It's been a while... College is...yeah, like, super busy. You get it, don't you? By the way, this probably isn't edited. Sorry.
When I arrived home, Mom was asleep on the couch. Her shoes were thrown several feet from her. I didn’t miss the open bottle of tan liquid sitting on the coffee table. Hesitantly, I bent over and sniffed the substance. Beer, alcohol?
I crouched toward her sleeping face. Had she been drinking? She never drank alcohol, why’d she start? I studied her somnolent face. Smudges of her mascara were under her eyes, signaling that she had been crying. The effects of her age began to show around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She was a beautiful women wearing years of exhaustion and calamity on her shoulders.
I gently shook her shoulders. “Mom, wake up.” She stirred but didn’t hear me. “Mom, c’mon,”
I had brought a plate of leftovers home for Mom (I couldn’t let Shane see me, so I had to sneak it out like I did with the cookies for Vanessa and Valerie). I set the plate down on the coffee table so that both of my hands could be available.
I shook her one last time before she lifted her head to look at her surroundings. “Ashleigh?”
“C’mon, Mom. What’re you doing sleeping on the couch?”
Her messy brown hair covered her eyes as she placed her hands on my shoulders to steady herself. “My dear, Ashleigh.”
She was definitely drunk. Her words slurred around and I could smell the stink on her breath as she spoke. I helped her up from the sofa and led her to her room where she crashed on the bed. Taking a warm blanket from her closet, I covered her up with it.
There was definitely something wrong. Why had she done this? She never got drunk…never. And to see how she passed out on the couch with mascara down her face made me sick. What was wrong?
When I woke up for school, Mom was already gone. She must’ve taken care of herself early this morning. I hoped she was on her way to work and not on her way down a spiraling black hole.
After school I had arrived at the Greene’s house. Brandon and Jasmine’s car was still sitting in the driveway, so they hadn’t left yet. I also noticed another car – a shiny bright red one. The license plate read CockyS, figuring it was probably Shane’s. I guess I hadn’t noticed it yesterday when I had rushed up to the door.
As I went in, Brandon and Jasmine were rushing out.
“Good evening, Ashleigh!” Brandon panicked. “We’re running really late. I’m going to have to ask you to cook the kids’ dinner tonight.”
Jasmine had already started up the car.
Shane’s brother say what? “But–”
“I’d ask Christopher to do it, but he’s pretty busy and he’ll be drowning in paperwork for a while.”
Before I could mutter another word, Brandon turned on his heel and rushed into the car. The car backed out of the driveway and they were gone. What was I going to do?
I entered the house to see Ethan sketching on a little notepad. “Hello, Ethan,”
He ignored me, continuing to focus in on his sketch. Well, that was expected. Before taking another step, a tall figure swiftly walked past me, nearly knocking me over. I looked up at Shane to find his narrowed eyes glued to several files in his hands. When he reached the stairs, he ran up them two-by-two. What was up with the males in this house?
If Shane was always here, then why did I have to babysit? I mean, I wasn’t complaining because I desperately needed the money. But why was he suddenly starting to show up?
A horrible growl came from my stomach and I frowned down at it. I really needed to figure out what to do for the kids’ dinner. I could always order pizza or Chinese food, but would that’ve been alright with their parents? For all I know, they could be allergic to something, and I wouldn’t have known about it.
I huffed as I felt the hair – that was in a rather messed up bun – loosen and drop down my back. I turned around to find Shane’s hand on the top of my curly head.
“Uh…” I mumbled while ducking to get away from his hand. “What’re you doing?”
His eyes were on the locks of hair that I usually threw into a careless ponytail or bun.
“Touching your hair, duh.” He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Why was this guy always in a snappy mood? It reminded me that I had to talk to him about his attitude toward the kids.
“Why are you here?” I asked him for the second or third time in a week.
“Because.” he replied and that was that.
I rolled my eyes at him and folded my arms across my chest. “Well, you’re gonna have to start on dinner soon, so–”
“Last time I recalled, Brandon said that you were cooking, not me.”
I scowled at his stupid face as I felt the blood rush away from my face. “No,” I growled. “No, no, no!”
A hand flew up to his mouth as he let out a chuckle. How could he think that this was funny? “What’re you afraid of?”
Uh, burning the house down with my lack of cooking skills!
Would it really have been so much of a problem for him to cook? I mean, his food was so delicious and I wanted a piece of that heaven again.
I huffed out again. I began to think that all of this huffing was going to kill me one day. By the looks of it, I was going to die pretty soon from being around him.
The edge of his lips twitched until he smirked, realization swimming in his eyes. “Wait a second…” he narrowed his eyes, but the smirk never left his stupid little face. “You can’t cook, can you?”
He began to chuckle until it slowly progressed into full out laughter. “You can’t cook?” Then more laughing.
I continued to stand there as he made fun of me. “Are you done?”
He continued to laugh at me until his face reddened with blood-blush. “Oh, God!”
I wasn’t too fond with him humiliating me…or the fact that he’d just used God’s name in vein, so I pushed his shoulder. My weak attempt to knock him down added more laughter from him. By then, my veins were somewhat boiling out of anger.
Why did he have to make fun of me? It wasn’t really my fault that I couldn’t cook to save a life! I blamed it on that old croon, Mrs. White. She couldn’t teach the Culinary Arts class, so how in this world was I supposed to learn anything at all?
After he turned it down a few notches, he took a deep breath. “And you’re weak?”
My scowled deepened at every word that came out of his mouth.
“If you can’t cook, does you mom or something?”
All I did was shake my head followed by his confused expression.
“We…enjoy take-out, alright?”
“Looks like you’re S-O-L. I’ve got to get back to work. Thanks for the laugh, by the way!” And with that, he ran back up the stairs.
That prick.
It was almost seven when I still hadn’t figured anything out for dinner, yet! I was really stressing at this point. Shane was still locked up in the study room doing “work” and the kids were starting to get hungry. I began to wonder what kind of work he was doing. Who did he work for? It must have been a millionaire or something what with the way he spent his money on expensive clothes and cars.
Eventually, he came downstairs.
“Where do you work?” I asked him as he set a few files on a table.
“None of your business, geek.”
Of course.
I stood up from the couch and walked toward where he was standing. “Why’d you get me this job if you’re here all the time?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Complaining about your job already?”
Ugh, no. He was changing my words around. “No…I’m just curious as to why you’re here while I’m the one babysitting.”
“I’m not always here, and I work frequently. Sometimes I’m required to go into the office, otherwise I work from home.”
That sparked a new question. “Oh…you live here?”
“No, but sometimes it’s better for me to work here than at home.” He sighed at the ground. “The atmosphere’s less strict.”
Less strict? But how when you’re so strict yourself?
I decided to keep that question to myself as the kids and hunger went through my mind. Before I could ask him about the dinner again, I heard war calls from around the corner of a room. Valerie and Vanessa launched toward Shane with little plastic swords, thrashing him.
A yelp – yes, a little girly yelp – emitted from Shane’s mouth as he didn’t know what was happening to him.
Ah, finally. Sweet revenge. And I didn’t even have to wish anything bad upon him.
“Ah, stop!” he yelled. The twins were much shorter than Shane, yet the swords reached his head. They giggled as they continued to smack him with their plastic swords. He clearly wasn’t getting the situation – the girls only wanted to play and have fun. That was enough to show me how poor his relationship with the children were. What was his problem?
Valerie pulled on the edge of Shane’s sleeve, causing the loose collar of his shirt to dip below his shoulder.
That’s when I noticed it. It was so small, yet too large to not be able to see it. There was a round dark wound the size of a dime right in the center of his shoulder. I wondered what it was...