Alpha's Eyes [My One and Only]

[Chapter 3] First Investigative Failure

I about fell out of Polly when I finally pulled into the driveway of Gram’s house. Never had the pale blush exterior looked so good. Grams had a thing for the color pink. I wasn’t going to judge her for it, and the rose bushes she tended outside her porch were very pretty. The smell was nice too. My haste to get from the car to the house had nothing to do with color or flowers though. I had a deep, sinister burning within my soul, and I needed an answer.

 “Grams! You home?” I shouted as I entered the front door. I immediately tossed my book bag on the wooden floor near the pale tan wall, eager to get the heavy load off my back. I’ve never been one for weight-lifting.

Wilber, the worst parrot in the world, saw what I had done. Of course he figured he should lash out at me, sounding eerily like Grams. “Don’t leave your bag on the floor. Don’t leave your bag on the floor. Don’t leave your bag on the floor.”

I groaned. “Sorry, Willy. Old habits die hard.” I picked up my bag and quickly took it to the front closet.

Still, Willy did not shut up even after I closed the door. The dumb, aggravating alarm of a bird just kept going and going and . . . I’m sure you understand. I talked to Grams about having him moved into her bedroom instead of leaving him in the family room (which is where I stay since the house has only one bedroom). She said she’d think about it . . . that was Monday and today is Wednesday . . . hm, maybe I should remind her.

“Grams!” I shouted again only to receive no response for a second time. Weird. She was always home, not that I should be able to come to any consistent conclusion after only a week, but still. 

I heard some laughing and let the sounds guide me to the back door, located in the small kitchen. The door was open but a mesh screen covered it. Beyond, I could see a set of four elderly ladies sitting around a small, glass outdoor table. 

I headed out, kicking my flip flops off along the way so I can feel the brick patio. I intensely enjoy the feel of heated brick against my bare feet. I think my toes enjoy the texture or something, and hey, who doesn’t like having their feet warmed? 

“Leta! You’re home,” Grams announced as I pulled the screen door shut with a little too much oomph, causing the group to look at me.

“Yeeahh,” I replied, drawing out the word since I didn't know what else to say. I mean, there wasn’t much else I could say to that, was there?...Unless I wanted to point out that this place wasn’t quite home for me. Then again, what place was?

“How was your day?” Grams asked with a bright smile on her face. 

I got to admit, for an eighty-two year old woman, my adoptive Grandmother had great teeth. White and pearly, just like her short and styled hair. Her skin was a light brown, and rather wrinkled, her brown eyes faded and dusty looking, but oh, her smile lit up a place like a Christmas tree, not extravagantly glowing, but it made you hope and wonder.

“Ladies, this is Harold’s daughter, Leta, whom I’ve taken in while her mother is...in...transition.” 

I blinked. First, transition? Really? That’s an oddly vague way to put it, isn't it?

Second, she only took me in while my mother is doing....? Does that mean she's going to kick me out as soon as she finds someplace to dump me? Joy. I’ll just go look for a job now...

I refocused on the group as I realized each lady was being introduced. I smiled politely at each one, thinking there was no way I’d be able to remember their names. To be honest, I couldn’t even tell them apart. They all looked the same to me: old. Only Mrs. Purple (and that's not her real name) stood out: purple frilly dress, plastic looking purple hat with a big rim and feather, and purple-tinted lipstick. She owned the look, I'll give her that.