Page 16 of Twisted Lies

Chapter 8

Astrid

I have an errand to run today, so Justin has to wait. And I don’t have a car, but Roni does, and she’s willing to drive into downtown Rockingham. Downtown is not a bustling metropolis of tall buildings and crowded sidewalks. It’s an affluent Main Street area with a few busier streets branching off the main thoroughfare. All the stores and businesses here are overpriced, in my opinion. No red and yellow neon signs advertising dollar-deal fast food. Not around here. You have to know where you’re going, or you’ll drive right past the quaint hand-painted sign.

“Thanks for the ride,” I tell Roni.

She lowers her head and squints up at a street sign. “Not a problem. I want to look around and see what they have around here.”

We pass a large white building complex that appears out of place in the middle of Main Street. The buildings are set back from the street, and the parking lot is packed with cars. The tall sign at the entrance displays a large green cross outlined in yellow, and only then do I notice the ambulances pulling out onto the street.

“That’s a big hospital,” I stare in awe. “It looks like a city.”

“Rockingham General Hospital was here before Main Street, according to the school brochure,” Roni responds, scarcely glancing over, “I know. I was surprised, too, when I saw it.”

Dr. Howland, also known as my absentee father, works somewhere in there. I turn around in my seat and stare at my feet as I push them into the floor. I need money, and the Pit is looking shaky as an option. Pierce expects sex to fight, and I can’t even think about that with him. True, I was blatantly staring when that girl gave him head. It’s natural to be curious, and he is large. I mean, animals do it out in the open. Only humans find a private corner to fuck in. It’s normal to be curious. That’s the only excuse I need.

I shake that image out of my head because it was Pierce. What does it matter? I don’t want him anyway. Not even curious about the dickasaur.

There are other things I need to focus on. I spoke to Mom and told her my predicament, but she didn’t have time to talk. She was going to therapy. I thought she meant physical, but Mom told me firmly that she now has a therapist to help her accept the past. I only had enough time to say that I had to ask Howland for money. She said I should and then hung up. I didn’t have time to ask about taking his name. I wanted her opinion, but I may have to figure it out on my own.

Roni pulls her Saab into a community parking lot. I glance around the lot, and none of these cars are economy rides. Even the ones that aren’t luxury cars are top of the line. Another idle thought enters my head. I could ask for a car and stop riding around town on my bike like I’m freakin’ twelve years old.

“You know where you’re going?” she asks.

Her question startles me. I remind myself that Roni can’t know what I’m doing. Dad is still a secret.

“Sure, I have an address,” I reply.

She frowns at me. “You look a little lost.”

I shake the nerves off. “I’m good. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

Walking away, Roni waves and heads off in the opposite direction toward the stores. I watch her until she disappears around the corner of a building. I use my phone to lead me to Conover Street, where Howland has his office hours. In a few blocks, I’m standing in front of a medical office building that looks like a mansion where they hold funerals in my old neighborhood.

I hurry up the steps and stop to look at the front door made of solid wood, and I wonder how I’m supposed to get inside. Suddenly, a couple comes out the door, and I hurry to hold it for them. The old man smiles at me, pleased with my selfish thoughtfulness.

“You go to Stonehaven?” he asks, smiling as he holds his wife’s elbow.

For a moment, I forgot I had on my track jacket—a long-lined windbreaker with a gold S patch embroidered on the front pocket.

I nod politely. “Yes, I do.” I don’t say anything else. I might ruin the illusion.

“Good school.” He smiles as they walk down the steps to the slate walkway.

I step inside into a long hallway that has that medicinal smell. A smell I recognize from the free clinic. We couldn’t afford to go to this kind of doctor. And the last time we had to go to the clinic was when Mom messed up her back. My face screws up with anger, thinking that if only she hadn’t been injured that day, our life would be the same. If she hadn’t been in agonizing pain the day Howland showed up at our door, she would’ve told him off. Mom would’ve kicked his ass out of our apartment and onto the curb, straight out of our lives.

Daily, I have to remind myself to be grateful, but it’s the manipulation and stinginess that’s pissing me off. We were struggling, but at least we didn’t have him playing with our lives. I have to keep my eye on every opportunity to get us out of this mess.

I approach a reception desk after opening a heavy glass door with his name on it. “Can I help you?” asks an older woman in scrubs from behind the counter.

“I’m looking for…Dr. Howland?” I speak softly. This is no clinic.

“Do you have an appointment?” The nurse lifts an eyebrow, waiting for a negative answer.

“No, but my name is Astrid. He’ll want to see me.”

The nurse gives me a skeptical look. “Sit down, please.”

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