By the time Val and her co-worker left I had learned a lot about her.  She was a struggling single mother who started this business from a beat down car with two hundred dollars borrowed from her parents.  She was open and friendly, and easy to talk to.  I ended up hiring her to come once a week, despite the fact that there was no one around to make a mess.  In my head I was chastising myself, there was no way I could pretend I wasn't hiring her to be a friend, but talking to someone new was a luxury, and she made it so easy I couldn't imagine not doing it again.  

I tried to remember the last time I had someone that I could classify as a friend that wasn't a dream of part of a television show.  It would have to have been the few times I was able to go to school.  Most days I went via Internet and on the rare days I got to actually step foot in the actual school building, I sat in a single classroom. The hallways and walking to classes weren't an option as most days I just didn't have the strength.

I'd been for two months straight once and Wendy, a girl with cystic fibrosis had been my sidekick. We had the same story, same fears, same lack of social experience and it bonded us like nobody's business. We didn't get much schoolwork done, but during that stretch I had a best friend who got everything.

When Wendy stopped coming and no one mentioned why, it crushed me. I knew she was either too sick or actively dying to come anymore. I begged my dad to take me to see her. By the time he arranged it I was frantic with worry. Wendy died the night before my visit. My parents wanted me to go to the service but I declined. I already looked death in the mirror every day, I didn't want a picture of it on my best friend. I knew remembering her picking at her nail polish while talking about her latest obsession was exactly how she would want me to remember her.

Realizing memory lane wasn't helping me get things in order, I put my hair in a ponytail and threw on some skinny jeans and a tank. My scar jutted out past the scoop neck and I ran my fingers over it. Despite how it looked it felt smooth and comforting. It was morbid, but in some small way it was like my own lightning scar. Only mine was the mark of love.

Standing in my parent's bedroom I forced myself to move. This wasn't going to clean itself up, and maybe I could find out what was so important that it was worth the mess to get. I put my moms jewelry back first, both real and costume pieces wound together and tangled in a wad. Whoever had dumped them obviously had no interest in weeding through it.  My fingers caressed the cool metals and stones as I fought to not picture her wearing each piece, there would be time for that later, the clean up had to be done. 

I put her clothes folded nicely in a suitcase. My mind knew she was never coming back, and logic told me putting them back in the drawers would be silly. But there was no way I could throw them out or give them away. It was too soon, the smell of her was still there and I wasn't sharing that with anyone.

My dad's dresser was empty as well, every   drawer had been removed and all of his things ripped and broken. Even his books were shredded and the covers destroyed.  I found no hidden clues as to why this happened, I could only hope whoever it was found what they wanted and this was a one time deal. 

When I was finally finished I curled up on the bed.  Despite the slits in the mattress it still felt like home and way less traumatic than my hospital bed. I put clean sheets on it and Buster sprang up and started rolling on them adding his own special type of help. I scratched his tummy and when we both felt better I made my way to my mom's make up table.

It's pretty amazing how you look when your heart pumps blood effectively enough. My skin was pink and glowing and my eyes sparkled. My hair, which had always been flat and lifeless, even held a bit of shine. I straightened the make up and memories surfaced of her dabbing, brushing, and drawing for seemingly endless moments as she stared at her reflection.  I picked up the biggest brush, the fluffy pink one with the soft silver handle and swiped it across my cheek.  I was just about to dip it in the pale powder tub when the doorbell rang.

Buster jumped from the bed and raced down the stairway barking while his tail wagged hitting the sides of the wall. That dog may be a pro at emotional support but he sucked as a watchdog.

Creeping down the stairs I skittishly peered through the side panel window to see Kyle standing on the porch, hands deeply buried in his pockets.

I flung open the door and gave him a hug sending him backward across the porch. He struggled to free his hands and gave me a quick formal hug back. I wasn't phased. I was happy to have company and tired of the sound of silence, yanking his arm I dragged him into the house.

"Thanks for the maid service, that was so nice!  The entire house picked up in a day, now that's something."

Kyle's eyes shifted around as if I had someone hidden in another room ready to jump out. I found it endearing but slightly nerve wracking and it wasn't long before I found myself looking around.

"What are we doing Kyle?" I said scanning the street behind him.

He straightened his posture and pursed his lips together. "Get your stuff Cass, we're gonna take a little drive and a walk.  And bring Buster."

Buster meanwhile ran around the house bumping items in a dance of joy for company. The minute I got the leash he stopped jumping and stood by my side. I put the vest on him and like always, it made him immediately behave like a trained dog. What can I say, give a dog a job with a uniform and he gets down to business.

I felt guilty putting Buster in Kyle's new truck. His shedding and drooling would probably send Kyle over the edge. "Are you sure you want Buster coming in your new truck?  We can take my moms car, as long as you drive."

He opened the back door and Buster jumped in without a moment of hesitation. He didn't care about clean leather or the smell of a new car. Dogs were simple like that.

We drove to the end of the suburb where the drainage project ended and a city park complete with nature walk had been added. I had never been, but it was a beautiful spot with shade and trees and kids laughing in the distance. We walked for a few minutes laughing at Buster who paused at every bush and tree to smell the messages.

"Kyle, I just...."

Kyle held up his hand and stopped me mid sentence. "Do me a favor Cassie. Don't speak. I've been trying to tell you something and if I don't do it now I'm going to be even more crazy about you and feel even more guilty than I do now. Please, just let me speak for a minute."

I'm sure my face was a mask of wide eyed shock. I braced myself waiting for the break up, or the let's be friends speech that was so popular on shows.

Kyle grabbed my hand and we sat on an old log on the side of the path. His knee shook and he kept his gaze from my face. 

"It's about your dad, and mine. And I'm really sorry Cassie. I know you are just starting to put your life together, but I'm about to mess it all up."

The sun was filtering through the leaves and  shone brightly on my face but I failed to find the warmth. The bone chilling fear was back, and I couldn't imagine what it would bring now.

*************************
And so we begin. Finally!  Kyle is about to change Cassie's world with some jaw dropping news. I for one had a hard time believing it, but I've since seen proof.

Honestly I'm having a really hard time with only updating on Monday's. Writing ahead of time was a win, but this slow trickle of sharing is a killer.  The next Chapter reveals the heart of the journey and the idea that started this book. I'll be biting my nails until you get to read it!  Thanks for reading and next weeks a date right?