Something Like Normal Page 8

  Chapter 10

  Something New

  I find my thoughts constantly drifting to Quinn as I’m cleaning out room one, and I swear, I have vacuumed the same patch of carpet for the past five minutes.

  What is wrong with me? I have let a handful of people get under my skin, and I don’t understand why. This is the first time in my entire life I have felt something other than… well, nothing.

  I’ve only been here for three days, and I’m already happier than I have been in a very, very long time. But what goes up, has gotta come down.

  Pulling out the polishing rag, I blindly commence dusting the bedside lamps, humming to a tune on the radio.

  “Hey, Paige,” I hear from behind me.

  I jump, startled that I have company, and spin to see Grandpa standing in the doorway, looking around the room in awe.

  “Well, God damn, this room looks better than it has in years,” he says, shuffling over to a pot plant I saved from shriveling into a sad heap, touching its leaves softly.

  “Thanks,” I say, and again, I feel my mouth tip up into a small smile.

  “You’ve done a real good job, Paige. Thank you.”

  I don’t know why, but his words of praise, words I never received growing up, mean a lot to me.

  I nod, embarrassed by my reaction to a simple thank you.

  Thankfully, Hank changes subject. “Would you have use for something like this?” he asks, pulling an iPhone out of his grey trousers pocket.

  I eye the phone, and then back up at Hank.

  “Maybe. Why?” I ask, suspiciously.

  “Well, my friend bought it for me, and I really don’t need it. So I’d rather give it to you. Otherwise, it’ll just collect dust in a drawer,” he replies, his soft eyes revealing nothing but honesty.

  “But I can’t accept it. It’s yours,” I say, shaking my head.

  Hank waves me off and shuffles over to me, placing the phone onto my cleaning trolley.

  “Take it,” he says, like it’s no big deal.

  I stare at the phone, wishing I could accept it as I am currently without a phone.

  “But… but I can’t pay you,” I mumble. “I mean this is brand new and worth a lot of money. Why don’t you sell it? You can get some cash for it,” I suggest.

  “Paige, just make an old man happy and accept it,” he says, his crinkled eyes looking into mine, telling me that it’s okay.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, staring at the phone like it’s a bag full of gold.

  And to me, it is.

  “Hey, that reminds me,” I say, remembering the bag of nuts.

  I brought them with me, as I was going to drop them off anonymously on my way out, so he’s just saved me a trip.

  Hank looks up at me, and I reach under the trolley to pull out the nuts.

  “This is for you,” I mutter softly, kind of embarrassed to be giving him a bag of peanuts when he just gave me an iPhone.

  His eyes light up as he looks at the nuts.

  “You sure know the way to my heart.” He chuckles, accepting the bag happily.

  I give him a small smile and hate to admit, Hank is already imbedded in mine.

  ***

  With my new iPhone in hand, I stroll into work with a skip to my step.

  I’m actually happy to be coming into work. Is there something wrong with me? From what I’ve heard, one is not meant to be happy when working, one is meant to loathe work with a passion. But compared to what I’m accustomed to walking into, coming into Bobby Joe’s is like a breath of fresh air.

  “Paige!” Tabitha screeches, running out from behind the counter to give me a hug.

  Still a little rigid, I don’t freeze up like I did yesterday—a fact I’m proud of.

  “Hey,” I reply, patting her back while she squeezes me.

  “Hey, Paige,” smiles Tristan, carrying an armful of dirty plates and glasses.

  “Hey, yourself. Let me help you,” I say, quickly shrugging out of Tabitha’s tight hug and extending my hands out to him. “Gimme,” I command when he hesitates, a smile tugging at his lips.

  He lets out a small laugh. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you.” He hands me a couple of plates.

  “Hey, don’t let my size fool you,” I say jokingly.

  Tristan’s hair slips over his brow as he eyes me up and down. “Oh, I won’t.”

  ***

  It’s just as busy as yesterday, but today, I am finding things a little easier and breezing through the stuff I found difficult yesterday.

  I am carrying a bunch of dirty trays when I walk past the noticeboard and see a flyer advertising a new twenty-four hour gym which has opened up not too far from here. As I’m programming the number into my phone, I feel someone looking over my shoulder.

  I know it’s Tabitha because I can smell candy. I know that sounds ridiculous, but every time I’m around her, that’s all I can smell. And it’s actually a nice scent.

  “Whatcha doing?” she asks, putting her head on my shoulder, looking at the noticeboard.

  Tabitha obviously has no problems with intimacy, as she hugs or touches me every chance she gets.

  “Gonna check out this gym,” I reply, pointing at the flyer on the wall.

  Tabitha moves to stand near me, and rips it down from the board.

  “Hey, this isn’t too far from here. Would you mind if I tagged along?” she asks nervously, pulling at her tight t-shirt.

  Is this some weird, girly bonding thing? I’m so confused. I thought girls’ nights involved makeovers, popcorn, and pillow fights.

  “Sure,” I reply.

  Every day I seem to be learning more and more, but I have a feeling I haven’t even begun to skim the surface.

  ***

  Nine o’clock rolls around quickly, and the dinner rush has kept Tabitha and me on our toes.

  As I make my way out of the locker room, I see Tabitha waiting for me.

  “Hey, whatcha up to now?” she asks, her car keys in hand.

  “Just going home,” I reply, because I am really pooped.

  I didn’t get a chance to dye my hair last night after my run in with Quinn. Speaking of, I was a little disappointed I didn’t see him today. But I brush those childish thoughts aside, as they’re juvenile and petty.

  “Do you wanna hang?” she asks, looking at me optimistically.

  “Hang where?” I question nervously, as I don’t want her seeing where I call home.

  “I dunno. What plans did you have for the night?” she asks naturally.

  “Um, I was going to dye my hair,” I confess hesitantly, not sure if that’s the right answer.

  Tabitha claps her hands together, and jumps up and down on the spot excitedly.

  “Can I do it for you?” she asks, interlacing her fingers into prayer hands.

  “Um… okay, sure,” I reply, scrunching up my face.

  I didn’t realize dyeing one’s hair was so exciting.

  “Where are you staying? I can drive,” she says, jingling her car keys in front of her face.

  I nearly choke on my breath as I quickly make up some lame excuse. “Would it be okay to go to your place? My room is a real mess at the moment.”

  Tabitha begins fidgeting as she chews on her bottom lip, her finger lightly tracing over her car key quickly.

  I’m about to tell her, fuck it, come over, as she looks torn, but she answers, “Um, yeah okay, sure” she replies, after a small delay.

  I wonder what Tabitha has to hide.

  Not that I can talk.

  I bet her secret is nothing compared to mine.

  ***

  Tabitha’s car is a BMW.

  Like a brand spanking new Beamer.

  Wow, looks like working at the diner has paid off. But I have a sneaking suspicion that has nothing to do with it, because as we keep driving further out of town and into suburbia, the houses become ritzier, and the level between middle class and upper class is clearly drawn.

  As we pull into a long
driveway with big iron gates, Tabitha reaches out her window and buzzes the intercom.

  After a few seconds, a snooty, nasal voice answers.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Mom? This is her house?

  As I look up and see past the gates, this house could easily be labeled a palace.

  “Can you open the gate for me, please?” asks Tabitha nervously.

  “Where’s your remote?” the annoyed voice asks.

  “Um, at work,” admits Tabitha, biting her lip.

  “Oh, Tabitha! For goodness sake. What is the matter with you?”

  The intercom goes dead.

  Tabitha shyly glances at me while we wait for the gate to slowly slide open.

  “My mom…” She pauses, and I can see the torn expression on her troubled face.

  “Is a bitch,” I add when she seems to be at a loss for words.

  Tabitha’s mouth twitches, and I can’t determine if it’s in rage, or humor.

  Either way, I must remember to use my mouth filter from time to time.

  “Sorry.” I lower my eyes. “That wasn’t nice of me to say,” I apologize, hoping I don’t lose the only friend I’ve made.

  Tabitha is quiet for a moment, watching the gates groan open.

  But suddenly, I see her eyes twinkle, and then she does something I never expected.

  She laughs.

  She laughs so hard, tears fall down her plump cheeks, and she slaps the steering wheel in delight.

  I bite my lip, confused. Is she going to flip out?

  “You’re right,” she pants in between cackles. “She is a bitch.” She accelerates, speeding up the driveway faster than I think she ever has before.

  She parks on the gravel in front of the house and switches off the car, but we don’t get out straight away.

  “I want you to know… my mom probably won’t like you,” she admits, looking at me sympathetically.

  “That’s okay, not a lot of moms do,” I reply, shrugging. “No biggie. One look at the piercings, hair, and tat, and it’s usually a deal breaker.”

  “No, it’s not that,” she says, shaking her red locks. “It’s just… she doesn’t even like me, her own daughter, so you don’t stand a chance.” She stares blindly up at the white mansion.

  Looking at Tabitha, something inside me softens. How could anyone not like her? Especially her own mother.

  “Well, that’s her loss,” I reply in all seriousness.

  If I felt comfortable with the whole touchy feely crap, I would reach over and give her a hug or something, but she’ll just have to settle for a nod and a half smile.

  “You think?” she replies, biting her lip. “Because she’s my mom, and if your own mom doesn’t like you, what hope do you have for strangers to like you… or want you?” she adds, sadly.

  As I look over at Tabitha, I mean really look at her, past her happy smiles and forthcoming nature, I know underneath lays a scared, insecure girl, wanting anyone’s approval.

  She just wants to belong.

  Holy shit, she’s just like… me. Under her facade, she’s just as scared and lonely, and she just wants to be normal.

  Just like me.

  “Paige, are you okay?” she asks, as I’ve totally spaced.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, not wanting to admit how similar Tabitha and I really are.

  Well, looks like everyone has their secrets, and I think I’ve just made a friend who gets it.

  She gets me.

  “Okay, let’s go in the back way.” She smirks with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

  I hop out of her car and cock an eyebrow.

  “Why do I have a feeling you’ve never used the back way before?” I ask, as our shoes crunch over the gravel.

  Her bright smile beams under the moonlight, and that answers all my questions.

  We walk through the manicured greens, past a fountain spilling water out of the mouth of a dolphin, and arrive at the back of the white house, which is lit up with bright lawn lights.

  She leads me to a short stairwell, and waves me down when I hesitate on the top step.

  “Are you sure you’re not going to get your ass kicked for this?” I whisper. Everything is amplified in the silence.

  Looking from left to right to ensure the coast is clear, I suddenly hear a bug chirp. That’s all it takes to have me running down the stairs in a hurry, an inch away from latching onto Tabitha’s back to save me from the loud, buzzing noise.

  Bugs, I hate ’em.

  Tabitha gives me a small smile and quietly turns the door knob, which creaks in protest. She looks ecstatic that she has broken some unspoken rule, and I go along with it as she ushers me in quickly, quietly shutting the door behind us.

  I can’t see jack shit, so I wait until Tabitha turns on the light.

  “Do you have your phone?” she whispers.

  “Yeah,” I whisper back.

  “Can we use the light on it? I don’t wanna turn the light on, otherwise Mom will know we’re in here.”

  Ha, who would have thought little Tabitha was a sneak. I’m starting to like her more and more.

  I switch my phone on and it gives us some light. I move it from left to right, and from what I can see, we’re in a basement.

  Suddenly, my hands begin to get clammy and I can’t breathe. The last time I was in a basement was with my dad. I can still remember the ear-splitting noise the gunshot made.

  And what I can also remember is the blood. There was so much blood.

  “Mia.”

  Those were the last words out of my dad’s mouth as he lay dying on the cold, hard floor.

  My heart begins pounding out of my chest, and I begin hyperventilating.

  I need to get out of here.

  Using my phone as a flashlight, I move it around the room, frantically trying to find an exit. Seeing a wooden staircase off to my left, I fly up it, kicking the door open as I reach the top step.

  I take a deep, panicked breath and breathe it out through my nose to stop myself from having a full-blown panic attack.

  “Paige, oh my God, are you okay?” asks a frantic Tabitha, putting her hand on my shoulder as I am crouched low, my hands splayed out on my knees.

  Holy shit, what was that about?

  That’s the first time in four days a memory that vivid has hit me to near debilitation.

  “I’m fine, Tabitha, sorry,” I mumble, rising to full height after I’ve nearly folded my body in half.

  The look in her eyes scares me. She actually cares. She actually cares if I’m okay.

  “I’m just claustrophobic,” I reply when she is gawking at me, waiting for an explanation.

  That’s a total lie, as I was once locked in a broom closet for two hours, hiding from the police. But I can’t tell her that, can I?

  Her face drops and she covers her hand over her gaping mouth.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine now,” I say quickly, not wanting her to feel guilty for something she isn’t responsible for.

  But am I? I feel far from fine. I feel like I’m about a minute away from dropping into the fetal position and rocking myself to sleep.

  “Do you want a drink? You look a little pale,” Tabitha says tenderly.

  I nod, because it’s all I’m capable of doing.

  “Okay, no worries, follow me,” she says, heading down the hallway, looking behind her to ensure I’m following.

  I follow, but cringe when my heavy boots thud on the pristine white tiles.

  “Sorry, I think I ruined our smooth entrance,” I apologize softly, clutching my hands around my middle to stop myself from throwing up.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says, waving me off, and we round the corner, entering the kitchen, which is the size of my entire motel room.

  “Wow,” I breathe, as I run my finger along the marbled kitchen top.

  Tabitha gives me a strained smile as she stands o
n her tippy toes to reach for a glass in a high wooden cabinet.

  The glass is one of those fancy goblet looking things, and the bright lights bounce off the flute, reflecting rainbow speckles across the room.

  She places the glass under a nozzle, which is sitting in the stainless steel, double door fridge. As she pushes down on a lever, a few ice blocks shoot down and plonk into my glass. She then pushes again, and a steady stream of water begins pouring into the glass.

  I’ve seen these fridges in the condos of the rich folk I dealt Blow to, and I think now, what I thought then, totally superfluous.

  “Tabitha Jane Henderson!”

  I twirl to see a slender lady, dressed in a cream tunic dress, with navy heels and matching belt, facing us with her hands planted on her hips. Her red painted nails are drumming on her narrow waist, and she has a nasty scowl on her wrinkle free, painted face. Her fiery red hair is done up elegantly in a chignon, and a set of pearl earrings and necklace sit daintily on her ears and throat.

  “What were you thinking, driving so quickly up the driveway? You know I just got it redone!” she snaps, her fingers continuing to drum.

  Tabitha shakily hands me the glass, and I can feel the embarrassment pour off her.

  My chest squeezes as I instantly feel sorry for her, and I can’t just stand here while her ostentatious mom chews her ass out.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Henderson, it’s my fault. I wanted to see how fast her car could go, as I’ve never been in a BMW,” I say quickly, stepping in to defend Tabitha.

  Both Tabitha and her mom look at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I too, am a little shocked at myself.

  “Well, that doesn’t surprise me. Tabitha has always been weak willed. So, who are you, then?” her mother questions, glaring at me.

  “I’m Paige. I work with Tabitha,” I reply, trying my best not to throw my glass at her scowling face.

  She looks me up and down, and makes it quite obvious she wouldn’t look twice if she ran me over with her shiny new Mercedes.

  “Hello,” she says dismissively with a wave of her hand.

  I can feel the disapproval rippling off her, and I have an urge to poke my tongue out at her, or maybe go all out and moon her.