Twisted (5 page)

CHAPTER 8

I
'm sprawled across the bed, feet dangling over one side, arms over the other. I can just reach the edge of the rug, and I unravel a piece of the fringe.

Bingley's nose pokes through the door. I pick up my sneaker and throw it. “Get out!”

He yowls and scampers away.

My head is pounding, but I'm too lazy to get up and hunt for some Advil. I roll over and stare at the ceiling. Is that why Aidan left home? To go to the hospital? Or did that happen
after
he left? Why didn't he tell me? I would have come to see him. I hate that he was there all alone.

There's no one to ask.

Except Aidan. And I can't do that. Because I promised Marla.

I hear keys being tossed on the hall table. Aidan's home.

His footsteps pause briefly outside my door then continue on.

I get up and follow him into the kitchen.

He's hanging off the fridge door. “You must be hungry,” he says without turning. “Can I make you something to eat?”

“That'd be great!”

His head twists around, eyebrows raised in surprise at my oddly enthusiastic response. “Okay. I think there are some bagels down in the freezer. Be right back.”

A carton of eggs sits on the counter. As I pull down a bowl from the cupboard and start breaking shells against the edge, I worry about how hard it's going to be to act like I don't know anything.

Aidan returns holding a plastic bag full of bagels. He looks pale.
“There's a pile of wet clothes on top of the dryer,” he says. “Were you doing a wash?”

“No.”

“Well, who …” He puts it together. “Marla was here?”

Uh-oh.
“Um, yeah … She was just leaving when I woke up. Said she was late for work.”

“So …” He licks his lips. “You guys didn't —”

“It was strictly a hi-bye thing,” I say.

“Good, good.” He nods. “I mean … I want you to meet her and everything, I just hoped maybe we'd all go for dinner or something.”

“Sure. I'd like that,” I say. “But not anytime soon. Not till I can help and chip in.”

“I'm talking one meal, here,” he sighs.

“Yeah. One meal,” — I sweep my arm around the room — “a place to live,” — I point to the eggs — “groceries. I want to pay my own way. As soon as I can. Retroactive.”

“Christ. You're so stubborn,” he says, pouring the eggs into a frying pan. “Fine. Your share so far comes to about a buck-fifty.” He reaches over and drops a bagel into the toaster. “I'll figure out the interest later.”

When the eggs are ready he divides them onto two plates. “I'm out of cheese slices. Want ketchup?”

“Yup.”

He takes the bottle from the fridge. I hear the ketchup burp as he squeezes. When he sets the dish in front of me there's the outline of a red happy face on top of my eggs. It catches me off guard, and I laugh out loud.

“Throwback Thursday, huh?” He grins. “There's no charge for the ketchup, by the way.” He unfolds a copy of
The Coast
, places it on the table beside his breakfast, and begins to read.

I smile and let my mind wander — all the way back to that first happy face.

I storm out of the house, slamming the screen door behind me. My eyes sweep the yard. There's no sign of anyone around. I walk to the edge of our property, where the land drops away, down to the beach below. I grab on to the stair rail and lean out so I get a good view of the shoreline. There's Aidan, a few metres from the bottom of the steps, ankle deep in the water, skipping rocks.

“Did you do this?!” I holler, waving the piece of yellow paper.

He looks up at me.

I scramble down the rickety steps. When I get to him I hold the Post-it note right up to his face so it's touching his nose. “Care to explain?”

He laughs and pushes my arm away.

“Well?” I demand.

“Calm down. It was only a joke. You're always in such a bad mood.”

“Stay out of my room.”

“It was like half a foot, just to put it on your light switch.”

“O.U.T.”

“You can't hate me forever, you know. We're kind of stuck with each other.”

“I don't hate you. I don't know you yet.”

“Okay. Let's do something then … ” He looks up the beach. “Let's walk around the Cape. See if we can get to the other side before the tide comes up.”

“Um.” I chew on my lip. “I …”

“Come on. It'll be fun.”

“Uh …” I can't think of an excuse. “Okay …”

From then on, we became brother and sister, best friends. What helped strengthen our bond was our mutual dislike for Vince. We could handle anything as long as we had each other.

I look over at him. Aidan, who always knew when something was wrong and would leave happy faces in my sneakers, my binders, my lunch bag, on my frosty window, in the sand on the beach, all for me, to cheer me up … sometimes to say he was sorry. But now he's Aidan from the psych ward. What did I miss? Why couldn't I tell when something was wrong with
him
?

I have a hundred questions I'm dying to ask, fire at him like a machine gun. But I can't, so I keep my lips mashed together tight, in case the words try to fly out on their own.

The food turns cold on my plate. How long will I have to pretend? Should I really care so much about betraying Marla's confidence? Someone I've known for five minutes? I flash back to those wrists covered in scars. I don't dare break my promise.

The black and white kitty-cat clock hanging on the wall ticks loudly, its tail swinging one way, its eyes rolling the other.

“Well, they trashed every movie I planned to see,” Aidan says, his fork clattering onto the plate. As he turns the paper to a new page he notices my untouched eggs. “You okay?”

“Not as hungry as I thought I was, I guess.” I pick up my bagel and wrap it in a napkin. “I'll take this with me. I'm going to head out. Got stuff to do.”

I START WALKING UP
the street, retracing my steps from yesterday. I take a couple of bites of my now hard bagel then toss it in a garbage can. There's a newspaper vending machine right next to it, and I dig out some change. Paper in hand, my inner homing device leads me directly to the coffee shop. I'm not surprised — it's one of the only places I know how to get to. Where else would I go?

The same girl is behind the counter when I go up to order. “Medium vanilla latte, please.”

At least she doesn't roll her eyes this time. Progress.

I turn to find a seat. The place is pretty full. Then I see Liam across the room, sitting at my table by the fireplace. He's staring into a laptop screen and holding a mug against his chin.

No point pretending I don't see him. I like it here. I know I'm going to keep coming back. If he thinks I'm some kind of stalker, then so be it. Taking a deep breath, I make my way over.

“Hey,” I say.

He looks up. “Hey.” He pushes out one of the other chairs with his foot. “Fancy meeting you here. Take a load off.”

“Thanks.” I unzip my jacket and drape it over my seat.

“So how's it going with the bro?”

“Oh, you know, it's going.” I peel back the tab on my coffee lid and take a sip to test the temperature.

Noticing my newspaper, he slides his laptop to one side of the tiny table. “Here. You want some room to read that?”

“I'm good. I'm only interested in the classifieds — easily foldable.”

“Ah. The big job hunt.”

I hold up my cup. “These lattes ain't gonna buy themselves.”

“I'll give you a hint. If you can downgrade to just plain ol' coffee, order it in a mug and you get free refills.”

“I dunno. The latte's in my blood now.”

He laughs, closes his laptop, and sets it on an empty chair. “Let's get out the want ads, have a look then. Anything particular in mind?”

After pulling out the classified section, I lay the rest of the paper on the floor. “The CEO of a major conglomerate would be kind of cool, but I guess I can't afford to be too picky.”

“Plus, rarely are those CEO jobs part-time. It'd be hard to juggle with school,” he says all serious, but I see the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Good point.” I nod.

“So what
are
you looking for?”

“My mom owned a bakery café type place,” I say. “I worked there after school. That's my only real experience. The odd babysitting, of course.”

His eyes widen. “Erin!” he shouts to the girl behind the counter.

She pretends not to hear.

“Erin! Come here!”

Sighing loudly, she does something to the cash register, comes toward our table, stops halfway, and crosses her arms. “What?”

“Did Janet find someone to cover Lauren's shifts yet?”

“How should
I
know?” she asks sarcastically. “Anything else?”

“No. Thanks, Erin. You can go back to spreading your rays of sunshine.”

“Gee, can I?” She returns to the counter, shaking her head.

“She's secretly in love with me,” Liam whispers.

“Yeah,” I laugh, “obviously. So … what's with Lauren?”

“She works here. Another student. She's out with a concussion. Hockey. We need someone to fill in. You'd be perfect.”

I
would
be perfect.

“It could turn into something longer,” he continues, “what with exams coming. Then there's Christmas break. Most of the staff is students, so they go home and stuff.”

“I would
love
to work here,” I say eagerly.

“I'll see Janet tonight — she's the owner. Then I'll let you know, probably by tomorrow. Give me your cell number.”

“Uh. Don't have one.”

“Email?”

I do have email, but I don't remember seeing a computer at Aidan's. “I'll just come by.”

“Okay.”

I finish my coffee and try to keep my excitement in check. Could it really be this easy? I fold up the classifieds, add them to the rest of the paper on the floor. My eyes land on Liam's laptop sitting on the chair. I should try to get a message to Caroline. I'm a shitty friend. It's been a couple of days, and I know she's probably wondering if I'm still alive. “Speaking of email … would you mind if I checked mine?”

He's texting on his phone. “Sure, help yourself.”

His laptop takes a second to wake up. “It's asking for a password.” I turn it toward him so he can key it in.

“L.Y.N.N.I.E,” he says, still focused on his phone.

I shrug and type the letters. “Lynnie?” I ask. “Let me guess, your first pet.”

He chuckles to himself and finally looks up. “No. My girlfriend.”

CHAPTER 9

“O
h. Right. Girlfriend.” I laugh and wave my hand in the air. “Pet. What was I thinking? Lynnie's not a pet name.” I want to stop talking, but words keep tumbling out. “Like, who's going to name a dog Lynnie, right?”

Liam gives me a funny look. “Well, not a dog. A cat maybe.”

I rub the back of my neck, like I'm seriously debating the dog/cat thing. “Yeah,” I nod. “Maybe a cat.”

He gives me another funny look. “I'm getting a refill. You want anything?”

“Nope. Nope, I'm good.”

While he's up at the counter, I take a moment to congratulate myself.
Well done, Lyssa. You
are
the queen of smooth. Did you actually think he didn't have a girlfriend? A guy like that?
Not that it even makes a difference. I wasn't thinking about him like that anyway … That's the
last
thing I need.

“So yeah. Done deal,” I say out loud.

A woman at the next table looks up from her book.

I flash her a smile before ducking behind Liam's laptop screen.

He comes back to the table. “Success?”

“Sorry?”

“Did you check your email?”

Caroline!
“Um. Yes … just finishing up.” I quickly log on to my email. There are four messages from Caroline. All with the same subject line: “???????!!!!!!!” I don't bother reading them and type in,
I'm here. I'm fine. Don't worry. Hoping to get a cellphone soon. Will fill you in then. Xo, L.

As soon as I press the “send” button, I feel guilty about my lack of information. This is the kind of thing that will make Caroline's head explode.

“All done. Thanks,” I say and slide the laptop back. “Guess I should get going.” I feed my arms into the sleeves of my jacket while it's still hanging off the chair.

“I'll see you tomorrow though, right? I usually pop in for some breakfast if you want to come by then.”

“You really think you'll have an answer for me that soon?”

“Oh yeah. Janet will be in tonight to do office work. Don't sweat it. She loves me. It's in the bag.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You think
everybody
loves you.”

He grins. “What can I say? Have you met me?”

THAT NIGHT I DREAM
about Liam. We're having dinner with Vince and my mom — she's still alive. She reaches across the table and hands Liam a set of keys. “The café. For you and Lynnie. A gift from us.”

“But I'm not Lynnie,” I tell her.

“I know,” she says. “Lynnie's right there.”

I look over my shoulder to where she's pointing. There's no one there. Only darkness.

My eyes fly open. It takes a moment for me to remember where I am. The clock says 8:07 a.m. I flick back the covers. Then I see my door.

It's open. Just an inch or so. Again.

I step out into the hall. “Hello?” No answer. I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the door. Aidan probably checked on me when he got home last night, or maybe he peeked in to see if I was awake before he left this morning.

After a hot shower, I throw on some clothes and grab my jacket off the hall bench. I'm coffee shop bound. I'm dying to find out if I have a job.

The car's not in the driveway. The past couple of days, Aidan's schedule has been pretty much the same. Gone early in the morning. Home for a while. Then gone again until late at night. I wonder if he ever takes a day off.

The wind chill is brutal, and I zip my jacket up as far as it will go. As I walk my mind drifts back to Marla, and how I'm sworn to secrecy. I wish Aidan would just sit me down and tell me everything so that it's all out in the open. Why doesn't he?

Liam must have seen me coming because when I step inside the shop, he's dangling an apron from his finger. “Welcome, coffee wench.”

A huge smile spreads across my face. “Really?”

He nods and tosses me the apron. “Suit up.”

“Now?”

“Unless you have something better to do.”

“No, no. I'm good to go.” I take off my jacket and slip the apron over my head. As I wrap the ties around my waist, I can't stop smiling.

“I offered to train you,” Liam says. “I don't think you're emotionally prepared to work with Erin yet.”

“Gotcha.”

“Plus, I figured it would be an easy gig,” he says as he holds up a binder, “as I've got to write a paper on genetics. Quieter here than at the apartment with three roommates.”

My smile fades. “Yeah, but, you're going to be behind the counter with me, till I know what I'm doing …”

“You know how to use a cash register?”

I look over at the machine. It looks like Mom's. “Yeah.”

“Debit machine?”

“Yeah, but —”

“Congratulations. You've just completed your training.” He pulls out a chair and dumps his books on the table.

“You're kidding me, right?”

“Relax. I'll be right here.”

“But what about all the fancy coffees? I don't know how to make any of those.”

“I believe in learning as you go. We'll worry about it when someone orders one.”

“But —”

“Shhhh.” He puts a finger to his lips and holds up his binder again. “I'm trying to do research.”

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Thank God the place is spattered with only a few people, and everyone seems to be already drinking something. I go and stand behind the counter and pray that the next person who walks in doesn't order anything difficult.

There's a laminated menu with all the prices lying beside the register. I pick it up and start memorizing.

“It says the muffins and scones are baked fresh daily,” I call over to Liam. “Do we do that here, or does someone bring them in?”

“I make up the batter at the end of the night and put it in the fridge. Whoever has the early shift does the baking.”

“Okay.” That sounds easy enough. I did that kind of thing at Mom's place.

After going over everything on the menu a couple of times, I feel a bit better. The only things that scare me are the lattes, cappuccinos, and espressos.

I'm checking out the muffins and stuff in the display case when I hear the bell over the door tinkle. Someone's come in. I've got my first customer. Smoothing the front of my apron, I turn to face the counter.

You've got to be kidding me.

It's friggin' Kyle.

Instantly my legs go all rubbery. For a second I worry they're not going to hold me up.

He doesn't see me. He's still back by the door, looking for something in his knapsack. I watch him. His hair is all windblown, and his cheeks are rosy from the cold. It reminds me of all the times we went tobogganing, had snowball fights, drank hot chocolate from a Thermos. It reminds me of how much we were in love — at least, I thought we were.

He hasn't seen me yet because he's holding his phone, texting, as he walks up to the counter. Suddenly it occurs to me whom he might be texting, abruptly ending my warm, fuzzy memories. What was that slutbag's name? Oh yeah. Rosalyn.

My nails dig into the edge of the counter. I better get ready.

He keeps texting away and doesn't even look at me. “Yeah, uh, I'll have a medium … Colombian, black, to go.”

I spin around and start pouring his coffee. Setting it on the counter, I keep my head bent down. What are the odds he'll leave without ever realizing it's me?

“Two seventy-five,” I mumble.

He slaps down a toonie and a loonie.

As fast as I can, I scoop up the coins and replace them with a quarter.

Please, please, turn and walk away. Turn and walk. Turn. Walk.

“Could you put a lid …” There's a long pause. “Lyssa?” he whispers in disbelief. “Holy shit! What are you doing here?”

I look up. “Working,” I say.

He rakes his hand through his hair. “Where have you been? I've been going crazy.”

“Yeah, sure you have,” I say.

“I
have
! Where are you —?”

“Excuse me, miss? Could I get a large mocha latte, double decaf, half-caf, extra foam?” Liam is standing behind Kyle, arms folded across his chest.

Kyle moves closer to the counter, trying to block Liam. “Please, Lyssa, we need to talk. Pick a —”

“I'm kind of in a hurry, miss,” Liam says loudly.

Kyle turns to Liam. “Cool your jets, buddy.” Then he turns back to me. “Tell me when you're off,” he pleads.

“You're holding up the line,” I sigh.

“I'll come back later,” he says.

I shake my head and slide the quarter to the far edge of the counter. “Take your change, Kyle.”

“A second chance, Lyssa. I deserve it. You know I do.”

Liam taps Kyle's shoulder. “Dude.”

I raise my hand, signal Liam to stop. “How do you figure that, Kyle?”

“When you wanted to stay back and look after your mom, did I
make a big deal about it? No. Even though you kind of hung me out to dry. We were supposed get an apartment together, remember?”

Open-mouthed, I stare back at him.

Liam moves around the counter and stands beside me. “I think you should probably move along,” he says to Kyle.

“Who the hell are you?” Kyle demands.

Liam ignores the question, snaps on a lid, and holds out the cup. “Here's your coffee,
buddy
.”

Kyle grabs the coffee and makes for the door.

His quarter is left sitting on the counter. I pick it up and whip it at his back. “Take your goddamn change!”

I don't care that everyone's looking.