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She smiles at me, radiant white teeth sparkling in the sun. “Hi! I’m Porscha. I’m supposed to be here to repair and paint some cabinets?”
“You were just supposed to be the stupid cabinet lady,” I grumble, going back to glaring at the page.
“Boo hoo,” Fake Porscha says, and I don’t look up at her again. “So I tricked you. Big whoop.”
“Seducing a minor is still a crime,” I tell her.
“Aw, are you going to finally admit something?” Fake Porscha mocks, and times like this I question what was real and what wasn’t during my time with her. “Are you ashamed of what we had? Sad those big, bad police officers didn’t believe you?”
I drop the marker, running my hands over my face to steady my breaths. Of course my head chooses to fuck with me right now.
She’s not real. She’s not real.
I glare back at her, but she’s gone silent. Fake Porscha doesn’t fade, which unsettles me, but maybe my head is tired of tricking itself. It’s mentally taxing to create a version of my nightmare and simultaneously argue with it.
Seeing her always messes with me. I can’t forget that final day, the things we did, or the choices I made. But this Porscha who taunts me is a monster of my own design, not a spirit haunting me.
Fire. She couldn’t get out of the fire.
Closing my eyes, I count to five. It helps to settle my brain, and when I open my eyes again and look around the room Fake Porscha is gone.
I sigh, dropping my head into my dirty hands. I should’ve stayed far away from Porscha from the very beginning, but I fell for her daughter. And when I was helpless to escape Joelle’s orbit, I committed to her. Even if it meant dealing with her mother too.
And I learned to hate Porscha in the end. I guess that’s how I feel about all of them now.
Shoving the paper away, I stand and pace the room. The creativity is gone, but my frustration remains. I don’t know what I want to create when everything around me feels like it’s breaking apart.
I don’t know if I can deal with what’s coming next. For the first time in ages, I actually want Sterling to come back here.
Chapter 13
“Mom?”
My voice echoes back at me when I enter the house. All the windows are open this afternoon and the hot breeze carries through the house. We’re tucked into a cookie-cutter neighborhood with identical houses all around us, and when I set my backpack down I gaze at the house next door. They’ve got the right idea and with the windows closed, I’m betting they’re using the AC. Why aren’t we doing that?
The TV in the living room is on, playing one of her favorite dramas, and when I continue into the kitchen with a converted dining area for her projects, I can smell stain. There’s cabinet doors spread out on the ground and I wrinkle my nose. Yeah, in here that smell is strong, but there’s something else in the air.
I hook around the corner of the kitchen to the stairwell, bypassing our rooms. Usually if Mom is upstairs she would answer me by now. I take the steps two at a time, practically bouncing on the balls of my feet after the good day I’ve had. There’s a good chance I’ll be on the honor roll in time for graduation.
Downstairs I can hear the sink running. I cough as I descend the steps and reach the ground, that strange scent in the air way worse down here. Our walkout basement leads to the backyard, and Mom keeps any big projects back there so she can take them to job sites. She’s always been self-employed, and people around town love to hire her for anything from odds-and-ends jobs to something custom.
Mom pops up from the floor as I’m crossing the room, making me jump in surprise. “Oh, Joelle, I didn’t hear you come in.”
I blink, staring at her. Mom loves to wear denim, mostly overalls or cutoffs, and she’s usually particular about what she wears when she’s working on a job. Her hair is pulled back, but she’s down to her bra and panties, and seems to have her clothing rolled into a ball. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, just soaking some stains out,” she says with a grin, flashing me her teeth. Even as an adult she’s always had a little gap between her two front teeth that gives her a youthful look. “The stain up there stinks something fierce.”
I wrinkle my nose, looking around the basement. She’s got plastic over some of the artwork that’s hung up, and she’s pushed the wicker furniture to one side of the room. After staining the second couch with paint she just decided to keep furniture down here that’s a little more stain resistant, but it’s all been shoved out of her way. “It doesn’t smell like stain down here. Wood stain?”
Mom gives me a grin, but it looks a little forced. Some days she comes in here looking dreadfully tired, but her eyes are so wide right now she looks like she chugged an energy drink or something before I got home. “Oh, yes, I’ve got a couple different projects going. Painting, staining… the Enders out in Calhoun County just hired me to paint their daughter’s nursery. I’m going to sketch it tonight. They want a field of flowers.”
“Fun,” I tell her, watching as she moves the bundle of clothes. She drops it in the deep utility sink and turns on the second faucet. “But do you think we can do something about the smell? Maybe some candles or something? The windows are all open but down here it stinks-”
“Joelle,” Mom snaps, the kindness in her voice suddenly absent, “it’s not an issue. I will deal with it when I’m done here.”
“I don’t mind helping-”
Mom spins on me when I approach, practically barring the sink with her arms out. “I said I’ve got this!”