‹ Prequel: Tornado
Flood
Spencer
I watched Charlie leave, my jaw dropped. I had come to bury the hatchet but it looks like I just made things worse. I sighed and followed after her. She was headed for the dorms and part of me considered chasing after her. I didn’t feel like getting slapped, though, so I got into my car, heading for the restaurant.
I was going there as often as I could. I wanted to get the community service hours done with as soon as I could. I’d have to work extra to pay off the tickets but I didn’t want to get in more trouble at school. After mopping the dining room floor, I had an hour before it was time to start bussing tables so I went into my mom’s office to do some homework.
I frowned at the syllabus Professor Ferrell had given me. What possessed him to give us this kind of an assignment? I would have been happy with portraits. Charlie was beautiful and it would have been great to draw and paint her.
I groaned, remembering we were supposed to work together. I sighed, and got my phone out.
Have you started the project?
Yes.
Do you want to get together to work on it?
It took her a while to respond.
No. But I suppose we have to. I’ll be at your house tomorrow for tutoring with your mom at 3.
See you then.
No response. That didn’t surprise me too much. I sighed and put my phone in my pocket.
“Everything okay?” my mom asked when she walked by the door.
“Charlie’s pissed with me,” I answered and told her about what happened in the library.
“Spencer,” she began.
“I know. I couldn’t help it. I’m just tired of everyone saying they understand when they don’t have a fucking clue.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Where’s Norman?”
Her face went dark. “I managed to convince Principal Hardwick to make him work over at United Reach instead. He’s helping your father.”
“And Dad was okay with that?”
“He’s the one who suggested it.” She smiled a little. “He’s not making it easy on Norman. Apparently, Norman is helping him directly.” I smiled, too. “Well, it’s dinner time so suit up.”
-
I paced my room. Charlie was supposed to be here in ten minutes. I had made a list of the things I wanted to sketch. I wanted to take a more literal approach but, at the same time, I wanted to be spontaneous. It was hard to decide and I was hoping we could compare notes.
The doorbell rang and I picked up my sketchbook, list, and pencils. I heard my mom open the door and great Charlie. Charlie’s response was cheerful but that didn’t mean a thing with how she’d respond to me. I waited a few minutes then jogged down the stairs. Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table. She was in a white, long sleeved shirt and blue jeans. For some reason, it just made her look nicer.
I sat down across from her and my mom, doodling until they were done with her accounting homework.
“You’re really getting the hang of this,” my mom said an hour later.
Charlie laughed. “Only because I have you helping me,” she said.
“Well, I’m going to let you guys work on your project. Do you want some drinks?”
“Sure,” I mumbled and Charlie nodded.
She brought us waters and I cleared my throat. Charlie had already started sketching. Damn it.
“So, what are you going to do for your sketches?” I asked timidly.
“I’m going for an abstract approach,” she answered in a normal voice and I let out a silent breath of relief. “You?”
“I was thinking literal but I also want them to be spontaneous.” I passed her a rough sketch. “I made this yesterday after my shift at the restaurant.”
She took it and I waited for her opinion. She tilted her head and ran her finger lightly over the pencil strokes.
“I like it,” she said finally. “But, if I were looking at it from an outsider’s point of view, I wouldn’t know it was a flood.”
I pursed my lips as she handed it back. “Yeah, I was thinking that, too.”
We worked in silence. I bit my lip for a second then started drawing my house. Across from me, Charlie was humming while she worked. I filled the windows with water and, at the roof, I made jagged lines to resemble cracks and drew water spraying out the top.
“Let’s switch,” she said and I handed her mine and looked at hers.
It was beautiful. She had drawn a dam from a side view. At first I thought it was a little cliché until I looked closer at the water. Instead of water, she had drawn words in curves. Most of the words were insults. The dam was breaking and she had drawn the drops of water as tear drops.
I looked up and we were both giving each other the same look: confusion mixed with pity.
She sighed and put my sketch down.
“I think we should talk,” she whispered and I nodded.
I stood up. “Let’s go get coffee.”
“Okay,” she said and we left, leaving our sketches behind.
-
As I expected, Starbucks was pretty busy but we managed some leather chairs in the back. Charlie was playing with her straw and I wondered who should go first.
“Should we flip a coin?” she asked and I laughed.
“Well, since I’m the one that snapped first, I guess I’ll start,” I said and she turned to face me more. I picked at the muffin I bought but I wasn’t particularly hungry. “The day my aunt killed herself… it was the day before my birthday. She hung herself in the living room. She had moved here after graduating high school; she hated living in Vegas. My dad was letting her stay with us until she found a more permanent living situation.” I cleared my throat. “In her note, she apologized for doing it when she did but she couldn’t handle it anymore. ‘Paulie told me to do it’ was the last sentence.”
“Who was Paulie?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “She was schizophrenic. I can only assume Paulie was one of her personalities.”
“I’m really sorry, Spencer.”
“That’s why I want to get out of here,” I said bitterly. “I can’t even go into the living room anymore, let alone the guest room where she stayed. I keep seeing her happy one second then hanging-”
I stopped and squeezed my eyes shut. I felt her soft hand take mine and I cleared my throat.
“Your turn,” I whispered.
She sighed heavily. “Just… don’t judge me.” I frowned at her. “When I was 16, I had my first boyfriend. Great guy. He came over a lot.”
“What was his name?”
“Turner but, when my dad was around, Mr. Penn. He was my dad’s boss.” I bit my lip and she played with her straw again, letting go of my hand. “It didn’t take long for us to start sleeping together. It was his idea, really. I got pregnant but had a miscarriage. He blamed it on me and….” She cleared her throat, blinking back tears. “He told my dad what happened. He said that it was all my fault; that I had seduced him. My dad believed him for a while.”
She glared at her cup for a few seconds before continuing.
“It was my mom who stuck by my side. Turner and my dad were cruel. They called me a lot of names and, when he came over, Turner would hit me when my dad wasn’t looking. Finally, my mom sat down and threatened to divorce my dad if he kept treating me that way. She also called the cops on Turner. After Turner got out of jail, he tried to kidnap me so they sent me up here. They let me pick a school and, like I said, I like the art program here so I picked this one.”
“What happened with your parents?” I whispered.
She broke off a piece of my muffin. “They’re in marriage counseling. They call me a lot; especially my dad. He wants to make up for what he did.”
“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” I muttered.
“Thanks.”
We finished our coffee without talking much. We shared the muffin and watched as people came and left Starbucks.
“No one knows any of that stuff,” she said as we left.
“I won’t say anything,” I promised.
Then, before we got in the car, Patty saw me.
I was going there as often as I could. I wanted to get the community service hours done with as soon as I could. I’d have to work extra to pay off the tickets but I didn’t want to get in more trouble at school. After mopping the dining room floor, I had an hour before it was time to start bussing tables so I went into my mom’s office to do some homework.
I frowned at the syllabus Professor Ferrell had given me. What possessed him to give us this kind of an assignment? I would have been happy with portraits. Charlie was beautiful and it would have been great to draw and paint her.
I groaned, remembering we were supposed to work together. I sighed, and got my phone out.
Have you started the project?
Yes.
Do you want to get together to work on it?
It took her a while to respond.
No. But I suppose we have to. I’ll be at your house tomorrow for tutoring with your mom at 3.
See you then.
No response. That didn’t surprise me too much. I sighed and put my phone in my pocket.
“Everything okay?” my mom asked when she walked by the door.
“Charlie’s pissed with me,” I answered and told her about what happened in the library.
“Spencer,” she began.
“I know. I couldn’t help it. I’m just tired of everyone saying they understand when they don’t have a fucking clue.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Where’s Norman?”
Her face went dark. “I managed to convince Principal Hardwick to make him work over at United Reach instead. He’s helping your father.”
“And Dad was okay with that?”
“He’s the one who suggested it.” She smiled a little. “He’s not making it easy on Norman. Apparently, Norman is helping him directly.” I smiled, too. “Well, it’s dinner time so suit up.”
-
I paced my room. Charlie was supposed to be here in ten minutes. I had made a list of the things I wanted to sketch. I wanted to take a more literal approach but, at the same time, I wanted to be spontaneous. It was hard to decide and I was hoping we could compare notes.
The doorbell rang and I picked up my sketchbook, list, and pencils. I heard my mom open the door and great Charlie. Charlie’s response was cheerful but that didn’t mean a thing with how she’d respond to me. I waited a few minutes then jogged down the stairs. Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table. She was in a white, long sleeved shirt and blue jeans. For some reason, it just made her look nicer.
I sat down across from her and my mom, doodling until they were done with her accounting homework.
“You’re really getting the hang of this,” my mom said an hour later.
Charlie laughed. “Only because I have you helping me,” she said.
“Well, I’m going to let you guys work on your project. Do you want some drinks?”
“Sure,” I mumbled and Charlie nodded.
She brought us waters and I cleared my throat. Charlie had already started sketching. Damn it.
“So, what are you going to do for your sketches?” I asked timidly.
“I’m going for an abstract approach,” she answered in a normal voice and I let out a silent breath of relief. “You?”
“I was thinking literal but I also want them to be spontaneous.” I passed her a rough sketch. “I made this yesterday after my shift at the restaurant.”
She took it and I waited for her opinion. She tilted her head and ran her finger lightly over the pencil strokes.
“I like it,” she said finally. “But, if I were looking at it from an outsider’s point of view, I wouldn’t know it was a flood.”
I pursed my lips as she handed it back. “Yeah, I was thinking that, too.”
We worked in silence. I bit my lip for a second then started drawing my house. Across from me, Charlie was humming while she worked. I filled the windows with water and, at the roof, I made jagged lines to resemble cracks and drew water spraying out the top.
“Let’s switch,” she said and I handed her mine and looked at hers.
It was beautiful. She had drawn a dam from a side view. At first I thought it was a little cliché until I looked closer at the water. Instead of water, she had drawn words in curves. Most of the words were insults. The dam was breaking and she had drawn the drops of water as tear drops.
I looked up and we were both giving each other the same look: confusion mixed with pity.
She sighed and put my sketch down.
“I think we should talk,” she whispered and I nodded.
I stood up. “Let’s go get coffee.”
“Okay,” she said and we left, leaving our sketches behind.
-
As I expected, Starbucks was pretty busy but we managed some leather chairs in the back. Charlie was playing with her straw and I wondered who should go first.
“Should we flip a coin?” she asked and I laughed.
“Well, since I’m the one that snapped first, I guess I’ll start,” I said and she turned to face me more. I picked at the muffin I bought but I wasn’t particularly hungry. “The day my aunt killed herself… it was the day before my birthday. She hung herself in the living room. She had moved here after graduating high school; she hated living in Vegas. My dad was letting her stay with us until she found a more permanent living situation.” I cleared my throat. “In her note, she apologized for doing it when she did but she couldn’t handle it anymore. ‘Paulie told me to do it’ was the last sentence.”
“Who was Paulie?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “She was schizophrenic. I can only assume Paulie was one of her personalities.”
“I’m really sorry, Spencer.”
“That’s why I want to get out of here,” I said bitterly. “I can’t even go into the living room anymore, let alone the guest room where she stayed. I keep seeing her happy one second then hanging-”
I stopped and squeezed my eyes shut. I felt her soft hand take mine and I cleared my throat.
“Your turn,” I whispered.
She sighed heavily. “Just… don’t judge me.” I frowned at her. “When I was 16, I had my first boyfriend. Great guy. He came over a lot.”
“What was his name?”
“Turner but, when my dad was around, Mr. Penn. He was my dad’s boss.” I bit my lip and she played with her straw again, letting go of my hand. “It didn’t take long for us to start sleeping together. It was his idea, really. I got pregnant but had a miscarriage. He blamed it on me and….” She cleared her throat, blinking back tears. “He told my dad what happened. He said that it was all my fault; that I had seduced him. My dad believed him for a while.”
She glared at her cup for a few seconds before continuing.
“It was my mom who stuck by my side. Turner and my dad were cruel. They called me a lot of names and, when he came over, Turner would hit me when my dad wasn’t looking. Finally, my mom sat down and threatened to divorce my dad if he kept treating me that way. She also called the cops on Turner. After Turner got out of jail, he tried to kidnap me so they sent me up here. They let me pick a school and, like I said, I like the art program here so I picked this one.”
“What happened with your parents?” I whispered.
She broke off a piece of my muffin. “They’re in marriage counseling. They call me a lot; especially my dad. He wants to make up for what he did.”
“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” I muttered.
“Thanks.”
We finished our coffee without talking much. We shared the muffin and watched as people came and left Starbucks.
“No one knows any of that stuff,” she said as we left.
“I won’t say anything,” I promised.
Then, before we got in the car, Patty saw me.