A Place In This Life

Chapter 23

I was dead tired, alone in front of Rite-Aid, and far enough away from my house that nobody I knew would drive by and wonder what the hell I was doing there. Todd had just dropped me off, and I was waiting for Cara to whisk me home and complete her alibi obligation. The Honda appeared within minutes.

"It looks like you didn't get much sleep at my house last night," said Cara, covering her mouth in a mock giggle. "Here's a coffee. Thought you'd need it."

She pointed to a nice, hot, fresh cup of coffee in the cupholder, which I gratefully took with my shaky hands and drank. Its warmth instantly heated my stomach and extended to my fingertips.

"You know, Todd could get into a lot of trouble with you, now that he's 18."

"So could Alex," I said. "He was already 18 when we met."

I thought about the note — our pact — before zoning out with thoughts about the gaudy hotel room, and spending all night with Todd. And the breath strips... I forgot them but it didn't matter.

"True," she said, pissed with my righteous comeback.

At home, my dad was sawing boards in the garage, unaware that we'd pulled up in the driveway. There was always sawdust to be made, something to be built, projects to be completed. It was his way of escaping my mom's anxiety.

"How was the slumber party?" he asked, pushing his safety goggles over his forehead.

"Great! We got a lot of gossiping done — and birthday planning" I said.

"That's right. It's almost your birthday," he said, pointing to Cara. "Hey, your birthdays are so close to each other, you guys should throw a double party," he said. With Cara's in June and mine in July, a double birthday party sounded good in theory, but not likely to happen between a Gemini and a Cancer.

I had never thought until that moment that my astrological sign was Cancer. Why couldn't they have just called it Crab or Shellfish, or stuck with Moon Child?

"I'm having a beach party — by the Ritz," said Cara, who liked to plan ahead for events that revolved around her. Of course she would want a party on the beach in front of one of Orange County's fanciest hotels. Her father would spare no expense. Whenever Cara wanted something, she just asked daddy and received.

"You've already got your plans, then," said my dad, looking over at me. It was as if he hoped I would also have a definite plan nailed down for my birthday. Other than becoming an "adult" and being able to call my own shots, I had no other plans for turning 18.

Cara stretched her arms over her head, exposing her perfectly flat stomach.

"I'm wiped-out. Call me later, Nally," she said, patting my arm before dancing back to her car and driving away.

"I'm gonna get a shower," I said, excusing myself from my father's Home Depot at-home experiment.

My mom was laying on the couch with a washcloth on her forehead. Panic attack aftermath. No wonder my father had been sawing.

"Are you okay, mom?"

"I'm just having a hard time. I don't feel good, dad isn't talking and he's acting weird."

This scenario played-out at least once a month, usually ending with my mom going to bed or laying on the couch while my father escaped to the garage.

"You know dad," I said in response to the all-too-common scenario, as I didn't want to end up standing next to the couch for an hour, analyzing what my father should have done differently.

"Did you have a good time at Cara's?" she asked.

"Yeah, it was great. We worked on her birthday party plans," I said, thinking instead of Todd's face when I took off my blouse in the hotel room.