Sonya was glad to be back in her own bed. She’d spent the last week at Kim’s, and even though they had a blast whenever they were together, she needed the peace and quiet.
With Mrs. Donaldson working late every day, the girls were left to themselves and their vices of choice. Usually that was pot, but it could have been worse—they could have been pill poppers like some of the freakier girls at school.
Lying on her bed in the comfort of silence, she felt drained. Both her body and mind could use the rest. On top of all that, she’d not seen her dad since Saturday morning, and outside of a couple quick phone calls, she hadn’t really talked to him either. Something wasn’t right with him. She heard it in his voice. She knew when he was busy, but she also understood when he was avoiding her. This past week had been a combination of both. Whatever it was he was working on, he didn’t want her to know about or be involved in.
She hadn’t seen much of Alex this week, either. He’d been busy working at the shop during the day and off running various errands in the afternoons. He was helping his brother out and making decent money. She was excited for him, but missed him like crazy. They hadn’t slept together since the afternoon in Kim’s guest room on Sunday, and though she wanted to be with him this very instant, she needed a night to herself even more.
When she had called him earlier, she told him tomorrow night would be their night. He promised to come over for dinner with her and her dad. Afterwards, they could go to the cineplex in Hollis Oaks. She really wanted to see Spider Man 2. She liked Tobey Maguire, but she loved James Franco.
Sonya took a nice, long shower and threw on a comfy pair of Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and an old KISS T-shirt she had dug out of her father’s box of outdated clothes a couple months back.
As she brushed her wet hair, she thought back on the night she had stumbled upon the box of her dad’s old things in the basement while looking for a photo album.
He must have been a rocker back in the ’70s, though you’d never know it, with all the James Taylor he listened to nowadays. The box had been filled with bell-bottom jeans and old worn-out concert shirts. Bands like Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Deep Purple were on the clothing. Truth be told, she was expecting to find a joint rolled up within the clothes.
She confiscated the KISS and Zeppelin shirts and absolutely loved wearing them to bed, as they were so soft from the past numerous washings. Her dad caught her with one of the shirts on a few nights after she’d taken them upstairs and told her he had forgotten all about them and the box. He said he had put all the clothing he was fond of in it, but that he knew her mom would throw it out, so he had hidden it deep down in the basement.
That was a great night. He talked about all the crazy stuff he and his pals had done as dumb kids, going to rock concerts and smoking grass—which is actually how he referred to it. He was so old. He also spent a good amount of time that night doing something he rarely did—talk about her mom.
She knew it was too hard on him to discuss her mother, but she and her father had laughed long and hard about her picking on him for wanting to keep his old shirts, and about how if her mother were alive today, she would make remarks about the cowboy hat that he wore every day.
He told Sonya the story about when he tried to grow a mustache. Her mother hated mustaches so much that the one time he decided to grow one she had refused to kiss him until he shaved it off. Needless to say, he didn’t have it for more than a week. Her mom was both stubborn and particular when it came to her dad and his appearance—especially after he became a police officer. Her dad recounted how he had tried to sell her mom on the fact that the mustache went with the cop sunglasses, and they laughed until there were tears when he told her that her mother said he looked like one of the Village People.
Sonya didn’t get the reference, but laughed right along with him. She loved seeing him that happy. He was usually upbeat when he wasn’t being Mr. Cop, but she could count on one hand the number of times that she had seen him smile so wide or laugh as hard as he had on that night. It was one of her favorite memories, and wearing his old concert shirts to bed had become a part of her nightly sleep attire thereafter.
Her father picked her up from Kim’s that afternoon, but took off right after dropping her in the driveway. He said he had to go see an old friend and after that he’d be home for the night. He had deliberately failed to mention a name, choosing to remain vague and using the anonymity of the generic term old friend. That struck her as weird because he always wanted her to know right where he was on his nights off, in case of an emergency.
She chalked it up to being a part of the enigmatic character he had taken on recently, and decided that wasting any more of her relaxation time worrying about it would be stupid. Besides, her dad had always said “worrying is like a rocking chair—it gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere”. He was right, as usual.
Besides, she had some summer reading to get to—a pile of Stephen King and Bentley Little books stacked next to her bed, just waiting to give her the creeps. There was nothing like a little Shining while home alone. She had to admit, she liked being scared. The recent deaths in town only added to the ambiance.
She grabbed a glass of milk and headed to her bedroom. Before picking up her book, she wondered once more where her dad had gone and who the mystery friend could be. She quickly reminded herself of the rocking-chair adage, shook it off and dove into the misadventures of a man named Jack Torrance.