Part 5

Amber Miller tossed another plastic case onto the growing pile in the chair. "Don't you have anything besides pop music?" she asked. "This is like boy band hell."

"Would you stop?" I asked, as I came over to yank the box from her hands. "There's some good music in here."

"Please," Amber said, stepping back over to grab her paint roller. "The hardest thing you got in there is Aerosmith." She looked over her shoulder as she gathered paint. "And that's not saying much."

"You got paint on this one," I whined, as I tried to wipe off the compact disc case.

"I'd be getting more paint on the walls," she said, "if I had some good music to paint to."

"The music's fine," Tawny chimed in. "Besides, we're almost done anyway."

Tawny had been in the bathroom for the last several minutes, cleaning herself up. Unfortunately, her sister would be here soon, and she would have to leave us. That is to say, she would have to leave me alone with Amber. A girl that happened to make me very nervous to be around. Although, looking at the circumstances, I was nervous about being alone with Tawny as well.

There was no doubt an unmistakable connection that lingered between Tawny and I. We had never really shared any deep feelings toward each other, but I had always felt the tension between us. Ever since that time we kissed on Halloween nearly two years ago, it felt like I had been dodging the inevitable. It was hard to tell, but I thought maybe she had felt something too; before, and since I came back.

"Tawny!" my mother shouted down the stairs. "Sister's here."

Tawny let out a long sigh, which turned to a groan near the end of it. "I wish I could stay and help finish," she said, as she threw her arms around me.

"We'll get it done," Amber said, cheerfully. "Was nice hanging with you."

"Same," Tawny said. She stepped over close to Amber. "And go easy on Bailey. She'll get some good music one of these days."

"Hey!" I exclaimed, as I stooped down to get my paint brush.

"See you two at school," Tawny said, as she made her way to the door.

"Lates," Amber said.

"Bye Tawny."

I gave her a pleasant smile as she passed by me. Seeing as how we were nearly done with the walls, I had turned my attention to painting the door frame. We chose a nice clean white to contrast with the seafoam green of the walls. My mother had busied herself outside, painting some shelves the same white. So I was left to take care of the few accents that were left in the actual room. Tawny and Amber had helped make quick work of the walls.

We managed to pick up a bedside table at the store. The rest of it, however, would have to be sorted out later. My mother and I planned a trip for that later on. I figured she didn't exactly want the other girls' input on what she was willing to buy. It was hard enough convincing her on a paint color other than white for walls. She liked things clean and cool, and still thought the color I chose for the walls was a little… well… off the wall.

"So…" Amber said, from the other side of the room. "Just us."

"Yep," I said.

"Bailey," Amber said, waiting for me to turn and face her. "Thanks for… you know… taking a chance on me."

I shrugged. "You're welcome?"

"It's just… I know I can be pretty abrasive," she said. "Sometimes invasive—"

"Amber," I said, silencing her. "It's cool. I like you."

Amber lowered her paint roller. "Really?"

"I'm not going to disagree with what you said," I said. "You are pretty blunt." I chuckled. "But it's what makes you… you."

"Well," Amber said. "Okay then." She went back to painting the wall. "I like you too," she said quietly.

I smiled as I turned back to painting the doorframe. Maybe that awkward little exchange got to Amber. Maybe it was the paint fumes. Either way, she started enjoying my "horrible" taste in music, and at one point started singing and dancing along to it. It didn't take us long until we had finished painting the rest of the room. Although it wasn't necessarily a professional grade job, it looked pretty good to me.

"Should we do the closet?" Amber asked, pulling the door open.

"Mom said to leave that," I said. "She has a friend that can fix it up."

I stepped over to the closet, and looked inside. It wasn't exactly a room unto itself, but I could at least call it a walk-in closet. That is if you discounted the fact that you could only walk in, and possibly sit down on the floor. Still, it was an upgrade from what I had upstairs, and I liked it. Looking down at the floor, however, did give me second thoughts of sitting.

"I'm just glad the carpet's coming next Saturday," I said.

"Hmm," Amber said. "You probably won't even get to move in here until next week." She stepped back into the room. "Kinda sucks."

"It's just a week," I said, smiling to myself. "Thanks for all the help today."

"No problem," she responded.

Amber and I walked over to the couch, and sank into it. I guess if you wanted to get technical, it was actually an oversized loveseat. My brother and I had always felt weird calling it that. Especially when he had the guys over. Sitting next to your "bro" on the "loveseat" didn't sound all that cool. It didn't sound cool to be sitting with your actual brother on it either.

"So…" I glanced over at Amber; my eyes trailing down to the black studded bracelet on her wrist. "What's the deal with the bracelet? You never said."

Amber looked down at her wrist, and after a moment began to play with the bracelet. "I got it when I was with a friend in North Carolina," she said. "It was in a crappy little store near Fort Bragg. He was kind of a gearhead. So I picked it up, joking about being a biker chick, and riding off into the sunset with him when he turned sixteen and got a motorcycle." She paused, smiling before continuing. "I forgot I had it, until I got up to the register. He thought it would be funny if I bought it. So I did. I don't wear it all of the time, but every time I do, I remember my friend, and all of the trouble we got into."

I nodded thoughtfully at her story.

"I know… it's stupid," Amber said.

"No!" I exclaimed. "It's actually kind of sweet."

Amber shook her head. "Nah… it's stupid."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Where all have you lived?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

Amber put her head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Well… let's see," she said. "There was, of course, North Carolina. Texas—great food there. Florida and Georgia. South Carolina for a short time before going to North Carolina. Oregon." Amber had begun to count the states on her fingers as she continued to stare at the ceiling. "Oklahoma…" She rolled her head to look at me. "Don't ever go there… California, by far my favorite. Virginia, and here." She held her finger up in the air. "Some of those were repeats too. Mostly for my dad's training. He wanted us nearby, even if it was only for a few months."

"Wow…" I sat looking at her in stunned silence for a moment. "Bet you have some fun stories. And all of that before fourteen?"

"I'm actually fifteen," Amber said. "I should be a sophomore, but schooling kind of gets messed up when moving that much."

"That's crazy," I said. "So you basically moved as many times as your age."

"Never even thought of that." Amber turned her head back to look at the ceiling. "I guess it's kind of nice that I get to finish up high school in one place."

"Not only that," I said. "You get to drive next year!"

Amber laughed. "That's true, I guess." She rolled her eyes over to look at me.

I gave her a reluctant smile. "It must have been hard for you," I said, putting my hand on her arm. "Moving around and all."

"It was at first," Amber said. "The first few times we moved, I was too young to remember. But I remember when we left Oregon, I nearly ran away from home."

"Really?" I asked. "I wanted to come back home after a month of being away. Then I kind of got used to being away. Now I kind of miss my friends in Nebraska."

"I was like that for awhile too," Amber said. "After awhile, I kind of got this mentality that I could be moving tomorrow. I learned to live in the moment."

"Sounds so grown up," I muttered to myself, as I pulled my hand away.

"Please," Amber said with a laugh. "Talk to my dad. He'll tell you differently." She leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

I glanced over at Amber. "You always mention your dad," I said. "What about your mom?"

"My mom?" Amber rolled her head to the side to face me. "She's boring."

"Oh, she can't be that bad," I said.

"She's a typical housewife," Amber said. "The only thing interesting about her, is she likes to throw dinner parties." Amber turned her head away. "Some would even say she's obsessive about them."

"See," I said. "That's not boring! Your mother has a disorder." I nudged her playfully with my elbow.

Amber let out a slight giggle. "So what's the deal with you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling a bit nervous where this might lead.

"Well you mentioned your stepdad in drama class, but not your dad," Amber said. "What's the rest of your family like?"

I was taken aback by her question. "Oh," I said, without having anything to follow it up with.

Amber looked over at me once more. "I'm sorry," she said. "Is that a sore spot?"

"Well," I said. "Yes and no." I finally managed to turn my head from my blank stare. "My dad died when I was young."

"Oh…" Amber sat up straighter. "Sorry."

"Thanks," I said, "but I got over that a long time ago."

"So your stepdad is…"

"Was," I said, quickly. "He's in prison."

"Wow! I have really gotta stop starting these downer conversations," Amber said, as she stood again.

"It's fine," I said, watching her walk around the room. "He just did some things that got him in trouble. Call it poor business decisions." In my mind I could think of other things to be calling Tom's actions.

"I'm really sorry," Amber said, turning to face me.

"Really, it's fine," I said, trying my best to match my expression with my sentiment.

"It's just we were having a fun time…" Amber paced across the rundown carpet. "And I dropped a bomb on it all."

"Amber!" I stood up, blocking her path. I placed my hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "It's fine. You didn't ruin anything. Relax." For some reason, I had a slight flashback of Tawny telling me to relax several times the day before.

Amber stared at me for a moment. Eventually she cracked a smile. I returned the smile, and gave her a friendly hug. It felt weird, having only known her for a couple of days, yet we'd hugged several times. I hoped I wasn't turning into one of those people; a hugger. The hug was abruptly interrupted by my mother's voice coming down the stairs once more.

"Your father's here, Amber."

We quickly cleaned up a bit, and I followed Amber up the stairs to our split-level entryway. My mother had the door open, talking to the tall man I presumed was Amber's father. A hulking individual, his body nearly filled the doorframe behind him. I imagine he even had to duck under the top of the frame when he stepped through. Something that not even Tom had to do, and he was about a foot taller than my mother.

Amber strolled forward, wrapping her arms around him. Maybe she was the hugger, and simply sucked other people in. Her father's demeanor seemed to melt a little bit, as he put one arm around his daughter. He smiled down at her, and continued the smile right to the point of looking me in the eyes. I shied away from looking at him directly. Despite his smile, the man still looked intimidating. His burr haircut even reminded me a little of Tom.

"You must be Bailey," he said, thrusting out his hand toward me.

I cautiously slinked forward. Nodding quietly, I took his hand in mine. His hand completely engulfed mine, and I could tell he wasn't using a fraction of his strength, as he gently shook it. The handshake seemed to linger for longer than I had anticipated, while Mister Miller mentioned his delight in Amber already making friends. Eventually he let my hand slip from his grasp, and he turned back to address my mother.

"Well I won't take up anymore of your time," he said.

"Oh, think nothing of it," my mother said. "It was nice to meet you, Quentin. Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thank you," Quentin said. "Let me know if there's anything I can help you ladies with around here."

My mother reached out and put her arm around my shoulders. "I think we'll manage," she said, pulling me closer to her. "But thank you." She glanced down at Amber. "And your daughter is welcome here any time."

Quentin glanced down at me. "The same goes for your daughter," he said, before turning his focus back to my mother. "At least once we get settled in."

"Of course," my mother said.

"I better get back to the missus now," Quentin said. "Take care."

"You too," my mother said.

"Bye," I chimed in, waving to Amber mostly.

"Catch you later," Amber said.

Amber and her father retreated through our front door. We watched them walk down our front steps for a moment. Then my mother closed the door. She turned to look at me. After a brief moment of silence, she smiled and started to make her way to the living room.

"What did he mean by helping us with stuff here?" I asked.

My mother froze with her foot on the first step. "I mentioned that it was just us living here," she said. "He was just being neighborly."

"Oh…"

"Did you get the room finished?" she asked.

"Pretty much," I said. "We got it painted at least."

"Well good," she said, starting to climb the stairs again. "Come get cleaned up and help me make dinner. I'll take a look down there after."

Cooking had become something that had garnered my affection the older I got. I knew I wouldn't ever have my own cooking show, but it was something I enjoyed doing. Though it could be stressful at times, getting a meal together, I actually found a lot of the preparation therapeutic. The older I got, the more things I was trusted to do in the kitchen as well.

I really began to enjoy it the previous year. Living out in the country, my aunt usually made a lot of meals at home. They didn't have many places to run out and get fast food. So on her days off, my aunt would prepare meals that were ready to cook. It ended up being a lot more preparation than actual cooking, but it became something that drew my focus away from the turmoil in my life.

Admittedly I had squandered most of the initial summer after my orchiectomy. Everyone filled my head with how brave I was at the hospital, and how well I received the news. Truthfully, I hardly remembered most of it. In fact, it took a few therapy sessions for me to realize how far out of it I had become. I had resorted to some form of denial, yet still recognized the reality and gravity of what I had been through.

For the first month, I couldn't hardly bring myself to look down there. My aunt, a registered nurse, helped me through the healing process. She kept telling me my recovery was going well, but I didn't seem to care. Each new day thankfully brought less pain. Eventually the bandages went away, and shortly after the stitches came out. As if to always remind me of the procedure, a couple of two-inch scars in my lower abdomen were all that remained.

It was near the end of June, when I began to come out of my malaise. I really couldn't do much in the way of physical activity to start with. Long days of staring blankly at the wall or ceiling, turned to days occupied with reading some of the books my cousin had brought me. On the first morning of July, I stepped out onto my cousin's balcony. It quickly became the main thing I absolutely adored about her room. It seemed so peaceful; so far removed from everything.

Every morning thereafter, I would sneak out onto the balcony to watch the sunrise. I would listen to the birds sing. Sometimes I would read. Other times I would close my eyes and picture myself floating like the clouds in the sky. I had a lot of time to think, but most days I would try not to think about anything. Though it's difficult to explain, watching fireworks on the Fourth of July felt like seeing color for the first time.

It took me a few more weeks to come around, but when I did, it felt like an epiphany. I came to the realization that I had a brand new life to live, and I wanted to live it as a girl. Instead of moping around my aunt's house, I started taking short walks outside. I was supposed to be walking anyway, and my cousin soon joined me on the walks. Kelly had grown up quite a bit from her days of relentlessly pinching me. She was actually a great person to converse with.

Eventually my walks with Kelly turned into helping her with her chores. From there it progressed into helping her mother prepare meals. Which, in turn, led to me getting enjoyment out of being in the kitchen. Both my mother and my aunt had a wonderful teacher. I barely got to see my grandmother, but just by being in the kitchen with her daughters, I could feel the love she had instilled in them. Not to mention, her recipes brought more than enough stories with them to fill the void.

So I guess you could say I really liked cooking. It actually became a necessary life skill when I moved back home. My mother, although there for me, sometimes wasn't able to be there physically all of the time. There were times when I had to fend for myself, and make my own dinner. Especially when she ended up working late. Which, with her being the only source of income in our house, became increasingly more often.

"So…" My mother looked over at me, as she set the table. "Did you have fun last night with your friends?"

"It was actually kind of exhausting," I admitted, as I carried over part of our meal. "They dragged me to that game, and it was actually two games. Did you know they did that?"

My mother chuckled. "Of course, Bailey," she said. "After four years of dragging your brother there, it kind of dawned on me."

"Oh… right," I said, as I put down a plate of grilled chicken. "Well the game was pretty much the topping on a long day."

"I bet," my mother said. "High school can be pretty rough." She started to dip out some vegetables. "I remember I memorized every route to my classes freshman year, and still got lost a few times."

"Thankfully that didn't happen," I said, taking a seat near her. "But I…" I looked up at her sheepishly. "I told Tiffany and Tawny about… you know… what happened with Tom… and me."

"Oh…" My mother put her fork down, and raised her eyebrows at me. "How did that go?"

"Surprisingly well," I said. "At least the part about them understanding." I reached out and picked up my glass of water. "Telling them seemed to be the hard part."

"Did you tell anyone else?"

I took a sip of water. "Kate was there too."

"What about Amber?"

I sighed, placing my glass back down. "I haven't gotten around to that yet," I said. "I'm kind of scared of what might happen."

My mother took a few bites of food, seeming to mull it over in her head. "Well, I can't tell you what to do," she finally said. "But I think sooner than later might be best with that girl."

"I know," I said. "You're right. It's just… she kind of blabs."

My mother laughed. "I can see that," she said, before taking a sip of water. "But it won't be too long until the word gets out about you somehow."

I groaned thinking about that prospect.

"We have to be realistic here, Bailey," my mother said.

"I know," I said. "I know."

"It might be better to tell her now, than for her to find out from some random student."

"Well… Amber is pretty open," I said. "She's lived pretty much coast to coast, so nothing really seems to phase her." I shrugged, taking a bite of my food. "I haven't even told Nathan yet," I said after swallowing.

"Why would you have to tell him?" my mother asked, seemingly aloof of the situation. "I figured he'd learned everything from Justin."

"Apparently Justin didn't talk," I said. "About anything really. Nathan said he kind of bottled it up." I pushed my food around with my fork. "I guess quite literally…"

"So you heard about his drinking problem?" my mother asked.

I looked up in surprise.

"I'm not oblivious, Bailey. I knew what was going on." She took a bite of food. "We fought about it constantly. In fact, it was one of the reasons I felt he should move out."

"You wanted him to move out?" I asked.

My mother took a deep breath. "I didn't want him to move out. He was just so full of anger," she said, as she looked out at the backyard through our sliding glass door. "It wasn't necessarily directed at anyone specifically."

I lowered my eyes, knowing full well what my brother had been mad about. He was mad at Tom for tearing the family apart. Likely he was mad at me as well. I'd been the one to drive the final nail into the coffin that was the case against Tom. I had helped to put my stepfather in prison. Granted he deserved it, but it did cause a rift to form in our household.

"So I told him if he continued to act that way, perhaps it was best if he got his own place," my mother continued, without noticing I had tuned out part of what she had said. "And he did… after graduation."

"I could have at least stayed home," I said.

My mother reached out and put her hand on mine. "Don't get me wrong. I missed you, sweetie," she said. "But I still think we made the right choice." She smiled at me. "You had a whole year to come to terms with what had happened. You were with people who cared about you, just as much as I care about you."

"It was like being in a bubble for a year though," I said.

"Well it kept you away from all of the drama."

"It just seems that I came back home to the drama," I said. "It never left. I just stepped aside for a moment, and lived in my own little corner of the world."

"Life will always have drama," my mother said, with a smile. "Speaking of which… tell me about that drama class."

---

 
 
To Be Continued...