Loving You Differently

Thirty One

Aria Adkins

I sit at the kitchen table numbly as the locksmith replaces the deadbolt on the front door. My vision volleys back and forth from the clock on the stove to the missed call and unanswered text from Austin on my phone.

Austin: Everything okay?

"Alright," The locksmith grunts, standing from his crouched position. "That should do it."

"Thank you," I murmur quietly, sliding a few bills across the table.

He takes the stack, glancing back at the door and hesitating before stuffing it in the breast pocket of his work shirt. I beg him with my eyes not to ask any questions and he silently agrees, grabbing his tool box and quickly letting himself out with a nod goodbye.

The minute the door clicks shut I slump in my seat, my shoulders dropping in defeat. My head spins, thoughts racing and ranging from what to tell Austin to where hell my mom could possibly be hiding.

And unless I want to get kicked to the curb, I need to find her and have her sign those divorce papers. Now.

I tap my fingers against the surface of the dining table and stare at my phone. Taking a deep breath, I come to a snap decision and pick it up, typing out a quick text to Austin and hitting send before I can cop out.

Aria: Hey, everything's fine, took on a double at RJ's and we've been slammed. I'll call you tonight!

I drop my phone like it's on fire, guilt turning over in my stomach but the damage is done. I've officially lied to my boyfriend.

You're doing it for his own good, I mentally chastise myself. He's already got enough on his plate right now, he doesn't need something else. You can handle this on your own.

But he wouldn't want you to. That's the kind of person he is, remember?

I glance at the front door, the evidence of the splintered wood no longer visible due to the locksmith sanding it down for an extra $50. Distaste for the fucked up situation I'd been reluctantly plonked into swirls on my tongue. I know damn well that if I tell Austin what happened he'll try to rush home, but I refuse to let him do that, not when he's supposed to be picking up his dying father from prison tomorrow.

As long as I can find my mom and have her sign the papers before Austin gets home, he'll never have to know about my dad's B&E stunt.

It's for his own good.

——

As I step across the street into the dirtiest, seediest part of Memphis, the hair on my arms and back of my neck stand at end. A street of abandoned buildings so tall they block the sun sit dark and secluded from the rest of town, the only establishments open being a liquor store and a 24 hour convenience store.

I bypass broken shards of glass and a homeless guy sleeping on the sidewalk as I make my way towards the liquor store. Flashbacks assault me and for a split second I'm zapped back to my childhood, myself and a crying Savannah locked inside our old hunker of a car (that ended up getting repossessed a few short weeks later) while we watched our parents argue in the middle of this very street.