What I've Done Read online

  “Do you surf?”

  He sounds amused at the idea. I tell myself it is my still somewhat pale skin that makes it hard to envision me as the surfing type. Everyone I have met in California has a deeper and healthy glow to their skin, this guy being no exception. Hopefully the time Rose and I have been spending at the beach would eventually bring the same glow to my own skin.

  “No,” I answer. “But a friend is going to give me lessons.”

  He chuckles, as if to himself. “I’d love to see that.”

  This guy is seriously difficult to read. Why he is so amused by my ability or inability to do anything has me puzzled.

  “You don’t even know me. For all you know I could be a serious athlete.”

  He turns to smirk at me. “Are you a serious athlete?”

  “No.” I blush when he calls me on it. He laughs in his deep voice and turns back to the sidewalk ahead of us. We are far away from the questionable part of the hood we had been in. I can’t decide if he intends to walk me all the way to the shop. We walk along in silence for a couple of minutes, both of us busy with our own thoughts.

  “I’m Eli, by the way,” he says by way of introduction.

  “Tasha,” I reply. “What exactly was it you were doing back there?”

  “I had to visit a friend in the neighborhood. You never told me what you were doing there. What kind of business did you have with that big guy back there?”

  He is scolding me in a way that reminds me of my friend Tasha’s father. Her dad seemed to be angry at Tasha quite often but Tasha told me it was more of a protection thing and he usually doted on her.

  “You mean Shorty? He and I go way back,” I tease. Eli scowls at me with disbelief so I lift one shoulder the slightest bit, brushing him off. “I was hoping he could help me with something.”

  “Well you don’t look like the kind of person who is into drugs, but something tells me that guy doesn’t sell knock-off handbags, either.”

  He assesses me again with those cool blue eyes and I try hard not to let him see me shiver.

  “I’m trying to help a friend of mine out. She was too scared to go into that neighborhood on her own, but she really needed some papers that are difficult to find.”

  I scold myself for hinting a bit too much at the real truth.

  “Promise me you won’t go back there.” He stops walking to pin me down with his eyes. “I mean it, Tasha. There has got to be some other way for you to get what she needs. If you go back there it is likely you will either get murdered…or something else I don’t even want to think about.”

  I study his expression carefully. For having just met me he seems unusually protective. Is California filled with guys who are hopelessly attracted to girls in need of some kind of saving? That would at least explain why the state is so overpopulated.

  I give him my best dramatic sigh. “Okay, I promise.”

  He exhales in relief. “Maybe I can help you. What exactly is she looking for?” As he continues to hold my gaze, there is an unexplained feeling that I can trust him coursing through me.

  “It’s kind of like top secret. She could get into a lot of trouble if anyone found out.” I am not always so convincing when making up lies like this on the fly, so I hope he will accept it is for someone other than me.

  “Who am I going to tell? I don’t know you or this friend whose name I don’t even know.”

  A sly smirk plays on my lips. “You could be an under-cover cop.”

  “Ah, yes, because this is like an episode of Law and Order, right? I can tell by your accent that you are not from around here, Tasha. This may be California, but Hollywood is still miles away.”

  His voice is teasing but his expression remains grave. I decide that I like it better when he is mocking me. His smile and deep rolling laugh do even more amazing things to please my senses.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I so do not have an accent.”

  Someone from another state once told me the same thing, but as far as I can tell I sound just like everyone else on television. People from Minnesota aren’t a bunch of stereotypical Norwegians that always say dumb things like “you betcha” and “ya know.” That is a North Dakota thing.

  “Sure you do. You just don’t hear it, I guess. Where are you from? Iowa?”

  “No!” I yell in surprise. How had he guessed so close to the truth? Embarrassed, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I have actually lived all over. My parents are both Marines.”

  It is easiest to keep my lies straight if I stick to the same stories I told Gabe, but the lie now sounds ridiculous to my own ears.

  “What would your friend need forged papers for? What is she running from?”

  His bemused eyes sparkle in the sunlight, making me think he isn’t falling for my stories after all. He even seems to be putting more emphasis on the word friend.

  “She has the kind of life you need to escape from,” I answer truthfully. “She just wants a chance to start over and live a happy life, once and for all.”

  I think I probably blink too many times when the truth begins to resonate from me.

  “Tell me about it.” He mumbles more to himself than to me. He scratches his head as he thinks for a minute. “I think I know of someone that can help you. Are you free later tonight?”

  He peers up at me with those amazing eyes, making me want to tell him I am free anytime he wants me. I bite my lip thoughtfully. I really need to get my hands on those new identifications for us, but am I seriously going to trust this total stranger to help me? I absently chew on my already stubby fingernails as I think it over.

  “I could bring him by the surf shop where you work.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “He’s more the type of guy you should be doing business with.” His feet kick at something on the sidewalk as I ponder his latest proposal.

  “Would you come with him?” I ask hopefully. The need to see this guy again is so preoccupying I can’t ignore it, even if I were to actually try.

  His attention jumps from the ground to me. “Of course.”

  His first full-on, genuine smile since I met him creeps onto his face. My entire body becomes alive, tingling from head to toe in response. “How soon can he come? I’ll be there again tomorrow after school.”

  After the scare with the news broadcast showing our photos to the world it feels more important than ever to secure our new identities. The further we can get away from who we once had been in Minnesota the better. As much as I hate to admit it, there may come a time that we are forced to leave San Diego, too.

  “We’ll meet you there around this same time. You want to show me where we’re going?”

  We are just standing down the beach from the shop and I need to get back, but bringing Eli with me may cause Kalia to have questions that would concern Gabe.

  “Have you heard of Tropical Pipedream?”

  He dips his head in acknowledgment. “I know where that is. I’ll see you there.”

  I meet his eyes again. “Thanks for saving me back there.”

  He smiles at me, but there is a hint of more scolding behind it. “Just remember, you promised to be more careful next time.”

  I stand watching him walk away for a moment, trying to sort through all these new, unforeseen feelings I am having. Now there is yet another unexplained attraction towards yet another total stranger. For someone who hasn’t had a real boyfriend before, it is all very overwhelming.

  * * *

  When I return to Svetlana’s home after work there is a sleek black car in the driveway. My pace quickens when I hope this means I will finally get to meet our new foster father. Immediately upon entering the house I find my little sister sitting on the massive leather couch by herself, looking like she is about to burst into tears.

  “R- Barbie?” I ask, almost forgetting to use her alternate name. “What’s wrong?”

  Her large eyes latch on to me. They are filled with building tears and her little lip is quivering. I burst
forward to sit beside her and wrap my arm around her. A loud crashing noise comes from our foster parents’ room nearby, followed by a whole lot of yelling. I hold Rose protectively closer to me. All at once the room is silent again, aside from our labored breaths.

  “Is Svetlana home?” I whisper.

  Rose dips her head in a small nod. “She’s in her room with Markus.”

  Markus is our new foster father. I immediately fear the worst—he is hurting our foster mother. I had seen it too many times with our mother and the thought of it happening again is enough to make me literally sick. If that’s truly what is happening then Rose and I will have no choice but to run away again.

  “Do you know what they’re doing in there?” I ask, hoping she knows something I don’t and can explain what we are hearing.

  “No.” Her timid voice sounds as if she is on the verge of crying. “Svetlanya told me to wait out here for her.”

  “Stay here a minute. I will be right back,” I tell her, standing back on my feet.

  I creep barefoot across the marble floors with great care so as to not make any noise. I pause outside their bedroom door to place my ear up against it. There are muffled voices apparently having some kind of quiet argument.

  “Svetlana?” I ask, tapping on the door. “Everything okay in there?”

  My breathing is ragged as I wait for an answer. The voices stop their heated exchange and footsteps approach the door.

  An obese man sticks his head out from behind the partially open door. His chin is seemingly lost in the rolls of his neck and his round head is mostly bald with only a few patches of light brown hair sweeping across his sweaty forehead. He wears a white, pin striped dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a dark green tie hangs loosely around his husky neck. Although he is a large man, there is a certain overall softness to him, kind of like a teddy bear.

  “You must be Tasha,” he says with a timid smile. His voice is smooth like honey.

  “Yes I am. Is Svetlana in there?”

  He pulls his head back through the open door without a further word and Svetlana soon appears in his place, all smiles. But she can’t fool me. Her hair is wild around her face and there is a bead of perspiration at her hair line.

  “Svetlana, are you okay?” As much as I like to think I can simply step in and save her from her husband who appears to be quite large, I know there is nothing I can do to help short of dialing 9-1-1. My hand begins to search my pocket for the borrowed cell phone.

  “Tasha! How was your work?”

  “What is going on in there?” I demand, pushing forcefully on the door.

  The door swings all the way open to reveal what my foster parents are trying to hide. In the center of the sprawling room with a tremendous view of the ocean sits a large, four-poster bed that is only partially assembled. There are unused nuts and bolts scattered around in the lush carpet beside a book of written directions. A broken vase lies on the floor beside one of the post’s edges.

  Markus sighs. “It is okay. I promised her I would get a new vase once we have this monster bed put together. This is a bit embarrassing, I’m afraid.”

  He also has a trace of a Russian accent, although his is not quite as thick. Maybe I had been too quick to assume Markus had found Svetlana any other way than through old fashioned dating. They seem to be doing nothing other than trying to assemble a bed together. I have to remind myself there are more people like my friend Tasha who come from normal families. Not everyone has to deal with drugs and physical abuse.

  “He thinks he can do this but I tell him he need carpenter,” Svetlana says with a roll of her eyes.

  She is not at all distressed by whatever had been going on prior to the vase falling. I allow my breath to leave my lungs when relief comes to me in waves. The horrible events of my past had made me fear the worst of these two people that have been nothing but loving and caring.

  “Okay. We just thought maybe you were having some kind of…argument.”

  Svetlana’s eyes grow large when she realizes what I’m telling her. “Oh, Tasha! I am sorry! My Markus has this gift delivered to me today when you are at school. I tell Barbie to wait so we do not hurt her with the big bed parts.”

  A smile eventually finds its way to my lips. “No, that’s okay. It’s a very nice present.”

  Markus seems to be two steps behind. His face finally registers that he understands what I thought was happening and he draws his wife briskly to his side. “Oh no—I would never hurt my sweet Svetlana! There is nothing you need to be afraid of in this house, Tasha.”

  My shoulders fall. I am now embarrassed that I had jumped to such a terrible conclusion. “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have barged in like that. I was just worried.”

  Svetlana steps towards me with her arms outreached, but on a second thought she folds them back to her chest and smiles shyly. “Please do not be sorry. We do not want you to be scared. I make dessert and we all laugh at misunderstanding, yes?”

  “Yes,” I answer, smiling back at her.

  Her tender kindness brings tears to my eyes. I don’t have the stomach to watch another abusive relationship unfold in front of Rose, but it is clear our new foster parents are nothing to be afraid of. It is one less worry I have to carry.

  * * *

  Gabe is uncharacteristically quiet when I meet him at school the next day before our first class. He walks stiffly beside me and doesn’t even flash me his trademark smile.

  “Is everything okay?” I finally ask him as we are walking to the lunchroom. I am beginning to wonder if I had offended him with something I said.

  A group of redheaded girls and boys pass us and I turn to take another look when all I can see is red. I can’t decide if they are part of a sextuplet family or just hanging out together because they all have the same color of hair. Either way it is a little odd, but then again, a lot of the things I have been seeing out here have been a little off the wall from what I am used to.

  Gabe takes a lunch tray and holds it out to me, but his eyes won’t meet mine. “Kalia told me you took a pretty long break yesterday. What was that all about?”

  There are so many things wrong with what he just said. Why would Kalia report to him about my break? Why does he care what I do on my break and why is it any of his business? The defenses I have relied on for so many years now kick into high gear.

  I take the lunch tray from him and hold it up for the short haired woman with a sad face that stands behind the counter to throw a lump of mystery meat onto it. “I had some things I needed to do. Is there something wrong with that?”

  It doesn’t seem necessary for him to know what I am doing every minute of my day, even though I had been doing something he wouldn’t approve of. It is a little unnerving how he is acting all possessive for the first time. After watching my mother go through more than one relationship with a man who demanded to know what she was doing every second of the day, I am not about to fall into that kind of a pattern.

  “I just worry about you. I want to make sure everything is okay, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell what is going on.”

  He is trying to act casual about the whole thing but there is still this glaring vibe of distrust coming from him. I watch him for a minute but he still won’t make eye contact with me. A nervous eruption of laughter bursts through my lips even though I do not like where the conversation seems to be heading.

  “You don’t have to worry about it, Gabe. Everything is fine.” I hope my calming words will defuse his mood before it escalates. He seems to be growing more irritated by the second.

  He finally looks at me but I am almost fearful of the dark look crossing his face. “You told me yourself you’re afraid of something.”

  ”It was nothing,” I assure him, bringing my tray to the cashier.

  I don’t know why I don’t tell him about the fake identifications I am trying to get, except that I don’t think he will appreciate the neighborhood I had visited on my
own. But I don’t want to have to explain anything having to do with Eli, either.

  We walk to the outside food court together in silence. Finding a spot in the sea of high school kids where the two of us can squeeze in does not prove to be easy. I set my tray down next to a seemingly normal girl with curly black hair and facial piercings. She looks the other direction when I attempt to smile in greeting as I sit down. Gabe is still standing so I turn to him, wondering what he is waiting for.

  “You really may want to think twice about keeping secrets from me,” he says.

  His words sound like a glaring threat and bring a cold chill to my skin. The dark haired girl behind me makes a quiet oooo noise, causing her friends to burst into laughter. His completely turned demeanor makes me want to laugh out loud, as well. There is no way this is the same Gabe that has been nothing but kind to me the past few weeks. I want to ask him if there is some kind of medication he forgot to take today but think better of it.

  He finally sits beside me but doesn’t have any more to say as we eat together. I can feel his eyes bore through me more than once from the corner of my eye before we are finished.

  We go to our remaining classes as usual, although he doesn’t shake the attitude or the dark look that has taken residence on his face. When the final bell of the day rings he mumbles something about seeing me tomorrow and he is gone.

  For the first time I question if Gabe is truly looking out for my best interests or if I had made a mistake in trusting him.

  * * *

  When I arrive at the shop after school I am relieved that at least Kalia is her usual chipper self. We scurry to get a handful of new swimsuit displays in the toddler’s section put together before the usual after school rush of kids comes in.

  I watch my boss thoughtfully as she is finishing up. If she is as close to Gabe as I think she is, maybe she can help me to understand what I could have done to make him angry. Of course I still think there may be more of a story between the two of them than neither of them is sharing. Hopefully with a little digging I will find out if Gabe has been straight with me. Our conversation about my activities earlier in the day is still bothering me.