#normannordstromxreader

Chapter 2:

The morning had come bright and sunny with clear skies all across town. As I walked down the street closer to my destination, my nerves began to build up with tension worrying about my interview. Popping a few pills to help the migraine and a can of energy boost began to soften whatever buzzed in my head. Bella dropped me off. Mom believed I was still at work. Dad doesn’t know anything. Doing this alone felt terrifying. I stood in front of the house holding the piece of paper I printed out this morning. The address was correct. In each direction, there was nothing but silence, dead silence. Perhaps this place was a charming friendly neighborhood in the past, but nothing but memories and ghosts lived here now. I proceeded up the steps suddenly jumping at the sound of barking coming from behind the gate. Something large growled and clawed at the gate. It was a dog. A mean dog, too. This person (man or woman) must not like company. Or visitors too much. Gulping, I raised my hand to the doorbell when the door suddenly swung open. I was face to face with a brunette woman, maybe in her 50s, shuffling past me pushing my shoulder, and fixing her handbag.

“Son of a bitch! Rot in hell. Drop dead. Rip your guts out,” she grumbled stomping to her car parked on the curb. She threw her bag in through the window, crawled in, slammed the door, and drove down the block. A rooster tail of exhaust and screaming tires trailed after her speedy departure. It didn’t help with my confidence too much. Mentally I asked myself what I was getting into. I looked back at the open door and peeked in.

“Hello?” I whispered, stepping inside.

It was dark. My nose crinkled. The room felt tight, close, and unaired. My hand reached for a light switch against the wall but it failed to turn on. Pushing back my hair, the back of my nape prickled, and maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. There was no response. Maybe they were upstairs? Feeling uneasy, I began to step back towards the doorway giving the final decision to go home.

“Who’s there…” came a hoarse voice. “I do not want to be preached by the word of God I don’t care how many years you were a nurse. I do not need a missionary! Leave here with your bible now!”

Gulping, catching my breath, I stutter,” H-Hello? I’m not a missionary. That woman just left.”

It caught me off guard. Halting in my tracks, I faced the darkness peering into it failing to locate the owner of the voice. My footfall created a creaking noise in the wooden floorboards as I stepped closer into the living room. The house looked old but still had impeccable charm. Wooden floorboards, white walls, a high ceiling, and a staircase leading up to the second floor. All the windows were covered up by bed sheets allowing a dim glow through the sheets. Cobwebs had completely taken over this man’s house and he was on the verge of becoming a hoarder. Newspapers, plastic bags, picture frames, light bulbs, mason jars, clothes, and suitcases were piled up against the wall. Not to mention a big, green, and mossy stain covered the corner of the living room due to a leak from the ceiling. It looked like the entire house needed some repairs. Something moved in the dark. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate as I see something tall, dark, big, and brooding in the darkest corner of the room. The owner of the home approaches and I can’t believe how big he is. My hand clutches my bag while the other pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“Who are you?” he croaked.

Trying to find the courage to speak was beginning to become hard and to be honest, intimidating. His voice sounded so dry and uneven, like a piece of toast in the desert. The dark figure moved across the wall, slowly, until I could see the outline of a man. I stepped closer feeling the pull of gravity become stronger as I can sense him coming closer.

“M-My name… is Evey Williams. It’s nice to meet you.” I reach out my hand. He doesn’t reach out. I wait a moment longer. Feeling embarrassed I withdraw my hand.

His voice seems to be full of suspicion and judgment. Curious. But suspicious.

“What do you want…”

Quickly I pulled my papers out,” I saw your ad online. We scheduled an interview today about the caregiver position. …”

For a long time, he’s quiet until I can hear his footsteps go across the room in loud thumps. He steps forward and takes a seat in the living room chair and he pushes a chair out toward me.

“Take a seat…”

It’s more of an order than a courteous gesture. Little streams of light poke through the open slits of the curtains and bed sheets illuminating little galaxies of lint flying in the air. I take nearly 3 steps through those galaxies and then I see him in a better light. My jaw almost drops when I see him up close. Intense wasn’t the right word. It didn’t seem close to describing him. Intimidating, yes. He had salt and pepper hair with a beard shadowing his chin and jawline. His whole face was mussed, unruly, and longish. There was a raw ruggedness that attached to him like fire attached to heat.

“W-What do you want to know?” I whispered, looking at him through my lashes.

He exhales, croaking, “You sound young…”

Well isn’t that obvious?

I moved my eyebrows before nodding my head. He moves his head looking at the ground and then up at the ceiling before reaching his hand out across the table towards me, suddenly choosing to look at the wall again. His hands are huge. My eyes run down his fingers with wide strong palms that could squeeze a watermelon into chunks or rip phone books in half. I look at his arms under my lashes and I can’t stop staring. 

“Your clearance card… copy of your ID... I need to make copies.”

Reaching for my bag, I do what he says. Everything is pushed forward. But for some reason, his hands reach across the table tapping his fingers everywhere before finding them. This is interesting because he touches each item with precise movements, investigating the thin plastic card in between his fingers. Maybe I should say something. Or would it be rude? Why would it be rude? My paper and card are completely authentic. My tongue runs across my teeth and before I could say something he gets up and walks into the other room (tracing his hand along the wall, I might add) and opens a drawer. In the dark, my eyes can see the silver glimmer of a cane firmly being held in his left hand. He’s limping too. A part of the puzzle pieces together. In heavy thumps, he reenters the room carrying a small book and a pair of keys.

“Write your name here, address, and written consent that you are under my employment of your own free will. The paperwork is very important. I need to know who will be working in my home.”

He pushed a pen toward me, looking at my shoulder, and I gave a face. He was certainly a very careful employer.

“I-I don’t understand,” looking at the papers. “You have my ID and fingerprint clearance card. They’re authentic I promise. You can read it. It’s in my handwriting I swear.”

He looks down to the ground, seemingly annoyed and most disgruntled, but he inhales a long breath regaining his patience, and looks at my shoulder again. The chair he sits in creaks as he crosses his legs.

“I wish I could believe you, but I have to be sure. I like to be %100 sure. I don’t like any loose ends. Have you ever done this kind of work before?” his head tilted to the side.

“Yes, I have. I used to live with my grandmother when I was 13 years old and she needed help around the house. She was diabetic and I helped her with medication and helped her shower. It was for one summer but I learned a lot. She passed away last year.”

“Here you’ll learn more from me. I’ll teach you. But, I hope my schedule won’t take too much time from your husband or children.”

“I don’t have children and I’m not married.”

“You sound young…”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh? May I ask how old you are?”

“I’m 17 years old. I may be young… b-but I can work hard. I can do anything you want me to. If you need me to go shopping I can. I… can try and attempt to cook. If you need me to remind you about medications I can do that, too. I may be young but I’m a fast learner.”

“Ah…” he realizes something, nodding his head. “Good. You’re in high school and you only need this as a summer job?”

Shit.

“Y-Yes, sir. But I can work hard for as long as needed. I can push myself to be whatever you need.”

“Don’t panic. All I need is someone to come in for 2 months. Maybe 4 months. I won’t need help all year. All I need are basic things. Newspaper, household chores, feeding, and walking Shadow. Among other things. I need someone young and strong and stable. Reliable. I need someone to come in every day on time. I need you to show up and be here. Do you understand?”

“Of course.”

“I was recently released from the hospital and I am in recovery.” He knocks his cane on the floor. “That is why I have this. I am weak and in constant pain. My home was broken into and I was attacked.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been so scary.”

“I need you… to be completely available. It’s very important that you’re here with me. I will double your pay if you’re here with me after hours.”

The dark features on his face seemed frozen in half light and half dark, as if he was purposely trying to hide from me. The intensity of his expression doesn’t seem to falter while I squirmed in my chair, pulled my locks behind my ear, and looked down at the middle of the table. It was rude of him to stare for so long.

What’s wrong with this guy?

By now I can feel the pills and energy drink from this morning battle together in the pit of my gut for room making it hard for me not to sweat and squirm in my chair.

“Of course, sir. I can guarantee you’ll be happy.”

“You have an accent…” he noticed, turning his head in another direction. “You’re not from around, here are you?”

I knew he was laughing at me for being so ignorant. My fingers slide my red headband from my head, unraveling my hair down my shoulders and touching my back and the world is suddenly better with the cool air wafting against the back of my neck. It’s not so hot anymore.

I bit my lip,” No, sir.” I pause, for too long, drinking him in. “I live across town.”

Placing my headband back in place I try to remember that this is just a summer job and it’ll be over soon. My hair swoops and falls behind my back as he seems to be dissatisfied with my answer but he looks away and seems to enjoy the color of his living room wallpaper. Something catches his interest.

“Hmmm” he croaked looking at my breasts and I didn’t feel so invited anymore. 

Pervert.

My arms twitch moving in sync as he seems to be studying something on my neck and then moving to my shoulder. With each tilt of the head or glance, he moves in a shark-like motion. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Suddenly he moves his upper body forward and it’s a chance to see his face closer. My heart rate flutters when he’s no longer in the shadows. He tilts his head to the side looking at the ceiling, smelling. His neck cranes down, slowly shutting his eyelids, turning his head to look at the floor, smelling, almost as if he’s trying to look for me. The lamplight illuminates his face in a soft yellow/gold hue. His ‘smelling’ chills me to the bone and my body stiffens, clenching my toes in an attempt to hold back my stifled breathing and give me away. It wasn’t too long when his nose caught something wafting in the air between us, stops, smells again, and unclenches his cane releasing the tension in his knuckles and I could’ve sworn I heard him breathe a soft,” Fuck.”

“Do we have a problem?” the words suddenly leave my mouth and I immediately regret saying anything when his head sharply turns to look directly at me. “Do you want me to leave?”

Then I understand.

His eyes.

Very slowly, he turns his head to the windows, smelling, curling his fingers around the head of his cane. His knuckles pop and turn white he’s clenching so tight. The air became more intense as I watch him use his other senses. The lamplight illuminates more of his face each time he turns his head. I’m breathless when I notice his eyes are two milky white pools. His left eye is scarred, almost burned with star-shaped scars, with a milky white scar across his brow and bridging into his iris reaching his cheekbone. The whole left side of his face is covered in scars reaching to his ear. The other side of his face is smooth and unharmed but the damage has cost him his sight completely. His entire facial feature almost seemed…undead. I had no idea. And that means I’ve been an asshole for the past 5 minutes into my interview.

“You will be working in a blind man’s home…” he croaks looking at the wall, turning his head slowly to the floor and he withdraws back into the shadows. “You’ll do.”

 “I-I didn’t mean to-“

“No, you did not,” his voice seemed distant this time. “Here are the keys.”

On a single silver circle were 3 keys and a red label tag on each. Front door. Back door. Bedroom door. I pocketed the keys into my bag, unable to tear my gaze away from him sitting in the dark, fascinated and intimidated all at once.

“That’s it? I’m hired?” I asked.

“The one important…thing…” he croaked, coughing, covering his mouth, and regained himself. “You must do for me… is to never lie to me.”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye and shiver, moving my shoulders. He’s serious. Dead serious. Being in his presence burned something in me. Suddenly the atmosphere of the room shifted from being dreadful and dipped into a peaceful hush between him and me. His head tilted waiting for an answer.

“Of course,” I whispered.

He seems satisfied with my answer, leaning back, taking his cane, and pushing forward the little black book before leaving the room. He limps, turns his head in my direction, then leaves without another word. I look at the empty door frame, the book, and back to the door frame. I reached out and opened the book. It was a chores list of everything that needed to be done and completed in his home in a certain timeframe starting in the morning and ending precisely 12 hours later. My excitement is hard to contain! I finally achieved my summer job duties for the next couple of weeks! I scan through each page as fast as I can before realizing that it’s gorgeous. His handwriting (surprisingly) is very neat, thin, long curved, and beautiful, sitting perfectly on each double-spaced line perfectly. He may have lost his sight but he’s not as beastly as I thought. Before I know it he’s back in the room with me.

“I’ll be here early tomorrow morning. Thank you. I’ll do my best to make your home a happy one,” I smiled, looking into the empty doorframe. “Thank you Mr….”

My face goes red.

I don’t even know his name.

“You do not start tomorrow morning. There are some things that I need to prepare my home for before you arrive. I can’t risk another break-in. You start next week.”

I grab my bag and walk down the hallway and I can hear him thump around in the kitchen opening cabinets and shaking pots and pans, silverware, and silverware falling into the sink.

“Excuse me?”

“I need to prepare my basement before you arrive. There are some things I must do. Then you may begin.”

He turns on the faucet listening to the water splash over the porcelain bowls and heavy mugs clattering at the bottom of the sink. I watch him closely. He stares at the wall while both of his hands scan over every bowl, fork, mug, and knife and turns off the sink water before it reaches the rim. Lathering his hands in bubbles he grabs a rag and begins to rub and finger old coffee stains from a mug. I shrug tucking the book under my arm. He keeps his head perfectly balanced and straight, never once looking down or in any other direction. He’s completely in control.

“I don’t know your name…” I murmur, watching his hands look for a brush. “I’m Evey.”

For a moment he stops, and both his hands grasp the metallic edges of the sink, lowering his head down, listening this time. He turns towards me slowly as if he’s about to say something important. His knee twitches and he tries to hide it, but I can see he’s having a hard time standing on both legs. Limping and half-walking he steps closer to me until he’s standing nearly 3 feet away from me, breathing hard, looking at the ground and to my shoulder. This time I take a better look at his face and his milky white eyes and I’m completely entranced. Complete silence comes between us both and I’m not exactly sure what to do at this moment. My nose catches whiffs of wood (maybe cedar) and a certain musty smell mixed with fresh-cut grass and soap coming off of him. He may be a little older but he certainly doesn’t act or smell old at all. Not like other elderly people I’ve met, which I decided I liked about him. This man, this large intimidating man, uncurtained himself from the darkness and slowly devoured my name one morsel at a time.

“Evey…” he whispers, rolling my name around on his tongue.

He says my name slowly, taking time for him to fully appreciate the sharp and strong ‘E’ and ‘V’ that pronounces my whole name. 

Even when he says my name it sounds delicious.

His eyes go to the window as he turns his head to the ground, tilting his head to the side, listening for my presence for as long as he can. In a second I see his hand reach out for mine and my gut suddenly ripples with butterflies looking at the scars across his knuckles and arms. This man has been through hell and high water and it shows. The scars completely covered his knuckles in little dashes and marks crisscrossing over each muscle with soft white tissue. His whole body was a canvas of scars and I wondered what kind of artist was responsible for it. Slowly my hand grasps his (the butterflies turn into sparkles of fire almost melting my insides) and we are finally introduced in a soft peaceful shake.

I know.... it's here. So this chapter gets a little juicy so I'm only going to post HALF of it. I am a writer on the website Fanfiction and I have a collection of other juicy fanfictions about my favorite slashers. Jason, Freddy, Michael Myers, When A Stranger Calls, and more Norman Nordstrom. My bubble is small here so PM me and ask me for my account reference. Go yell at me there. Toodles and happy reading!

Chapter 4:

I open the package grandpa sent and tear open the envelope inside. It’s a postcard with a picture of Route 66 highway in the desert with a picture of a drunken cowboy on his horse holding up a sign ‘Howdy’. I smile and find what he’s promised me. It’s a single silver key, with an address, along with a new cellphone, the newest iPhone 17 already set up and his number is my only contact. I look back at the house and no one is awake yet. It’s almost noon and everyone including Bella is still asleep. I couldn’t sleep at all. Not a wink. I leave my neighborhood and board the bus to the address he listed and I come to a storage facility. It’s located south of the city and the owner, a man named Mike, allows me into the gate. I show him the key and the address and Mike immediately knows it’s from my grandpa. I guess he owned a storage unit here for over 25 years. Number 886 is on the key and he walks me to the storage unit talking about how my grandpa was always a loyal customer. Keeping antiques, bikes, and vintage cars here. But the man always had his secrets. He had his treasures and his precious possessions. Mike escorts me into a building, keys in the code, and we walk down one single hallway of 20 identical storage units inside. We walk all the way to the end until we come to mine.

Unit 886

“Thanks,” I smile.

He leaves and I take out the key from my pocket and slip it into the lock. Like a magic trick, it pops and unlocks. I roll the garage door up and I see a scooter in the middle of the room attached to a note and a single black leather suitcase on the seat. It must’ve been here for a long time because there’s a thin layer of dust over the bike. But it’s not just any bike. It’s a 1972 Ducati motorcycle the 750 GT edition, with a leather jacket, and of course a helmet. I open the note.

Happy 18th Birthday, my sweet grandbaby!

Grandpa loves you very much!

I went and got this restored for you a couple of years back. You’re still a youngin’ right now but I hope you like it.

Now go out and see the world.

Grandpa must’ve planned this a long time ago for my upcoming 18th birthday next year. My heart grows full and I wish more than ever I could leave this place now and never come back. Get gas, pack nothing, and hit the highway. I’m so happy he could give this to me now but I can’t leave yet. I need to plan my escape a little more carefully. Like Bella, mom would try and find me and bring me back like a lost dog. Now I have a way to get to work and mom will never know. She can never, ever, ever know. I look at the suitcase. It’s a large leather suitcase from the 70s with his name engraved in long and beautiful cursive letters on the box. There’s a combination on the side and I immediately get a text message from the man himself.

The code is 0215

My birthday. I look around the room and see a security camera with a blinking red light and I wave. My screen vibrates again.

Happy early birthday grandbaby

I spin the numbers until it pops open and inside is a small tactical box. As soon as I see a gun inside the foam of this box it should’ve made me shiver. But I know from an early age that grandpa was always a man who loved his Andy Griffon show, no raisins in his cereal, and loved his guns. Inside is a Glock 19 9mm, a good gun for a beginner. I close it, lock it, and decide to leave the gun here for now because god forbid I get pulled over without having a license to carry in Michigan. I shrug on my new leather jacket and feel it hug my body perfectly. It still smells new. I check my watch and I suddenly get an idea.

Hey, you around?

I press send and wait anxiously for a reply. Then my phone buzzes again but it’s not Nathan. It’s Bella.

Hey, sis, where are you? Dad kicked me out today and I’m getting Randy and we’re both going to the airport. I saw your note. Where can I pick you up?

Don’t worry about me. Just tell me where we’re meeting.

?. The old bowling alley near the school on Main Street. 15 minutes ETA

Gotcha

I put on my helmet and bring the glass protector down over my eyes and clip the strap under my chin. I slip in the keys, turn, and my bike kicks to life and I’m out of there. The speed and torque feel incredible as soon as I hit that asphalt and I’m suddenly in control of everything. I can feel the wind and the feel of the road. The engine is the best part, even sitting at a red light I can feel the power beneath my body. In no time I see Bella and Randy waiting inside the bowling alley for a table.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is that!?” Bella’s face lights up.

“It’s a gift from grandpa for my 18th birthday.”

“You lucky girl!”

From where she was standing I could see the bruises on her face, a busted lip, and a black eye. But, in a strange way, she moves with grace and confidence with a big smile on her face like last night never happened. She still stood tall in her shapeless black coat and the baggy clothing she wore did nothing to accentuate her figure, she was still undefeatable Isabella. She moved to me with the grace of a beauty queen beneath her bulky clothing and had every man in the bowling alley and bar following her every move, hypnotizing them like the swing of a pendulum.

“Hey, sis! I got you a beer.”

“You know I’m still underage.”

“Don’t worry about it, I know a guy. Come on, we got a table in the bar’s lounge.”

We sit and Randy is the first to apologize to me. He feels awful and tells me that it was his fault everything happened, he may have been a handsome idiot but he was still sweet to my sister. He places his hand over hers and gives her a squeeze, still happy she’s wearing his engagement ring. Wait… where’s her engagement ring?

“Bells, you didn’t….! Tell me you didn’t!”

She smiled,” I fucked up, E. It’s literally the least I could do. I got the money for you and pay you back like I promised I would. Please, take it and don’t give me any shit. You deserve to get the hell out of here just as much as anyone else does.”

“Bells…”

“Stop trying to defend me, E. I know you don’t hate me but you definitely should be mad. I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of here.”

“No, I get it.”

“Isn’t that right, babe?”

“That’s right.”

Randy smiled, touching her shoulder.

“That’s one of the reasons we wanted to talk to you. Bella told me what happened and I feel absolutely awful. This is completely my fault no matter what your sister says. So that’s why we’re moving out of the loft and trying to buy a house that would be big enough for the three of us.”

“The three of us?”

“We talked about this all night.”

“Like moving in together?”

“Yea, together, together.”

“Yes, we want to move to Arizona and take you with us. We got a little money saved in the bank and my aunt lives in Sedona with all the other older spiritual women who wear long turquoise jewelry and flowy dresses and 50 cats. I’ll be planning in a couple of months and I’m going to try and secure a job in Phoenix and make sure we’re taken care of. Maybe after you finish high school and graduate you can come live with us.”

“Just like we planned…”

“Together?”

“Together, always.”

Years ago, Bella and I had dreamed about our escape. Just leave and never come back and travel all over the world. With everything we both faced and experienced inside our home, we couldn’t do it without each other. When Bella left and I missed her so much, I cried for days. My big sister had become my only security blanket when dad was drinking and my mom would be depressed. There was no such thing as a simple day at the house. On the days I wept, I’d try and stay in bed and think of what to do alone. Where I could go and imagine what my life would be like. A world without mom or dad and how beautiful it would be. It seemed like a pipedream for both of us. Bella told me more about their plan and she convinced me to keep working with my new employee. My escape cannot be possible without him. Norman was the only man who could help me. All my dreams lay in his hands. We drank our beers, ate pizza, and played two games of bowling before we stood out in the parking lot saying our goodbyes. She gave me an envelope containing $2,000.

The Next Week:

I tucked my shirt into my pants and made sure mom and dad were still sleeping. I adjusted the ponytail on my head and made sure to leave before they woke up. No breakfast today, I’d eat later. My lunch was tucked into a plastic bag in the kitchen. A bologna sandwich with mayonnaise along with a bottle of water. My head keeps tricking me into thinking my father is standing behind me, but no one is there. Or my mother is waiting in the living room smoking and waiting to lecture me about the importance of the family and our survival. Her kind of survival was all about how much money her husband raked in every month and her dedication to the growth of her two daughters. We would lead her legacy. I could understand her worrying about the financial troubles of the family, but it ashamed me to actually take pity on her. She’s my mom. I’m supposed to forgive her, right? I grabbed my coat before carefully stepping downstairs and opening the front door. They wake up every day at 11 am to watch the news, sleep, go to the supermarket, and scream at each other. It’s 6:00 am in the morning on a cold Monday. So why was I so nervous? Maybe it was him I was getting nervous about. I walk out of the house and down the block to where I’ve hidden my bike behind some bushes and I get on. I rip off the camouflage tarp and start it. When arriving at his house I notice a large pile of mail stuck and wedged into the slot of the door like it’s been there for days, even months.

I knock.

His dog, Shadow, already announced my arrival before I parked my bike because as soon as my knuckles even touch his door he swings it open wearing a white shirt and blue jeans like he’s doing them a favor. He’s still as intimidating as he was when I last saw him. He’s so tall and my eyes flit over his torso.

“Evey?”

“Yes, hello.”

His chin points inward.

“Come in,” he says stepping back. “You can hang your coat in the closet here.”

“Good morning Mr. Nordstrom,” I smile. “Thank you.”

Before I step in his hand catches my wrist and for a moment I watch him, with interest, as his large calloused hand finds my elbow, holds me there as if he’s checking I’m truly there, and I shrug out of my coat. He takes his time. The leather fabric of my coat is heavy and thick almost like his arms and chest. Jesus Christ, he’s fit for his age. His shoulders are broad, broader than Nathan’s, and thickly corded. Mr. Nordstrom places my leather jacket inside the closet on a hanger and I notice his head is tilted to the side as if he’s smelling again. I notice that his fingers linger on my leather jacket for a moment longer as if there are traces of my warmth that still linger deep within the material. His salt and pepper hair is thick at the sides and slightly long on top, all combed back from his cruel face that is completely riddled with mystery and scars. Streaks of silver hair only add to the sense of authority, maturity, and experience he carried about him.

“Follow me,” he orders.

I follow him down the hallway to the kitchen he walks with confidence, one hand tracing along the wall, and he pulls out a chair for me again. I sit and still watch him with interest. With fascination. He reaches for something on the stove and pulls two cups from the cupboard. Then pulls out a jar of sugar and a carton of milk from the fridge.

“Coffee.”

It’s not a question but more like a statement. Like, hey, I have this.

“Yes, please,” I say politely.

I can’t take my eyes off this man.

As he moves through his kitchen with such fluidity, I wonder if it’s his job to care for me than vice versa. Norman doesn’t have a coffee machine like 99% of households but he has a silver percolator that’s old, very old, and is decorated with little dents all over it. He must’ve prepared this before I arrived because the coffee is hot and ready to be served. And, holy shit, the smell of coffee wafts through the kitchen and my mouth immediately waters. Its dark and rich aroma is so incredible my whole body shivers.

Starbucks, eat your heart out.

My lips move and my tongue pushes to the roof of my mouth suddenly craving its dark, crisp, and pleasant taste. Norman places a porcelain cup in front of me and he pours me the first cup. The coffee is the same color as my leather jacket, jet black. His biceps stretch the material of his shirt a little as he pours and I can’t help but smell him. He smells clean like Irish soap, cedar wood, and earthy fresh cut grass completing his Lord of the Manor look, along with the snowy white shirt that is a stark contrast to his tanned features. I take one spoonful of sugar and little dribbles of milk into my coffee and stir as I watch him pour himself a cup and sit across from me. Even sitting down his large presence almost takes up half the table, half the room, and half my thoughts.

Jesus, Evey, get a hold of yourself.

This man is self-disciplined. He doesn’t add any sugar or milk to his cup and he doesn’t take his time sipping his coffee as I do. There’s just not enough time, I guess.

“Do you have the list I gave you?”

“Hmm? Oh, yea, I have it.”

“Good, take your bike and park in the garage and lock it up. I’ll give you the key. Sometimes people, kids, will steal.”

“O-Ok.”

He could hear I was riding a bike. I kept my gaze downcast to my cup, a question itching in the back of my mind.

“How did you—”

“I have good hearing.” He finished his cup, both his large hands gripping the mug, almost engulfing it. “Underestimate no one.”

My chest tightened,” Ok.”

“Do you have any more questions?”

“Umm…” my mind went through a million questions like a bullet bursting through the neck of a whiskey bottle. 

My cheeks flame when a little coffee drips down his strong taut neck and my self-restraint to stare became a meaningless rumble on the edges of my consciousness. He catches it with his thumb and licks it. Stop it. Be professional. Get a hold of yourself. My head lowers, clearing my throat, trying to stir my coffee and feeling afraid of what I would find in myself if I stared at him any longer.

“Yea, I do…” I blush even harder. There’s a nervous wobble to my voice. “I know you’ve been injured because you were attacked and you’re also… v-visually impaired.”

“Just say blind.”

“Ok.” I’m not sure why I get so tongue-tied around this man.

“It’s alright,” he assures. His tone is warm and I feel more comfortable. It almost catches me off guard.

“You wrote in your list that you would need personal help. So, my question is: How would you like me to help you?”

It’s a polite question and I watch him lean back in his chair. He’s hesitant but eventually reveals one big secret.

“I was shot.”

“Oh,” I almost gasp when he stands and turns to point at his ribcage and lifts his shirt.

It’s a gunshot wound that is still healing and by the looks of it— painful, still very painful.  It’s still bandaged and still red, almost purple. It’s like a dark purple-ish black bruise. He wasn’t just shot from the looks of his bruises and marks, he must’ve been in a fight. And won. Even when he lifts his shirt up, stretching his waist, he winces slightly, trying not to exude any weakness. Holy shit, he has a six-pack. He takes my reaction as a reply and sits down.

“I just need it cleaned every now and then.”

A big part of me wants to reach out and graze my hand at his wound and feel his side. Even from where he’s standing I can feel his body heat practically lick at the cool air. But you never touch a wounded animal, not even one as tame as he is.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s not your fault.”

He drops his shirt down, seating himself.

“Another rule: don’t move any furniture around. Under any circumstances. When you leave this table put your chair back. When you take a broom put it precisely where you found it. Never rearrange anything without telling me. Not even a chair. Not even a spoon. I have a memory of everything in this house and things have a special place.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Nordstrom.”

“Norman,” he says with a slight chuckle. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Ok.”

“Do you see the keys hanging on the wall by the door?”

I look over,” Yes.”

“You may take those keys and go to the garage. Today I will skip breakfast. I will be upstairs when you return.”

“Alright.”

Finishing my coffee, I escorted my bike inside the garage. I tapped the kickstand down next to an old broken-down Chevy truck that was halfway covered with an old tarp. Tools, work table, and dusty shelves. An old cedar box was also displayed containing an American flag, medals, and a plaque with his name on it. Norman was a Navy Seal, or he used to be. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Returning inside, I delve into my duties. Norman stayed upstairs the entire day. I fed and walked Shadow the Rottweiler around the block. The big bear was a big baby who was fond of head scratches, baby talk, and his tennis ball. As I completed my duties as a caregiver, I discovered little clues about my mysterious employer. His home wasn’t too close to downtown but it wasn’t far either. His nearest neighbor was about 5 blocks down and the nearest store was 15 minutes away. The living room is an exquisite room, full of personal artifacts sitting in a tidy clutter against the walls in boxes. Books, pictures, and family photo albums. Displayed together it looks beautiful and incomparable. I’m holding the vacuum nozzle in my hand pressing the button on the box activating the vacuum to suck the spider webs off the ceiling corners. I’m standing on my toes going along the ceiling walls. I push my foot on the tab and it shuts off slowly. I roll the hose and box back into the closet and grab the broom next. The living room curtains are draped back into neat knots revealing enough sunlight to bring some charm into this house. The walls look blue/green with white frames around the doors and windows. I take a look at the list making a mental note of what’s next. There still feels like there’s so much to do. Dust bunnies fly and bounce around my feet as I gather them in a dustpan and dump it in the trash. I check my time. It’s almost 4:30 and that means I have to duct tape the carpets to the floorboards. Kneeling down, slipping off my gloves, I grab the giant silver roll and tear off a sticky strip and apply it evenly to the edge of the carpets, pushing my thumb against it evenly.

Creeaakkk…

I lift my head up and expect to see Mr. Nordstrom standing in the hallway leaning against the wall but there’s no one there. The hallway lamps aren’t on so it’s too dark to see past the frame of the doorway. I stand up holding the duct tape in my hand looking down the hallway and trying to listen to another sound. Could it be my imagination? It must be nothing. Pressing my lips together, the suspicion vanishes from my head. I go into the kitchen and take out the mop and bucket and squeeze the handle twisting the braids until it’s damp and warm. I rotate the handle in a sliding motion across the floor until the smell of thick soap fills my nostrils and I squeeze the handle twisting the braids until it’s not dripping anymore. I move across the floorboards as efficiently as I can. I’m sure to generously use as much water and soap as possible before twisting the dirty water out of the braids and continuing into the hallway.

Creeaakkk…

Creeaakkk…

I stop and looked up at the ceiling. Little bits of dirt fell in strings from the ceiling with each thump and footfall coming from Mr. Nordstrom. He was coming downstairs. I mopped as fast as I could across the floorboards because it was nearing 5:00 and my laundry chore wasn’t done! I threw the mop and bucket into the closet, washed my hands, tied back my hair, and fiddled for a hairpin. I hurry and grab the laundry basket off the washer and hold it against my hip. My timing couldn’t be more perfect as the man walked into the kitchen. He’s wearing his white shirt and jeans from this morning with socks but no boots holding his cane, his leg still trembling. Why didn’t he ask for my help coming down the stairs? His hand holds the frame of the entryway into the kitchen and he couldn’t look any more rugged than he is now.

“Hello,” I said, so he’ll know I was located in the room.

He tilts his head to the side. As if he’s looking at the floors and suddenly I’m nervous. He tilts his head looking at the windows across the room and I understand what he’s doing. He begins to smell the room again, calculating my work. It must smell clean and it wins his approval. He steps forward and reaches for the chair. I stand there measuring his actions. It seems like he’s tired, weak, or friendly, but I could never be too sure.

“The cabinet. Bring me what’s in the cabinet…” his gravelly voice mumbled pointing across the kitchen.

I look at the cabinet, him, and back at the cabinet. Setting the basket down I open it and there’s only one box. It’s a box of canned goods. Some of these looked a couple of years old. Some of them had labels and trademarks I’d never seen before. The cans rumble and clink and clank together as I set them on the table in front of him. Slowly he reaches for the box looking straight ahead of him, his fingers feeling the soft smooth cardboard, and begins to take out the cans. One by one he takes them all out and makes sure it’s empty before counting them.

“Sit,” he orders.

Chapter 3:

 “These rules are insane! Are you working for the crypt keeper?” Bella gawked at the little black book flipping through the pages. “You could be working for an OCD condition type of boss and that’s never a good thing! Remember Rebecca from 6th grade? She worked at the grocery store register and she had a boss who always had an OCD thing and she said he was crazy! He went to prison because one of his employees faced the jar labels the wrong way and he beat their ass. They caught everything on the CCTV camera. You could be working for a crazy person.”

Bella and I sat on my bed fitted with white sheets fresh from the dryer. Mom and dad were having a screaming match out in the garage over bills and money so it was up to us to get laundry done. All of our clothes were folded on the beds and our whole room smelled like laundry soap and crisp linen. We sat and looked at the man’s little black book and all the rules and strict employee policies it entailed. Tonight is self-care night and we both wearing face masks with toe separators around our fresh pedicures. Bella lays on her back on the bed with her leg propped against the wall with a fresh foamy coat of shaving cream. We flipped to page 10 and I glanced at it from top to bottom.

“I mean it does make sense. He’s living all alone out in the most abandoned part of town and he was just robbed. I would be worried it would happen again, too.”

“Holy shit he was robbed?” she glides her pink razor up her leg creating a smooth finish.

“He told me that he was attacked by two delinquents.”

“Well, fuck, that does make sense. Poor guy.”

“Look at this. His breakfast must be on the table at 8:15 am. One plate of spam, bread, oats, and 5 slices of apples with a glass of water and black coffee. Apples must be peeled and sliced into 5 slices. Spam medium cooked with no burnt edges,” I smiled at her almost laughing then flipped through the pages. “And at 12:00 noon he wants me to vacuum the living room after I dust and then I’m offered a lunch break until 1:30. He needs trash taken out, recycle taken out, floors swept and polished. Floor polish is located in the kitchen cabinet. Then he needs his plants watered in his greenhouse. There will be no harvesting at this time. I can’t take anything home since that’s his food and I can’t take any flowers too. His home is not a charity. Then to do laundry and fold them. Walk and feed his dog, Shadow.”

“He has a dog?”

“He has a purebred Rottweiler. But that’s about it. It’s pretty easy and I start next week. There are rooms that I am not allowed to enter. There’s even a restricted basement, closet, and attic. There’s a strict policy about locking the doors every time I arrive and leave.”

Bella laughed, “Are you sure he doesn’t want you to wear a uniform too? The nice little skirt with a feather duster and white stockings? ”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Are you sure this will all be worth it?”

“I’m absolutely positive. There’s nothing stopping me from walking back into that house. Especially for 30 dollars an hour.”

Bella flipped through each page and stopped,” Why the hell do you need to duct tape the carpets…?”

“I guess he might be afraid to trip over them,” I shrugged, remembering the scars on his face. How deep they were and how far they spread down his jaw and to his neck. “He’s blind.”

She gawked,” Blind? Wow. Well, aren’t you an angel! Ok. Then that changes everything.”

“His house is super old and it’s the most secluded part of town. It’s kinda creepy. I could feel it when I was in that room.” I swept my hair behind my back, remembering there were other things I felt when I was in the room alone with him.

“Well, hopefully, he doesn’t lower you into a hole under his basement and demand you put lotion on your skin or something,” Bella shoved my shoulder. “You’d be dead meat! He’d be making suits out of your skin and wear them around the house dancing to Goodbye Horses.”

“Where the fuck do you come up with these things?”

“And look at this,” Bella pointed in the middle of the page. “You are not allowed to have earphones in or play loud music. No sandals, only shoes. No perfume. No visitors at any time and you must bring your own lunch. Clean the bathrooms, organize fridge and pantry, and by 7:00 you have to make him dinner. A slice of spam, bread, oats, and 5 slices of apples with a cup of water. Well, thank god he’s not asking for a chef.”

I laugh, “I know right?”

“By precisely 7:30 you need to help him up the stairs. Why does he need help to get up the stairs?”

“He has a cane and he limps when he walks,” I laid in bed pressing comfortably into my blankets sliding the book onto the bedside table. “He just needs someone to help with the chores since he obviously can’t do them by himself. Which is weird because this guy is…big. Like, he’s huge. I think it’ll be fine. Just as long as mom doesn’t know about all of this.”

“I won’t say a word. What’s his name?”

“I know his first name is Norman but I can’t remember his last name.”

“Norman, hmm? For some reason that rings a bell,” Bella sat thoughtfully. “His story sounds familiar. Oh well, I’ll think about it later.”

“I’ll tell Mom in a week that I got a new job as a caregiver. She doesn’t care what I do, just as long as I make money.”

Bella sat in her chair fixing her bangs in the mirror holding a hairclip in her mouth. She looked at me in reflection.

“When does he pay you?”

“Every two weeks. Everything I need to know about his house and my chores are all written in the book. And there’s no surprise why, too. He’s… not a very vocal guy.”

“Well send me a smiley face when you’re off the job then I can come pick you up. Randy and I want to go to the dance club, the new one that opened, and we need a driver for tomorrow. We’re going to be drunk.”

“I can’t believe you two haven’t been carded yet.”

“Maybe it’ll catch up to us eventually. But in the meantime, it’s a damn good time to be alive.”

She sprayed perfume on her wrists and rubbed the sweet strawberry scent on her neck. Her legs were freshly shaven, hair clipped back and she slipped into her summer dress. She attached her favorite butterfly necklace around her neck lifting her blonde hair around her shoulders. At that moment Bella hopped into the closet rummaging through her dresses and tops and taking out her leather jacket. She was a pretty girl. Mom always said she could’ve been a model if only she hadn’t run away when she was 13 years old and came back at 15 addicted to drugs. But she still had her shine, even after she went through recovery. Slipping on her shoes she opened the window and folded herself through the small window frame.

“Which reminds me! Randy and I are going to the old bar across town. There’s a band playing with $2 Jello shots until 2 am and then we’re going to an After Hours place. They don’t card us out there. He’s bringing his brother Nathan with him. Wanna come?” Bella winked at me. She knew how I felt about Nathan.

I shook my head,” Nah. I need to get up early. I can’t be hungover, I need to go to the library and work on some stuff.”

She unfolded herself out the window standing on the balcony,” Suit yourself, pancake.”

In moments she jumped to her escape running to the awaiting vehicle parked on the curb with a young chiseled handsome football player named Randy sitting in his black Camaro. Nathan was with them. I crawled to the open window and waved. Nathan is the kind of person that can be easily spotted in a big crowd with his short cropped black hair and leather jacket with his faded blue jeans on. I could smell him from here. Nathan looked out the window and saw me too and flashed me a smile. My cheeks burned as he waved back at me. Bella blew me a kiss and Randy honked the horn. They kissed and sped off into the night leaving me alone in bed thinking about the little black book sitting on my bedside table. I dipped my brush into the red polish and began to paint my toenails one by one. I placed two coats of crimson ‘Red Mistress’ on each toe meticulously until one foot was completed. The sweet and pungent smell of toluene fills the room and I take a glance at the book again. Norman.

He’s a very lonesome man.

I allow my toes to dry and I reach for the book again. Even from the little pages and leather bind of the book, I could still smell tiny remnants of the old man’s smoky musty scent with each page turn. My thumb bends the pages and flips through from beginning to end. Something falls out of the book and floats on my pillow. My fingers feel a glossy paper. It’s a picture. I reach for my cellphone, push the screen button, click flashlight, and look at a simple yet gorgeous picture of a young girl with long brunette hair falling on her shoulders smiling at the camera. She’s wearing a white blouse that complimented the pink daisy resting in her hair tucked behind her ear. The lighting looked blurry and unfocused but she was still a beautiful girl. It looks like she’s in front of a university campus because she’s wearing a blue and white sports jacket with the mascot on her shoulder and holding college course books. Flipping the picture over there was something written on the back.

To Dad, Merry Christmas.

And Happy New Year, I’ll see you after the semester is over.

Love Emma

How sweet. At least he wasn’t totally alone.

I heard a knock at the door.

“Yea?”

My mom entered,” It’s me. I just wanted to talk to you about your senior year and college.”

“I told you I’m going to the library.”

“I’m not talking about the library. I’m talking about money, honey. Your dad just got laid off today. The company went on strike today and there’s just no work. His fucking boss let everyone know today. And I know what you’re going to say. It’s not fair and you’re fucking right it’s not fair. I know you’ve been working hard at your job, but right now you’re the only one in the family that’s employed right now. My job is taking a break too and—”

“What about grandpa? Can’t he help us?”

“You know he’s not talking to me… he’s just as stubborn as a mule. He still won’t forgive me about your father and your sister. He’s a fat stern old man and he still won’t give us a loan. He’s completely disowned himself from the family, Evey. It’s hopeless.”

“Grandpa… isn’t a bad man, ma. He just has his reasons.”

“Well, I’m happy you two have such a great relationship. I really love it when he sends you a Christmas card in the mail and not the rest of the family. Or when he sent you flowers and money on your 16th birthday and nothing to your sister. Or me. Or that time when he just visited you in the hospital after I gave birth to you and he didn’t visit me once. You’re getting me off track! That’s not the point. I just need you to understand that I’m completely out of food stamps and your sister is about to go back to New York soon. Times are tough for everybody right now. You know how hard it’s been.”

“Yea…”

“Your dad is downstairs in the garage and he’s not in a good mood. He’s become a hopeless man and it’s up to you and me, ok?”

“I know, ma…”

“You and I are going to be a team. That means we have to take care of each other.”

“So, what are you asking me?” I cocked my eyebrow. Please don’t ask me what I think you’re about to ask me.

“Our mortgage is due soon and you and I have to come up with a plan. Can you give your father and me a small loan? We need at least $1,500 to cover this month, Evey. You would be helping your family.”

“$1,500? Last month you only asked for $900.”

“This time it’s different, honey. We’re on the edge here and if we don’t do something now, I don’t know what we’re going to do. This month it’s for groceries, the car, and our phone bill. There’s so much at stake that you don’t understand.”

“You told me that was the last time you’d ask me for money… You promised, ma…”

“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t know what to say. I can’t control what life throws at us. We can only roll with the punches. You’ll understand when you have a family to take care of one day. I wish I could tell you that there was a magic genie lamp that could wish all of our troubles away, but that’s not how it works.”

This wasn’t new. I had heard of her sales pitch before with grandpa and he had loaned her enough money to purchase a new car. But that was it and he had never helped her after that. My mother had never understood that grandpa was always on her side and he just wanted to teach her some lessons along the way. It was his way of showing tough love. But she was difficult sometimes. So was he. After he had disowned her after marrying his best friend’s son, my dad, he had never once shown up for dinner. A holiday, birthday, or called once. But as soon as I was born then he finally reached out. In some way, I was jealous of his isolation from this family. Sometimes I wish I could be like him and just…leave.

The Next Morning:

“Did you tell her to go to hell?”

“I couldn’t… you know how she gets,” I spoke into the payphone downtown wiping the anxiety from my forehead.

I had to leave the house before Bella served breakfast for everyone back at the house. The sun was barely seeping over the dark blue horizon of the city. It’s nearly 5:15 am. I couldn’t tell Bella I was too chicken to say no to mom again. Then she and mom would fight about money and it would be all my fault for causing family drama and she’d never let me live it down. I could hear grandpa groaning through the phone.

“She could never grow up and find her own way just like her mother. She’s still a goddamn child trying to find her way through a shit storm and now she’s got her hooks in ya’. I’m sorry she did that to you, honey. How much did she take?”

“Almost all of it, grandpa.”

“How much do you have left?”

I looked at my banking app, pained to see such a low number,” I have $500 and $500 in my savings. But I was going to use that money for a new car this summer. I got fired from my job at Burger Shack and she doesn’t know about it. But I recently went to a job interview yesterday and I start next week.”

“That’s my girl! Landing on ya’ feet. I’m glad you called me, Evey, sweetie, I miss our talks. Things have not been so good here either. These damn gas prices got me stuck in Flagstaff, Arizona until I can find another odd job. This goddamn place is poverty with a view.”

“Are you coming back to Detroit?”

“You know I can’t pumpkin. I’m headed to the West coast. California and then Hawaii. One day you and I will go there together. But listen I sent you a little something in the mail, ok? It should arrive sometime this week.”

“Ok, grandpa.”

“Keep your head up. Things will get better, I promise.”

The payphone beeped: To continue your call please add more quarters.

“All right, pumpkin. Don’t tell your mother we spoke on the phone, mmk? She’ll have a cow sideways. You know how she gets. I’ll call you again same time next week?”

“Ok, grandpa. Same time. Same phone booth. I love you.”

“Love you, too, pumpkin.”

I hung up the phone and exited the glass booth. The cold air of a Detroit morning hit my skin and I shivered, it didn’t feel like summer so far. The streets were beginning to wake up and begin their daily commute as time flew by. My phone buzzed and it was Mom. A phone call I did not want to pick up right now. She probably noticed I was gone and needed to talk to me about…whatever she needed to be taken care of. I stepped off the curb and headed toward downtown. I enjoyed blending into the crowd as a faceless nobody. The day was spent slowly, more slowly than I could have dreamed. I just walked. To nowhere in particular. The city began to buzz and ring louder and louder as it approached noon. People, traffic, and arguments could be heard in every direction. I just needed to clear my head. At the end of the day, I traveled on the city bus across the whole map of downtown Detroit. The driver, a balding middle-aged man named Al, would stop and blink the next destination stop for his passengers. One would get off, maybe two, but I never moved from my seat. I had paid a full $5 for the 24-hour pass so I was well in my right to ride this bus as far and as long as I could. By the time I stepped off the bus, around 9:00 pm, near my neighborhood I finally checked my phone.

21 Missed Calls

43 Unread Messages

18 Voicemails.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” I covered my mouth and pressed redial.

In two seconds, mom answers the phone and she doesn’t start by screaming. She’s quiet, so quiet that I can hear her breathing through the phone. I wait for her to say something. Anything. But she’s been sobbing and I can hear her voice croak.

“Evey… your sister got arrested last night.”

At The Police Station:

This place smells like feet and ass. It’s depressing too. The three of us waited underneath the fluorescent lights of the station, in the waiting room next to other groups of families. One family looks like they’ve been waiting on the bench for days, maybe weeks. There’s a mother with four of her children and the look on her face tells me a story. She’s sitting in between three little boys and one little girl and they have the same look on their faces as the mother does. I wonder who she’s here for. A father? Brother? Sister? The way she’s rolling a wedding band on her finger gives me the answer. The only thing that doesn’t make me want to cry is the fact that I’ll be able to hug my sister again, soon. No matter what she’s done.

“I told you… military school was always an option. Or boarding school. You never take my advice. Bella is back on drugs and this is all your fault. You were never there to whip her backside when she was young. You coddled her ever since she was born and you never made her into a respectful child. Now we’re here. Are you happy?”

“Let’s not talk about this, please? I didn’t make her on my own. You were there too when she got suspended from school. You were there when we found her in the garage doped out of her goddamn mind. You weren’t there when she ran off to New York and she didn’t come back,” mom whisper-yelled. “Do not pin this all on me!”

“When this is over I am done. You can fuck off. Your dad can go fuck himself and the rest of your goddamn psycho family. Bella, she can go back to New York. I’m going to my goddamn garage and I am never coming out.”

“Oh, and what? Drink till you pass out? You’re a real hero! Yea, you’re obviously the man I married and wanted to have kids with. You’re definitely not a fucking coward or an alcoholic bastard. Bravo!”

This went on and on for god knows how long and I still haven’t said a word. I sat there thinking how nice it would be to be that family of 5 sitting in the lobby with us. To wait there patiently for my husband, thinking about the kids, and waiting for him to walk down that hallway and exchange despair for joy. But as soon as Bella walked down the hallway with a plastic bag and a handful of paperwork mom and dad erupted in disappointment and anger. Disappointment and anger turned into a screaming match in the whole lobby, to the car, and back to the house. I hug her and we hold hands all the way to the car. The evening fast-forwarded like a movie and my sister and I are the only ones standing still. Mom won’t stop screaming, dad won’t stop blaming mom, and Bella can’t stop threatening to leave and never come back again. I enjoyed my invisibility until mom revealed to me that she used the money I gave her as bail.

As bail.

It didn’t faze me until I walked to my bedroom and I had the privilege to cry alone in private. Bella stomped into our room and slammed the door shut. I could hear mom starting a fight with dad downstairs. For a moment she stands in the middle of our room wiping her nose with her sleeve trying to clear her throat before she could speak. It takes her a moment longer to get a hold of herself when she turns and sees my face.

“E-Evey, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to… The fucking cop… I didn’t know mom asked you for money or else I…”

“It’s ok, Bells.”

She could’ve exhaled a ball of fire as soon as I said those words. 

“No, i-it’s not fucking ok! It’s not fucking ok, E! Stop saying that every time someone fucks up and asks you to pay the price! She thinks this is all my fucking fault but she wasn’t there when the cop came and pulled us over. Randy was fucking drunk and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to help!”

“Listen Bells… mom is always going to freak out about something. It’s mom. At least she had the money to bail you out so you wouldn’t be stuck there.”

“I’m so sorry, E…I’m so sorry… I am so, so, so, so sorry… I’m a big fuck up, Evey… I can’t do anything right,” she collapsed next to me, holding my hand. She weaves her fingers with mine and gives an assuring squeeze and locks me in.

Bella, my sister, was probably the strongest woman I know. Why? Because she escaped this place. She escaped mom’s claws and broke the ‘Guilt Trip’ spell that she was under since the day she was born. But, unfortunately, some traditions don’t break. Now it was my turn. But, thankfully, Bella was nothing like mom. My big sister was still my hero.

“I will get your money back, ok? I will pay you back every penny as soon as I get back to New York. No matter what it takes. I can send you something every week. I’m not like mom. I can pawn my engagement ring and that will help us for a little while. I just… can’t believe mom borrowed money from you again. You should have told me, E.”

“It’s –”

She squeezed my hand, “If you tell me… it’s fucking ok, again, I swear I’ll slap you, E! It’s ok for you to be upset at mom. It’s ok to hate her, E. She did you dirty. She fucking did you so dirty! We… we, actually we both did. We both fucked up and she should be here apologizing to you, too.”

“I get it, ok? We all had a rough week. Dad lost his fucking job. Mom still won’t find an application and prays to the lottery gods every day. And of course, mom is wrong for asking me for money… I just can’t catch a break with her.”

“It’s fucked up, E. Everything is so fucked up. I’m sorry, E. I’m so sorry for everything. I didn’t mean to come here and make things harder for you. I’m sorry you lost your money. I’m sorry mom is a fucking cold heinous vicious bitch to you about money and school. I’m sorry you have to deal with these fucked up people.”

It’s not your fault, I think remembering our childhood spent together dealing with our mother together. Not alone. But together. Always, together. I squeezed her hand in return, offering her a forgiving smile. I remember everything that happened when mom kicked Bella out so many years ago and dad was the root cause of it all. Not even when she’s home, safe, and alive he’ll never apologize for what happened. Dad will go to the grave not apologizing to anybody for anything, no matter how bad it gets. Bella wraps her arms around me and it’s comforting for both of us. I miss our late-night talks in the closet when our school year began. She crosses her legs on the bed and I do the same. I look towards the door listening to our family fight and argue about everything downstairs and it makes me absolutely sick. Grandpa was right.

“I’m sorry, E… Truly I am. I’m a fuck up and you can hate me, too.”

“I will never hate you, Bells. Ever. Because I understand what you went through. I totally get why you left…”

She offered a weak smile, “You talk to grandpa, again?”

“Earlier. He’s stuck in Arizona but he’ll be waiting for me in California just like we planned.”

“Does mom know?”

“Obviously not…” I rolled my eyes.

Bella nods her head, “That’s good. I can give you some money today and that will help you until you start your job next week, ok? I can cash you on your phone right now. Randy can go to hell for all I care. He’ll get over it.”

“Thank you Bells. I can start work again, soon, and I’ll make enough money to get out of here again. Don’t worry about me. Grandpa tells me I always land on my feet and he’s right. I know you feel guilty, Bells, and I get it. But I’m stable for now. My money isn’t all gone. I can always buy a car in the Fall.”

My cellphone buzzed.

My screen blinked on.

It’s from Nathan.

“It’s Nathan…”

She gave another smile, a real smile. “You get that. I talked to him last night and I kinda gave him a hint that you want to suck on his gorgeous lips this summer before your Senior year. I gotta take a shower. When I was in jail I think I accidentally sat on blood,” Bella tapped my leg hopping up and leaving the room with renewed enthusiasm. “Don’t give up on me, E. I love you.”

“Love you, too, sis.”

I look at my text messages from Nathan and I’m suddenly standing in the middle of my room clutching my phone thinking of what to say. Tell him I’m glad he’s ok that he didn’t go to jail with my sister and her fiancé. That I’m sorry I couldn’t say hi to him last night when he was on my street? That I’m excited to hang with him and our friends in our upcoming senior year.

Hey

Hey, you ok?

Never better

So sorry about Bells. I should’ve taken care of her and R man. I was there when it happened.

It’s not your fault

I’m still sorry, E. It shouldn’t have happened. I wish there was more I could say

It means a lot you’re checking up on us. That’s sweet

I just worry about you. And Bells

Me too. I’m just happy she’s alive and safe.

I’m glad you’re ok too 

Thx

He placed a beating heart emoji at the end of his sentence and my world began tearing away at the negative and being replaced with positive feelings. I’ve loved him ever since I laid eyes on him in gym class. He was short back then, in Drama club, and had braces. A few moments go by and our back-and-forth conversation suddenly slowed down to a stop and I was worried he had ended the conversation. Then my screen blinks again.

So… hells bells told me that you liked to get together?

Hot panic and anxiety begin to burn and prickle at the back of my neck. What the hell did she tell him!? I think of something to say and my feet carry me in a circle around the room before sitting at my desk. I rest my head against my palm and I want to scream.

What did she tell you?

Why don’t I just tell you? I’m outside by the mailbox.

I stand and peer out the window and sure enough… Nathan is standing outside my house with his hand on his cellphone and the other waving at me. My hot breath fogs up the window as my legs become weak like jelly and I hang up the phone and wave back. Quickly I go through my closet and find my cleanest pair of blue jeans and a white floral V-neck shirt and tie up my hair with my headband. One quick once-over in the mirror and I sprinted out of the room, down the stairs, and to the front door. Mom won’t know I’ll be gone and god fucking forbid my dad knows I’m going out to see a boy outside. Nathan is still waiting by the mailbox but soon I tug him into the bushes and away from the house. We go to his car, a black Camaro, underneath the shade of an oak tree. The neighborhood is quiet with rows of shaded trees along the sidewalk with boxed flowers in front of every yard. Nathan doesn’t start the car, we sit instead and we don’t leave because we both know that this is going to be quick and sweet. I look at him and keep looking at him. He’s young and lean and strong wearing black jeans with a blue polo shirt and Jordans. His physique is built from years of playing basketball, baseball, and football. This year he’s joining cross country. 

“Hi.”

“Hi…” I smile shyly.

His car is polished, clean, and immaculate with leather interior and decorated with a tiny disco ball on the rearview mirror. Just for a little flash. Nathan enjoyed a little flash here and there. It was his personality. He glides a hand through his thick black hair and he seems too anxious to talk. He turns his keys and switches the radio on.

“Fresh wax?”

“What? Oh, yea, my old man and I just got this done last weekend. You like it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You meant the car, right?”

I laughed,” No, no, no I meant your bikini area.”

“Well, shit, that too. You know me. I’m ready for summer.”

We laugh and I look at his face. He’s handsome when he laughs and his whole body moves when he does. His eyes are a beautiful burnt hazel color and I suddenly become anxious when he turns toward me. We look at each other and I notice he’s trying to keep it together.

“So… Bella told me that you wanted to talk? I mean not talk, but hang out. Again, I’m sorry about what happened last night. I should’ve been more aware of what was happening. I’m just glad you weren’t there. I-I mean not that I wouldn’t want to see you. I like to see you. All the time. It’s just that I wouldn’t want you to go to jail. You know what I mean?”

I bite my lip,” Yea. I do. Thank you for being there anyway, Nathan. You’ve been really good to my sister and me”

“Of course. If there’s anything that I can do for your family you let me know.” He places his hand over mine and suddenly I’m in heaven

“Thank you,” I smile weakly, wondering what he must see in me.

My skin is so fair-skinned that I could see blue veins in my hands and my newly braided hair was so pale, unlike Bella’s, it looked white and silver in the sun. I was so skinny that I was often mistaken for a youth instead of a teenager on the cusp of 18 and so short in stature that my head just came to his shoulder. Even sitting in the car with him I could feel his body take up so much space.

“So… d-did Bella tell you that I like you?”

“No.”

He shook his head, his hands moving over his knees. “Oh, well, that’s cool. I mean I do. And it’s cool if you don’t. I mean I can handle it.”

“No, no, no, I do like you, Nathan. I’ve had a crush on you for a while…”

“Really?” he raised his brows and scooted closer. “Because, I totally feel the same, Evey. I liked you ever since you told Angie Harney Dinkleman in History AP she was a frigid cunt in front of the whole class for bullying Morgan about her gap tooth. And that time you called out Sara Sienna Silverman for cheating on her boyfriend with his brother in the cafeteria a day before the school dance. Or that time you broke into Mathew Mathius Callaway Jr’s locker room in gym class and stole all the girl’s bikinis back and got him suspended for sexual harassment.”

“He was a misogynistic asshole who deserved it! I’m so glad enough girls came and petitioned with me and got his ass expelled.”

“Me, too. He was a douchebag. None of the guys on the baseball team liked him very much. But I want you to know that I liked you before then. You’re the smartest one in the class and you don’t even have to try. You’re nice, too, not a lot of pretty girls are nice.”

“Yea?”

“Yea. You’re a pretty chill girl.”

“Thanks. You’re really sweet…” I leaned toward him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

We both blush to realize it’s our first kiss and he still sits there waiting for me to give him more. His eyes are burning into mine and the song on the radio changes. But I can’t give him more. I’m not as experienced as him but I make it clearly evident I want him.

“Wow. So that’s what it’s like…”

“What?” he counters, never taking his eyes off my lips. Still leaning toward me and I stop him placing my hand on his chest and, my god, he’s so impressively lean that it takes my breath away. He’s an inch away and I close my eyes still holding him at bay no matter how much I want him to continue.

“My first kiss…” I whisper.

He laughed tossing his head back,” That’s why I like you, Evey. You got guts and you’re not afraid of anything. Or anyone.”

“Thanks… I like you, too, Nathan… and I’m so glad to hear—"

The beams of a flashlight suddenly blinded both of us and I squinted my eyes to my window. I raised my hands to block the light and panicked. Oh my god, it’s the cops! The man’s finger taps on the window and I roll it down. He moves the flashlight over my face and to Nathan and suddenly we’re both too shocked for words.

“Evey!”

“Dad!?”

He swung open the car door and grabbed my wrist,” Get out of the goddamn car!”

Nathan panics and gets out of the car.

“Dad, it’s not what it looks like. We were just talking!”

“Evey’s dad, sir, um, we weren’t doing anything.”

My dad roars at him,” You better get the fuck out of here before I call the goddamn cops! She is a minor and I’ll have your ass arrested so fast you’ll be digging cocks out of your ass before you even bend over in the shower! Not in jail but in prison! You hear me!?”

“Dad, stop it!”

“Get the fuck inside the house!”

My dad’s face is so red I swear he’s about to burst into flames and I can see the veins across his forehead. Our neighbors are suddenly on their porches in their bathrobes listening to my dad yell threats at Nathan and my face is burning red with embarrassment. All I can do is cover my face with my hair and let my dad yank me back to the house. Nathan tries to follow us but my mother comes out of the house barefoot and my sister comes running out of the house in her bathrobe and my world crumbles before my eyes. I watch Nathan disappear from my view and tears form in the corner of my eyes.

“What the hell is going on!?” my mom growls.

“Get the fuck back inside the house! That boy was selling our daughter drugs! They were sitting in the car and he was pushing drugs!”

I try to escape his grip,” He’s not a drug dealer, dad! He’s just a boy from school!”

My dad drags me into the house and sits me down on the couch in the living room prepared to have a family meeting. Bella sits down with me and holds my hand.

“Dad, chill the fuck out. It’s not that bad. You caught me in bed upstairs with Craig back when I was 15! You even knocked up mom when you both were 15. What’s the difference!?” Bella barked at him.”

He pointed a stern finger at her,” That. Is. Fucking. Different. And not another goddamn word, do you hear me? Another word out of you and I will take a belt to your ass.”

Bella is so tempted to bite back at him that she stares him down. They both stare like this for an eternity. I squeeze her hand extra hard and try to help her stay in our own little safe zone. Mom is done talking to the neighbors trying to cover up our shame and came back inside and stood next to her husband. She looks embarrassed and doesn’t say anything. This isn’t her problem and goes upstairs.

“I’m sorry, daddy…” is all I can say.

Bella looks at me, almost shocked I could surrender so easily.

“You two…” he pinches his nose, shuts his eyes, and drops his head. “You two are so… goddamn disappointing. Do you want to give me a heart attack before I turn 40? Because you’re taking me there! I got one foot in the grave!”

I’m too scared to say anything that I shrink into the couch. I want to feel as small as possible. Tears fall down my cheeks and my leg shakes. My dad’s face is sweating he’s trying to muster all his strength just to breathe again. But he just yells and yells and yells and my ears suddenly go deaf. All I can hear is a high-pitched ringing like a bell inside my head. He’s waving his arms up and down and he slaps his baseball hat against the wall. I let my head fall and I just close my eyes. I’m picturing Nathan’s face as I kiss him on the cheek and how sweet he tasted. I’m trying to picture me and Grandpa driving his red Buick Roadmaster 1975 on Route 66 all the way to sunny California. Just me and him wearing sunscreen and sunglasses with the windows rolled down driving wherever we want. It’s the freedom I’m imagining. It’s the freedom to do what I want when I want, how I want, and with whomever I want. I’m imagining me and Bella in Hawaii laying on the beach in our bikinis enjoying a fruity cocktail with tiny umbrellas. I imagine we’re running through the white foam and splashing into the ocean laughing. The sun is so hot it gives us tan lines and the ocean is so cold we see sea turtles.

“EVEY!” my dad shouts throwing a vase against the wall.

The crash pulls me out of my daydream and I’m back in my living room holding hands with Bella. She never left.

“What?” I respond, blinking back to reality.

By now my whole body is shaking as I watch my dad walk over the broken shards and stand against the wall supported by his hand looking at the family photo. He was younger with more hair and no sign of a beer belly. Our mother looked so much happier and sunnier back then and hadn’t drank so much vodka. Bella and I were in matching tweed dresses with bows in our hair. It was a memory that seemed so long ago. It was hard to believe we were the same family in the photo. He looks at our family photo deep and hard and then looks at the picture of himself wearing his football jersey in high school. He was younger, stronger, and more confident back then. He just stares and doesn’t say anything. Like looking at the picture long enough can make him time travel back to fix his mistake.

“You are fucking killing me! You are literally murdering your old man! I can’t believe that God would give me these two fucktards instead of boys! I always told ya’ motha that I wanted boys. But life had to kick me in the nuts! You think I wanted to be a dad!? You think I want a pregnant daughter!? DO you really think I want two pregnant daughters!? Do you think I know how to do this!? You think it’s fucking easy for me!? I never wanted ta’ both of ya’s! You were the biggest mistake of my life!”

He points his finger at me. 

“You talk to that fucking drug-dealing friend of yours or get pregnant before you’re 18…and I am kicking your ass to the curb and you are never allowed under my roof again! You two’s were the biggest mistake of my life! After having Bella I told ya’ motha’ to take the goddamn pill but she just had to fucking keep ya!”