Chapter 10
Evelyn
For the rest of the way, Parker didn’t allow me to sit in my thoughts for too long.
Sometimes a song would take me back to a specific memory. I would get lost in it, lamenting a different time when my life didn’t feel suffocated by grief.
“What was your mother like?” Parker asked as he flipped on the indicator light and merged into the right lane, leading us off the exit.
I was taken off guard by the question at first, then my feelings morphed into relief.
No one had asked me about my mother in a while.
Celeste had been the only one who could recall memories with me.
Most people who knew her avoided speaking about her because they probably thought I couldn’t handle it. But I wanted to remember her.
“My mother was the kindest person I knew besides my sister. She was always doing something for somebody, whether it was cooking, laundry or just sitting beside them when they were sick. Everyone knew they could depend on her.” Even though I wanted to speak of her, I still felt the pain of her loss like it was yesterday.
My chest tightened. “Mama loved cooking and would invite people over for Sunday dinners. She always showed up for her community. I used to tell her I wanted to be just like her when I grew up, and she would always say, ‘No, I want you to be just you. Be better than I ever was.’ I feel like our neighborhood was never the same after she left us.”
Parker reached over the console to squeeze my hand again.
This time, I saw it coming, and I let him.
His comfort felt foreign, yet the slight roughness of his palm felt nice against my skin.
I hadn’t been comforted by another person in some time.
It felt foolish to find solace in a stranger, but I was starved for any type of relief.
“Tell me about your sisters. I heard you on the phone with them earlier,” I asked, deciding it was time to change the subject.
With the mention of his sisters, he cracked a smile.
“My twin sisters are Aja and Janae. I’m sure y’all will be quick friends once we get to Oakland Ridge.
I’m older by five years, even though at times they seem like the big sisters.
Aja has a tough exterior, but she’s soft on the inside once you get to know her.
Janae is most like our mother, quiet at times, but at the right moment, she’s all sass and wit.
Both of them are way smarter than I could ever be, graduating at the top of their class with honors. ”
I can feel the pride radiating off of him. “You all must be close. I can tell how much you love them.”
His smile dimmed. “We’re close, but we could be closer if you asked them.”
He tapped along to the music on the steering wheel as he continued, “I had a falling out with my parents, my father mostly, before I left for New York. He didn’t support my decisions.
So it’s been tense between us for some time now.
I wanted to fight fires and save lives, he wanted me to follow in his footsteps.
This will be my first time setting foot back in Oakland Ridge in a decade. ”
Parker, from what I’ve seen so far, was just a good guy.
He spoke so highly of his family despite his father being unsupportive of his career choices.
Hearing him speak about his sisters chipped away at a wound that had yet to heal.
I could hear the pain and disappointment in his voice when he spoke of his father.
I knew that going back home couldn’t be easy for him, yet he was doing it for a total stranger.
The guilt I felt was mounting to new heights, and I just wanted to shut down. I didn’t want to feel anything else. The past few days had taken too much out of me.
We arrived at the shabby motel off the side of Route 1 around two in the morning. Both of us were bone tired. The topic of our families had left us both distracted by our thoughts.
“Well, this is it,” Parker said through a yawn.
The exhaustion showed clearly on his face.
A light sheen of sweat coated his deep mahogany skin.
His brown eyes were sunken, and it looked like he was struggling to keep them open.
“Let’s go inside and get us some rooms and rest for the night.
We have about three more hours until we reach Oakland Ridge.
We exited the car, pausing only to stretch our stiff limbs. The motel looked like the kind of place where bad decisions were made. But I guess when you’re running from a crazed killer, you can’t be picky. Parker held the door for me, and I stepped into the lobby.
Behind the reception desk, a bearded man, half asleep, sat with a barely lit cigarette hanging from his lips.
The wallpaper looked like it had once been vibrant with colors, showcasing hummingbirds, but now it was peeling and corroded from the smoke.
Tiles on the floor were cracked, and, in some places, held together with duct tape.
Parker and I shared a commiserating look before approaching the desk.
Parker cleared his throat, and the man jolted awake, saving his cigarette in the last minute before it hit the floor.
“Yeah. What do you want?” The man said curtly, his eyes ping-ponging back and forth between us.
“We’ll take two rooms for one night, and we’ll pay in cash.”
“One room.” The man huffs out as he kicks his feet up on the desks and reaches into his pocket to light another cigarette.
I bounced nervously from one leg to the other as Parker argued with the man in a hushed tone.
The last thing I wanted to do was share a room with Parker. He didn’t need to hear me screaming from the nightmares that troubled me every night. There was still too much he didn’t know about that day, and I wasn’t ready to explain it. I don’t think I’d ever be ready to tell the whole truth.
Whatever this man was saying wasn’t going over well with Parker, and he slammed the cash down on the counter and turned around to face me.
“That guy ain’t got the good sense God gave a rock.
” Parker scratched the back of his neck nervously, his southern lilt coming out with his frustration.
“There’s only one room available tonight, and there aren’t any other motels around.
I wouldn’t trust myself to drive much further.
I’ll sleep on the floor, and you can take the bed. ”
With that, Parker headed towards the door and started unloading our bags from the car. We take the staircase to the next floor and walk down the hall to room 608. As Parker shoves the keys into the lock, I take a look around the building.
There’s a small pool behind the motel where a group of women were drinking 40’s and singing to a pop song. Down the hall from our room, there was a man smoking a joint and speaking loudly on the phone. Not too far from him, a young woman cried at the foot of the opposite staircase.
The door budges open, and the smell of moldy carpet and stale cigarettes welcomed us.
A small table sits in the corner of the room with a Bible in the center.
The room holds a queen-sized bed with paisley sheets that look like they’ve been there since the 70s and a tiny bathroom with a stand-in shower, a toilet, and a warped mirror.
Parker brings our bags to the table and shuts the door.
I sift through the store bag for what I need for the night.
I had picked up two t-shirts, a pair of shorts, a pair of jeans, a generic pack of underwear, some travel-sized toiletries, and a box of hair dye, remembering Danny’s warning to alter my appearance as soon as possible.
Parker insisted on paying for everything, and I couldn’t really tell him no.
The only things I left New York with were the clothes on my back, my cell phone equipped with a new SIM card, and the false Georgia ID Danny gave me stating that I was now Willow Norris.
Although we were warming up to each other, I still felt timid. I grabbed a t-shirt, underwear, some toiletries, and the box of black hair dye, then walked over to the bathroom without another word to Parker.
Entering the dimly lit bathroom, I checked out my appearance in the smudge filled mirror.
If my mom were here, she would have told me I looked frowzy.
My hair was a mess, curls were springing from every direction, and I could still smell the scent of smoke on my clothing and skin.
The more I looked at myself, the more reality sank in.
I gripped the edge of the sink, fighting to keep my tears at bay as I stared at my reflection once more.
Pushing off the sink, I grabbed the box of hair dye that I had placed on the toilet along with my clothing.
Not bothering to read the instructions, I mixed the two bottles in the box and put on the gloves I found inside.
I sectioned my hair the best I could without a comb, then dipped a hand into the dye and smoothed it into the back of my head.
Celeste would’ve known how to do this properly. As I worked through the back of my hair towards the center, I could almost imagine her telling me what to do.
“Can’t believe it took you twenty-three years to do something fun to your hair, and I’m not there to witness it.”
My sister was an artist. We both were. While she loved painting, hair, and makeup, I was more drawn to music, writing, and sketching.
She was always the first to jump on the latest beauty trend.
You never knew whether she would show up with her hair dyed blue or a bedazzled cat eye.
Meanwhile, I was a creature of habit—my hair was most likely in a messy bun—and I stuck to wearing my three favorite colors, black, green, and blue.
She preferred the light, while I was comfortable in the shadows.
She would’ve found me dyeing my hair for the first time in a crappy motel bathroom to be hilarious. There was no use holding back my tears.
“I bet you’re having a good laugh at me right now,” I whispered to myself.
My tears fell freely as I continued to coat the rest of my hair in the deep auburn dye. The color was so drastic compared to my natural black hue. The person in front of me was becoming more unrecognizable.
“Don’t be so afraid of change, Ev.”
Her voice rang so clearly in my head that it was jarring.
Celeste never stopped encouraging me to try new things and get out of my comfort zone.
Schedules were comforting, and structure was safe; I craved both.
But every once in a while, she would remind me it was okay to go with the flow, sometimes something good was on the other side of things.
My vision blurred from the tears as I stepped into the cramped shower stall, turned the handle past warm, and straight to hot. Leaning against the wall, I watched as the steam rose and covered the small bathroom.
Everything is gone, Cellie. Our life together is fucking gone.
The composure I tried to keep disappeared as my breath hitched and a sob made its way out. This wasn’t just a small change. Our home, our memories are gone. Everything I fought so hard to preserve was nothing but a heap of ash.
Her favorite Backstreet Boys t-shirt that I used to fall asleep with. Gone.
Photos from her sweet sixteen, where she begged Iris to rent a limo. Gone.
Our home, the last place we laughed together. It was gone.
The water ran reddish-brown as I slid down the tiled wall, slapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds I had no control over.
I stayed on the bathroom floor until I had to wash the dye from my hair, then went through the motions of washing up before stepping out.
Standing in front of the mirror again, I parted my hair and began weaving my hair into two braids, my eyes focused on the auburn coils. Tomorrow, my hair would be a mess from the lack of conditioner, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.
Tomorrow, I would start my new life as Willow Norris.
Cellie, please help me get through this.