Page 24 of Rock and a Hard Place

Aunt Marge’s eyes narrowed. “Perfume, what for?”

“I just wanted to smell good. I always smell like smoke.”

Her aunt’s lip curled in distaste. “Is that so? You saying it stinks in here?”

Libby watched her aunt peer around the kitchen as if seeing it for the first time. Piles of dirty clothes stank in a corner, the garbage can overflowed with beer cans, and the kitchen table strained under more junk and clutter.

“Well, we can’t have Your Royal Highness unhappy. Tell you what. Since you’re so upset about the way you smell, this is the perfect time for you to clean up this place.” A cruel smile appeared on her thin lips.

“But I have homework.” It would take hours, maybe days, to clean this disaster. She needed to get back to Peter.

“You can start with the kitchen today, and we’ll have you work your way through the house, a new room every day. You’ll smell fresh and clean like lemon Pledge when you’re done.”

“But . . .” Libby interrupted.

“Uh-uh-uh.” Her aunt pointed a tobacco-stained finger at her. Her voice crooned innocence, but darkness threatened below the surface. “You are not in a position to argue. I do not ever want to hear the voice of your principal again. You have a lot of work to do.”

She tilted her beer can and poured it onto the kitchen floor. “It’s a real mess in here.” Aunt Marge sneered as she trailed out of the kitchen letting the remainder of her beer trickle throughout the house as she went.

Libby was plotting the fifty ways she’d get back at her aunt. But despite Libby’s anger, she dove into her punishment with fervor, beginning with the mountain of dirty dishes and utensils. It took forever, since dried food cemented itself to the surface of every item.

After a few hours, the room began to resemble a normal kitchen, except the table still overflowed with papers. It surprised Libby, the pride she felt cleaning up the pigsty. She dragged the trash bin to the table and took a seat where she began to sort through the piles. She tossed newspapers and junk mail, discovered a long-forgotten loaf of bread growing penicillin for anyonebrave enough to touch it. She scooped the bread into the trash bag with a newspaper.

She grabbed an empty envelope, but something about it caught her eye. She paused and stared down at the familiar handwriting. Her heart raced as she reached in and retrieved it.

Her name was printed on the envelope in her father’s neat penmanship.

Libby’s breath caught in her throat. He hadn’t forgotten her. She looked inside, but the envelope was empty. She scanned the messy table for the letter, then returned to the envelope. The postmark read: May 16, Atlanta, Georgia.

Atlanta? Why was he in Atlanta? Thoughts rushed through her mind. Did he have a new job there? Was he coming to get her soon?

Libby set the precious envelope aside and turned back to the mountain of trash on the table before her. She rifled through it, tossing odd items to the floor, heedless of the new mess she created. Where was the letter? Her urgency grew as her fingers touched item after item.

Hidden under a plate of fossilized pizza, Libby discovered another envelope. Her heart soared as she pulled out the single sheet and read.

Dear Libby,

I hope this letter finds you happy in Rockville, enjoying the carefree days of high school. I’msorry I’m not there for you, but losing your mother and Sarah has sent me to a painful place I don’t know how to escape.

The last months I’ve driven the back roads of the South, trying to make sense of all that has happened. One day we had it all, and the next it was gone. No one ever taught me how to survive such loss. Part of me wishes to see you again, but the other part knows that every time I look at you, I will see your mother and sister looking back. It breaks my heart. Please forgive your old man for his weakness.

Here are a few dollars. Go out with your friends and catch a movie or buy something nice. God knows you deserve better.

Dad

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She traced his signature with her finger. Touching the ink was the closest she could get to him. Didn’t he want her anymore? Libby picked up the envelope and flipped it over. The faded postmark read June 29, Tatum, New Mexico. Now it was October. He had abandoned her at Aunt Marge’s. Didn’t he know how much she needed him?

She wiped away the tears with her sleeve. Crying wouldn’t help anything. She returned to the remaining mess on the table, searching for more correspondence, but discovered nothing. Her heart felt empty and lonely as she sat with two envelopes and a sad letter. Loneliness settled around her.

The phone vibrated in her back pocket, forcing her thoughts back to the present. Peter. A small smile lit her face. She reached for the phone and read the text.

Concert’s over, can you talk?

Her fingers fumbled over the screen of her new toy.

No, soon. I’ll call you.

She returned the phone to the safety of her pocket and pulled her sweater down. Before she talked to Peter, there was something she needed to do.

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