Page 9 of Sweet Little Thing

I went as commanded, although he’d said to wait until nine. Jasper left, so I figured this was safe enough. Besides, if Portia continued to treat me like a refugee, I was liable to defend myself and make the woman angry at me. She didn’t want me to be let go. Again, it made me wonder how she knew my mother and why she was helping her now after her passing. Nineteen years of my life, and not once had I met or even heard of Portia Van Allan.

I hadn’t been brave enough to press or ask for information. I was grateful that I had a way to take care of Heidi. The more Portia did for us, the more she worried about Jasper releasing me from the job, which also released my sister from any security, minus the help I could give her. I wondered what my mother had done for Portia Van Allan to owe her, to pay a debt by taking us in. Her payment, us, me and my sister, wasn’t like signing a check. We were living, breathing humans.

The pool was tranquil, the morning sun glistening on its pretty, dark blue color. Without the area covered in people, it was nice to be out here in silence. Living with Portia wasn’t all that bad. It wasn’t home. I didn’t exactly feel welcomed, but things could be much worse. Momma always said that someone else had it worse than me. Never feel sorry for yourself. I was alive. That was enough to be thankful for. My misery was spaced and limited, just like everyone else—no need to complain about my portion.

I’d lived by that rule. I still did. It was what kept me sane. It was where I found joy when it seemed there was no reason to be happy. Was my life ideal? No, it wasn’t. Was anyone else’s? No. Everyone had bad things happen to them. That was part of your walk on earth.

I resisted the urge to bend down. To run my fingers over the surface of the water. Portia was no doubt watching from afar to make sure I went to work like she’d told me. I hurried to the pool house, ready to conquer whatever destruction lie ahead. I could imagine all kinds of nasty debris after the party I’d witnessed.

When I opened the door, I paused. A perfectly neat living area. This wasn’t disgusting at all. It required some sweeping, mopping, and dusting, but the place wasn’t littered with empty beer bottles, food, or condom wrappers, which was what I was mentally prepared for. I expected to find a naked girl, like a stowaway or something, left behind in a closet or under the bed, forgotten about and abandoned.

But I hadn’t expected this. Not even close. This was too tame.

There was no possible way this place had remained neat, not during that party. Someone had straightened up. They took out the trash, picked up the dirty towels, and loaded the dishwasher. It was full and clean. I just had to unload it.

A note with neat handwriting was on the bar with a list of items to purchase. Like Jasper said, there would be. I didn’t expect him to be someone who picked up after himself, much less others in his group. This didn’t fit his profile, what I knew about him. . .I guess I’d been a little judgmental. Jasper Van Allan was a stranger to me. This was a reminder that I didn’t really know him.

I folded the list, tucked it in my pocket, and went after the cleaning supplies. Jasper said they were under the sink. The mop and broom were in the closet by the bathroom. It was all excessively organized, aligned, and racked to perfection.

“Jasper said you wouldn’t be here until nine.” Winston’s voice startled me.

I squealed. Spinning around, I held a spray bottle, wielding the cleaner as my weapon. “OH!” was all I managed to say. It was one of those moments where you recognize the voice but didn’tknow they were there, so you can’t halt your startled response.

Winston cocked an eyebrow as if I were an idiot. I wished I could cock one eyebrow right back at him, but I couldn’t. Not an ability I had. “I thought the place was empty,” I said defensively. “I, ah, am. . .”

“And I thought you wouldn’t be here until nine.”

Not that I had to explain myself to him, but I did anyway: “Portia saw Jasper leave and sent me out early. She wanted me to have plenty of time to clean the. . .” I then glanced around. “. . .to clean the obviously already cleaned up mess. She expected it to be much worse.”

Winston didn’t respond. Instead, he walked to the door and picked up a set of keys that were on the table. Without a word, he left. Not that he had to tell me “bye.” Or talk to me at all. But it was rude, as if I were not important enough for an “I’ll be going now. Goodbye. Good day.”

Jasper was nice. He wasn’t rude—at least not like that. He could be hard at times, but he was angry with his mother, the memory of his father obviously hurt. I understood that, but he seemed fun, polite, kind, and generous to others. Why he was friends with Winston, I had no idea. Nothing about Winston, whatever his last name was, remotely resembled Jasper—except their bank accounts, I supposed.

I shook him and his behavior from my thoughts. Instead, I focused on my daydreams while I cleaned. How one day I might be able to go to nursing school and then get a job at a hospital, taking care of Heidi and myself. How I would make my mother proud as she watched both of us from the heavens. All these things kept me humming a tune, enjoying the peace while I worked.

I knew these dreams weren’t close. It would take some time to figure out certain angles to make the future happen. Portia put a roof over my head and provided food and fifty dollars a week.From that, my gas money to go see Heidi had to be removed. She paid for Heidi’s home. That was the most important thing. That was all I cared about. While I didn’t have car insurance I had applied for Medicaid. I was averaging only a hundred and sixty a month in savings and had no extra. Any premiums would never be paid. It was going to take years for that to grow into enough to go to school, get an apartment, and take care of Heidi.

Working graveyard shifts somewhere was an option I’d been considering. If Portia was okay with me leaving after dinner, I could work a few evenings a week. If I could sleep three nights out of seven, then I think I could manage to function. There weren’t a lot of options for night work, but I had been looking around. A hotel’s front desk, a service station, restaurant, or even a club. The club sounded intimidating but paid the most out of the four. With this being a college town, there were several places I could get a job waiting tables at a club or a restaurant.

It was almost noon when I left for the store. The pool house hadn’t taken nearly as long as I thought it would to begin with. Thanks to Jasper and his neatness.

Chapter

Eight

Beulah

Over the next week, I only saw glimpses of Jasper coming and going from the house. He was always dressed like he was working. Portia didn’t say much but watched him as she drank more and more through the stress. I overheard them one evening while I was doing the laundry. He raised his voice and accused his mother of wasting his money like a child. He was going to start giving her an allowance. She hadn’t been happy about that. Portia was accustomed to her expenditures and spending wherever she chose. The next morning, she awoke and asked for whiskey in her coffee. It’d been going downhill from there.

When Sunday morning came, and there weren’t any guests or another party in development, I was relieved and actually felt good. I’d get to go to family day and spend it with Heidi. I’d worried all week about disappointing her and couldn’t do it again. I made coffee for Portia and went ahead adding whiskey,then fixed her a fruit salad with the berries I’d gotten at the store. She never asked for food. Regardless of that, I was taking it upon myself to feed her anyway. Especially since she was drinking all day now.

She scowled at the fruit but said nothing as I sat it in front of her. She also didn’t mention the whiskey in her coffee. Since the argument over money with Jasper, she hadn’t talked much at all. Although, I could feel the rage boiling, percolating under the surface. Each day, she was getting worse. I was worried that when she exploded, Heidi and I might be evicted to the streets.

Today I wouldn’t worry about that. I took the plate of cookies I’d made last night and headed for the back door. When I stepped outside, Jasper was walking from the pool house and headed toward me. He grimaced at the cookies and the way I was dressed. Sundays, I wore my own clothing.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, hoping to avoid details.

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