Four Walls (Book One) ✔️

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Over the next few weeks, Margo continues to pester me about my job at Castelul. She is convinced that Bradley and Anson are the same person, and she won't shut up about it.

"It's a scientific impossibility!" I exclaim for the hundredth time.

"I don't give a rat's ass about science. I lived with the man for fifteen god damn years. I'd recognize him anywhere," she retaliates, dropping a dish into the sink with enough force that it shatters.

"What's all that commotion in there?" Hank rises from the couch and ambles toward us, his movements sloppy from the three beers he's downed.

I should add that it's only ten a.m. on a Saturday.

"Nothing," I say quickly. The last thing I want is for Hank to overhear Margo and I discussing his former step-father.

"Okay." My one-word response is enough for him, because he lowers himself back down to the sofa and cracks open another cold one.

"You lazy motherfucker. Get off this god damn couch and get a real job," his mother scolds him, throwing a plastic cup at his head.

"Bitch," I hear him mumble.

"Don't taunt him," I warn Margo. "You won't like him when he's pissed off."

"Honey, I pushed his watermelon head out of my coochie. There's nothing about him I can't handle."

"Eww!" I don't attempt to mask my disgust. What sixteen-year-old girl wants to think about her grandmother's vagina?

"Anyway, enough about all this. There's something else I wanna talk about," Margo announces.

"Thank god," I whisper.

"Thanksgiving is this Thursday. What the hell are we doing?" she asks, her eyebrows raised.

"I have plans with my friends."

"Bullshit. Thanksgiving is a family day."

"I've spent Thanksgiving with Damian's family every year since I was six. I'm not about to change that just because you're here," I hiss, glaring at the old woman. She's been overstepping a lot lately, and I'm getting sick of it.

"Just let her go with her friends," Hank adds, surprising the both of us. "I'd rather hang here and watch the game by myself, anyway."

"No!" Margo shouts. "It is Thanks-fucking-giving, and I'll be damned if the three of us don't spend it together!"

Hank and I exchange a look of understanding. For once, he and I are on the same page.

What the hell is going on in my life?

Over the next several days, Margo and I prepare for our first ever Thanksgiving dinner as a family. I'm dreading it, but my grandmother is oddly excited. She gave me a wad of cash and a list of things to buy at the grocery store. I find almost everything at the market across from Gabby's, the only exception being a bottle of Gran Patron Platinum.

"Why can she not remember that I'm sixteen?" I mutter to myself as I walk home.

I place the groceries on the counter when I return to the trailer. Margo puts the frozen turkey into the fridge so it can thaw. I sort through the canned goods, disappointed that I won't be tasting Moira's home-cooked delicacies this year. Instead, I'm stuck with non-perishable produce, a dead bird that I'm certain no one in this house can cook, and a family I loathe.

When the holiday arrives, I call Damian to tell him I won't be joining them this year. He's disappointed, but he understands. He vows to pick me up after dinner so I can sneak in a few hours with the Forbes family.

My real family, as far as I'm concerned.

I heat up the canned vegetables in the microwave while my grandmother slices the turkey. To my astonishment, it looks and smells delicious. I get plates out of the cupboard and set the table—something I don't think has ever been used.

We eat in silence. Margo tries to make conversation but soon realizes that her efforts are futile. Hank barely touches his food, although his whiskey glass has already been refilled twice. Same with Margo's tequila.

I wish I was at Damian's. I wish I was somewhere else. Anywhere but here, in this trailer with these people, would be ideal.

I finish all my food because I know that Margo worked hard in the kitchen, despite objections from both Hank and myself. I show her my clean plate before politely asking, "May I please be excused?"

"Might as well," she says with a shrug. Her lips curl into a despondent frown that tugs at my heartstrings. I shouldn't feel guilty, but I can't help it.

Don't do it, Layla. Don't you dare.

Against my better judgment, I shake my head. "Actually, I'll stay a while longer."

Her eyes widen. "You sure? I get that this ain't fun. Hell, I'm not even having a good time."

"Well, let's change that," I insist. "At Damian's, we make coffee and tea before we eat dessert. I don't think there's anything to drink in the house besides water or alcohol, but I could run down to Gabby's and buy us some cappuccinos and blueberry pie to-go."

I watch as my grandmother's gaze turns to Hank, who has gotten up from the table and made his way to the couch. She lets out an irritated sigh before rolling her hazel eyes.

"Why don't we leave this boozy piece of shit here and go eat at Gabby's?" she suggests.

Laughing, I bring our plates to the sink and help Margo put away the leftover food. Once the kitchen is clean, we walk to Gabby's, leaving a drunk, half-asleep Hank behind.

Almost everything else in town is closed, but Gabby wanted to keep the diner open for those who had nowhere else to go and no one to spend the holiday with. The place is barren as we step inside. The only people in sight are Gabby and Haven, who are both seated at the counter with desserts spread out in front of them.

"Layla! Happy Thanksgiving!" my boss squeals before enveloping me in a hug.

"Happy Thanksgiving," I reply. I give Haven a hug as well and then turn to Margo. "This is my grandma. She's been staying with us for a few months now."

"It's so wonderful to meet you. Your granddaughter is a remarkable young woman," Gabby praises me.

I hide my now scarlet face behind my hair and order our coffee and pie. Because it's Thanksgiving, Gabby gives them to us on the house. The four of us sit together at a booth and chit-chat while we eat.

I catch my grandmother grinning—something she doesn't do often. She scowls a lot but seldom ever smiles. It's a nice sight. As much as I miss Damian and Moira, I'm happy I didn't leave Margo alone with Hank. She may be an abrasive control freak, but she means well.

Besides, she's family.

Hours later, we return home to find Hank asleep on the couch. Exhausted myself, I say goodnight to Margo, who surprises me with an awkward, one-armed hug.

"I had a good day," she muses, pouring herself another shot of tequila, "so, you know, thanks for that."

"You're welcome," I reply. "Don't stay up too late, alright?"

I lock myself in my room and collapse onto my lumpy mattress. Despite my reservations, today wasn't half bad. It certainly wasn't the day that Margo and I were expecting, but we had fun. I had fun.

I strip off my clothes and find a pair of pajama pants and a loose-fitting t-shirt to wear to bed. As soon as I finish pulling the shirt over my head, I notice something move in the corner of my room. The hair on my arms rises as I approach the shadowed space, my fingers curled into two fists.

I see a pair of glistening blue irises shining in the darkness, and I can't stifle the scream that escapes my lips.

A/N:
Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! Hope y'all have a great day, however you choose to spend it! ❤️