07 | Changes
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A few days after the housewarming party I leave Cathy's, later than usual. I've been picking up extra shifts here and there, the flow of holiday customers turning the often quiet cafe into something a bit more bustling. It's hard to complain when I need the money.
I glance across the dark space, mentally checking I've done everything I need to do before I slot my key in the door. I'm not a fan of locking up shifts, my mind convinced there's always some hidden extra step I've forgotten to do.
When I've made sure that everything is fine, I turn the metal in my hand, a click echoing into the silence.
It's not too late but it is dark, the hiddenness of the cafe mixed with the distant hum of cars making it almost eerie.
The cars parked on this street are static, the sidewalks empty.
I'm almost glad when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, finally something to drag me away from the still, haunting air.
Riley: OH MY GOD? AVA?
I blink, brain scrambling to understand what she could possibly be freaking out about. There's three little dots before an explanation appears.
Riley: Those photos? You look so hot, like an actual model. Why didn't you show them to me?
She saw them?Well, of course she saw them. I'd forgotten what the purpose of them even were, a public advertising of Nolan's stupid services. That captured version of me was never limited to the pixels on his screen.
My brain short-circuits again, unsure how to respond to her very over-exaggerated compliments. Thankfully she spills out another message before I can.
Riley: I know you're going to be all weird about this but you can't deny how good you look forever. If you don't love them, I'll love them for you.
A sigh escapes my chest but there is a hint of a smile over my lips.
I'm lucky to have Riley, really. It doesn't matter if my brain of mush still hates standing in front of that camera because I know she'll always have my back.
God, maybe I should try and work on scrutinising myself less.
Just as my fingers hover over the keys to type back they freeze, interrupted by something.
A hum of a car.
I don't look up, startled but not exactly worried. Hearing a vehicle driving beside you in a dark, quiet street as an alone woman is not ideal, but it could also be a very bad coincidence. My brain starts to connect dots very quickly, maybe I need to give this stranger the benefit of the doubt.
My feet keep walking, perhaps speeding up a little.
I keep my eyes down at the phone, mind whirring, working a little harder.
But that car doesn't move. If anything it changes speed to meet my exact pace, trailing alongside me.
In my peripherals I catch the side of an arm, falling out the window onto the red shiny metal.
All it takes is a wolf whistle for my brain to go from potential danger to oh my fucking god I'm going to die.
I've dealt with a few cat-callers, pushy guys, the occasional creep but this sends me into overdrive.
It's been a while, and usually it's in a bar when I'm with my friends.
Not here, when I'm by myself and I stupidly parked my car an entire street away. Why would I do that?
"Where you headed, beautiful?" A voice asks. Too close to me.
I can feel my arms tense, body still. I'm still walking, faster now. I should run but every single fight or flight emotion is tangled in one big ball. I just need to ignore him. He'll go away. He's just a stupid guy with nothing better to do.
The car purrs louder to meet my larger strides.
"Hey, you really gonna ignore me like that? After I gave you a compliment?"
Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him.
I can see the end of the street, feel how close I'm getting to it. My car is not too far, my safety is not too far. Part of me, that Ava that's spent years pushing herself out of a silent-spell wants to turn round and kick this asshole in the face.
"It's ok, I like my women quiet," The voice states, almost laughing, "Keeps them all obedient and shit."
I'm not sure if it's the way his slimy voice slithers with pride, like he has a full right to say anything he's saying or even just the words that set me off.
I like my women quiet. I'm not fucking quiet, I don't owe this creepy fucking stranger anything.
Heat burns under my skin, my legs still pacing forwards.
I'm so close to the car now, that and what looks like a busier street with people.
I turn to face him before I really comprehend what I'm doing.
"Maybe you like your women quiet because the only ones you talk to are the one you harass in the street," My voice is loud, almost like it's not mine at all, "Say one more word and I'll rip your tiny dick off you fucking asshole."
Then I'm gone, feet breaking into a run until my hands find the grip of a handle.
I rip open the car door, throwing myself inside as my chest heaves.
I can barely hear anything, the world around me numbed as everything falls away.
My head is spinning, heart clawing out my chest. It even takes me a minute to attempt to start the engine, body so relieved to be out of that space it forgot I need to be out of this area right now.
Luckily, in my moment of hesitation the car and its driver have vanished, finally leaving me alone. I catch a few people walking through the busy street in front of me and my nerves subside, relief settling in my chest.
A second later Riley's name lights up my phone, the noise floating into the silence.
"Are you ok?" She asks as I bring her up to my ear, "You saw my messages but didn't reply? You're off work now, no?"
"I'm fine... give or take being harassed by a creep," I mutter, voice audibly a bit shaken up.
"Oh, shit? Is everything good? Is he still there?"
"No, no he's gone, I'm fine," I say, trying to reassure her. Trying to reassure myself.
Riley's voice still floods with concern, "Did he see you get into your car?"
Shit. Did he? Probably.
"I... I'm not sure."
"Be careful with that stuff," She lectures back, "I'm serious, Ava, you don't want him knowing your license plate or anything."
"I know, I know," I mutter, beginning to change the topic. I don't want to think about what just happened. "Why'd you call? You really that worried because I didn't reply to a few texts."
"Yes," She giggles and it's almost as if I can see her smile, "And, because I'm still not over those photos of you."
"You're just not used to seeing photos of me."
"Well I'm going to need to be used to it from now on."
I exhale heavily, unsure what to make of her compliments.
This wasn't supposed to be a thing, it was for money and maybe to partially conquer a fear that still lingers.
I wouldn't want to do it again, see myself all front and centre like that.
I'm not made for it, my own brain can barely comprehend it.
"Listen, there's a campaign my work is running for a company and they need some models, it's a super artsy thing, I don't know much about it,but I really want to show them you," Riley says, hesitance brimming from her words like she knows how I'll respond before I do.
I blink, hands freezing around the phone. Models? Show them me?
"What?" Slips from my mouth, raw as if she asked me some sort of insane, intrusive question.
"I've seen some of their mood boards, the type of people they're looking for," Riley urges, "It's a different look from the ones you already did but I'll think they'll like you."
"I'm not a model."
"I know...but looking like that you might as well be."
What spell do these photos have people under? It's enough to convince Riley I'm a fucking model, enough for a very drunk Nolan to say I look beautiful. Yet when I stare at that partial smile and blonde hair, I can barely believe it's myself.
I don't take photos, don't look at myself like that. It was hard enough to stand in that room with Nolan, bright lights aimed at me, only the brief instructions from him enough to make anything feel remotely normal.
Ican't model.
"Riley... I..." My words trail off, thoughts spinning.
I should say no, I want to say no, but the level of information hitting me is too much.
"You don't have to say yes right now but please think about it. I'll make sure to get you the exact details, what it's for, the amount you'd be paid, all that."
Paid. It's bad, pathetic even, that the thought of money would drive me to immediately consider something I would usually dread. But when it's for my mom, for us to stay afloat, even for a fraction of time where bills aren't a worry, I can't help but think like that.
I know she'd do anything for me so maybe the least I could do is consider taking a few more photos.
It's not like these people even want me, it's just an idea, something Riley wants to propose.
There's no harm in just letting her suggest it, unless of course they do like the photos.
Then I have to pose awkwardly whilst I'm glared at for having no natural charm whatsoever.
I'm really not cut out for this.
"I'll think about it," I mutter eventually, contemplation resting on my tongue.
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My feet hit the sidewalk, the sound of each step barely audible under the stream of music in my ears. It's familiar, the same songs that lift me away from everything, the cold air brushing the sides of my cheek and the exposed parts of my neck, the controlled breaths leaving my lips.
I've run this route a million times before, the block around my home, the place I grew up.
It's almost like a routine. I know when to slow down and pace myself, when the current song will fade into the next one.
Adrenaline and whatever other things are pumping through my body give me some sense of peace, at least a distraction from all the other thoughts in my mind.
As I see my house getting closer, I begin to fall into a brisk walk, a low blue-ish haze falling over everything.
I wish I could run in the dark but I'd rather not risk it, especially after my interaction with that weird creep yesterday.
Being out here just before sunset is the closest I can get.
My runner's high is immediately flattened when I get close enough to gage what is beside my house, or rather, who.
My feet slow, barely even walk anymore, as the music pauses in my ears. It's like my brain has been forcefully catapulted back into functioning mode.
"Good run, Birdie?" Nolan says upon noticing me.
He's on his family's driveway, the hood of his car popped open.
It's a dark blue, probably some old vintage model that I know nothing about, it looks like it belongs in some 80s movie.
His hands hover over the interior parts as if he'd just been fixing something, the sleeve of his hoodie pushed up to reveal the olive-toned skin of his arms.
I'm so caught off guard by him justappearingthat I don't even try and filter my reaction.
"What are you doing here?"
He smiles, as usual, pressing one hand into the side of the car and leaning on it, "I used to live here."
My eyes drift over to his arm, the faint trail of veins visible across his noticeable muscles.
I wonder, again, if they've always looked like that.
They meet his broad shoulders and sharp face, titled a little in amusement.
The only light across his face is the one from the flashlight stood on the ground, casting him in a darker shadow similar to that ferris wheel.
"Key word, used to," I fire back, almost scowling at him.
"That's two words."
A bitter exhale leaves my lips. This is the problem with him, his stupid smug snarkiness that gets under my skin. He hasn't said much at all but I can feel my reaction to his words sizzling in my brain. So much for going on a run to destress.
"You act like you hate this place, like you'd rather be anywhere else, but somehow, you're always here."
He chuckles, voice low, "My car is being a pain in the ass, my dad has tools in the garage I came to borrow."
"You know how to fix cars?" I mutter with an eyebrow raise, unconvinced.
He shrugs, "Can't be too difficult, can it?"
I'm almost tempted to tell him that Alex works in his dad's garage and has done since he was sixteen but I quickly hold my tongue. Nolan does not deserve Alex's discount friendship perks. Plus, it's a little entertaining to imagine him struggling out here like an idiot.
"Well, have fun," I murmur, watching as his eyes glance back towards the hood.
"Don't worry, I will."
I give him one more puzzled frown before turning towards my own house, feet finding the driveway. The air is suddenly warmer, the sweat on my forehead feeling a lot more noticeable as heat gathers beneath the ponytail swinging behind me.
The lights are still on inside, meaning mom hasn't left for work yet. The few days I actually get to see her in the evenings mean more to me that I'll admit. I feel my face fall into a smile as the scent of her perfume drifts towards me.
By the time I've slipped off my shoes and wandered into the kitchen to tell her I'm quickly going for a shower, she's already heading towards me, arms outstretched. I can't even make an attempt to pull away from the hug she squashes me into.
"Mom, don't, I'm all sweaty and gross," I laugh into her shoulder.
She smiles, pulling me even tighter, "I pushed you out of me I think I'll decide when you're gross enough."
When she pulls back she puts her hand on either side of my face, looking at me like I'm still a toddler. Her blue eyes still sparkle a little even if they've faded more to grey in age. People say we look alike, the same blonde hair and long lashes. It's my favourite compliment.
"When did you get so grown up, huh?" Her voice is soft, sincere in that motherly way.
I roll my eyes gently, "A long time ago, I'm twenty two."
"Hmm... that still sounds like a baby to me," She hums back sarcastically, finally moving her hands from my cheeks and switching her attention to her handbag beside her.
I move forward, leaning down over the counter and watching as she shuffles through her things. A lanyard, lip balm, house keys, car keys, ID. She always does this, empties her bag before she leaves for work. Maybe it's a little extra but she claims it helps her never forget anything.
"Will it be a tough shift tonight?"
"Should be alright, some of the dementia patients who are the most prone to sleepwalking have moved out so that's something less to deal with," She sighs, "There's still quite a few midnight medications to give out but I don't mind those, gives me something to do."
I nod, listening to her familiar voice. She works as an overnight nurse in a care home, watches over everyone, answers any emergencies in the night, deals with any medical needs.
It's definitely taxing on her, especially during rough shifts.
I can tell that it's been a lot recently, the bags under her eyes more noticeable.
"Oh, honey, did you renew the car insurance?" She says suddenly, scraping her belongings off the counter and back into her bag.
I nod, trying to smile but wincing at the memory of that much too large number.
"Good..." Her voice trails off, thoughtful for a moment before her eyes find mine again, "I'll get you your own car soon, I promise, you've needed one since you were a teenager-"
"It's fine," I interrupt, voice firm, "I have savings, I'm an adult. You don't have to buy me anything, don't worry about it."
I don't mention the spectacularly low figure of said savings, even so, it doesn't matter.
I don't want my mom to feel guilt for things that aren't her fault, I don't want any responsibility weighing on her shoulders.
This house wasn't always just us two, and since it has been it's been hard to keep it afloat.
But it's our home, and we'll manage the way we always have.
My mom doesn't try and argue with me about the car, just flashing an appreciative look before saying her goodbyes.
I give her another firm hug, watching as she leaves and that door shuts as it always does.
At least tonight she'll be home somewhat earlier, I'll probably hear her key in the lock as she comes in.
I head upstairs before making my way to the bathroom, preparing a towel and glancing at myself in the mirror. I peel off my clothes, the leggings stuck to my thighs and the stretchy sports material of my top, until I'm naked.
I stare at my reflection for a moment. The blonde waves that I've released down my shoulders, my collarbones, the small beauty spot on my chest, the curves of skin down to my smaller waist. My boobs hang free, perky and round with that pinker colour of my nipples.
I take in every part of skin down to my belly button where the mirror cuts off.
It's funny, that in the years I've grown more confident, been able to speak back to people and stop hiding in my quiet, introverted hole, that I still can't quite seem to love myself.
I'm not even sure if that's what it is.
It's just like looking at photos of myself, seeing a person I just can't fully attach myself to.
I don't feel like the girl blinking back at me, pursing the soft pink of her lips together.
It annoys me, makes me feel useless. Why can't I shake this feeling?
Am I seriously going to be looking at myself in the mirror and feel like a stranger forever?
In that small moment my brain is humming with Riley's question, the thing she asked me. She liked the photos, thought I looked good. As invalid as Nolan's opinion is to me that is another person whose opinion clashes with my own.
I hate being stuck in a bubble of my own thoughts.
"Stop being such a pussy," I mutter to myself, blinking at my reflection.
Then, before I know what I'm doing I open my phone quickly, tapping on that text I've read over all day but not answered.
Riley: Can I send over those photos of you? Sorry to rush you but it all needs to be sorted ASAP, you know what my work is like.
My fingers are hovering over the keys, brain spinning.
I don't want to, but I should, I need to.
I need the potential money, I need to stop seeing myself how I do.
Maybe it's even partially because of Nolan, not because he's wrong, but because he's right.
He still sees me as that person who melts in weakness under any slight attention, and evidently that person still clings to me.
But I don't want it to.
Me:Send them
I immediately chuck my phone out my hands.
Then, I step into the shower, letting the warm water fall down my shoulders and wash away my mess of thoughts.
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