Pushing Pause by Celeste O. Norfleet

Author:Celeste O. Norfleet
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
Published: 2007-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

My Eyes Wide Shut

“I see shadows now, gray and black shadows. I guess when you’re blind, people expect you not to see. But what if you’re not and you still can’t see? I open my eyes and still see nothing.”

—myspace.com

A few days went by without much drama. I spent most of the time either at Freeman’s or in my new bedroom. I hadn’t spoken to my dad and that was just fine with me ’cause he was on my last nerve anyway. He did leave me a few messages on my cell to tell me that he wanted me to get my mom to drop off those papers he’d left in his office and for me to return the client list on my laptop. He had to be kidding, like that was actually going to happen.

First of all, all that stuff was packed up, sitting in some huge storage bin in Virginia, and if he wanted his client list, then he needed to come correct and step up.

I hadn’t spoken to LaVon since that night at the mall, on the phone. It was his senior year at Kentwood Prep and he had basketball practice all the time, so I guess he was supposed to be focusing on that. I didn’t really care about that, either.

Since I was usually in my bedroom in the morning and out in Virginia in the afternoon, then back late, I hadn’t actually seen my mom since I talked to her the night I met with my dad. She stayed in her bedroom mostly. I heard crying one time when I passed by and one time I heard her in there talking to Jade about something. I kept on going.

Jade was nothing like I’d remembered. I knew every body said how cool she was but I wasn’t seeing any of that. We shared the third floor, but we didn’t talk and she was gone most of the time anyway.

Although, since I was up early this morning, I bumped into her. She was in the closet and the door to her side of the bathroom was open. “Morning,” I said, then looked in the mirror and pulled my hair back with a clip, then picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Good morning,” she said, about to leave the closet to go back into her bedroom.

“You know we should talk, maybe,” I said.

“About what?” she asked.

“I don’t know, anything, whatever.”

She looked at me. “Fine, we just did.”

“No, I mean for-real talk.”

“I have to go,” she said, then looked at her watch as if to make the point that she was too busy. “We can talk later.” So that was that, the end of conversation.

So today I went downstairs and my grandmother was in the kitchen cooking, seemed like she was always cooking. It smelled good, though. I sat down, expecting to have our usual detached conversation, which usually ended up with her telling me that I needed to speak like an intelligent person, as she put it, and not like a street urchin.

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