CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Amy
ED The clock on the wall ticked annoyingly loud as I glanced around the great room of my family home filled with boxes of all sizes, and huge garbage bags for linens, towels, and anything else that didn’t belong in a cardboard box. The room still looked the same as the day my mother decorated it. Almost as if she’d never gone away. Well, most of it had her touch, minus the garish crystal chandelier Penelope purchased and the hideous lime green wallpaper on one wall. Placing another box with my coffeemaker in it on the other side of the room, I traced the white satiny woodwork, let my fingers glide along the pencil markings. Four years. Five. Six. And then ending at twelve. All markings of my height at various stages of my growth. That would be the first thing the owners would paint over. Soon, no one would even know I existed. I. They’d paint over everything, actually. My mother’s mural included. My heart squeezed and a lump formed in my throat.
Still in my pajamas, I glanced out the window, anxious for the mail to come with a notice saying the bank was finally repossessing my home. At least, I’d have a date to go by. Closure, so to speak..
What the hell was I going to do? How would I bring all this up in conversation when I visited my father? Hey, dad…about the house. We don’t have one anymore so you’re stuck here forever in this godforsaken nursing home.
What kind of a daughter does that?
No wonder, Brock didn’t want to be with me.
This was all my fault and the blinders I wore were no excuse. I knew what kind of a snake my stepmother was since the moment I laid eyes on her. She’d convinced my father, unbeknownst to me, that we needed to mortgage the house right after he had his accident. Naturally, he thought he’d be coming home and it was temporary, but after breezing through all of the money, Penelope made small payments every once in awhile, just to keep the bank off our backs. I never knew about that either. I never knew about any of it. I was too wrapped up in school and living my little life. I’d actually thought the fact that I had to put graduate school on hold was the worst thing that could have happened to me. I was so selfish and wrong. About everything.
I strolled into Dad’s bedroom and smiled. Somehow, the mural was still intact. Lord knows how it survived with Penelope running the show. On my parents tenth anniversary, and before I was actually born, my parents took a trip to Italy. Mom had become pregnant on that trip. Totally thrilled that she was expecting me, she’d hired an artist, as soon as they arrived home. He’d painted a portrait of Venice right on their bedroom wall. The most magical place on earth, she’d told me once. I remembered being slightly disgusted when she told me that. When you’re twelve, you really don’t want to think of your parents that way, but as I grew, I learned the love behind the wall.
I hadn’t slept much in nearly two days. After the incident at the Thirsty Turtle, I’d sort of given up my plan of saving the house leaving me anxious and restless. I’d come to realize there was no way I was going to make that much money. Even If I ate, slept and lived at the Thirsty Turtle, it was literally impossible to raise ten grand in less than three months, so I decided to stop putting myself through that particular torture, though god knows I deserved it. I could live with Jane while I figured out.
The sound of footsteps on my front porch alerted me to the postmaster. I dragged myself to the front room just as she was getting back inside her truck. I opened the door and reached inside the mail slot stuck on the side of the house. Pulling out several envelopes, the metal flap slammed shut making me jump. What the hell was I so jittery about?
Trudging to the kitchen counter, I dropped the mail on top of it. Sure enough, there was a letter from the bank. I pushed it aside, not wanting to read what I’d considered my death sentence at the moment. Taking an envelope opener from the sideboard, I ripped open the electric bill instead. Next, I opened the heating bill, the cable bill, and a letter from one of my aunts. The letter I placed aside too. I was in no mood to hear her brag about going to the Grand Canyon with her grand kiddies or whatever mindless adventure she was known to drone on about. I took the electric bill out of the envelope first and read the big red letters saying SHUT OFF. The same general message was in all the other envelopes.
I braced myself for the worst and then ripped open the bill from the bank, throwing the envelope on the floor.
I stared at the letter for a long time in complete and utter shock.
I grabbed the envelope I’d tossed on the floor and re-read the address.
“Amy Lynn Spencer. Huh. What the fuck just happened?”
Before the news could register in my head, the land line rang. “Well, they didn’t shut that off yet,” I said staring at the phone and wondering if I should answer. I looked at the caller ID. Mateo. I let it ring three more times while trying to process the letter from the bank. Finally, I answered. “Hey.”
“Hey. How’s it going?”
“Um…good I guess.”
“Glad to hear it. You want to get a bite to eat?”
“Actually…yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
I was still holding the letter, torn between the shock of it all and whether I really and truly wanted a date with Mateo. He was a good friend and friends were hard to find. Maybe we would just take it slow and see if things developed. Not all relationships were fireworks and cannon blasts right?
“Give me about thirty minutes, Okay?”
“Sure thing. You okay? You sound different.”
“Tell you about it at dinner.”
I hung up the phone and ran to my closet. Pawing through the hangers of dresses, I decided nothing in there said ‘friend’ or ‘too early in a relationship’ to count as a dinner ensemble. I looked in my drawers instead and slipped on a pair of skinny jeans with a bra and T-shirt. Then, thinking better of it, I decided a silk blouse was more in order. I took off the T-shirt and threw it on the bed. Taking the blouse from the hanger, I threw that down as well. It was both casual but a little flirty too if I unbuttoned the top two buttons. My mood was lifting. Who said friends couldn’t turn into lovers with enough time, right?
Thirty minutes later, Mateo showed up at my door, holding a dozen red roses. The heat in his eyes as he searched me head to toe made my face heat up. He thrust the flowers at me. “I…I didn’t know what kind of flowers you like.”
“They’re lovely, Mateo.” I held them to my nose and sniffed. “Absolutely beautiful. Thank you.” I opened the door further. “Come in. I’m just about ready.” Was I ready? My gaze shifted side to side. “I…I’ll just put these in water first, shall I?”