We end up watching the latest horror movie on Netflix downstairs in the living room with the white fluffy
couches that are indeed as soft as a cloud. I’m snuggled under a thick faux fur blanket, a stack of pillows behind my back. Sophia is sitting on the opposite end of the couch in the same setup, the both of us content and barely moving except for the occasional yelp due to an on-screen jump scare. Mrs. Harrington arrives home around the halfway point of the movie, and she’s perfectly pleasant when Sophia introducesus. Even a bit over the top, like she’s thrilled Sophia is having a friend over.
Makes me think Sophia doesn’t have guests to the house much.
Her mom putters around in the kitchen while Sophia and I continue watching the movie and I revel in the complete normalcy of it all. A parent who seems to care about their child while living in a nice, clean home is not normal for me. Not even close. Mrs. Harrington keeps asking us if we need anything, and we keep saying no, and I make sure to add “thank you” every time. This is just … unreal.
Must be nice to live with parents who act like parents and let their kid be a kid. I wonder how Mom is doing back at the rehab center. I have no clue, and I hate to admit it, but … it’s kind of nice, the not knowing. Not worrying about her whereabouts all the time. Since coming here, Mom doesn’t occupy my headspace twenty-four seven like she does when we’re at home.
Being at Wickham is stressful AF, but it’s downright refreshing to stress about a murder investigation compared to parenting a parent and trying to survive day-to-day without tipping anyone off that I’m drowning in never-ending bills and constant worry. Then again, there is one adult who’s actually helpful in my life …
I pull out my phone and pull up a new text to Doug. I promised I’d let him know I’m okay here in England, and I haven’t done that yet. I think about what I want to tell him, because I can’t reveal too much …
Cheerio from jolly old England!No. He’ll want to throw up in his mouth if I send him that.
Hey. Flight was ok. Settled in.No, that won’t work, either. He’ll probably think it’s code for, “I’ve been kidnapped, please send help.”
In the end, I send him a simple text asking him how the bar is doing. The only thing I feel like I can chat about with him without revealing too many details about what I’m really doing over here.
I set my phone down and try to get back into the movie, but I’m hopelessly lost. The heroine’s love interest is suddenly chasing her through the woods with an axe, and the guy I thought was the villain seems to be trying to save her? Sophia is captivated, her gaze never straying from the screen. Every once in a while, her mother peeks into the room, making a face when she catches a glimpse of the screen.
So nice. So normal.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzes, and I check it immediately, fully expecting a response from Doug, but it’s not him. It’s a text from an unknown number.
Unknown:
Hey. Wanted to apologize for how I lost it on you earlier. Didn’t mean to blow up like that.
I frown, rereading the message. But it only takes a second for me to understand who it’s from. There’s only one person whose shitty attitude earlier today warranted an apology. Connor. And now he’sapologizingto me? What a novel concept.
Me:
How did you get my number?
Probably should’ve acknowledged his apology, but I’m in a state of shock over it. Plus, I feel a perverse zing of pleasure at making him sweat it out, wondering if I’ll forgive him.
Connor:
