What I've Done Page 4

  “It’s that obvious?” I answer, laughing with great care. I only hope the laugh doesn’t come off as being ditsy or overdone. But to my total embarrassment, my face becomes hot and I know I am blushing. My interaction with guys is fairly limited other than with Tommy Rogers, but he had started out as a friend. It doesn’t help that this stranger is so incredibly good looking he could be on the cover of a magazine.

  He shakes his dark head and sits in the empty seat beside me with a sly grin playing on his lips. “I didn’t mean to pry but I kind of saw you researching some things that a local would already know.”

  I glance back at the computer screen to see he is right—multiple internet tabs are still open, revealing everything I was researching. I scold myself silently for not being more careful.

  “So where exactly are you from?” he asks, the slightest scent of peppermint drifting toward me when he speaks.

  I have to look away to keep from blushing again. But I decide it is worse when my eyes fixate on his perfectly muscular physique that is visible beneath his tight t-shirt. I force myself to look up to meet his gaze.

  “Most recently, Texas,” I lie. “My parents are in the military and we had to move around a lot.” One of the websites revealed there to be a massive Marine Corps base nearby and I decide it would be reasonable enough to think we moved to the area for that. I hope he doesn’t ask me any questions about what my parents specifically do, because my knowledge of the Marine Corps ends with the fact about a base being nearby.

  Texas, however, popped into my head when I thought of my father. It had been his favorite place to perform and he used to tell me stories about how much fun the audiences were, dressed in their cowboy hats and boots.

  “Well you certainly don’t sound like you’re from Texas. I’d say more like the Midwest.”

  His eyes dance as he speaks, hinting that he is calling my bluff. But I brush the idea off—he has only just met me and would have no reason to doubt what I say. He continues flashing me that maddeningly stunning smile as I fidget in my seat.

  “We move a lot. I take it you live here?” I ask, hoping to take the attention off of me.

  I can’t figure out why he seems so interested in me in the first place. Is my new hair color really making me that much more attractive? Probably not, but I can’t decide what else may have changed except that I am a stranger to him, which to some people translates into interesting, I guess.

  He shrugs. “For now. I’m Gabe, by the way. And you are…?”

  His head is cocked to the side, waiting for my answer. Just the sound of his voice brings goose bumps to my skin in a delicious way. I stick my hands under my legs and hope he won’t notice them.

  “Tasha,” I answer, almost tripping over my tongue when I nearly forget to use the new name I chose.

  “Pretty name,” he smirks, raising one eyebrow. When I don’t have anything to say in response he turns his attention back to the computer in front of me. “I can tell you whatever you need to know about the area and I’m more interesting than a flat screen.”

  I laugh at this, although he certainly is more interesting than a flat screen—no argument there. “Thanks. My parents are gone a lot so they really haven’t had time to tell me much about anything and we just got into town. I don’t even know the name of my new school yet.”

  I wait patiently for a response to this, hoping he is still in high school and will give me the name of a school in the area. Rose needs to finish kindergarten and I know graduation is a priority if I want to make enough money one day to afford a place to live and raise Rose the way she deserves.

  “What part are you living in?” he asks.

  He has this rather annoying way of throwing questions at me, as if daring me to answer incorrectly. I eye him with an air of suspicion. Just because he is good looking doesn’t necessarily stop him from being a total lunatic. But our mother had brought home some real characters over the years, so I have become skilled at spotting a bad egg. There isn’t anything about Gabe that comes off as being the slightest bit menacing. Besides, we are in a very public place. He really would have to be crazy to try anything in front of all the people in the large building.

  “I don’t even know the address or anything,” I answer, attempting to sound distracted as I look over to my sister. “Our mom just dropped us off here.”

  “Us?” he asks, his voice filled with curiosity.

  “My little sister,” I answer, pointing to where she sits immersed in a pile of books. As we watch for a moment she turns another page of her book and the thrill of the story appears on her face.

  “And what is her name?” Gabe asks.

  Looking at him now I am on the fence whether to think this guy is as equally annoying as he is attractive. It feels like he is toying with me somehow.

  “Barbie,” I blurt out.

  The name didn’t sound as ridiculous earlier as it does just now when I tell him. I jump in surprise when he bursts out laughing. He holds his hand out when he realizes he had startled me but continues smiling like I have just said the funniest thing he has ever heard.

  “Sorry, but Barbie?” he asks. “I have to say, that is certainly most original.”

  I fake a polite chuckle. So maybe the name wasn’t the best choice, but I certainly hadn’t expected such a reaction from it. I tuck my newly brown hair behind my ear, trying to pretend I don’t notice him smiling quite intensely at me. “My mom was always obsessed with the doll, I guess. What about you? Do you go to school around here?”

  He is more muscular and mature in general than most of the guys in my grade back home so it seems possible he is already in college.

  “I’m a senior at Westerville High School,” he answers. “It’s a public school, just a few blocks from here. Maybe you live close enough that you’ll be going there, too.” There is definitely a sliver of hope imbedded in his voice that I don’t miss.

  “Maybe,” I agree.

  If I can somehow make it happen, it would be nice to know there would be one person that would talk to me there and maybe help me find my way around. But there is something about this whole conversation with Gabe that seems amiss. Hot guys usually don’t give me the time of day and he is almost too interested in me even though we have only just met. Feeling uncomfortable all at once, I stand.

  Gabe frowns, seeming to be genuinely disappointed. “Do you have to leave?”

  “I have a few other errands to run before our mother gets here,” I say.

  Rose is still spread out on the floor of the children’s section, totally engrossed in a book about fairies. There are many kids playing noisily around her but she doesn’t even flinch when one jumps over her and another yells from inches away at her side.

  “Can I show you and your sister around later?” Gabe asks. He stands close, his body towering over my much shorter frame. The heat from him causes a major shiver to pass through me. I attempt to swallow but my throat won’t move.

  Why he would want to invite my little sister along is also a bit odd but I wonder if maybe he just really is different and is just trying to be nice. Then again, maybe what I take as flirting is just a sympathetic gesture on his part. He is far too good looking to not have a whole gaggle of friends out there somewhere. I then realize I don’t even know where Rose and I will be later, if I even do decide to meet up with this total stranger. I hope to return to the yellow house again once it is dark, but we have no plans for the rest of the day.

  “Let’s try this,” Gabe says, grabbing a pen from the table behind us. “I’ll write down my phone number and you can call me if you decide you have time to hang out later. There are so many cool things to see in the city that I can show you. I don’t want you to feel any pressure to meet up, but I think you’d have a lot of fun.”

  He reaches out for my hand with hesitation, watching for my approval as he does so, then holds it while scribbling numbers on the back. He may as well be branding me with a red-hot poker—the warmth from his
touch spreads through me and is absorbed by every part of my body. His eyes dart back to mine, the recognition in them revealing the fact that he had felt the heat that passed between us as well.

  “Okay, great,” I say, pulling my hand back to my side. “Thanks. I’ll call you later.” I can’t meet his eyes with mine again so I flash a smile in his general direction before hurrying over to gather Rose.

  “I can’t wait to hear from you,” I hear him say to my back.

  The attention he had given me was actually pretty flattering, even if it did make me a bit uncomfortable as well. I make myself busy gathering Rose and helping her return books to the shelves. When I look back to where Gabe was standing, I find that he is already gone.

  CHAPTER 3

  Rose and I spend the next few hours hanging out at the same beach. It is free entertainment for my sister and it gives me time to think. I am exhausted from the events of the previous day but I can’t stop thinking about Gabe and his alluring eyes. It felt good to have contact with someone since arriving out here–it doesn’t help that I am afraid and totally alone in all of this. Gabe was so friendly and willing to show us around. If nothing else it would be nice to have a friend to lean on; although I couldn’t tell him all of my secrets, I could at least have someone other than a six year old to talk to.

  After struggling with myself for probably the better part of an hour, I finally decide to take a chance and call the only connection I have in the new city.

  One of the most obvious, glaring flaws to being poor in high school has always been that I have never owned a cell phone. At the beginning of the school year I carried a smart phone around that I found in a recycling bin at the public library. The battery had been dead right from the start but I pretended to text on it all the same and would say it was taken away for a week as punishment for something if anyone asked for my number. My friend Tasha began to grow suspicious after a while, so I eventually “lost” it. For the most part it made me appear to fit in with everyone else.

  Fortunately, there are still public phones in existence and they are usually fairly easy to find if you know where to look. I remember seeing a phone further down on the beach when we first arrived so I take Rose back in that direction. She plays with her Barbie in the sand next to me while I muster the courage to make the call.

  Gabe answers on the first ring with a deep “hey.” I am momentarily unable to speak. His voice is so warm and welcoming, kind of like how you hear your favorite song on the radio but rather than singing along, you just sit and listen to it in awe.

  When I snap out of my little trance, I find myself wondering what it is about this guy that made me want to trust him and call him like this. Rose and I need to be on our own to make sure we will be safe and trusting an outsider could eventually lead to us being thrown in foster care.

  “Hello?” Gabe asks, his low voice urging me to speak.

  “Hey…” I finally will myself to answer, although flustered. “It’s Tasha from the library. My sister and I are hanging out on Pacific Beach if you still want to meet up.”

  I try not to let the nervousness become too apparent in my voice. Hearing him speak again causes me to break out in goose bumps, which aren’t entirely unpleasant.

  “Perfect. Have you guys had supper yet?” he asks, sounding excited.

  I don’t know how to answer. We have limited emergency money left, but Rose still has to eat. She had an apple and granola bar for breakfast, then a hotdog for lunch. There has got to be a way for me to make more money or we won’t even make it a week on our own. The guilt that still follows me after stealing made it a horrible experience and I hope not to ever have to do again. I know I can go a little longer without another meal but I am not about to let Rose go hungry.

  “I did, but Barbie didn’t like anything that our mother made for supper.” Pretending our mother is still alive brings a twang of guilt to my heart and I flinch at her name coming from my mouth.

  “There is a great little pizzeria down there. I’m guessing Barbie likes pizza?”

  The mocking way in which he says her name is unnerving. I begin to wonder if maybe I am wrong to be so trusting of him. “Don’t all six year olds?” I answer.

  I glance at my little sister who is busy squatting in the sand and running her hand through the fine grain. She watches in amazement as it falls through her fingers.

  Rose is definitely not like any of the other six year olds I have met. She has always been very quiet around strangers and knows how to entertain herself with the simplest of objects. Her teacher at pre-school had once described her behavior as “eerie,” which had caused my intoxicated mother to spew a line of swear words in response. Eventually the police were called to remove my mother from the school when she wouldn’t calm down. My life has been filled with never-ending embarrassing moments just like that one.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Gabe’s voice says through the phone.

  “We’ll be here,” I reply less enthusiastically, not totally sure we really will be.

  There is a slow pause. “Is everything okay?”

  A growing fear ripples through me with his question. He is so observant and it is becoming increasingly difficult to lie around him. I think maybe I have made a mistake in calling him. When I don’t answer he continues on.

  “Tasha, listen. I know we just met and everything, but I get the feeling you need a friend. You just seemed, I don’t know, lonely or something. If you don’t want to hang out I understand, but I just thought I’d give you guys some company.”

  I struggle with my own thoughts, not sure how I want to answer. I do think it would be majorly beneficial to have someone that I know as a friend at school. For the most part I have always taken care of Rose on my own, only occasionally using Adele from next door as a sitter. But that was when we had my mother’s public assistance money. I will need to get a job in order for us to survive, and who will watch Rose then? But trusting Gabe is still risky—I could lose my little sister if he discovers the truth about us.

  His voice becomes gentle when he interrupts my thoughts. “Tell you what. I will go down to the beach either way. If you want to see me again, stick around and we’ll have a great time. If not, keep my number somewhere just in case you decide you want me as a friend later on. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I answer timidly.

  “I hope to see you soon, Tasha.”

  This time the hopeful tone his voice takes on cannot be ignored. I place the phone back on its cradle and watch my little sister continue to play in the sand. Although bringing a total stranger into our lives can be potentially dangerous, we have to take a chance.

  We will not be able to survive for very long on our own.

  * * *

  The sun begins to set on our second day in California—the view of the multi-colored hues over the dark blue ocean is simply breathtaking. Rose splashes happily in the small waves that remain in the early evening while I sit close by in the sand, watching her with my arms wrapped around my legs and my chin resting on my knees.

  I take a deep breath in, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. The California climate is so unlike the harsh seasons of Minnesota. I know it is something we will effortlessly adjust to. I have always despised the brittle cold winters in the Midwest, even though I had enjoyed the times my father had taken me sledding as a little girl.

  By now my mother’s body is probably lying on a cold table in some morgue. I have no idea what kind of situation constitutes the need for an autopsy, but I guess they will be more concerned about her identity than anything at this point. Since I had left her without any identification, maybe they are going through a list of all the passengers. My mother had given a false name when buying the tickets, so that would only provide them with another dead end. It will probably come down to the social workers back home becoming concerned when they are unable to reach my mother and decide to start a search of their own.

  My heart seems a little less burdened wh
en it dawns on me—my mother is finally at peace. We haven’t gone to church since I was a little girl but I have always believed there is a heaven. I still remember the prayer my father used to say with me at bedtime—if I die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take—and hope that is true for her.

  My mother hadn’t always been a raging drunk or a drug addict. There was a time she was so lovely and full of life. She would make our family meals, clean our house and do all the things mothers were supposed to do. Her laughter was once contagious and there was a sparkle in her eye that was brightest when she was with my father.

  My father had always believed in angels and spoke of them often to me, although not in the same paranoid delusions my mother would later have. Hopefully if my mother is now among the angels in heaven, she is back to the radiant person I remember her being as a little girl. She may have been the reason for all of our troubles and misery but I still held on to the mother I had known as a young child and my love for her never died.

  Looking back at the memories involving my father, it seems a whole lifetime ago since I was last really happy and knew I was really loved. I begin to cry for the loss of my father, as well as for the mother that once loved me unconditionally and didn’t have any addictions. Once I let the tears flow it becomes almost impossible to make them stop. It has been so long since I have let myself feel that kind of sorrow.

  A sudden flare from the sinking sun becomes so bright I hold my hand over my eyes to block the intense light. When it finally dissipates I lower my arm and see a figure walking toward me. My heart thumps wildly in my chest when I realize it is Gabe. He is dressed in nothing more than a pair of long black striped swim trunks, holding a pizza box in one hand and a large cloth bag in the other. I become nervous at the thought of him bringing supper to us. How am I ever going to pay him back?

  I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand before he can see them, wishing I at least had a tube of mascara with me, but I know luxuries like that will have to wait until the basic necessities have been taken care of.