Broken macys story, p.8
Broken: Macy's Story, page 8
I decided not to push it, so I kept my sarcastic comment to myself. “Whatever you say. Let’s go get some food!”
Dad and I crossed the street and walked to the house. I dragged with fatigue and could seriously stuff my face and then crash. When we opened the door, Mom took one look at me and pointed upstairs. “Shower.”
“Can I eat first?”
“Of course you can,” Gram said. “Dinner’s ready, and I don’t want the lasagna to get cold.”
“At least wash up,” Mom said in exasperation. Why did she have to act like that all the time? “Think of all the germs you’re bringing to the table.”
I sighed and ran up the stairs and into the bathroom and slammed the door. What was her problem? I thought as I glared in the mirror. Okay, so I looked filthy, but still! My stomach seemed to be roaring at this point, but Mom would glare at me the whole dinner if I ignored her wishes. So, I irritatedly ran the shower water then stripped down and jumped in.
The water would have felt nice, but I was too upset. I scrubbed with a vengeance, rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, and turned off the shower. There. Fastest shower in the history of the world.
But now I had to run to my room with nothing but a towel. I peeked outside the door and saw Adrianne waiting at the top of the stairs. “Hurry!” she said. “The lasagna smells so delicious!”
“I know, I know!” I said. “But I didn’t want to bring germs to the table.”
Adrianne might have only been eight, but even she rolled her eyes.
I ran into my room and stopped in my tracks. All of my stuff had been taken out of the suitcases and put away. The suitcases were gone. The bed had been made with all the rest of my decorative pillows from downstate. My comfy beanie chair sat in the corner where the other chair had been. Even two of my posters hung on the walls. Anyone else would chock it up to thoughtfulness, but I felt like I had been slapped. It was as if Mom was saying that I’d better get comfortable. That I’d be here for the long haul.
And it shouldn’t bother me. I liked it here. Gram and Gramps treated me like a human being. I had met Derek and Lillian. And Pedro. Not to mention Hannah and buttface were no longer bullying me or ruining my existence. But still. “This is my stuff,” I said out loud.
“Do you like it?” Adrianne asked. “When Mom saw you hadn’t unpacked, she decided to help you out. She was like, ‘How can that girl live in such a mess,’ or something like that.”
I noticed my two sketchbooks open and on the bed. One was the sketch I started to draw of Pedro. It looked unfinished because I couldn’t figure out how to draw all the tattoos on his arms. The other sketchbook was opened to a doodle of the motel I did when I first arrived.
My hunger forgotten, my veins pumped anger with every heartbeat. She had violated my privacy…again. All the negative emotions from the sketchbook fiasco with Jake came bubbling up to the surface like molten lava, burning its way through the landscape of my emotions.
“You’re angry, aren’t you?” Adrianne said, still standing beside me.
“I need to get dressed,” I said evenly. “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.” I pushed her out and shut the door.
Then I slipped to floor, with only a towel around me, and sobbed.
Chapter 8~
Escape
The family sat around the table with empty plates. All waiting for me.
I slipped into the available chair and mumbled, “Sorry.”
“So much better,” Mom said with a wink. “I knew my daughter was under all that dirt.”
I swallowed hard, purposefully keeping my face blank. This is how it was between us. Mom would say underhanded criticisms, and I would say the words she wished to here.
“So, how do you like your room?” Mom asked. “I couldn’t believe you had yet to unpack. It was a disaster in there.”
I said nothing. It was best for me to keep my mouth shut.
After an awkward moment, Gramps said grace, and everyone started passing around the food dishes. Somehow I managed to pile a salad in the bowl and a slice of lasagna on my plate. Normally, I would have plowed in and inhaled Gram’s delicious cooking, but not tonight.
I ate robotically. I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and that was a soggy sandwich on the go. I should have been excited to see Adrianne and Lucas, but it was hard to enjoy anything with Mom’s scrutinizing eye watching me just waiting to see if I would make a mistake so she could pounce on it.
“Macy?”
I glanced up. “What?” I asked, not sure who addressed me.
“I was telling your grandfather how that young man walked out on the job today,” Dad said. I noticed he had showered and changed too.
“What happened?” Gramps demanded.
“He didn’t walk out on the job. There was an emergency. Two young boys showed up, and then Pedro begged me to help him. He said he’d pay me back. He even tried to give me his hundred dollar tip from the party room. But I wouldn’t take his.”
“You got a hundred dollars?” Lucas asked.
“Yes, we both did, and we deserved it. The rooms were horrible.”
Gramps had become quiet. “He didn’t give you any more information?”
“No,” I said. “But he acted really worried.”
“You should have come and told us,” Gram said. “I don’t like to see you working so hard so late. Especially with watching Lillian. It’s too much on your plate.”
“Who’s Lillian?” Mom asked.
“A little girl I babysit,” I said. Now that her name came up, I wondered how she and Derek were doing.
Mom’s eyes widened. “Not even here two weeks, and you’re babysitting?”
I shrugged. “Derek needed help.”
“Derek?” she asked. “Who’s Derek? And why do you know him on a first-name basis?”
“He’s Lillian’s dad,” I said.
“Does he know about your record?”
“Meg! Really?” Dad asked. “Can you let up for God’s sake?”
“A parent should know who is watching their child. Wouldn’t you want to know?” she asked in huff, shoving her plate aside.
“You’ve got to stop this skeleton crew,” Dad said to Gramps, purposefully turning away from Mom. “You never have enough people working at the motel. What do you do when someone wants to check in every evening? Still have the phone set up to call you over here?”
Gramps frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I handle the business. After dinner, I go over there for a few hours. On the weekends, I have some help come in. End of discussion.”
Dad didn’t press the issue, but I could tell he wasn’t done talking about it.
“I don’t mind helping,” Lucas said. “Especially if I can get a hundred bucks. I’ve been wanting that new guitar.”
“That new guitar costs a thousand dollars,” Mom said. “It’ll be a while before you’ll be buying that. Speaking of money, Macy, don’t forget to give me the three hundred dollars for Hannah’s car clean-up.”
Everyone at the table went still. I noticed Dad shoot Mom an angry glance. “Not at the dinner table,” he said in a low voice. “Can’t we just enjoy a family meal?”
“It’s fine,” I said, even though I felt anything but fine. “I have the money. Although it’s $240 dollars, and not a penny more.” I set down my napkin. My lasagna had a few bites taken out of it, but I was done. “Thank you for dinner, Gram.”
Gram looked down at my plate, then up at me. Smiling her thin smile, she nodded.
“Excuse me,” I said, getting up. “Gram, were you able to cash my check today? I’ll need some of that money.”
“Yes. It’s in an envelope on the counter.”
“Macy, come back to the table,” Dad called. “We can do all that later.”
I went into the kitchen, found the envelope with my name on it, and counted out the money. Luckily I had a few one dollar bills that I could give her the exact amount. Going back into the dining room, I noticed that no one was talking. Most likely they wondered what the crazy Macy May might do. I slammed the money on the table next to Mom.
“There’s no need for an emotional outburst,” she said evenly. “You are always so volatile.”
“That’s enough,” Gramps said, but I didn’t know if he was talking to Mom or to me.
I walked out of the dining room.
“Wait!” Adrianne called out. “Where you going? I want to go!”
“I’ll be back,” I said without looking at any of them. But I had no plans in coming back any time soon. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels hidden in my cart that had my name on it.
***
I turned on my phone’s flashlight because I didn’t want anyone to see the light on in the laundry room. I punched in the code and easily found my way to the cart. I had left everything in my cart, even the dirty linens. Normally, I would put them in the washer before leaving. I found the bottle right where I had placed it. Holding it in my hands, I stared at it.
Without another thought I ripped open the seal, lifted it to my lips, and swallowed a mouthful.
Then I coughed and wretched as it burned its way down. What is this? I thought as I kept coughing. It didn’t take long for my face to start feeling flush. I didn’t like the stuff, it tasted like acid. Flavored liquor had a much better taste. Still, I started to feel the desired effect, so I brought the bottle to my lips once more. I coughed and sputtered again. But I needed it to make me numb.
“You probably should quit there,” someone said behind me. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I spun around so fast the bottle spilled down my mouth, chin, and chest. I jumped back and gasped, nearly throwing the bottle at Pedro’s head. “STOP sneaking up on me!”
“It’s kind of hard not to when the lights are off.” He approached me and took the bottle, screwing on the lid. “I’d put this away. You’re probably already going to be sick. You don’t mess with Jack Daniels on the first try.”
I tried to reach for it, but Pedro was quick or my reflexes were slow. “It’s not yours. And it’s not my first try.”
“Why are you drinking it?” he asked seriously. When I didn’t answer, he asked again, “Why is a girl like you hiding in the dark in a laundry room trying to get drunk off Jack?”
“You wouldn’t understand. Why are you here? Sneaking up on girls in dark laundry rooms?”
“Because I stopped by your grandfather’s house to talk to him about what happened today, and to see how you were doing. I left you with a lot of work.”
I snorted. “Understatement.”
“Your father, at least I think it was your father, lit into me about work ethic and not taking advantage of coworkers.”
I snorted again. “That’s funny.” My belly had already begun to feel warm, and my tongue felt a little looser. “He’s trying to protect me from coworkers when a youth pastor can walk right into my bedroom!” I started to laugh. “It’s so ridiculous.”
“How much did you drink before I got here?”
“I took two drinks. Sheesh.”
“You’re a lightweight,” he said. I could see his grin in the darkness.
“Yeah, well, I’m a pastor’s kid. It’s not like drinking is a past time.”
Pedro paused. “I saw your cell phone light when I got on my bike to leave. That’s why I came over here. I wanted to thank you again. That’s all. Sorry about sneaking up on you.” He turned to leave.
All of a sudden I didn’t want to be alone in the dark. I followed Pedro outside and watched him open up the bottle and pour the whiskey onto the grass. “You’re going to waste it? At least let me give it to Derek. The poor guy probably needs it more than all of us.”
“You wouldn’t give it to him. I can see it in your eyes.”
“It’s dark. You can’t see my eyes.”
“Yes, I can. And I know the look of someone who could get carried away with alcohol.”
“Thank you, Dr. Who-Gives-A-Flip. Send me a bill.” I snorted again at my joke. Okay, I needed to stop with the snorting.
Pedro walked up to me, so close I had to take a step back. “I can see you, Macy,” he said quietly. “I can see the you that you try to keep hidden. The girl who will babysit even when she’s overwhelmed already with her workload. The girl who gives twenty bucks to a guy who hasn’t said one nice word to her. That’s who you are. Don’t let Jack Daniels or anything else turn you into something you’re not.” He turned abruptly and went to his bike.
My heart pounded in my chest. “You don’t get to leave,” I blurted. I clenched my fists to keep the nerves at bay and walked over to him. “You don’t get to say something like that and leave.”
“I have to go.”
“No. You can explain—“
“I have to leave,” he interrupted me. “You…stink.”
I stopped at his words. So, I must have imagined the moment between the two of us. I took a step back, blinking back the tears, and swearing at him in my head for pouring out the alcohol. “I just took a shower…you…you…jerk!”
“You smell like whiskey,” he said. “You must have poured a bunch on you. And I can’t be around alcohol. That’s why I’m leaving. I’m trying to be strong.”
“Oh,” I said. I actually sighed in relief. “Okay, I don’t hate you again.”
Pedro chuckled.
We both turned to the sound of my name being called.
“Oh God, no. They can’t see me like this.”
“Listen, we have a lost and found container that is full of clothes from people who left it here. We launder it all and put it in the container to take to Goodwill. Go, grab a different shirt. I’ll wait for you. Hurry.”
“Wait for me for what?”
“Hurry,” he hissed. “It’s right beside the last dryer.”
I went back into the laundry room, and using my cell phone light, found the tub full of folded clothes. Finding a shirt and a sweatshirt, I peeled off my own shirts and pulled both of the left behind shirts over my head. I kicked my alcohol-smelling shirts underneath a table. I’d get them tomorrow.
I heard my name again.
Running outside, I shut the door behind me. “Thanks.”
“Get on,” he said, indicating the handlebars.
“Are you serious?”
“Do you want to go back to your family, or do you want to go with me?”
Alone with a guy? My stomach flipped and released butterflies simultaneously. But I trusted Pedro. He hadn’t touched me yet. “Yes, I want to go with you,” I said, sitting uncomfortably on the handlebars. “I want to be anywhere my mother isn’t.”
He pushed off and began pedaling. I had to grip the handlebars and lift my legs to not fall, but eventually we found a rhythm.
A flashlight beamed at us. “Macy May?” Dad called.
“Yes, I’m fine, Dad! Just going for a bike ride. I’ll be back in a few!” To Pedro, I said, “He is really going to hate you after this.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I was hated,” he said.
As he biked down the road, the darkness had descended for the night. “How can you know where you’re going?” I asked, feeling nervous at the prospect of hitting something unseen.
“I know this road like the back of my hand,” he said. “Just up ahead, is First Avenue. We’ll take a left, and then there’ll be lots of lights.”
“Oh. I never realized that.”
“Yeah, we’re not that far from downtown. Maybe four miles.”
“Is that where we’re going?”
“You’ll see.”
For several minutes, I tried to enjoy the freedom of being away from my mother. My butt was majorly cramping, and I felt a little queasy from the alcohol. But this was a first. Bike riding with a boy. Well, technically Pedro was a man, but it was still a first.
Then I noticed his labored breathing and immediately felt self-conscious. “I’m sorry if I’m too heavy.”
“Oh, shut up,” he teased. “I ride with both of my brothers on here. We’re going up a slight incline, that’s all.”
We passed under an overhead light and a scattering of houses. Soon, we rode past a small gas station. Then we descended down a hill. “My favorite part,” he said as he whooped into the night air. I followed suite as our speed kicked up.
Then he made a fast left and jumped the curb. I squealed while he laughed. He pedaled past downtown businesses and groups of people. I couldn’t believe how alive the downtown was. “I’ve been shut up in my room for too long,” I said, pointing to a pizza place. “Ooh, I want to try there.”
“You hungry?”
“Yes, I am,” I said, surprised at the answer. “I didn’t eat at the house because I lost my appetite with Mom’s incessant nagging.”
Pedro turned the bike around and told me to get off. Once I did, I shook out my legs. “They’re going numb,” I grinned.
“You can ride behind me,” he said. “If you can balance on the pegs.”
“But first, pizza.”
Pedro insisted on paying, and once we had the pizza in hand, neither one of us talked. We ate like we were homeless.
After three slices, I gulped down the rest of my iced tea. “Thank you,” I said. “I feel so much better.”
“No longer buzzing?”
“I don’t think so. And I didn’t puke. That’s good. I tend to be a drink-and-puke kind of girl.”
Pedro sat back. “Now you tell me?”
“Ha, ha.” I threw my crumpled up napkin at him.
“So, tell me something about you that I don’t know.” He leaned forward again and stared at me intensely.
“What do you already know?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable. I could barely look him in the eyes!
“I know that you can sing and play the piano. And you’re really good at it.”
I knew I was blushing at the comment! My cheeks felt warm, and it wasn’t because of any alcohol I drank. “I can draw,” I said, trying not to think of Mom going through my sketchbooks again. “Sketches mostly, but I think they’re pretty good.”
“I’d like to see them sometime.”
I cringed. “Probably not. They’re sort of personal. Like journaling. But with pictures.”
