8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Athena
“ M om watched this all the time when Dad was out at the bar. She doesn’t know I used to sneak down the stairs to watch it too.”
“It’s a little violent, isn’t it?” I glance over at Paxton, who is eating the sandwich he made himself before joining me in the living room to watch NCIS . I have never seen it before today, with my own TV choices being severely limited to a few films I watched over and over again… and well, I’m really enjoying the drama of it.
“I’m twelve, ‘Thena, not two.” His large grin makes me shake my head at his sheer cheekiness. “Have you seen Deadpool ?”
“Err… no? What is Deadpool ?”
“One of Dad’s friends put it on the big TV downstairs once. He turned the volume up loud and I had to sit and watch the whole thing. I was eight, and that I was too young for. NCIS is child’s play compared to that.” He chuckles, but it’s not full and hearty, and I’m just happy for him that he and his mom are out of their bad situation now… while he’s still young enough to actually be a kid.
“Paxton!” The shout—well, raised voice—comes from the hallway right before his mom appears. She looks paler than me, but better than she did yesterday afternoon when we all had dinner together.
There are three other women staying here, all for their own reasons, and they each have jobs that take them away from the home a lot. One is moving out in a few days so Maribel insisted on the meal as a… last hoorah is what she called it.
There was one who opted to stay in her room, and Maribel didn’t push her to leave it or do what she wanted. Instead, she was calm, understanding, and happily left a plate of food outside the woman’s bedroom door. I know that with my current life experience, that could have been me hiding in my room, but I’m lucky in that respect. My training has given me the tools I need to push through discomfort—most of the time—plus, I’ve watched Pitch Perfect so many times I could lip sync to it. Those girls have taught me almost as much about determination as my mother was able to.
“In the living room, Ma.”
“Did you see these forms, sweetheart? For the local school.” Kylie slowly walks into the room and sits beside him on the couch, looking a little worn out from exertion.
“Do I have to? Maribel needs me here.”
I hear what he’s not saying… that he doesn’t want to leave his mom. It has nothing to do with Maribel.
“Maribel needs time to do her jobs without a twelve-year-old boy around her feet. And you need an education so you can find your own destiny, sweetheart.”
Paxton sighs, but I can see the defeat in his eyes. He’d give the world to his mom if he could, it’s obvious every time I watch them together.
“Okay, can we fill them out together?” He’s so hopeful, and my heart aches for the relationship I never got to keep with my own mom.
“Of course. Do you have a pen?” The smile she gives her son eases the ache a little because a love like that is beautiful.
“I’ll go and grab one.” Paxton shoots off the couch and heads out of the room, presumably to find a pen.
“How are you fitting in so far, Athena?” Her voice is soft, gentle, as she relaxes back into the cushions and covers herself with the blanket. She’s wearing a pair of light-pink pajamas that look real warm, but I guess she’s still not feeling very well after being sick two days ago.
“Good. Everyone here is so nice. It’s kinda surreal.” I say good, but I’m absolutely not. Having no ID or social security number is a hurdle I hadn’t expected when I left.
I won’t lay that burden on Kylie though. She has her own problems, and she’s in this place for a reason.
“How are you feeling today?” I’m taking my own advice and trying to make a connection here. My mistrust in the world isn’t warranted in this home as far as I can tell, so this friendship is a safe one… I hope she wants to be my friend anyway.
“A lot better. Thank you. It’s just a virus that’s been going around. Nothing to worry about. Maribel said that Lucy over in the coffee shop was hiring, and she’d be willing to take both of us on, so we’ll be colleagues. Just as soon as I kick this bug.” Her smile is almost as warm and inviting toward me as it is her son.
I’d put her at around the same age as me, which would mean she had Paxton when she was a teenager, and in some ways I’m jealous. I never got to have that. The option was taken away.
“There you are.” The new voice makes both me and Kylie jump. “Flick. Sorry, ladies. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” It’s the woman from the day my knight in leather armor saved me.
No. Not mine. Even though I know he was following me on Monday. When I saw him and his friend, my heart fluttered, my stomach flip-flopped, and I almost fell flat on my face. I don’t know how a person can do that to another. The strange way I feel drawn to him is like watching myself from outside my own body.
“Hey, Mac. How’s baby?” Kylie seems to treat everyone with a kindness she herself should have experienced. Or maybe she did at some point?
Would it be rude to ask her why she’s here?
“He rolled over on his own for the first time yesterday. Aleko has already started building him a custom motorcycle for when he starts walking.” She laughs, and I think she’s joking?
Kylie laughs too, but only lightly, as though she’s trying not to jostle herself too much. She looks a little pastier than she did when she first came in, but she’s still smiling.
“I’m surprised he’s waiting that long from what you’ve told me. Treasure the pre-walking months though, they don’t spend anywhere near enough time in your arms once they’re mobile.” Kylie shifts on the couch and lets the blanket drop to the floor.
“Got one, Mom!” Paxton bounds back into the room, pausing beside Mac to give her a quick hug before sitting beside Kylie. “We’re filling out forms for school. Will I still have time to join your motorcycle racing team if I go to school?” He looks genuinely concerned.
“You have at least another three years before you’re riding your own bike, Pax. But yeah, you’ll have plenty of time.” Mac moves to sit on the arm of the couch beside Paxton and ruffles his hair. He pulls a face, but it’s obvious he loves it.
Meanwhile, I’m like a quiet observer to this whole thing happening between these people I’ve only known for a few days, and I feel more a part of this than I have of anything. It’s a feeling that’s difficult to ignore, and not one I thought I’d ever actually experience, but I guess this is what the real world is like?
“Maribel said I could take you shopping today, Athena. If you’re up for it?”
I want to say no, thank you, or even channel my inner Becca and go all “acca-scuse me?!”, but there’s a part of me that wants to go. The whole point in doing what I did… and leaving, was to see the world. I won’t see anything if I stay here. Plus, Maribel gave me some money a couple of days ago for new clothes. She said the town donates funds for women who come here so they can get back on their feet if they need to. It felt weird taking money from her, especially because she didn’t ask for anything in return. In fact, she flat out refused me doing the dishes or anything for her that evening.
It was a little light in my dark, stormy day after finding out I’m basically unemployable. That, and she told me she could help get me on the right track.
A few seconds later than what I’m sure is a reasonable amount of time, I realize Mac is still waiting for my answer, but her smile doesn’t waver in my silence. She’s being patient, calm, and it’s actually comforting. She’s not as scary as I thought she was the other day.
But that could be a front. It was with her.
I can do this. She’s not the same.
“Yes, please.” I nod, taking in her outfit and breathing a small sigh of relief.
She’s wearing a black hoodie and skin-tight jeans with a cute pair of boots. Only one has a blue lace and the other is pink. I like it, and at the same time, it makes me feel good about what I’m wearing. My green hoodie and leggings have been washed every night I’ve been here so far, but out of the three outfits I have, they’re my favorite.
However, the boots I bought at the thrift shop were already on their last legs, and now they seem to be falling apart.
Maybe I could get some new ones today?
Suddenly, I’m excited about this shopping trip.
We’ve been shopping for about two hours and I finally have some new shoes—boots. They cost the whole hundred dollars, but Mac said they’re worth it because they’ll last me a lifetime. She also said that I might need to wear them in a bit before spending a whole day in them, but that’s probably the only piece of advice she’s given me today that I’m going to ignore.
The thrift shop boots went swiftly into a trashcan on our way here to the food court and I’m proudly wearing what Mac called my new take-no-shit boots. She did whisper the word shit, explaining that she’s trying to cut down on the cursing, but she said there’s no other words acceptable to use for Doc Martens.
This whole thing feels like an experience someone else should be having, but I’m having fun, regardless. Mac is like the younger sister I never had.
“So Graves will only need a few days to get your ID ready once he has the photo.” Mac holds up the strip of what she called passport size pictures and waves them around triumphantly.
“It’s really that easy?” I slide my palms beneath my thighs to try and stop fidgeting.
While this experience has been and is fun, it’s a lot. There are people everywhere.
“Yup. He’s a genius. Not as much of a genius as Glitch, but he did it for me when I needed a new ID and it worked out pretty good.” She bites into her burger and moans, closing her eyes for a brief second before pinning them on me again. They crinkle at the corners and she indicates to the food sitting in front of me as she finishes chewing. “They’re best when they’re warm. Although, they’re nowhere near as good as Bear’s burgers. That man barbecues better than anyone I know.”
She keeps throwing all these names around, but the only one I recognize is Bear… Brock.
A shiver races up my spine and I’m struggling to pinpoint the feeling.
Mac chuckles. “I think you’ve got it as bad as he does.”
“Got what?” I unwrap the burger and take a bite, now knowing exactly why she moaned when she bit into hers. “Mmm!”
“Nothin’.” She continues to eat, glancing over my shoulder, and grins.
I turn to look behind me, but there are just a lot of people. Walking, sitting, eating, laughing, crying… it really seems like every kind of person is here. Which means… every kind of person is here.
I’m a little overwhelmed by it all if I’m honest with myself, but if I want a normal life, I need to do things like this.
We finish the rest of our food in silence before I take a large gulp of the black liquid I’ve been craving since that first morning Maribel handed me a coffee.
“Good stuff, right?” Mac drinks her own coffee, equally as enamored with it as I am with mine. “We should get one to go. The truck has cup holders.” She wags her brows like we’ve got a secret that’s just for us. I like it.
“Yes! Please, let’s do that.”
I’m suddenly not so sure if I should be working in that coffee shop once my social security number comes through, but then again…
“Mmm. It tastes sweeter than the one at the home.”
“It has a dash of vanilla.” Mac winks. “People say vanilla like it’s a bad thing, but it’s one of the most complex flavors. I wanted to grow some in my garden, but it’s a temperamental bean so I decided against it.”
“How is it temperamental?” I’m curious to learn about literally anything, and I didn’t even know it was a bean.
“It needs consistently perfect heat, light, and moisture to thrive, all of which are impossible to control in my garden. They grow best in tropical areas.” She shrugs, sipping on her coffee.
“You know a lot about this stuff.” It’s not a question, but it also kind of is. I’m not even sure myself.
“Gardening was the only thing I had that was my own. My garden answered to nobody except me, so I learned what I could, when I could.” Mac finishes her coffee at the same time as me and we both smile.
I sense she has a story to tell, but again, I don’t think it’s polite to ask, especially considering I’d rather keep my own story to myself.
Pulling my hands into the sleeves of my hoodie, I grip the ends with my fingers and stand. Mac follows suit and tilts her head toward the Starbucks to our right. Every now and then, I get the sense she’s communicating with someone else because she doesn’t always make eye contact, but maybe that’s her thing? I don’t know her well enough to figure her out yet.
What I do know is that she’s been constantly kind, funny, and comfortable to be around. She even encouraged me to link my arm through hers as we walked around before lunch, so I don’t think twice about doing it again.
“Thank you for today, Mac. I really can’t tell you how amazing it is what you’re doing for me.” We head toward the exit and the lot where she parked her huge truck.
“It’s not all me, ya know.” She chuckles again and shakes her head lightly, glancing behind her briefly as we walk.
Then she stops moving altogether, her eyes wide and full of confusion, and I slowly turn my head away from staring at her to find a man I’ve never seen before, but I think I know who sent him. It’s in the way he holds himself, the way he sneers when I make eye contact, and his scent reminds me of them.
He’s tall, and as much as I want to keep my eyes on his, I can’t. I’m not strong enough. Not yet. I need more time. My breaths come in faster with every passing second and something close to anger mixed with a lot of fear begins to grow from the pit of my stomach. I may not be able to hold eye contact, but I do notice how his bald head reflects the fluorescent lights, shining off the almost orange surface of his skin and making him look patchy.
My back is straight, frozen in a state of fear, and I don’t know what I’m going to do here, but I can’t let him take me away. His sneer turns into a snarl, then a sly smile stretches across his face before he speaks.
“You need to go home, Athena. Mommy and Daddy are very angry with you.”