Page 11 of Undeniably Perfect

“Who’s this client?”

“A guy.”

“Tabs…” my brother growls.

I roll my eyes. My big brother is overprotective. I guess his overbearing nature is probably a direct result of our fucked-up family situation, but it still drives me nuts.

Brixton is five years older than me. A year after I was born, our dad split. No one knows where he was from, to begin with, and we’ve never gone looking for him. Our mom tried her best, but one early morning on her way to a second job she was in a bad car accident. Swamped in medical bills and physical pain, she started misusing her pain meds. I was only four, so I don’t remember much, but Brixton says she stopped going to work, stopped doing anything.

He learned I was old enough to go to nursery school because his friend’s sister was my age and was going. He was afraid to tell anyone about our mom for fear that someone would take us away. We’d only met our grandparents on a few occasions when Mom had made up with them and allowed them to see us. Brix knew where they lived and one day after school, he walked there and knocked on the door. To say my grandmother was surprised was the understatement of the century. She drove Brixton back to our house. She tried talking my mom into sending me to school, but Mom told her to leave. She didn’t come back.

Not long after that, I tried to wake our mom while Brix was at school, but she just moaned for me to go make my food because I wasn’t a baby anymore. I tried to find food, but we didn’t have anything. I scoured the cabinets and found one can of soup behind some pots. I wasn’t allowed to use the stove, so I set it in the microwave. I couldn’t read yet. I didn’t know how long to cook it for, so I just pressed four a couple of times because that was my age and I knew that number. Brix had started teaching me numbers.

I decided to go play and wait for the beep.

My room was in the way back of the tiny house we rented. I smelled it at first, the smoke. I opened my door and thick black smoke billowed down our hallway.

I tried to run to the kitchen, but there were flames. I called out for Mommy but couldn’t get to her.

I ran down the hallway and climbed out of Brix’s window because it had no screen on it. I ran around the front and could see flames through the roof. I started to run to the front door when two hands grabbed me.

“No!” Brixton shouted. He still had on his backpack, having walked home from school.

“Mommy!” I yelled to him, tears in my eyes. I knew then it was all my fault.

“Tabs!” I hear Brix’s voice again, bringing me out of my memories.

“Listen, it’s fine. Don’t tell them,” I say, referring to our grandparents, who we lived with after our mother’s death. “I’m gonna stay here for a few days. I need to speak to my landlord. They let me get a few things, but they were still cleaning up when I left.”

“Did you call your insurance company?”

Brix made me get renters insurance, which I’m thankful for right now. “Not yet.”

I know that right now Brix’s vein in his forehead is throbbing and his face is getting flushed.

“Calm down, I just changed and made sure my files are OK. It’s next on my to-do list.”

I start to zone out as Brix begins rattling off a list of things I need to do, cursing himself for being away.

“Am I boring you?”

The question pulls me out of my daze again. “No, asshat. I’m just...it’s been a long day.” I groan and pull my hair back into a messy bun.

Brixton sighs. “Sorry, Tabby. I am. I wish I was there to help. You know, you can go stay at my place. You don’t have to stay with some stranger.”

I love that he doesn’t insist I run home to PopPop and Grandma’s house. I also love that he wants me to stay at his place. I have no idea why I don’t go there. I should go there. That is the rational thing to do. But something about Kent...intrigues me. I mean seriously, how often do famous baseball players offer up their residence to me. Plus, I imagine he’s not home much, so I have the place to myself. And it’s palatial compared to Brix’s tiny studio. It’s like seeing how the other half live. And the fact that he’s a jock, means he’s not my type, so I can stay here in a safe place without worrying about anything.

I look around. The apartment is impersonal. There’s not much in decor. The furniture is simple. I’m surprised it doesn’t have more…decorating bling.

“I’m fine. Let me figure out what’s going on with my place and then we’ll talk, OK?”

“Fine, but seriously, be careful, Tabs.”

“I will, Brixy-Wixy.”

I hang up and turn toward the hallway. I walk into Kent’s room. I notice only one photo on a dresser. Picking it up to look more closely, I have to guess that it’s his family, three sisters and a brother and two loving parents. Everyone is smiling. They look like something out of a magazine, perfection. They are all beautiful. I look up at the mirror in front of me and frown. I have some crazy temporary hair color going on and something about looking at this photo and being in Kent’s apartment has me craving to see my true self.

I make the few responsible calls to my insurance company and landlord before heading down to the local pharmacy. It’s time for a change.

---