Episode 7 (3.1)
October 14, 2008 11:45 PM
Jillian McCaulley took a deep breath, then opened the door to Amegro’s. Although it was an early Saturday morning, there were already customers sitting in nearly half of the chairs. The sound of chatter filled the air, as women talked to hairdressers about their life issues, mixing with the clipping of scissors and one or two blow dryers. The receptionist smiled at Jillian, then glanced at her book; “Are you in today?”
Jillian shook her head no, then began peering through the crowd, searching for the shop manager and owner, Abby Diore. She instead saw Abby’s younger brother, Tyke, pushing a broom to pick up errant hair; Jillian, however, knew Tyke better as a frat brother of her son, Allan.
Head down, headphones in his ear, Tyke didn’t realize that Jillian was walking towards him until he nearly swept his hair pile unto her feet. He took off his headphones, “Oh, sorry Mrs. McCaulley.”
“Tyke, in the shop it’s Jillian, you should know that by now.” Jillian offered a bright smile to the young man. He was in a similar boat as her son; she wanted to show as much sympathy as possible to him. “Are you doing alright?”
“Why I wouldn’t I be?” He looked at her confused.
“Well with the arrests and all, I can only imagine how you must feel.”
“Oh that,” He shrugged, as if the previous’ nights events meant nothing. “Well, I heard that we should all get out of it with community service, so no big deal. I just wish the cops had been more understanding about student’s needs to have fun, you know? I mean seriously, what’s a few drunk underage kids?” Jillian stared at him incredulously, unsure how to proceed in face of his complete indifference to his arrest. Tyke was oblivious, “So, how’s Allan?”
* * *
Allan emerged from his bedroom, rubbing his eyes and scratching his chest. After spending a day in a darkened room, the light hurt and he blinked repeatedly to try and adjust. He began stumbling forward, making his way to the stairs, driven by an intense hunger that caused him to hold his stomach. As he plodded down, Jason looked up from his laptop; the two were lounging on the couch.
“Allan,” Jason went to get up, but Allan motioned for him to stay seating.
“Nah, don’t get up, bro. I’m good, just hungry.” Allan stumbled into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets.
Jason relaxed back in his chair, “You should check the fridge first.” Allan gave him a quizzical look but did so. He pulled out a plate, covered in seran wrap, clearly marked with his name and the word “breakfast”. “Mom has you set up through the weekend. She wanted to make sure that you were eating healthy. Isabel told her you weren’t sick, but she didn’t really listen.”
“That’s mom for you,” Allan tore of the wrapping and inspected what was inside: Pancakes, eggs, and bacon. He opened the microwave and put the plate inside. “Where is everyone?”
“Mom went to Amegro’s about an hour ago. Alicia skipped out sometime this morning with some friends and Isabel’s at Stella’s.” The microwave rang and Allan retrieved his breakfast; he walked over to the couch and collapsed beside his brother. He held up a piece of bacon to Jason, who waved it off. Allan shrugged and then went about eating his food.
“Hey Allan?” Allan grunted in response, eggs in his mouth. “How you doing man?” Allan stopped chewing and looked at Jason; while he wasn’t necessarily angry, Jason could tell from his cold stare that this was a subject that he didn’t want to talk yet. “I’m just here if you need me, man. Just so you know.” Jason turned back to his laptop and began typing away; Allan went back to eating, watching the television.
* * *
“He’s doing fine,” Jillian lied. Tyke was about to respond when Abigail was upon him, barking out orders.
“What are you doing, there’s hair to be swept! Get to it!” Tyke jumped at the sound of his sister’s voice; he immediately snapped to and began his journey around the room with the broom. Abby turned to Jillian and pulled her into a hug, “Jill! How are you?”
“Fine, fine, and yourself?” Abigail turned to her brother, who was brushing past another of the hair stylists. He made sure to hit her in the ass a few times with the broom, leading to her playfully slapping him back.
“I can’t get him to take anything seriously, Jill. It’s as if he was pulled over for a ticket. I can’t imagine not being phased by having spent a few hours in a jail cell.” Abby sighed, “He’s gone through life so easy, I don’t know if anything registers. I wonder if I spoiled him...”
“Abby, you can’t hold yourself responsible. Your parents did a fine job with you, it just evidently hasn’t taken yet with your brother. At least he’s talking; Allan hasn’t come out of his room yet.” She caught the sob in her throat. “I want to talk about the situation, but he’s completely shut down.”
“He’ll talk when he’s ready, Jill. You know you can’t force it.” Abby smiled at her friend. “Are you supposed to be in today?”
Jill nodded, “I am supposed to come on in a few hours, but-”
“Take off for the day. We’ve all been through a lot this week and you need the rest. Go spend time with your family, Jill.” The two women embraced, but pulled apart at the sound of a yelp. Tyke was holding his face, having been slapped by one of the less enthused victims of his antics.
* * *
Levy carried the two giant bags of trash to the dumpster behind the coffee shop. He hefted the first with a grunt, then struggled to toss the second. “Come on, Come on,” the bag began to tear and Levy found coffee grains slopping unto the bottom of his pants, “Well Crap.” He dropped the bag down, grunting in anger, and only then realized that he wasn’t alone. Tori stood there, hands in her pockets, watching him silently. Levy straightened immediately, “Oh, Tori. How long have you been here?”
“A few minutes. I looked into the shop and didn’t see you.” She stood on the corner, not moving towards him.
“Lynne told you I was out here?”
“No, I didn’t go inside. I realize that I’m not wanted.” She looked so sad, standing there with her hair hanging loosely on both sides of her face. Levy bit his lip, feeling conflicted.
“That’s not the case,” He shook his head. “It’s a matter of money, Tori. We just can’t really afford right now to have another hand.” He was lying; his inability to look her in the face proved it. For a moment they stood in silence across from one another, saying nothing.
“No, Lynne explained that, I understand. It’s just,” She took one hand out and brushed it through her hair, “I know that your wife may have been upset with what happened the other night. I didn’t mean anything by it, Mr. Hathaway. I just wouldn’t want to be the cause of any trouble.” Those soft eyes found his, imploring him to believe her.
“No, it’s not like that,” He lied once more, feeling himself drawn forward. He left behind that garbage and took a few hesitant steps, “I promise, Carleen was just angry over something at work. Besides, we were just cleaning, you don’t have to apologize for anything.”
“I just wouldn’t want you to be angry at me. I don’t think I could stand if you were.” She fought back a few tears, blinking up at the sky.
“You didn’t do anything,” he repeated, softer this time. He was standing before her now. “Nothing happened.” She looked up at him and nodded, but didn’t move, and they stood there for what felt like an eternity.
A car horn shook them from their reverie; Levy stumbled back, scratching at the back of his neck. “I, have to get back inside, pretty busy.”
Tori smiled at him, “Of course, I understand. I’m sure I’ll see you around, Mr. Hathaway.” She turned and walked away, while Levy moved back to fighting with the garbage bag. He glanced back and saw her do the same. She smiled once more, then disappeared around the corner.
* * *
From the small, bathroom window, Carleen watched the exchange. As they broke apart, Carleen laid her head against the glass, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt sick and she began breathing heavily, fighting back a sudden wave of nausea. It was a losing fight and she turned, dropping to her knees before the toilet. After she finished, she spit out the last of the bitter bile, then leaned back on her knees. One hand pulled back her hair, revealing reddened eyes. “Oh Levy, why?” She softly spoke out loud.
She was startled by the sound of knocking on the door. Carleen pulled herself to her feet and quickly gave herself a once over in the mirror. She ran some water and splashed her face, wiping away the remains of the sick from her mouth. She then raced out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen door. As she opened, the sounds of the cafe and the clanging of cups filled the room; Jillian stood there, smiling.
“Lynne said you were up here,” She paused. “I really would like to talk.”
Carleen nodded, trying to hide her bloodshot eyes from her best friend.
* * *
Molly and Isabel sat silently in the break room. Molly flipped through the latest issue of People, pausing every now and then to take a sip from her Diet Soda. Isabel pretend to concentrate on her novel, but her mind was elsewhere. The silence was interrupted by Isabel’s phone, which began ringing incessantly. She offered Molly a silent apology and picked up her phone, silencing the ring. The caller i.d. read as “Julio.” Isabel nervously put down the phone, drawing a stare from Molly.
“Was that the guy who was in here the other day?”
“I, well yes.” She pretended to go back to her novel, but Molly wasn’t going to let her get off that easy.
“Are you insane?!” She grabbed the book from Isabel’s hands; Isabel continued to look forward in shock for a second before attempting to snatch the book back.
“Molly, stop, Toyo was just about to confess to Kori that’s he a vampire!”
“You really are daft. A hot man comes into our store and picks you out of all the other women. He talks to you for hours, let’s you talk him into buying an ugly dress,” Molly caught the glare, “I’m sorry, it was ugly, then gives you his number. What do you do? You ignore his phone calls. That’s absolutely insane.”
“I’m not ready, Molly.” Isabel looked at her pleadingly.
“Then don’t date him. But at least you owe him a returned call.” Molly snatched the phone and redialed the number; as it began to ring, she held it away from Isabel’s reaching hands. Then a male voice broke through,
“Hello?” Isabel stared and Molly handed her over the phone.
* * *
“Jackson, door.” The sound of his mother echoed up the steps. Jackson rolled out of his bed, turned off the television and descended the steps. His mother was waiting at the door, watching him with some concern. Jackson almost questioned why when he noticed who was standing there waiting for him.
“Jack,” said the waiting Allan, “Can we talk?”
Posted at 10/14/2008 by beck | Comments? (0)