I knew bringing Mark along was a horrible idea.
From the moment he got in the truck, I knew something terrible was going to happen. Of course it did. First of all, he brought us into a stranger's home. Secondly, he steals our vehicle? I knew Mark was low, but not that low. He better hope that we don't see him again anytime soon. Although, I'd much rather just never see him at all.
I know I can't stay away from social interaction much longer, and the smell of bacon wafting throughout the house is driving me crazy, so I force myself downstairs. As I make my way down the stairs, I can hear this Steven guy and Dad chatting it up in the kitchen, eating some food. I'm hungry, but I decide to eavesdrop on their conversation before entering the room and possibly stopping whatever it is they're talking about.
I have a horrible habit of doing this. I used to eavesdrop all the time when my parents argued. I'm not sure why I ever did it. I just found it relaxing and entertaining to listen to conversations when people didn't think you were listening. It was like seeing a different, exposed side to them.
However, my plan is foiled when the floor creaks, and they stop talking. Knowing it will seem suspicious, I decide to just enter the kitchen and let them go back to normal. Dad greets me with a smile and says, "Glad you could join us. This is Steven. I know you guys weren't properly introduced. Steven, this is Lizzy, my daughter." Seeing Steven in the daylight scares me. He has a big belly that reminds me of John Goodman, and his beard seems like a family of birds could live in it comfortably. Not wanting to acknowledge him verbally or physically, I walk towards the dining table.
I take my seat at the small table, where a plate of food is already sitting out for me. It tastes amazing, and the bacon is cooked just the way I like it. I love eating soft bacon, it just calms me down. I needed it. I chow down on the eggs and bacon before I notice the platter of pancakes sitting on the table. I'm not full at all. I grab a stack of pancakes, coat it in syrup, and eat it surprisingly fast. When I'm done eating, I look up and realize that Steven is staring at me. Creepy as hell if you ask me. Then again, I was eating my food like I hadn't ate in ages.
He turns away, realizing how awkward that must be. I look down and start playing with my fingernails. I really bit them down when I was sleeping last night. Another one of my horrible habits. It's disgusting, but I can't stop doing it.
The sound of a chair moving causes me to look up, and Steven grabs the plate in front of me. I put my head back down, returning to my actions.
Steven breaks the silence as he begins to rinse my plate off. "So, where are you guys headed?", he asks us. I keep picking at my fingernails, and hope Dad doesn't ask me for some verbal agreement to any traveling plans. He doesn't, thank God.
"We actually were going to head to Saginaw. We might have somewhere to stay there. But I thought in the meantime, we could stay here and figure things out." Who the hell does he think we know? I turn to Dad and whisper, "What's in Saginaw?" He turns to me and looks at me for a while before answering. "Your mother," he responds. "At least, I hope she's still there."
What? I had no idea where my mother even was, and my dad never gave me any remote hints that he even knew. Why didn't he tell me? I would have drove down and visited her. Something, anything. I'm not necessarily happy with her, but she's still my mother. Why hasn't she visited? Why am I stuck in the middle of all of this? I excuse myself from the table. I can't deal with this right now, or ever. I trudge back up the stairs to the bedroom and plop down on the bed to fall asleep.
☠
I'm woken by a light shake. Dad is standing above me in the dark, and tells me it's time to go. I throw my shoes on, and we head out the door. I assume we're heading to Saginaw, along with this Steven guy. He's probably better than Mark, I tell myself. I get in the backseat, lean my head against the window, and fall back into slumber in no time at all.