Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
CINDEL
My parents come back bearing gifts. They picked out a basket chock full of locally made soaps, Martha’s Vineyard signature salad dressing, and chocolates from the island’s premier chocolatier.
I know my dad was the one who picked the sweets, because it was something I actually liked.
Andrea might actually enjoy the rest; maybe it can be a sort of olive branch in lieu of our last interaction.
Kingston performs zoomies all over the house when they first arrive. Mom is anxious the couch will be ripped from the dog’s repetitive jumping. Dad actually interacted with me.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he says.
While Mom insists, I look for jobs in the area. “Not only will you be closer, but you could meet a nice boy and settle down.”
Gee, Mom, why don’t you just offer me up to someone’s rich son in the area, so I don’t wind up as a spinster?
“Are you still working at the market, Cinnabun?” My dad stands with me just outside the house, after helping me carry my belongings to the rental car.
“I’m just at the bar now, actually.”
He nods understandingly. “You’re too good for those places, kiddo.”
Sometimes I wish they were just proud of me for where I am… not where I ‘could’ be. “I got a promotion.”
My dad lights up. “Wow, that’s awesome! Does it make you happy?”
I think for a moment. There’s something about the bar that I do love. I nod earnestly. “Yes. Yes, I do think it makes me happy. It’s just a bit of an adjustment period. Some of my coworkers are a little salty toward me right now.”
My dad widens his stance and pretends to shoot guns, using finger hands. “Do I need to have someone taken care of? Pew Pew!”
I laugh. “You're such a dork. I love you, Dad.”
I fall into his outstretched arms feeling safe and whole.
A twinge of guilt settles in, knowing that before this weekend, I didn’t even want to come here, let alone wake up.
As sad as I may feel at times, I couldn’t imagine leaving my parents with the pain of losing both their children.
Especially my dad, who has done nothing but shower me with encouragement and love.
As distant as they are, they’re still my parents and I know they’ve always tried to do right by me and my brother.
One last hug before the road and I am on my way.
Sometimes I make happy little mistakes, like leaving the windows cracked during my stay.
It actually made the scent in the car a lot more tolerable, but I’m counting my lucky stars it didn’t rain.
I would not be able to swing damage charges on top of the rental cost. Before I left, dad tried to sneak me some cash.
I absolutely refused the offer, knowing they themselves make peanuts as house sitters for the rich and wasteful.
The drive is much easier on the way home, I think I was ready to get back to the city and away from that haunted house of surprises.
For once, I am not in the mood to listen to music.
Instead, I reflect. Alone with my thoughts for hours.
Approaching Boston, I feel like I have clarity.
I think I worked out what to say to Andrea and I also decide to keep my dinner plans with Eamon.
This stalker business could go one of two ways.
One, I figure out it’s Eamon and confront him about his ridiculous games or two, it’s not, and I learn I am in fact in danger of being lowered down into a hole and offered lotion or the hose.
There is a small possibility the stalker sees Eamon around me, causing them to lose interest. It’s not exactly a solid strategy, but it might work.
The earbud sits at the bottom of my purse, in the passenger seat, where it’s been since it played the last disturbing song.
By the time I drop off the rental and make my way back to the apartment, I am ready for a nap. Poor quality sleep, a foot injury, and fucked up mind games were not on my bingo card for a weekend off from work.
I trudge up the three flights of stairs, which is fortunately easier with the walking stick in hand.
I appreciate the intricate whittled designs on the top.
That’s why I brought it back to Southie with me.
Not because it was forced upon me by a pushy stalker, but I understand the time and commitment that goes into making something this special.
Reaching my floor, I pause temporarily to shuffle through my bag for keys. When I look up, I find someone sitting against the adjacent wall, from my apartment door. I stride closer to the mop of red hair.
“Mairead?”
The sprightly girl pops up, brushing her bouncy curls back from her face. “Cindel, hiiiiii!” She wraps her arms around me tightly, paying no mind to my hands being full.
“What are you doing here?” I attempt to shift my weight onto the walking stick, unsure if this was a quick chat or if I was inviting her in. Was I up for a visit? No. It’s been a long day already. I was hoping to relax and put my foot up.
She wears a yellow A-line dress, thigh-high with pink polka dots. It fits her frame well, with lovely, puffed sleeves. A little too summery for a chilly fall day, but she rocks it, nonetheless.
She fiddles with her hands behind her back, as she gently twirls the dress while speaking.
“Well. I was in the area, and I got this great idea! We could take the train to Salem! I’ve always wanted to go.
I read that they have reenactments of the Salem Witch Trials!
I’m confident they would have burned me at the stake, if I lived during that time.
Oooo, let’s wear costumes. Can we check your closet?
” She steps forward, touching the walking stick with her fingers.
“Cool staff! You should bring that with us.”
My foot is starting to ache at this point. “I kind of just got home. I was away watching my parents’ dog and—”
She suddenly notices me juggling an overnight bag and then some. “Oh. Let me help you!” She starts taking things from me, freeing up my hands to unlock the apartment door.
She invites herself in. I lean the wooden walking stick in the corner behind the door and set everything else onto the entryway table.
Andrea is in the kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the counter, actively shoveling a hardboiled egg into her mouth.
Did Mairead try to knock, or did my roommate have no idea someone was just looming outside our apartment’s door?
She looks bothered that someone new is standing in our kitchen.
Okay. Based on her expression, I don’t think Andrea knew anyone was out there.
Mairead gives an exaggerated wave, and Andrea lifts an eyebrow while attempting a “hello,” with a mouth full of dry egg.
“I like your place!” She kicks off her ballet flats and starts meandering around the apartment like it's a department store. She reads the spine of a few books on the bookshelf, opens a drawer or two, and gives a gentle tap on Thelma’s enclosure.
Andrea mouths to me, “Do you know her?”
I respond with a nod and an unsure smile.
She plops down on the couch and hugs a throw pillow to her chest. “So how long until you're ready to go? If we're quick, we can make it to Salem before it gets dark.”
“Salem?!” Andrea blurts around another bite of egg.
“Actually… Mairead, your trip idea sounds nice, but I’m really tired after a day of traveling, and I have work tonight. Can I take a raincheck?”
Mairead makes a humph sound, followed by throwing her head back and staring up to the ceiling at nothing in particular.
Andrea gives me another ‘what the fuck’ look and I shrug.
As if she is zapped with electricity, Mairead springs from the sofa and asks to use the bathroom.
“Sure… First door on the right,” I Instruct.
Andrea immediately starts signing to me. Asking things like, “Who the fuck is this?” and “Why are you going on a trip with someone I’ve never met?”
I quickly reassure her that she's a co-worker from my last job and I didn’t plan to travel with anyone. At least not today.
“Oh my god!” Mairead hollers from the other room.
Andrea and I quickly move toward the call to see what the unexpected house guest is yelling about.
We find her in my room of all places, with her bottom in the air, pulling bins out from under my bed.
“These are so funny!” She holds up different sized embroidery hoops, which I have been working on for the Craft Bazaar.
“Welcome to the Shit Show! I Cross Stitch so I don’t Kill People! O-M-G, Can I have this one?!”
Andrea and I share a look as I reply, “Umm yeah. Sure.”
She gives a high-pitched squeal before standing to prance in place.
Andrea actually fights back a laugh, most likely at my expense.
“Mairead, I’d really like to settle in, since I just got back. Do you mind… if we hang out another day?”
I am too exhausted to question why the energetic girl is in my room, let alone being confrontational, it was just not in my wheelhouse.
“Okie dokie,” she replies, clutching her embroidered art and happily making her way toward the front door.
Andrea follows behind, quietly taking in everything as it unfolds.
As I go to close the door, wishing Mairead a final farewell, she pops her head back through. “Oh shit. I forgot to tell you. Remember Craig?”
Well, yeah how could I forget the awful manager that tried to manipulate and assault me, before I quit. “Yeah. What about him?” Now, I need a nap.
“He’s dead.”
Okay, now I am awake.
“I heard he died during a closing shift. One of the cashiers found him in the morning all blue and unresponsive. The cops thought he choked while eating, but the coroner found something that points to a homicide!”
Craig was an absolutely repulsive human, but I don’t think he deserved to be murdered. Well… maybe. No. God, my moral compass is fucked up. “Did they figure out who did it?”
She examines her perfectly pink, manicured nails like this kind of discussion bores her, instead of being the heinous topic it is. “Not sure… BUUUT, do you want to hear what they found in his throat?!”