The Offering

Chapter 18

I had come to the conclusion that I had no idea who my best friend was. Her beautiful, free spirited exterior had hidden so much darkness from me. Clara had lied so well I wondered if she'd even known what the concept of truth was. Or perhaps she believed in her own delusions too?

Somehow I knew that what I'd seen through her eyes she'd chosen to show me, but it was still hard to accept as truth. The idea she'd kept an entire relationship with Jake a secret from me had been difficult enough but the fact she had been pregnant with his child was bewildering. I'd thought we were inseparable, sisters, soul mates incapable of deception.

It was heartbreaking to think otherwise. I had to believe that she'd thought of me in the same way I'd regarded her, that there was more to it than what I was seeing. If she'd kept such a secret from me, her closest friend, then there had to be good reason. And I had to find out what that reason was.

I pounded on the door before me, fighting the urge to kick it in as I waited impatiently for an answer. I hoped to god it was Jake who opened the door, unsure of my reaction if it was his vapid mother instead. In the mood I was in I doubted I'd be capable of keeping my opinion of her to myself if she provoked me.

It wasn't Jake who answered, though the man who did struck a startling resemblance of him. He looked to have been in his late 40's and he was handsome in an 'old guy' type of way. His lustrous hair was streaked with salt and pepper shades of grey, his narrow set eyes were the same deep shade of brown as Jake's. I presumed he must have been Jake's father, perhaps that was why his close resemblance struck a strange familiarity with me.

"Can I help you young lady?" He asked, his tone was deeply patronising, it was clear I was not welcome at his door.

"I need to see Jake," I bluntly replied, I was so amped that his lack of warmth did little to discourage me.

"Jake has gone to spend some time with family, we aren't expecting him back anytime soon."

"Oh...well I tried to call him but-" I attempted to reply, he cut me off sharply.

"You won't be able to contact him on that number anymore," the man replied, I couldn't help but feel he'd emphasised the 'you'.

"Do you have a contact for him?" I countered, "it's really important I speak with him."

"It's important that Jake focuses on his future right now," the man retorted, "he doesn't need any...distractions."

"Tell her to stay the hell away from here Carl," I heard a voice call out, I recognised it as belonging to Jake's mother.

"Please don't come here again," Carl stated, though he phrased it as a polite request, the threat in his tone was clear.

He closed the door, leaving me speechless on his porch. I turned to leave, resisting the urge to flip the bird at them as I did, knowing they'd be trailing me through the window. I threw a sarcastic wave and a smile instead.

Jake was gone and I had no way of finding him. The last time I'd seen him I'd told him to never contact me again. For all I knew it could be months, years until I saw him again. I had so many questions to ask him. Did he even know about the baby? And if he did then what the hell had he been playing at with me?

As I approached the entrance gates I noticed a sleek white sports car parked up beside them. I'd neglected to acknowledge it on my way in but realised I'd seen that car before. But I hadn't seen it here, I'd seen it in a much less affluent part if town. My feeling of familiarity when Carl opened the door was suddenly explained because I had seen Jake's father before. I'd seen Carl in that very car and he hadn't been alone. He'd been with Kim-Clara's mother.

***

I was four hours into my very first stake out and it was a far duller experience than depicted in the movies. I was waiting for Kim to return home but darkness had come and there was still no sign of Clara's mother. I was perched at my front window, scanning the street for signs of life through a gap in the drapes.

Angela was on a night shift at the hospital so I had fixed myself a snack tray to accompany my stake out. I was now beginning to feel sick from my overload of chocolate and Doritos. I was also desperate for a toilet break but I was sure she'd appear any second. I just had to wait and wait and wait a little bit more.

On the plus side I'd had plenty of time to think about what I was going to say her. I hadn't seen Kim since the funeral, even then I'd said two words to her so I'd pretend I was visiting out of concern. A dutiful friend of her daughters, checking in on her widowed mother. In reality I wanted answers: How did she know Jakes's father? Why was she in his car? Did this have anything to do with Clara's murder?

I threw my bag of crisps down as I saw a taxi pull up outside of Kim's house. I watched as she clambered out of the back seat and stumbled onto the pavement. I could see she was clearly drunk, barely able to walk in a straight line up her pathway.

I ran towards my own front door, pulling ballet pumps onto my feet as I darted outside and into the darkness. I ran towards her, managing to reach Kim just as she tripped over her porch and slammed to the floor.

"Mrs Jones are you okay?" I cried, trying to help her to her feet but she felt like dead weight in my arms.

"I'm f...fine," she slurred, the smell of alcohol on her was overwhelming.

I noted her door keys in her hand and took them, opening the door before I returned to trying to get her back to her feet. She was half way there when I turned around, I threw her arm over my shoulder and helped her the rest of the way.

Inside the house I managed to find a space that was almost clear of clutter, I dropped her onto the seat by the fireplace. She was in a state of complete and utter disarray, her face was tear stained, her red lipstick smudged and her blonde hair wild. I saw her knees were bloody where she had fallen and her blouse was too far open. I couldn't help but pity her and in doing so all the questions I'd wanted to ask just seemed inappropriate.

"Do you need me to call somebody to help you?" I asked, genuinely concerned as to what had happened to her.

She gave a short, sarcastic grunt before reaching for a bottle of vodka on the side table. She unscrewed the lid and swigged it straight from the bottle. I cringed to myself and thought of Clara, had this been what she'd had to deal with behind closed doors?

"There is nobody," she bitterly gave, "I have nobody."

"I'm sorry Mrs Jones," I responded, realising the insensitivity of my offer.

I went to the kitchen and brought a wet cloth and some paper towels. I wanted to help her, felt I had to. I began dabbing her legs, I expected her to protest but she didn't. I realised she was probably used to it, used to having Clara take care of her, to clean up her mess.

"I never really liked you," she suddenly said, it took me by surprise but I remained silent, "she loved you more than me, more than her own mother, I hated that."

"She loved you," I tried to counter, "you're her m-"

"No," Kim cut in, "she hated me, she was embarrassed by me...her drunken slut of a mother."

I felt very uncomfortable by the situation I'd put myself in, Kim was filled with anger and self loathing. I had no words for her, no way to appease any of what she felt. I was out of my depth, I wanted to leave but felt an obligation to stay.

"It's my fault she's dead," Kim stated matter of factly, "I killed her."

***Please vote and comment :)