Page 32 of Unhinged

“Great. You can start tomorrow at eight. We’ll do some paperwork, and then I’ll show you around.” Awesome. I already want to quit.

Opening my eyes Tuesday morning to my phone alarm, I groan and reach over to turn it off. Rain hitting the roof and the sound of a mind-numbing TV assault my ears. I stare at the ceiling, dreading getting out of bed. I don’t want to face any day.

“What the hell do you know? You’re just a stupid college kid who fucks guys like Ricky Tesco and violates guys like me!”

And as I do every morning, tears well in my eyes. It’s not only his poisonous words that stab me, but the corrosive emptiness he fucking threw upon me.

Never again.

Even if North Carolina is the state he’s originally from, maybe it’s the fresh start I need. Since he stupidly left his job at the law firm, he’s probably hiding in plain sight in Richmond, taking orders at some fast-food place. Maybe he’s selling crack on West Broad. Who cares?

I don’t.

I once wanted him to kiss me crazy. Now, Greg Rodwell can kiss my ass.

“Are you almost finished?”

I sigh twice as I part my blonde hair to the other side, hoping it makes a difference in the mirror. It doesn’t. I don’t know why I’m obsessing. I already met the woman and got the job for my internship. No more stressing.

Yet, I do.

I stress about not acting, dressing, speaking, or breathing stupid things. Maybe I’ve always been naïve or gullible without realizing it, but now I’m self-conscious about it. Daily living is a struggle anymore. I glance at my purple A-line skirt that skims above my knees and my black blouse, wondering if I look like a walking bruise. I never used to care what the hell people thought of me, but now it’s all I think about. Almost.

Picking up my Hyper pink lipstick, I swipe it over my lips once more before throwing it in my purse and leaving my room. Across the hall is Amos’s room, a bland paradise with everything the same beige color. Though I injected plenty of colors to counterbalance the lame.

I roll my eyes and go downstairs to the kitchen, where Amos is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, stoic as usual. He barely laughs, not that I have anything to laugh about anymore.

“Breakfast?” he asks as I set down my Gucci purse on the table.

Oatmeal and sausage throttle me, and I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

“You should eat, Simone.”

I arch an eyebrow as I give in to coffee and go to his stuffy coffeemaker and his strong-ass brew. Still, I need something stronger than my tea. “I eat. Just not that mess.” I nod toward the stove. It’s always oatmeal for him and forget about it being the instant kind. Nothing is fast about Amos. He’s slow and methodical about breathing.

“There’s cereal in the pantry.” He watches me go to the refrigerator, and I wonder if he’s judging me.

As I douse my coffee with milk—no cream since Amos drinks his tar-black—I roll my eyes. “Bran flakes, puffed Styrofoam, and shredded grass.”

“Wheat.”

I shrug. “Same thing.”

“Make a list, and I’ll purchase any food you’d like.”

I frown into my coffee sip, and mumble, “I’ll buy my own.”

“With what funds?”

“I’m not destitute!” I argue into my mug, hollowing my voice while defending that solid lie. Though I have no income, with the stipulation I open a bank account, my mother wired me money to get me through my internship. She also pays my rent for my new apartment in Richmond and agreed to continue doing so until I get a job after graduation. She has given me a six-month deadline that she’ll never enforce. Still, I’ll need to find a generic job as a cashier or waiting tables, which I’ve done neither. Mom informed me it’ll be good for me to learn to fly on my own, meaning no more allowance—yeah, I still get one from her. There’s no way she came to that decision so fast without a certain brother buzzing in her damn ear.

At least I don’t have to pay for college. My abusive, narcissistic father pays for that, but not out of the goodness of his heart. It’s a dangling carrot to hold over me to get his way and not bruise his ego. Otherwise, he’s not a physical presence in my life, which my mother spoiled me to make up for it. And since she’s divorced my loving stepdad, Jackie, she’s bought me more things and paid for vacations with my friends. So, I’ve definitely taken advantage of her guilt. But it’s time to grow up. I want my own life. I’m so ready to do this. Then again, maybe I’m just a brainless college bitch.

“I wasn’t intending to offend you, Simone.”

I inhale before resuming my coffee. Seeing him staring at me, I grumble, “Thank you, but no, thank you. I can buy my own.”

“I understand you’re trying to gain footing. I only want to reciprocate your generosity in helping me so far from Richmond.”

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