment washed over her aunt’s expression making Cloe even more disgusted with herself. She wanted to fix herself but didn’t know how.
All she knew was that she sucked at conversation. She was always afraid she was going to say the wrong thing, mainly because she always did.
Shifting in her seat, Cloe felt overly self-aware and uncomfortable. Finally completely disgusted with herself, she stood up and made her way back to her room. She nervously flitted around it, trying to stay busy. If she were busy then she wouldn’t be able to think. Had she seen her aunt’s worried expression, it would have made her hate herself even more.
Finally she stopped in front of her suitcases. After staring sightlessly at them for a few moments, she opened her larger bag to sort through the rags that masqueraded as clothes. She tried to find something appropriate to wear but everything was either too small, too large, or stained. She embarrassed herself, what would her aunt feel like?
Lost in thought about the conundrum of her clothes she hadn’t realized her aunt had followed her into the room.
It was only when Claire exclaimed, “This is horrible, you wore this?” that Cloe jumped aside jarred from the outburst. Cloe peered through the side of her eyes as her aunt had a threadbare Rugby shirt that a neighbor had left at their door dangling from her fingers.
Cloe’s face burned with embarrassment. She knew she was a loser but it didn’t help to think your perfect aunt thought you one too.
Her aunt put the shirt down and began rooting through her bag. Cloe clinched her hands together wanting desperately to slap the suitcase lid down as mortification slid through her.