Strangely Normal - By Tess Oliver Page 0,19
she needs a doctor. But my dad is in denial. You might have thought that you landed a nice, cushy summer job, but it won’t be easy. Just hope you can handle it, Valley.”
Quiet rage filled me with each of his words of warning. I decided we needed to get things out in the open now or I would be suffering his attacks constantly. “You don’t know anything about me or what I imagined.” I said quietly. “I’ve lived in squalid, flea-infested apartments, the backroom of a dry cleaner, and even the backseat of a van. I wake up every day and wonder if there will be any food in the cupboard. In school, I was the new kid more times than I can count on my fingers, and yet, I still managed to get into a university. But that dream was smashed by my parent’s lack of money.” I hated the waver in my voice, but I was angry enough to continue and he didn’t seem inclined to stop me. “I’ve slept on a mattress that had more fucking holes than the moon, and a day with hot water in my life is a day of wondrous luxury. Easy? I wouldn’t know easy if it slapped me in the face. I can handle it.”
He stared at me without responding, but his expression was not contrite or empathetic. And I was glad of it. The last thing I’d wanted in spilling my embarrassing life story to him was his pity. My only motive was to let him know I wasn’t some spoiled, naïve twit from the valley, looking for easy cash. And from the intensity in his green eyes as he looked at me, it seemed I’d made my point.
The door opened signaling Finley’s return. Jude didn’t pull his gaze from my face until his sister flopped into her chair. She seemed uncharacteristically quiet.
“Is Dad all right?” Jude asked.
One thing I’d discovered in my short time on the job, Nicky King’s kids adored him. It was something you didn’t always expect with movie stars and rock stars, but the man had obviously done something right during his wild years of fame.
“He’s fine,” Finley answered. As I’d witnessed several times throughout our first day together, her demeanor had changed dramatically. I was certain she hadn’t heard the conversation I’d had with Jude, so it must have been something her dad had said. Maybe he’d decided against this whole thing. Even though I truly liked Finley, and while I never liked to fail at anything, after the charming exchange I’d just had with Jude, I wouldn’t be all that disappointed to leave.
We leaned back and watched the movie without commentary for a stretch of tense silence and then my shoulders relaxed in relief when Jude stood and walked out of the theater without another word. Finley relaxed too, eventually, but it was obvious her tension had had more to do with the phone conversation than with Jude’s presence.
We’d finished the movie and evening peacefully, or as peacefully as a horror movie could provide. We went upstairs to bed. Finley never divulged what had her upset, and I certainly never mentioned my tense chat with Jude. I decided not to fret about any of it and get a good night’s sleep to see what the next day would bring. I’d grown up living day to day, never quite knowing what was coming next, and that life skill was definitely going to come in handy on this adventure.
CHAPTER 7
After years of sleeping on a lumpy, sunken-in sofa mattress, the lush bed felt like floating on a cloud of cream. The entire house slept late, another luxury I had not been afforded while living with two little sisters. Early on Saturday mornings, as if they had tiny, perfectly synchronized alarm clocks in their heads, Janie and Sophie had made it a ritual to climb into bed with me to watch their favorite cartoons. Although I had to admit, I rather missed not waking up to Janie’s little foot sticking in my face.
Finley’s mood had returned to bright and energetic, which was a relief. Even more relieving was that with the exception of the two dogs and Some Pig, we had the kitchen to ourselves. The pet trio had staked out spots on the kitchen floor, waiting patiently for a piece of scrambled egg to fly their way. Some Pig was especially adept at begging. He’d mastered the look of helpless, hungry beggar.
Apparently, one day of