Chapter 14 #2
I bit my lip, wondering what happened to those early pictures of me.
I wouldn’t bother taking any photos with the phone Phoenix gave me.
Historical evidence implied I wouldn’t hold onto it for long anyway.
Still, staring at my reflection in the mirror begged the question, did I change?
I ran a hand down my cheek, feeling the texture of my skin.
My hands scraped a little, too rough for my lifestyle, and I left a red mark where I touched—being as pale as I was made me easy to bruise or mark up.
Still wrapped in my towel, I headed back to my bedroom and tried to shake off the thoughtful haze that clung to me.
I considered myself lucky to have a private bathroom, meaning no need to sneak down the hallway to my room without being fully dressed.
I picked up my phone off the bed and swiped a fingertip across it to unlock the screen.
Since I’d forgotten to plug it in the night before, the battery was almost dead.
Grabbing the charger, I wrapped it around the phone before stuffing it in my bag. I could charge it at their granny’s.
I didn’t know what the Lents did on Sundays, I realized after a glance at the wall hanging calendar.
I smiled to myself, just the thought of them enough to bring me a little frisson of pleasure.
If I was entirely honest, I wasn’t used to having people I wanted to see or even anything to look forward to in my day.
I quickly scanned through the phone, checking notifications.
Most of the messages seemed to be about Barrett not going down to Granny’s and instead staying the night with me.
Julian: Seriously, it’s been hours. Are you sleeping there?
He clearly wanted an immediate reply from Barrett, but he didn’t get one. Based on the time stamp, we were both curled together and sleeping when he sent the message.
About ten minutes later, Jeremy answered instead.
Jeremy: Sleeping where?
Julian: Alatheia’s
Jeremy: For real?
Julian: Yes.
Jeremy: I’m so drunk. I’m coming back soon. Phoenix never stops. I can’t keep up with lil bro.
Julian: Did you mean to send that to the full group chat?
Jeremy: Fuck no.
Then there was a text from Phoenix that seemed nonsensical. He might not have meant to send it. It just read ghspsskngspei.
I sighed. So Jeremy ended up drunk himself instead of helping Phoenix?
He likely would have a hangover today, or at the very least, a smashing headache.
I knew fellow classmates who drank a lot.
It wasn’t even uncommon, since alcohol and drugs were a huge part of rich people trying to distract themselves from their lives.
I chose not to use any kind of mind altering substances myself, not until I knew I was safe.
Last night, Phoenix acted like he thought I would be surprised to hear his brothers partied, but he was wrong there. Very little could shock me anymore.
Actually, so far as I knew, everyone my age used something , even if only energy drinks.
Tapping my finger on my chin, I realized I could do an episode of Poor Relation about that topic.
At the idea, I smiled and rushed over to my computer.
Almost as soon as it powered up, I started typing.
The plot line appeared crystal clear in my mind.
I could write it out later, but I needed to get the core of the idea down or I wouldn’t have any peace all day.
The idea would leave my fingers twitching until I wrote it down, so I did quickly and then read over my notes. Satisfied, I closed the computer again.
My stomach tightened as my hand lay on the closed computer.
I can’t make that episode . For one, I understood the kind of reasons that would drive someone to make poor choices—a qualification that immediately applied to Phoenix.
He needs help. I really didn’t understand his situation well, but it didn’t feel fair to judge him, so Gretchen wasn’t going to either.
I opened the computer and deleted the entry.
The next Poor Relation episode would focus on something else.
Sighing, I bit down on my lip as the cursor blinked at me.
Gretchen didn’t have any sympathy for the monsters in her life, but I seemed to be growing an uncomfortable new empathy for mine.
Instead of substance abuse, I would write about someone truly deplorable instead—Gretchen’s Aunt Mae.
My fingers flew across the keyboard again, my enthusiasm returning. People loved Aunt Mae episodes.
Once I finished typing, I got dressed quickly. It was hot—too humid for my fluffy towel and moist hair—so I tugged on a pair of jean shorts and a cropped t-shirt Granny had bought me. I blinked and caught by breath, surprised at my own mental slip. Again. Their granny. Not my granny .
I shouldn’t have to keep reminding myself, since I knew her as Dina. She had told me her name and even what she wanted me to call her. Shaking my head, I realized I could probably even call her Mrs. Lent—it would be far more appropriate than Granny.
Better to avoid that particular road . Just because I didn’t have a family anymore, it didn’t give me permission to claim other people’s family as my own.
I thought about Dina’s journals, remembering she’d experienced an uncomfortable bump at the start of her life, too, but she managed to still build something beautiful and wonderful.
Maybe someday I could do the same. Friends and family.
I’d never really let myself consider the second half, but perhaps I could.
French braiding my hair seemed like too much effort for a Sunday, so I shifted my hair into two even braids instead, a faster and easier style.
I reminded myself again to buy some lip gloss, since I still missed that part of my routine.
My t-shirt read Good Vibes and I hoped it might bring me at least a little luck.
My favorite sneakers, even with their hole, would have to do because they made me comfortable.
Maybe I would bring them with me wherever I ended up for the rest of my life, my signature shoe.
Even if they got too ratty to wear—which, arguably, might be already—they could live in my closet.
They could become a constant reminder of who I am, so that I never forgot about the dark part of my life, no matter what happened later.
I swallowed. What if these are the good times? What if things get even worse?
Bringing my chin up with a snap, I shook off the doubts. I wouldn’t let my thoughts drift into that territory.
None of the Lents had texted yet that morning, making me wonder if any of them would even be awake yet.
Barrett had told me to go back to bed, but I wanted to do something special for them instead.
They kept taking care of me, and I would be lying if I pretended I wasn’t grateful.
I still had money from Dina— not Granny —so I could buy them something without my aunt or family ever knowing about it.
I headed quickly for the bagel store on the corner.
I decided I would walk there, buy the bagels, and make it back to the building without getting lost—an easy enough task.
Striding quickly, I admitted I could probably get myself back and forth to the Park, too, so long as I stuck to familiar paths. From what I saw on maps, the whole borough of Manhattan was set up in a grid, so surely I could puzzle it out eventually.
The doorman nodded to me as I passed. I didn’t know his name, but I was sure Barrett would if he were there.
I smiled, thinking it only one of his many wonderful traits.
I shivered a little, remembering how he held me all night in what likely was too intimate to be considered a cuddle.
It was more like he was my lifeline . I rubbed my arms, unable to stop myself from wondering … What would the twins be like?
Okay. Wow . I’m getting out of hand.
But then I saw him. I stopped abruptly, but luckily no one slammed into me from behind. The man from last night . The one Barrett thought he had seen before stood right in front of me. He scurried to the left and then lost his balance, striking me across the face when he did.
“I’m sorry,” he yelled as he darted left to get away. My skin burned and dizziness made me sink to my knees. Oh wow . The shock of the impact still left stinging shocks down my spine, and my face was on fire. Why does that same man keep showing up?
Although he didn’t make a big impression the night before, I would never forget him again, not after he basically punched me in the face. I realized vaguely that no one had punched me since Chicago. Why do I always end up getting hit?
Tears erupted and I couldn’t contain them even if I tried. My cheek hurt. I just wanted to get bagels, but there was a strange, bald, huge man clearly everywhere I went blocking me.
I didn’t even bother to look up when tires screeched to a stop a few inches away from me, bumping up onto the sidewalk from where someone sped down the street. As miserable as I felt right then, maybe they would just take me out?
“Alatheia?” I heard Phoenix’s voice before I saw him, but then tears still poured out of my eyes, blurring my vision.
He sank down in front of me, and I noticed he wore the same clothes from the night before.
As his tired eyes met mine, I figured they were a more permanent problem for him. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
I threw my arms around him, wailing louder, if it were possible. I didn’t know Phoenix well enough to cling to him in my moment of weakness, but he was there and it mattered. “I got hit,” I sniffled. “Hard.”
“What?” His arms slid around me easily then tightened. “Who hit you? What the fuck?”