The Brightest Light of Sunshine

I don’t take Maddie back to our mother’s house after I pick her up from TDP. Instead, I buckle her up in the car seat for kids I keep in the back of my car and drive to my apartment.

Meeting Grace at the studio was a pleasant surprise. Despite our scarce interactions and the fact that sometimes she looks a bit unsure about me, she seems like a cool girl.

No, she’s definitely a cool girl if she stayed behind with my sister while I finished Trey’s back tattoo. I was lucky I wasn’t with an actual client, or it would’ve taken me much longer to pack up.

But I can’t even dwell on the fact that Grace is Maddie’s ballet teacher—and that maybe I want to drop my sister off and pick her up from her lessons even more often than before—because my mother still hasn’t answered the fucking phone.

As I hang up for the third time, I force myself to take a deep breath and keep the profanities to myself. Maddie doesn’t need to find out that our family life is fucked up.

When I tell her we’re having a sleepover at my place, luckily, she doesn’t object. She simply makes me promise we’ll watch a princess movie on the couch before bed, and that’s about it.

I don’t know what I’ve done in another life to deserve such an angel as my little sister, but I thank past-life me for it every single day.

My apartment sits in the more residential part of town, although there are still some crowded bars and restaurants within walking distance. It’s a quiet area where mostly families and old folks live, but I prefer it this way.

When I was apartment hunting years ago, I knew I couldn’t live in the bustling Warlington downtown—I wanted to spend more time with my baby sister, and I wasn’t going to be able to if some college kids started singing-shouting under my windows at two in the morning, drunk out of their minds.

“Wash your hands and we’ll have dinner shortly, all right?” I tell Maddie as I open the front door and she rushes inside towards her bedroom.

“Yes!” she shouts before disappearing behind the kitchen.

My apartment isn’t too big, but at least it gets a good amount of sunlight and it’s quite modern. Right as you open the front door, there’s a short hallway with a built-in closet, and straight on is the largest room of the place—the living room. It has a fireplace and everything, although it doesn’t work.

On the right, there’s an open concept kitchen and another narrow hallway that leads to Maddie’s bedroom and bathroom. On the other side of the living room, there’s the master bedroom with an ensuite.

The apartment is on the pricey side of Warlington, but I make good money at the parlor, and I don’t mind paying extra to live comfortably. To get back here after a shitty day and be able to call this place my home.

“What are we having for dinner?” Maddie appears in the kitchen a few minutes after I’ve changed into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

I help her sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island when she tries to climb it. “How about some mashed potatoes and sausages?” My fridge isn’t exactly full right now, so I hope that’s enough.

After an enthusiastic thumbs-up of approval, I get on with dinner after I put some cartoons on TV for her. The sausages are almost done when my phone rings in my pocket. I look at the caller ID and the heat of the stove has nothing on the raging fire blazing inside of me right now.

She doesn’t bother with greetings. “Is she—”

“She’s with me.” I keep my tone low, so Maddie doesn’t hear the venom in my voice. I can’t exactly leave the kitchen while I’m cooking, and there’s no wall separating it from the living room, so there’s that. “Where the hell were you?”

At least my mother has the decency to sound apologetic when she speaks next, but I can’t feel sympathy for her right now. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I really am. I got home after an exhausting shift at the grocery shop and I… I needed…”

“You needed to get blackout drunk until you forgot to pick up your own daughter from the studio?” I lower my voice to an impossible growl. “Who drove her to her lesson?”

“Taylor’s mother did.” I hear her gulp from the other side of the line. “She picks her up from school on Tuesdays because I have a longer shift, remember?”

I ignore her. “I had to leave the parlor to get her,” I say between gritted teeth. “You know I would do anything for her, Mom, but being her parent isn’t my responsibility. It’s yours.”

A charged pause. “I know.”

Then fucking act like it, I want to say, but I don’t.

“I’ll get dressed and go pick her up,” she says in a sluggish voice, the kind she uses when she’s on her path to sobering up but not quite there yet.

“Don’t bother. She’s staying the night with me.” I put some sausages on Maddie’s pink plate, and the rest on a plain white one for me. “We’ll drop by tomorrow morning to get her things before school starts. Any plans to get wasted this weekend, or will you be able to take proper care of your daughter?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Samuel.” For a second, she sounds like the authoritative, sensible mother I used to know. A second later I remind myself that she doesn’t exist anymore.

“Answer me.”

A beat of silence passes between us. Then, “I won’t drink this weekend.”

I’m not sure I believe her. “Good. Then we’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

I don’t give her enough time to answer, because if I hear any more of her half-drunken excuses right now, I might lose my fucking mind.

I finish the mash in silence and call Maddie to the table once dinner is ready. She loves my cooking, so it’s no surprise that she devours her food in record time for a four-year-old.

After she helps me clean up, we snuggle together under a blanket on the couch and watch fifteen minutes of the movie before she passes out from exhaustion. I pick her up easily and carry her to her bedroom, which I let her choose the decorations of, so that’s probably why it looks like a hurricane of all things girly.

Her ‘big girl bed’ has four posts and sheer white curtains, because duh—that’s how princesses sleep. The white walls are decorated with stickers of flowers and stars, and I even got her one of those vanities for children I still don’t understand the purpose of.

Trey teases me that I have too much of a great taste when it comes to designing princess bedrooms to be a coincidence, but I wanted to make her room at my apartment as cozy as possible, a place she wanted to spend time in.

So yes, I pride myself on my amazing skills at room makeovers—princess rooms, specifically.

Maddie is so tired she doesn’t wake up when I place her on the bed and tuck her in. “Sleep well, peanut,” I whisper as my lips brush her forehead.

I close the door softly behind me and hope she has sweet dreams.

I know I won’t.

***

Grace

“Well, well, well. If this isn’t Grace Allen going out for the second night in a month. Are you being possessed by a partying demon or something?”

I roll my eyes. “Gee, Amber. Thanks for the encouragement.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

I’m sliding into the booth at Danny’s next to Céline when Em says, “She only agreed to come because it was my birthday on Wednesday, just so you know.”

“Cut my girl some slack, will you?” Céline chimes in. “At least she’s here, so stop being a pain in the ass.”

I lean into her ear and whisper, “I love you the most.”

“I heard that.” Emily glares at me. I only stick my tongue out at her because she deserves it.

We chat about Em’s birthday surprise from her parents, which consisted of the biggest bunch of flowers being delivered to her basketball practice when she was talking to “the hottest guy ever”. Apparently, her parents have a thing for inconvenient public displays of affection that involve embarrassing their daughter at any given cost.

By the time our drinks—only water for me—and appetizers get here, Amber’s eyes take on a mischievous gleam. She leans in conspiratorially, “So, babes, I was thinking… It’s a Saturday night. We are at the hottest bar in Warlington right now, which happens to be full of sexy potential hookups. Who wants to go first?”

Céline arches a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “I’m kind of seeing Stella now, remember?”

The blonde dismisses her with a hand gesture. “We know. And trust us—about damn time. You’re not on the market, but myself and these two ladies totally are.”

I shake my head as anxiety clings to my chest. I know Amber only has good intentions, but if she brings out her lawyer-to-be skillset tonight, I’m done for.

“Forget it,” I tell her. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Aw, come on,” Emily whines before taking a sip of her beer. I can’t even begin to understand how she drinks that willingly. Sure, I dislike alcohol in general and I almost never drink, but beer is on a whole different level. It tastes funny—a bad kind of funny.

She pouts. “Not even for my birthday?”

“You want me to hook up with some random guy as a birthday present?” I half-laugh. “I already got you those live-show tickets you’ve been pestering me about for months.”

“But—”

“Sucks to suck.”

“It doesn’t have to be a hookup,” Amber argues as she picks up a mozzarella stick between her long, red nails. “How about you just go up to a guy and talk to him for a bit? Get his number? We’ll be right here monitoring the whole thing, and I’ll even let you choose your prey.”

I roll my eyes. “Such a selfless soul you are. What’s with you guys wanting me to talk to a boy all of a sudden?”

“We think you’re ready for the next step.” Emily shrugs. “Which is talking to someone. Just talking. In public. With us literally here.”

I look at Amber and Céline, but I know I’m not going to find any allies at this table right now. They don’t know about my assault, but they do know that I’m reticent about talking to men because of some past relationship gone wrong. It’s not that I don’t love and trust them, it’s just that I refuse to see the inevitable pity in their eyes once they learn what happened to me.

Because trust me, the pity always comes. It chases me wherever I go.

When I told Emily about it, she started to treat me differently, more gently, for a whole two hours before I finally snapped and told her that I didn’t need to be coddled.

I only want people to speak to me like they would address any other person. I’m not the consequences of my assault. I refuse to let them define who I am.

I feel Céline’s gentle touch on my arm. “If you’re not ready, though—”

“She is,” Amber interrupts with a decisive look in her eyes. “Come on, have a look around. Fancy any hottie?”

I can’t believe I’m turning around. When I tell you Amber’s a natural-born lawyer, I’m not kidding. And I find it super annoying right now.

Doing as she says, my eyes scan the bar in a lazy search for… Who? I don’t even know who I’m looking for. Perhaps if Dax were here, I would build enough courage to go up to him. We’ve been smiling at each other in class all week—surely, he knows I exist now.

However, as the seconds pass and there’s no sign of Dax anywhere, my fleeting confidence slowly melts away. Deep down it’s not like I’m completely opposed to my friends’ suggestion of finding a cute boy to talk to. If I were, I would’ve fought my ground tooth and claw, and they wouldn’t force me anyway.

The truth is that something inside me shifted this summer. Sure, I refused to go to Paulson’s party at first, but I ended up there, didn’t I? And, despite what happened with that creepy guy after Aaron left, it didn’t affect me as much as I thought it would. Maybe it’s time to test the waters.

I talked to Callaghan a couple of times without having a panic attack and he’s probably the most intimidating man I’ve ever come across, with his imposing height and biceps bigger than my head. I think it’s a good sign.

“How about that guy over there?” Emily’s voice drags me out of my thoughts. I follow her gaze towards a nearby booth, where a group of Warlington hockey players are laughing and drinking. “The blond one. He looks approachable, doesn’t he?”

“And he’s also in the middle of a conversation with his friends,” I point out. “I’m absolutely not going up to their table. Are you insane?”

Em shrugs. “Fair enough.”

I scan the bar again. It’s packed, and we were lucky enough to find an available booth on a Saturday night. I’m sure Amber had something to do with it—there isn’t a single person on campus she doesn’t know, or any string she refuses to pull.

I’m about to tell my friends to drop it when I spot him.

“What was the deal, again?” I ask absentmindedly.

Amber wastes no time reminding me, “Just talk to him for a bit. Get his number if you’re feeling bold.”

Emily points an accusatory finger at me. “Don’t you dare come back to this table empty-handed, young lady.”

“Don’t worry.” I don’t spare them another glance as my legs carry me across the bar on their own accord.

He has his wide back turned to me, but I would recognize those tattoos anywhere.

“Hey, Callaghan.”