Page 67 of Strangely Normal

Televisions flickered through the thin, worn curtains covering the apartment windows, and I could hear the Spencers in one of their usual yell fests. I plodded up the stairs and was happy to see that our apartment was completely dark.

The smell of stale smoke wafted through the air of the cold, empty room. I reached for the light and was relieved to see that the electricity had not been turned off. It looked bleak and vacant without Sophie and Janie scurrying around with their giggles and fluffy socks. My disgusting, lumpy sofa bed was still sitting in the center of the room, and it couldn’t have looked more inviting. Mom had packed all the sheets and blankets, so I stayed in my jeans and sweatshirt.

I drank a cup of milk to soothe the pain that burned a hole in my stomach and then I yanked out the lumpy mattress and sank into the giant hole. I pulled the hood up over my head, curled up into a ball, and cried myself to sleep.

It could not have been much past six in the morning when a loud knock startled me from a deep sleep.

“Eden,” Jude’s deep voice echoed along the second story balcony. He pounded the door again. “Eden, please let me in. I need to know you’re all right.” A long pause followed but I hadn’t heard his footsteps recede. “Please, Eden, let me in. Finley’s asking for you.” His voice had dropped low, and there was enough sorrow in his tone to nearly propel me from the bed to the door.

But I stayed quiet as a statue in the center of the worn mattress, not even daring to breathe. I worried that if I let myself breathe, it would break my resolve and I would go to him. I would have given anything to throw myself into his solid, comforting arms, but he’d torn my heart in two pieces the night before and there was no way to repair the damage. Finally his heavy footsteps pounded the balcony and the staircase. His bike fired up, and he tore out of the driveway and out of my life for good.

I had no time to allow myself the luxury of wallowing in heartbreak and self-pity. I needed a job and a place to live. I had no way to contact my parents, but in a way, it seemed like a good thing. Being on my own had been freeing, and for once in my life, I felt like I could shape my future in the way I wanted it to go. Besides, it had to be much easier on my parents to have one less mouth to feed.

I spread the classifieds out on the mattress and perused them for a long time before I found a promising job as a diner waitress that offered free room and board over the business if I was willing to open the place at six in the morning. It was all the way across town in a rather unpleasant section of Los Angeles, but I couldn’t be choosy. I had worked at a diner during my junior year, and while the work was hard it wasn’t entirely awful.

I picked up the phone. It hadn’t been disconnected yet. I called and got an interview with the owner, a man named Billy, who had a southern accent and who liked to use the contraction y’all.

My biggest problem was a lack of wardrobe. I walked into my parent’s room for the first time since I’d gotten back. The few clothes I’d left behind in Mom’s closet were gone. Aside from the bed and dresser, they’d stripped the room bare. I decided to take a walk down to the thrift shop and pick up a few items.

The landlord was just coming up the stairs with two guys. His eyes opened wide when he saw me at the top. “Eden, your parents told me you were away at a summer job.”

“I was, Mr. Deeter.”

“Uh, I was planning on renting the place out. If you’re staying, I’ll need a deposit.”

“I’m not staying, but according to my calculations, my parents still have this place until Saturday.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but he really had nothing to say. “You need to be out on Saturday then. Is it all right if I show these two the apartment?”

“Yes.” I headed downstairs, and as I passed them, Mr. Deeter stopped me.

“I nearly forgot. Your parents gave me a phone number in case I saw you.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out several pieces of crumpled papers. He sorted through them until he found the one he needed. A phone number was scrawled on it.

“Thank you so much.” I had to hurry and find a dress, so I could catch a bus ride across town. The construction site was already in full swing, but as expected, I didn’t see Cole’s truck. I nearly ran past the site as I headed to the thrift store. I had my parent’s number now, and I would call them as soon as I got back to the apartment. If the diner job didn’t pan out, at least I had a place to go.

Chapter 23

“Well, I checked out the references you gave me and they checked out. The restaurant manager had high praise for y’all,” Billy said. He was an older man with a fluffy head of gray hair and friendly brown eyes. One shoulder leaned down some as if his back was permanently curved or if one leg was shorter than the other.

“I work hard and I’m punctual.”

He shook my hand. “I believe you. You look like a no nonsense girl who wouldn’t lie.”

“Thank you. I am.”

Billy walked around the counter, poured himself a cup of coffee and then offered me one. It was well past nine, and there were only three customers in the place. The booths were covered in a hideous yellow vinyl and the white tile floor was scuffed black, but the place looked clean. A tall man, with a hairnet covering his mostly bald head and an eagle tattoo covering his forearm, shoved food through the cook’s window. There was only one girl waiting tables. She looked to be in her early twenties, and she kept smiling over at me as if she was in desperate need of someone to help her.

“The room upstairs ain’t much, but it has a kitchenette with a hot plate and bathroom with a shower. But I’ve got to warn you, there isn’t much water pressure up there.”

“That’s fine. Sounds like home to me.”

He lifted the coffee pot and walked down to the end of the counter to refill a customer’s cup. “And you’ll need to start your morning at five. You’ll get the coffee pots going and the napkins and utensils out. Garth, the cook, and Rick, the dishwasher, come in at six. That’s when you’ll open up. And it doesn’t look like it now, but the place gets real busy at six in the morning and then again at noon. We only serve breakfast and lunch. The neighborhood just isn’t safe enough to be open at night anymore. We’re closed on Mondays, so that’ll be your day off.”

“Sound great,” I said.

Billy looked at me for a moment and then smiled and stuck out his hand. “Well, you look awfully young, but you seem like a hard worker. Welcome aboard.”

The waitress clapped her hands and skipped over to us. “I was hoping you’d take it.” She stuck her hand out too. “I’m Charlene, but you can call me Charlie.”

---