Cait Page 5

  “You’re welcome.” We smile at each other as the door bursts open. It’s Charlie. He staggers in.

  “Caitlyn. Where have you been? You were supposed to go to the bathroom and come back downstairs. Thank god I found the right room. Everywhere is noisy and messy.”

  “I’m sorry. I could not find the bathroom, so I came in here. He has been keeping me company.” I realize that I don’t know the stranger’s name, so I turn to ask him. But he is not there anymore. Huh? I don’t understand. He was right here. We spoke for long. I smoked his pot.

  “Who?” Charlie asks, looking around. “I don’t see anybody. You sure you’re alright?” He is looking at me strangely, like I have suddenly grown horns.

  “Don’t worry,” I say, a little worried. “I’m fine.” I don’t know how to explain what took place in this room without sounding crazier than my friends already think I am. Next, Leah walks in, dragging an inebriated Hanna behind her.

  “Look at them. Cait, you disappeared on us. What are you doing here? We found you by a stroke of luck. We were wondering which of the rooms you were in.”

  “My apologies for putting you all through this. I feel better now. Can we go downstairs?”

  “As a matter of fact, we have had enough. It’s time to leave this place.”

  “Okay,” I say, standing up.

  I am still baffled that the mysterious male is nowhere to be found. I am hundred percent sure that he did not leave through the door, and I don’t want to wonder if I really spoke with him or not. There is enough crazy going on in my head, and I’m not going to add to it.

  We head downstairs and into the living room, where we find Alex smoking. I’m still feeling fuzzy from the pot I took.

  “Going so early,” Alex says, his eyes on Leah.

  “Yeah,” she answers. “We have to go grab a bite. Thanks for having us. Ciao.”

  “Ciao. Good seeing you.”

  The walk back to where Leah parked her car seems longer. There are still people sprawled on the lawn, but this time most of them are dead drunk and sleeping it off. Charlie is humming a tuneless song and commenting about the people we pass. Leah tells him to shush it, but he pays her no attention. Obviously, he’s drunk too. The whiskey bottle is not with him, so I figure that he finished it off. No wonder he’s acting silly.

  The weather is windy, and I’m glad I wore a jacket. Maple trees are planted every few paces along the street. It’s the same around my house. I guess residents of Winchers town love maple trees.

  Soon, the car is within reach. Leah, with Hanna still hanging from her arm, inserts a key into the driver’s keyhole and all the car doors open the moment she turns it. She says that it’s called a central lock. Charlie and I get in while Leah helps Hanna into the front seat and fastens her seat belt. I momentarily find it ironic that Hanna had been telling her brother to take it easy on the drinking mere hours ago.

  “Cait, we’re not going straight home. You should be hungry. You agree, right?”

  As if it was listening, my stomach growls.

  Leah and Charlie laugh and she says, “I guess that answers my question. Let’s go grab a bite. It’s still a few minutes past nine.”

  “Do you know of any decent place?” I ask.

  “The very best.”

  “Let’s get going then.”

  “Right.” With that, she turns the ignition and floors the accelerator. Unlike when we were going to the party, there is no conversation in the car.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Leah stops in front of a brightly lit house. The sign in front of the building says, “WINCHER’S CREST DINER” in neon green and red colors. It is a decent looking yellow bungalow, and I can see through the glass doors. People are seated in booths, eating and talking.

  “Let’s go,” she says, unbuckling her seat belt. She gets out of the car and goes over to the other side to help Hanna out.

  The glass doors have sensors, so they slide open as we get close. We enter, and Leah walks straight to an empty booth. She still has Hanna by the arm. She helps her into the booth and sits down. Charlie and I sit opposite them.

  “I can’t feel my face,” Hanna says, leaning her face on the table.

  A woman in a waitress’s apron comes along to our table.

  “Hi Susan,” Charlie smiles up at her.

  “Hi darling,” she says. It’s the woman from the day I got home after being discharged—Leah’s mother. I have not seen her since that day, and I have no idea she’s a waitress. Leah never discusses her parents.

  “Cait, meet my mom. She owns this place.” Oh! She’s not just a waitress.

  “Darlinggg!” she coos. “How have you been? I’m sorry that I have not come around since then.”

  My three friends are looking at us incredulously. They apparently have no idea that we’ve met before today.

  “She was at my house the day I got back from the hospital.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Leah said, looking like a light bulb just went off in her head. I wonder why. If my name was “Wonderer,” it would not have made any difference with the way I have been acting ever since I came home. The things I wonder about are more than the things I’m sure about. And most of the time, I do not bother asking. I just read signs and body language, then try making theories if I can. If I cannot, I leave it be. In due time, Cait. In due time.

  “So, how have you been?”

  “I’m as good as can be ma’am.”

  “That’s good. I would be coming around again soon.”

  “Alright.”

  “Where are you kids coming from?” she asks Leah. “My diner smells like a brewery.”

  “We went to a friend’s party. We behaved ourselves,” her daughter says, throwing a salute.

  “Yeah right. Explains why your friends are drunk. Please, you all should be careful. It’s a wicked world out there. I will—”

  “Mommm!” Leah whines. “We have heard you and would heed your advice to the letter. Right, guys?” I nod, Charlie too. Hanna is busy inspecting her pink fingernails. Well, we are representing her.

  “What do you kiddos want to eat?” Even if Susan does not believe them, she knows that this is the most she is getting.

  “Pizza and ice cream for me,” Leah answers.

  “Same for me,” I say.

  “Me too,” Charlie says.

  Hanna points her index finger upwards. Susan looks at her, shaking her head with a fond smile.

  “When will you kids start preferring real food?” she asks, still smiling.

  “When you stop making pizza,” Charlie answers.

  We all laugh.

  “Touché,” Susan says. “Coming through.”

  Having said that, she goes back in her kitchen. It is a big establishment by all standards. Waiters, both male and female, pop in and out, taking and bringing order. They are all dressed in white shirts and trousers for the males, smart skirts for the females. This is a very impressive place.

  I have hung around at Leah’s only twice, and those two times, her mom was not around. Every other time, we hung out either at Hanna’s or mine. I wonder why . . . oops, Wonderer. It beats me why Leah has never talked about her mother. She does not talk about her father either, and I have not seen him too. There is something troubling her. Beneath her tough exterior, I have caught her lost in thoughts several times. Maybe I should wait for her to open up, if she will. I do not know how she is going to react if I ask her.

  Our order arrives: an extra-large pizza with lots of toppings and a big bucket of strawberry and vanilla flavored ice cream. There is a waitress behind her with a tray containing bowls, plates, and spoons. They place the trays on the table and Susan says, “This one’s on the house.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Not like we ever pay.” Leah winks at her mom.

  “Thanks, Susan.” Charlie is
fixated on this neon pizza sign hanging above the wall. Whenever it flashes, he acts surprised.

  “Thanks, Susan.” Hanna is barely speaking. Her head is off the table by this time, but of course, she does not seem very sober.

  “Thanks ma’am,” I say.

  “Uh-uhm! Call me Susan.”

  “Alright ma’a—Susan.”

  “Good.” She briefly touches my cheek. I could swear that my cheeks turned a fiery red.

  “Alright, kids. See you all next time. It’s a busy night as always. Be safe.”

  We thank her again, and she returns to the kitchen.

  Leah gets up and serves us, after nudging Hanna awake. She could easily pass for our mother with the way she always looks out for us. The problem with people like this is that they usually have a lot weighing them down, but they are used to being strong, trying not to show that they are vulnerable too. Even when they decide to talk, most times, the people around are those who are so comfortable being babied that they think of themselves only.

  There is not much talk going on as we eat, apart from occasionally checking out and quietly commenting about our fellow diners. After a few bites, I comment on how good the meal tastes.

  “I have never had something this good before. Not like I can remember though,” I say, smiling wryly.

  Leah and Charlie laugh.

  “You will do fine soon. Not to worry. By the way, the food tastes so good because you’re stoned. You smoked pot, right? The room smelled of it when we came to get you.”

  “Ermm . . . really? That’s why you think it tastes good?” I ask, avoiding the question. I still am not sure of what happened in that room.

  “Yeah,” Charlie affirms.

  “I see,” I acknowledge.

  Leah asks us to eat quickly in order to be able to go home before it gets really late. Although we live in a peaceful town, like Leah once told me, I agree with her.

  “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” she says.

  After about forty minutes by my estimate, we are done and ready to go. Leah, Charlie, and even Hanna manage to leave tips for the waitress.

  “It’s the least we can do since we are not paying,” Leah says.

  I am about to say that I did not come out with any money, but Leah says that I should not worry about it. She adds that it is their tradition, so please, could I remember next time to come out with some money, just in case. I say sure.

  At that moment, the door opens and of all people to walk into the diner, it’s my brother Tyler. He is not alone. With him is the guy from the car. I know because of his long hair, which I have enough time to see is black, before ducking under the table.

  “What’s going on?” Charlie asks, very bewildered.

  “Shh!” I hear Leah whisper. “It’s her brother.”

  “Oh.”

  Charlie peeks under the table and laughs quietly.

  “Feeling comfortable, ma’am? Need a glass of juice?”

  “Get lost, Charlie.”

  Then I tug Leah’s trouser leg. She looks down.

  “Mmmm. You okay?”

  “No. How do we get out? He can’t know that I’m not in my bed.”

  “Alright, wait. I have an idea.”

  She gets up and walks in the direction of the kitchen. Soon, she is out and back on the chair. A few minutes later, I hear Susan’s voice. I peer from under the table. She has her back to us, and we cannot see Tyler’s face.

  “Quick,” Leah tells me. “His view is hidden.”

  I crawl out and head straight to the door without looking out. My friends are behind me. Once we get outside, we burst into laughter.

  “That was close,” Leah says.

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  We stop over at Hanna’s house, and she gets out of the car with her brother. Their mother, Alicia, hears the sound of the car up her drive and comes out to stand in front of the door. She waves and asks how we all are doing. We greet her and say that we are doing fine.

  Unlike Leah’s parents who are rarely home, Hanna and Charlie’s mom works from home. She has a small office, and she is a writer. She consults amateur writers who can always be found at the house, coming to ask her for advice. The first day I went to Hanna’s house and met her, I was awed. Alicia is a six-feet-tall, fashionable woman with straight blonde hair that goes way past her shoulders. Her muscles are well toned, and her nails are always well kept. Obviously, she does not joke with her looks. But from what Hanna told me, their biological father left their mom when she was pregnant with the both of them. Then she met their stepfather, Ted, a realtor, who had a son named Beau. Ted had never been married though, when they met. So, the both of them fell in love, and the rest is history. We say our goodbyes, saying that we will meet up again on Monday in school, and then they go inside. Leah asks me to come sit in front, and I do so.

  At my house, she parks in the driveway and turns off the ignition.

  “Problem?” I ask.

  “No. I’m not ready to go home yet. Can we go up to your room and chill for a while?”

  “Of course.”

  I take the lead, and getting to my front door, I turn it open. Thankfully, it swings the other way. I was half scared that Hazel might have woken up and found out that I was not at home. Leah and I quietly walk up the stairs, careful not to make any noise. I doubt Tyler made it back before me since the door is still unlocked.

  My room is exactly how I left it before sneaking out. I fall tiredly onto the bed, and Leah hops on, rolling me back from falling.

  “I need to get off these clothes and have a shower. I feel very uncomfortable. Do you mind?”

  “No, go ahead. I’ll be here resting my eyes.”

  I strip and go inside the bathroom. Cold water is what I need, so I turn on the faucet with “COLD” engraved on it. It’s a quick bath, and I’m out in a few minutes. I come out into the room and walk straight to the wardrobe. I get out my nightie and slip it on. Leah is still resting her eyes. Then, out of the blue, I speak to her.

  “I was in the hospital because I tried to commit suicide, but it ended up in an accident.”

  She opens her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Cait. Nobody has it all perfect.”

  “True, but I think mine is something else. Absent father, dead mother. Memory problems. I think I’m mentally ill. And again, I get flashbacks as vivid as they come.”

  “Flashbacks?”

  “Yeah. About my parents and my past life. But before I can get a good grasp on them, they disappear, and it’s exasperating. I’m sure that if I can get a hold of them, there’s a higher chance of my memory returning fully. Every day is like a mystery to me. That accident was my fault. If I had not overdosed, my aunt would not have been speeding to get me to the ER. And now, she’s unconscious in a hospital bed.”

  By this time, I am crying. Leah draws close and embraces me in a tight hug.

  “Shh! Shh! Stop crying, please.”

  “I cannot help it,” I sob against her shirt.

  “Listen. Life is not always rosy, and trust me, many people have it worse than you do, only you haven’t met them. If you keep feeling sorry for yourself, you won’t be able to heal. Just take each day as it comes and you will be fine.”

  “You probably think that I’m too much of a bother, right?”

  Leah pulls back.

  “Nooo! Why would you even think that? I’m glad to have you as my friend. You’re smart, quirky, and lively. Plus beautiful too,” she adds with a chuckle.

  I join her, wiping my tears with the back of my hands.

  “Thank you for being a listening ear and a caring friend. What would I have done without you?”

  “Yeah, what would you have done without me?”

  We laugh again.

  “Are you really starting school on Mond
ay?”

  “Yeah. I feel I’m sufficiently better to handle school work.”

  “So it’s not because you are bored and tired of staying at home?” she asks with a smile. “School is fun, but sometimes, not so much.”

  “Boredom is part of the reason, yeah, but not the main reason. I feel I have wasted enough days of my life mooning around.”

  “I’m happy you’re starting, in that case. I cannot wait to come toot my horn in front of your house.”

  “Yeah, right. Thanks, girl,” I say. I’m feeling drowsy by this time.

  “No qualms.”

  The girl is sitting naked in front of a vanity mirror and brushing her hair. Behind her, the boy lies on the bed, watching, his arm supporting his head. She turns back and looks at him, and he winks. Then he stands up from the bed and walks up to her. Gently taking the brush from her, he drops it on the vanity table and pulls her up.

  He wraps his arms around her waist and begins to lick her face. Then he sticks his tongue into her mouth and they begin to kiss.

  I wake up.

  Today is Saturday. I look at the clock on my wall. It reads 10:47. I fell asleep while talking to Leah. I must have been very tired. The sun is streaming in through my curtain, and I can hear birds chirping a beautiful melody. If only my mood was like the elements. But I have a pounding headache, and I don’t feel too good. There are voices coming from downstairs. It seems Hazel has a visitor. I go into the bathroom and pour water on my face, then gargle some from the tap and spit it out before descending the stairs.

  It is Hazel alright, and . . . Leah. The both of them are having breakfast. Did she sleepover last night? They turn back as they hear my footsteps approach.

  “Cait,” Leah says. She is looking at me somehow, not in a bad way, but kind of with empathy. I suppose that she now sees me in a new light because of all I told her yesterday.

  “Leah. Good morning. Did you sleepover?”

  “No. Mom leaves for work very early on Saturdays, so Hazel called and asked me to come over for breakfast.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Sleep okay?” Hazel asks.

  “Like a log of wood. But I woke up with a pounding headache,” I say, exchanging looks with Leah. Thankfully, Hazel did not notice. And she must not have found out that I left the house last night, else she would have asked me about it.