Caught Redhanded

3

After Lila had cleaned up the mess on the bench and her face, she left a paper warning of the wet paint and went down to check in with Rick. He had been back to his cherry self when she had arrived in the morning, but she was still thinking about last night and his reaction to the drop of the public skate from the schedule.
And, annoyingly, she was thinking of what she could have said differently to Theo when he had confronted her. In the moment, she had been fueled by the pent of anger perhaps driven by other things besides his earlier comments, but she felt a bit a bite of regret when the team laughed at him. Still, he continued to fight back, even when she thought she had won. Usually, people would give up though, and not throw it back so effortlessly.
She had been told she was mean in the past. Cruel, even. It was something she had internalized, something she leaned into for protection. It kept people away, but not him.
She needed to get this off her mind.
"Hey, Rick. Third railing is all set."
"Great, kiddo, thanks," he replied, scratching something off of a list in front of him. The railings were usually done staggered, so the rest remained accessible. It was thoughtful of him to assign their repainting this way, but the only time they were used was during the high school games. It was a perfect time to just get them all done in one swoop before the season even started, but she did not have the heart to say that. She was sure he was aware, anyway.
"Is there anything else you wanted me to work on?"
He looked up at her from the desk and smiled. "I really appreciate all you've done around here. I wish I had more interesting things for you to do. I don't have anything left—you did the railing, and the appliances in the snack room. Why don't you head home?"
Home. Last night, after her encounter with Theo in the parking lot, she had taped his skates and then returned to reality.
The drive had been fine. She always listened to something from the 90s—it was all her mom ever played growing up. It was part of the way she kept her alive.
It was the moment when she reached the front door that was always the worst. She would wait for a beat, listen for the blare of the television through the door, and pray that that was the only sound she heard. She would turn the handle slowly, step inside, and shut the door as softly as possible. Mittens usually greeted her by the door, but sometimes she would seek the warmth of her dad once he had fallen asleep.
Last night had been fine. She had come back late enough that her dad was already sleeping in his recliner, the evidence of the beer cans already stowed in the recycling can. It was amazing he could drink to such and extent yet leave no trace.
Today, it was early—only 3pm, and she would be home when her dad returned from work and still had fight in him.
"Is the anything else? I'm happy to get started on something."
"Kiddo, enjoy the day! There's only a couple more skates for the night, and I just need to clean the ice. Go ahead, don't worry about me." As much as she was apprehensive to leave so early, she was fearful of returning home at such an hour. Her dad would say something about her throwing money away by leaving early. It was hard to hide when a giant metal contraption in the driveway announced your presence. As much as she was thankful for the car, it was impossible to hide her presence at home with it.
"Okay, Rick. I'll see you Friday."
Lila left the rink. She was almost disappointed when she did not spot a certain truck.
Her ride home was over all too soon. Twenty minutes could pass in a blink when a dreadful event approaches. She had texted Rebecca asking to hangout, but her friend was busy at the restaurant and Lila did not want to be around a lot of people.
Mittens greeted her at the door, and she picked up the cat.
"Meow."
"Sorry, Hand Warmer. I'm happy to see you." She put the cat back down, and it followed her upstairs to her room. The walls were a soft blue, reminiscent of her childhood. She had spent her whole life in this house, and she was happy to hold onto the memories with her mother in the house—Sunday breakfast, game night, and the day they brought Mittens home.
It had been four years, almost to the date.
She closed her door and opted to shut her eyes while quiet still saturated the old house. Mittens hopped up on the bed next to her and cuddled up beside Lila's face.
She was tired, but every creak and passing car woke her up instantly. Mittens could find sleep so easily. Lila was envious.
Exhaustion must have overcome her, because the next thing she knew it was an hour later and the sun had set. The front door slammed shut.