Chapter 6 #3
My mother is not sneaking out of her bedroom late at night to visit her boyfriend. It makes no sense. She doesn’t have a curfew. She can do what she wants, when she wants.
She frequently does, in fact.
But once the idea has planted itself, it grows—tentacles that snarl and tangle around everything they touch until I can practically see it: Alvina Berkeley in high heels, climbing up an imaginary trellis by the light of the moon and slipping into the bedroom of Daryl Harper.
“No,” I breathe. “She wouldn’t.”
But then again…wouldn’t she? Can I really put anything past Alvina Berkeley?
I guess…I could check.
I know where Dominic used to live—where Daryl still lives. It would be as simple as driving by to see if my mother’s car is in the driveway.
No one would ever know.
It’s this thought that convinces me. “No one would ever know,” I repeat to myself with a nod. “Yes. Okay. Good.”
So out of the room I go, tiptoeing half the way down the hall before I realize I don’t actually need to sneak. Still, my feet are light as I slip down the stairs and step into the closest pair of shoes I can find—fuzzy boots. Then I grab my keys from the hook by the door and hurry out.
My thin, silky pajamas do very little to block the chilly wind, but I’m in the car in no time, puffing warm breath into my cupped hands as the heat turns on. I glance down at my tropical-printed pants and matching top, followed by the boots. It’s not great, as far as outfits go.
No one will ever know.
I nod again, more vigorously now. No one will ever know, and I’m probably wrong anyway. My hands do shake a bit as I start the car, but it’s just from the cold. I pull smoothly out of the driveway, around to the front of the house and then to the street, where I start for Daryl Harper’s home.
The drive only takes a few minutes, but my hands continue to shake with the cold, and my stomach rolls uncomfortably too, making the trip seem longer than it actually is. By the time I’ve reached Daryl’s street, my heart is pounding in my throat, and I actually feel ill.
That feeling intensifies when I come to Daryl’s house; I slow down and try to look casual as I inch by, my eyes scouring the scene for my mother’s car.
And my thrumming heart drops all the way into the pit of my stomach when I spot it: a familiar silver sedan in the driveway, one that stops my breath and sends another quiver of queasiness through me.
That is Alvina’s car. Alvina Berkeley owns that car. And she has parked it in her boyfriend’s driveway in the middle of the night.
I’ve pulled past Daryl’s house before I even realize it, coming to a stop in front of the neighbor’s and killing the engine. I look again at my absurd outfit, take a deep breath, and then get out of the car.
“No one will ever know,” I exhale as I scurry back up the sidewalk to Daryl’s, crossing into the grass and around the side of the house.
There are several rectangles of light shining from within, open windows I can peek through—it’s a creepy thing to do, but I’m desperate.
My feet are light, my steps hurried, and the leaves rustling in the breeze cover the remaining sounds of my traipsing through grass and mulch and flowerbeds.
I tiptoe through a patch of beauty bark and crouch down, leaning over just enough to get a look at what’s happening inside, but all I see is a dining room. So I move on to the next window, rounding the bushes as I crouch low.
I am stealth. I am secrecy itself—
“Ow,” I mutter, jumping and startling as a thorn snags at my leg through my pajama pants. “Ouch—” But I break off when I realize I’m being too loud and standing too tall; I lean down once more, making myself small as I approach the second window.
“Bingo,” I breathe, although I’m not particularly happy to be looking into Daryl Harper’s well-lit living room. But there’s a squashy couch in there, and a television—it’s a prime location for a dating couple.
I don’t want to see…well, anything. But I need to know what I’m dealing with here. So I settle carefully in the bushes, my feet crunching in the dirt and dead leaves, and resign myself to wait.
I’ll see whatever there is to see, and then I’ll get out of here and go home. By the time Alvina comes back—I refuse to entertain the possibility that she’ll stay overnight—I’ll be asleep, and she’ll be none the wiser.
No one will ever know.
Several minutes tick by, then several more. My feet grow numb, so I shift my weight back and forth before continuing my vigil. I’m growing chillier and chillier, my body shaking, too, but I stay—
“Well, well, well.”
I freeze at the sound of Dom’s voice, like one of those prairie dogs that pokes up out of its hole. I don’t know what I’m thinking—that I’ll somehow turn invisible? That he won’t see me if I stay still enough?
It’s ridiculous, of course. He sees me fine. He even continues speaking, using that same dry, faintly amused voice:
“Fancy seeing a girl like you in a place like this.”
And just like that, I’m taken back to a distant afternoon when he spoke the exact same words to me—a long, long time ago.