Somebody's Girl

C H A P T E R 36

PENELOPE

FIGHTS

It was hours before I emerged from Ruen's room. She's finally asleep after some tossing and turning. I wanted to talk to her about Amelia but she clammed up. Obviously, she's not ready to talk. When she acts like that, I know there will be nothing I could do or say that would make her open up to me.

Or maybe I'm not the one she should talk to. I slipped out of her room quietly and pulled my cellphone out then called Amelia. The other end of the line kept ringing but she didn't pick up. I kept walking and calling her but she never answered. What's the fastest way to make her come running home?

Ruen might thank me for this. But then again, she might and most probably would strangle me, if this made things worse for them. For whatever they're going through. But things won't solve itself, if they're not talking about it.

So here goes me walking into the line of fire and hoping I don't get shot.

"Tell me if you want out. Cause if you are, I'm still waiting in the wings. I'll make her come to me. I won't stop until she chooses me this time. You're not exactly making it hard for her to. Thanks."

I quickly finished the message and sent it. If she still cares for Ruen one bit, she'll fly home from wherever in the fucking part of the planet she was. Fix whatever it is that has managed to tear them up.

Back in the living room, I found Raven playing with Toby but Miranda and Samantha were not with her.

"They're still in the library, I think. Still talking," She lovingly cooed at the mini-Raven in her arms. "Is our baby Toby hungry? Mommy's a little busy but she'll be very happy to play with us later. Until then, my boy, I got your back." Raven pointed to the milk bottle by the table. She smiled in thanks as I reached for it and gave it to her.

"Who said butch-types aren't the mothering kind?" I chuckled and got comfortable on the couch. "They've pegged you wrong."

"I'm not butch." She bottle-fed the baby, who drank like a little man with a bright future for drinking. Like a little drunkard in training, for sure he won't stop until he could see the end of his milk bottle.

"Yeah, you don't look like it. And I'm not really gay." I said.

The empty milk bottle flew at me and I caught it with both hands before it hit the floor, make a sound and wake the boy who's in his way to dreamland. What do babies dream of? I hope with all my heart they have enough good dreams until adulthood haunts their sleep. But all in all, I hope he grows up strong in faith and body to get through the shits this world's full of and a heart to see the good side in it too. Children are too precious.

"You and Miranda aren't having any problems too, right? Toby is..." I'd really hate for that to happen. I know they didn't have a fairly good start but - please, not them too.

"Don't jinx us." She glared at me.

"Fu -" She's sending an imaginary knife at me. No swearing. Only good words deemed worthy to be heard by innocent ears. "Fuuudge. Fudge no - No, nothing of that sort. It's just that the Vasquez-Evans' thing blindsided me... They're so happy and all that... I just didn't see it coming."

"Well, if it makes it any a consolation, the trashy tabloid reporters didn't see it too. Flash report. Trash report," she gently cradled Toby. "To answer your question, Miranda and I have our bouts too. It ranges from what color to dress our boy in, who gets to take the night shift if he wakes just to check up on him to who was the woman holding onto my arms at a printed sleaze photo headline and who was the customer that has given her flowers... Little things. Big things. The things that matter. Petty arguments. Sometimes they escalate. Oh boy, do they escalate quickly."