Before reading this chapter, please note that I claim none of these characters, or even a few traces of the storyline.
XxX
A cupboard?
A cupboard.
That was, obviously, the most logical thing that came into Angela Shepard's mind as she heard a car pull into the driveway. Not the closet ... not the bathroom ... hell, not even the goddamn side door to run for her life. Instead, she rammed herself into the cupboard under the kitchen sink and shut it behind her. There was no time left to move after she heard the front door open.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around her legs, and she was biting her arm as hard as she could to keep quiet. There must have been a million thoughts buzzing around her head, and at one point, she wondered if she would go crazy sitting in that pitch black cupboard.
Angela forced herself to breathe slowly, now tasting blood in her mouth from her arm. But she was too terrified to give a shit.
It has to be Tim. It has to be.
"Angela!"
Her shards of hope shattered. It wasn't Tim, a police officer, Curly, Tommy, or anyone who could help her right now.
It was her husband.
"Are you home?" he called out, storming from the kitchen to the hallway.
Suddenly, something glass broke on the floor around her, and it was out of sheer luck that she didn't cry out in surprise.
"Angela!"
She felt herself shiver.
"I'm gonna kill you, you selfish..." He paused his sentance and threw another glass object onto the kitchen tile.
Angela wished more than anything she could have been hiding somewhere else. The cupboard was a horrible idea - Not only was it tight of a space, or the fact that there was a spider web in her face, or that her head kept hiting the pipes from the sink, but she couldn't see anything. Knowing that she couldn't cntrol this situation, and that she couldn't even be aware of where he was, was enough to make her want to burst out of the cupboard.
"I'm gonna take you by the hair, smash you again a fuckin' wall, and-"
While his words scared her, she knew in her heart that he never really would kill her. Somewhere in that cold-blooded heart, he loved her. He had to. Why else would he be nineteen years old and married to her?
Well...she guessed Tim had to convince him a little bit...
But how could he have found out she wasn't actually pregnant? Who could have told him? She knew she had to tell him sooner or later, but this was why she wanted to tell him herself.
"How could you do this to me?" he was screaming, more than likely throwing framed pictures off the wall. "I threw my fucking life away for you, and you ain't done shit for me!"
Angela lifted her head from her arm and listened carefully.
He was crying!
Oh god, she felt so bad...
They may have had their ups and downs, but Jesus, when she heard him cry, it made her want to jump up and hug him.
"I hate you," he said in a low voice. "I hate you so much. I..."
The ringing of the house phone made her nearly jump in surprise. She heard it ring a few times, and then he must have tossed the phone against a wall.
She just wished she never was in this mess. She had gone four months with thinking she had a human being growing inside her stomach, and just like that, she didn't all along. Now she was married at seventeen years of age. Now, she had to explain to her husband that she wasn't pregnant, and he could either leave her or work things out.
When she got her period over a month before, she wondered if it would just be easier to seduce him so that she would get pregnant.
Fuck.
She didn't know anymore.
"I thought you loved me. I thought..."
Angela closed her eyes.
"I thought you would never do this. I threw my fucking life way for your whoring ass, and you go an' fuck a hippie behind my back?"
She nearly gasped.
He didn't know she wasn't pregnant...
He knew she was sleeping with Tommy!
Warm tears were now dropping down her cheeks as she realized he probably was going to kill her.
XxX
In the summer of 1967 was the hottest summer Angela ever lived through. Sitting on her roof was almost unbareable - but it was a nice way to get a tan.
She had finished putting on baby oil to her legs when the truck pulled into the driveway; well, after driving through the yard, anyway.
A welcoming smile embraced her. He was home. Finally, he was home!
Angela climbed through her bedroom window and made her way to the front door. She was so excited, she could hardly think. Her brother had been away for nearly a year, but it seemed so much longer than that. Somehow, she was so lost without Tim.
Her other brother, Curly, was already on the front porch. He was wearing his classic poker face, but he couldn't hide the excitement in his eyes.
Tim had a cigarette hanging from his lips when he walked up the front steps. Angela couldn't even control herself and jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Oh, God, Tim!" she cried, almost feeling an urge to cry. "I missed you so much!"
"Hey, Angel," he replied calmly. His voice was the only one that made her feel safe.
Curly offered Tim a smile as Angela jumped down. "How was it?"
"Same as always."
"Yeah," Curly said, "but you ain't never been in jail that long."
Tim simply shrugged and flicked the ashes from his cigarette onto the entrance floor.
The Shepard house wasn't the best looking house - it could have used some renovating, and there was no doubt in Angela's mind that it was never going to get it. The blinds had all been ripped off the windows, the fabric on the couch was shredded to bits by the cats, and half off the cupboard doors were torn off. That was one of the many reasons Angela was glad the old man hadn't been heard of since March.
"Do we got anything to eat?" Tim asked, dropping himself onto the couch and tossing his feet up on the coffee table.
Curly went to check the icebox while Angela fixed the pile of books under the coffee table that kept it steady.
"We got a bit of liver left," Curly answered, tapping his fingers on the counter. "We don't got much, I'll tell ya that."
"Shit." He put his cigarette out in the ashtray and let out a long sigh. "So what's goin' on, how's Ma doing?"
Angela's smile began to fade. "She...well, she ain't doin' too good, Tim."
"Why?"
She shook her head. "Do I look like a goddamn doctor? She's been in bed drinkin' wine since you left."
"Oh."
"And he left."
Tim sat up and turned around to face Curly. "What? Who left?"
"You know. Frank."
"Frank left?"
Angela nodded. "He left a few months ago, and we ain't seen him since."
"Is all his shit still here?"
Curly walked to the living room and tossed Tim a bag of chips. "Yeah, so I dunno if he'll come back. But Ma's been fucked 'cuz of that. Well...more fucked than usual."
"Has she been to the doctor?"
"Yeah." She straightened the book again and wished Tim would fix the table like he said he would a year before. "He gave her new pills to take, and I think they've been makin' her worse."
Without saying another word, Tim stood up and disappeared down the hallway. Angela closed her eyes - he had no idea how sick their mother had gotten. And she wasn't aching to be around when he would find out.
XxX
"I don't get it," Curly was saying. "Why would he just fuck off?"
Angela rolled her eyes. "You think I know? He's an idiot, that's why! He don't know what he's missing out on. He ain't gonna get a girl better than Linda."
"So, do you think I got a chance?"
She nearly snorted. "Sorry, Curly, but no."
"Aw, come on." He shot the number '4' ball into the left corner socket, just as he said he would. "I ain't the best guy around, but I sure as hell beat Donnie."
"I guess."
The pool hall wasn't Angela's favourite place to go, but she would rather be anywhere than home. While she was excited that Tim was back, there was a lot that changed in Tulsa since he was arrested, and she didn't feel like watching him fly off his rocker to adjust to the changes.
"Hey, look," Curly whispered, nodding his head at the door. "It's Cathy Samms."
Angela casually looked over and almost couldn't believe. Cathy Samms, once Tulsa's biggest tramp, was now wearing her hair straight, a skirt to her ankles, and a peace necklace to go over her clevage. It seemed like everyone these days were turning into flower children - it was disgusting.
She understood that the world was fucked, but that didn't mean she was gonna get high every day and act like a moron.
"Don't look at her," Angela ordered her brother. "Or else she'll come over here."
"You think I want that freak to talk to me?" he argued. "I fuckin' hate those dirty hippies. I don't get why..."
"Hey, Shepard!"
She almost cringed at the call of a female voice, almost certain it would be Cathy. But, as she turned around, she realized it was Lori Fisher.
Fuck. Even worse.
"I oughta deck you in the mouth," Lori snapped. "You think I don't hear shit? I heard what you did with Dave."
"What?"
"Yeah. I heard all of it. I know you blew him at Judy's party - I ain't stupid."
Curly glared at her. "You did what?"
"Both of ya's are fucking stupid," Angela replied. "I ain't done nothing with Dave. All's that happened was he tried to kiss me and I shoved him away."
"You're full of shit, Shepard."
As she glanced at Lori from her head to her feet, her blond, straight hair to her blood red high heels, she couldn't help but laugh. "All right, Fisher, do you mind if I finish this game of pool before I shove your face into the sidewalk?"
The blond sneered, but it was clear that there was fear in her eyes. "Cut the crap, Shepard. Just tell me what really happened."
"Okay - I broke up with Bryon, Dave was sauced, and I walked home at eleven. Now please, Lori, you ain't never been in a fight before, so why don't ya fuck off?"
She shook her head. "You dirty tramp!"
"Fuck off, Lori!" Curly cried. "We ain't in no mood to hear your bullshit."
"You can't talk to me like that! You're a boy. Dave would have something to say about that."
That was when Angela noticed someone watching her from a booth across the room. He had brown hair that was hanging down to his forehead, and he was scraping his teeth with a beer cap. You would have to be blind to not notice him staring at her - maybe it was creepy, but she could feel herself blush.
"Look, you whore, everyone knows about how you're gonna end up." A wicked smile smeered on Lori's face. "You're gonna be a no-good-drunken-tramp." And with a shit-eating grin, she added, "Just like your mama."
The owner didn't bother to break up the fight. There were too many people crowding around, and it wasn't under Angela broke Lori Fisher's nose and blood was all over her blouse when the cops showed up. And as Curly was telling the police officer to go fuck himself, Angela glanced over to see that boy, sitting at the same booth, still staring at her.
She didn't know he would be her husband in less than six months.
She didn't know how much her life could change in the matter of a year.
How was she supposed to know?