It's been eight weeks since I arrived in Seattle. Martha sits for hours in front of the patio, painting flower pictures, and I see very little of Mom. All I do is stay in the house, bury my eyes in the screen for work, walk in the kitchen, make peanut butter sandwiches, and feed Bruno. Even Bruno looks like he is getting sick of this house.
"Let's get some city air. What do you say, little guy?" I patted Bruno's head, and he wagged his tail. Is it just me, or every time I come back, his fur seems a lot more golden than the last time?
I heard my stomach grumble. It called for another bowl of cereal.
"Maybe, after mamma's pigged on some food. Eh?" I said, and Bruno let out a woof.
I reached for the cereal packet, turning it over the bowl, expecting it to empty round, honey-flavored loops, but nothing came out. I put my hand in, assuming something would appear magically from inside. It doesn't.
"Woof!" Bruno barked, and I took it to be 'dumbass'... I am. I know, am. Thanks for reminding me, Bruno. I was the biggest dumbass who left an all too good office at Bexley's to settle for a 'Work From Home' program because I had to be there. Yeah, I was a dumbass. Hands down agreed.
"I am going to take Bruno for a walk, Martha." I lied, tossing the car keys in my pocket.
"Take care. Don't sneak the dog in my car. If I see fur, you're dead." She yelled at me as I skipped the stairs on the patio with Bruno's leash.
Halfway through the road, I held Bruno in my arms and peeped through the backyard.
"Don't make noise. Mamma's going to take you for a ride!" I said, winking at Bruno.
I crept into the garage, sliding the door open. I hit the gas, and in the back of my head, I felt the twitch. It was a stupid tingle that disturbed me when I was close to driving a vehicle. Maybe it's due to that accident. Even thinking about it makes me feel shitty. If it weren't for that, nothing of this would have happened. I would always know what Will had done to me, and I would never get played. 'I am sorry, his words played in my head as I turned the engine on, and the car jerked backward.
"Oops. Sorry, the wrong gear." I told Bruno, and he let out a bark.
As I pulled into the driveway, I saw Martha in the rear view.
"You're dead, Eva!" She yelled as Bruno barked, and I laughed. I turned the radio on.
'Hold me a closer tiny dancer,
Count the headlights on the highway...'
"Fuck!" I yelled. Hit it shut, and Bruno stared at me.
I wasn't always an Elton John hater. But this song reminded me of Will. Car drives, and reminders of Will, especially when Martha was planning on skinning me alive, weren't a good combo.
I spotted the Target sign after fifteen minutes, and parked Martha's 60's Cooper in the parking lot.
"Woof!" Bruno barked, and I knew what it meant.
"Five minutes. You be a good boy and don't scratch the leather. Okay?" I said, and he wagged his tail.
"Good boy. I will buy you more dog food!" I said and pushed my hands into the pocket of my jeans. I tied the hoodie cap and entered Target.
Soap. Naah. Towels. Naah. Condoms. Hell no. Bananas. Nope. Spaghetti? Maybe. Cereals. Ah, there it was! Aisle five, row three. I hopped to the cereal section and pulled a packet of honey loops and oatmeal.
Wait. I felt the tickle in my stomach. I forgot something! Of course, dog food. I searched for Pedigree, meat and bones flavor on the kiosk. Aisle two, third row. I grabbed a packet to find someone reaching out for it.
"I got it first!" I said, trying to yank his hand off when my eyes fell on the person.
He had green eyes and wore spectacles. He wore loafers and the vintage woolly sweaters, and a maroon scarf went around his neck. He looked almost like one of the most despised people in my world- Josh. Except for the fact that his eyes weren't blue.
"You can have it." He said awkwardly and moved away, nowhere around.
"Strange jerk!" I said, picking up the Pedigree packet.
I went to the counter, paid with the credit card, and secretly prayed that Bruno had not scratched the leather from Martha's Cooper.
The cold air hit me when I exited Target. It didn't hit me that nights were pulling in sooner than expected. It was already dark when it turned six. I rushed to my car, the air chilling my legs as I regretted not wearing sweatpants.
"See, Mamma's back," I said, expecting a half-wrecked car, but to my amazement, he hadn't scratched the leather. Thank God. I love you, Jesus.
"Look what I got for you!" I said, shaking the packet, and he looked at me with hopeful eyes. When I opened the door for Bruno to get out, my eyes froze on the seat.
"Shit. Dog shit." What am I to do about this? Martha was going to kill me. At this rate, she won't skin me alive. Instead, she would boil me with chicken broth and feed it to crows. I am dead ( although I think crows won't drink it, hopefully).
I thought it couldn't get worse, but it did.
My phone rang. I pulled it out, and Mikhail's number popped on my screen. My therapist was calling me. That was a first.
"Hello." He said, and I could make out the apparent worry in his voice.
"Hello, Eva Mellon. How may I help you?" I asked, and Bruno barked as he scratched his shit with his nails.
Don't do it. I have got you food. Don't.
"I am Sparks. I am sorry I never had the privilege of talking to you before, Miss Mellon." Mikhail said, and I nearly died within. You don't remember our dumb therapy sessions, do you? I kept the words to myself as Mikhail practically sobbed into the phone.
"Miss Mellon, I have fooled everyone enough to pose my assistant as Sparks, and I want to embrace my identity publically," Mikhail said.
Fucking finally. Good decision! I was relieved he wasn't going to hide anymore. The tricky part was, how was I going to help him?
"Miss Mellon, I want you to address the readers on my behalf and introduce me to them on 'Maybe, meant to be' launch event." He said, and I gulped the lump forming in my throat. Is he kidding me? He is a fucking therapist, and he can't handle a crowd. Was I supposed to ask for a refund? Was I supposed to call him out? Meanwhile, my brains were chewing out on Bruno playing with his shit.
"Dog shit!" I yelled, and Bruno jumped out of his seat.
"What? It is about my career!" Mikhail complained over the phone.
"I am sorry- I was talking with my dog. I am sorry- That was so unprofessional." I apologized over the phone, and silence followed.
"Okay, never mind. I am looking forward to seeing you at the event. I will email you the venue." He said.
"But I have not agreed to-" Before I could say anything, he hung up the phone on me. When I checked the email, my eyes froze. The event was a week before Sunday in Fordshire High Campus. I was doomed.
I tried ringing Mikhail, but the service provider kept blabbering the 'line is busy' sing-song, and I hoped for him to pick up. Why do these things happen to me?
Bruno licked his paws clean while the dog shit enjoyed the car leather. God!
"How am I going to clean all this shit?" I asked, and Bruno woofed. I think my brain was playing traitor because I imagined Bruno saying 'dumbass'!
"Dumbass!" The voice said again. I turned to find an old, bald man trying to get his car out of the parking lot.
"Get the hell out of here!" He scoffed at me, and I rushed Bruno into the car, hitting the engine as I pulled into the driveway.
How am I going to clear all the shit in my life? I had no clue. Woof.
Dumbass. I was screaming internally. Go on, Elton John, there was no point hating you. I played the radio, Tiny Dancer pouring in my ears, my eyes paining to see Will while my mind was bent off kicking the shit out of him. No shit, maybe. I was so full of it. I sighed as I neared our mansion. Now I need to clean up all the mess!