"Frozen Truths"
Chapter 8 {Tris' POV}
~two weeks later~
-o-o-o-
Echo slides our milkshakes across the counter, flashing us a bright smile before striding across the room to a table waiting to order.
Christina takes a sip from her straw eagerly, sighing in content as she swallows. It's the third occasion that I've brought her here, and each time she's decided to order the same chocolate milkshake, today being no exception.
We have now developed a routine - every Friday, after our trip to the grocery store just outside of town, we stop off at the diner for a half hour to grab a drink or a bite to eat, which gives me the opportunity to see Tori. She's taken a real liking to Christina, as most usually do. With her relaxed nature and big smile, it's hard not to like her.
Last week, Tori hired a girl to take my place as waitress - Echo Fields. Her father runs the small bookstore in town, and I'm familiar with their family; it's a small town, after all.
So far, Echo has being faring rather well here - the customers like her, and she's good at getting plates out there as soon as possible. She has chin length curls the colour of tomato soup, and is just a little taller than I am. She definitely attracts the teenage guys to eat here on their lunch break.
Echo is also able to work daytime hours on a Friday as she is homeschooled, and her parents allow her the time off to work here.
"So, you got everything sorted for Friday then?" Christina asks me between sips. "I mean, with your mom and all."
I sigh, stirring my straw around in the smooth vanilla milkshake, anxiously. "Yes, Tori has agreed to check up on her.. I just feel weird leaving her for so long. I'm supposed to be taking care of her."
I've filled Christina in partly about the situation at home - I have told her that she cannot look after herself, and I have had to be responsible for paying bills and buying food and keeping up the rent since my dad died. However, I have not disclosed what is really wrong with her, though it's not hard to guess.
"I don't understand why Nita just couldn't hire some people to work as servers for her stupid dinner party. Why did we have to get reeled into it?" She huffs.
"Because Nita finds amusement in our suffering." I respond simply.
Only yesterday, Nita called a 'staff meeting' to inform us of her plans for a dinner party of which she would be hosting tonight. Not only did she tell us only a day in advance, but she insisted that it was mandatory for us to work the party, no matter what we had planned.
Which meant Christina was forced to cancel her date night with Will, and I had to quickly call Tori from Christina's cellphone to ask her if she could give mom her nightly dosage of meds, considering that I would be serving the party until the early hours of the morning; seeing as we are expected to clean up too.
We were all allocated our jobs during that meeting too - Fernando would be in charge of the bar, quite obviously, considering that is his job and all. Harrison, the butler, is in charge of greeting guests at the door and taking them through to the dining room, as well as serving deserts.
Christina and I are the servers for the evening, which means waiting on Nita, Tobias and all of their arrogant friends. To clarify, we're all exceedingly delighted.
"D'you think she'll make us wear stupid outfits?" Christina worries out loud, chewing at her bottom lip.
"Most definitely, but what have we got to lose? Look at us!" I gesture towards us both, sat in the middle of the diner in our maid get-up, looking like complete morons.
"I think you both look adorable." Tori coos as she passes our table, and I roll my eyes.
We finish off our milkshakes quickly, and glancing at the clock, I notice that it's already a little past one. "We had better get going, Chris," I prod, moving to scoot out of the booth. "We have tons of prep to do, and Nita will get suspicious if we went back soon."
As Christina gathers up her stuff, I wander over to the front counter where Tori is fiddling with the cash register, but looks up as I approach, smiling.
"Leaving so soon?" She asks, and I pick up on the dejected tone.
"Yeah. Busy, busy," I answer, forcing a smile. "Thank you for helping me out so much, Tori. I promise you that it won't be for long, and tonight's nightly check-up is just a one-off."
Hesitantly, she says, "Have you ever thought about getting your mom some professional help, Tris? The hospital in the city has a real proper psychiatric ward, they could help your mom get better -"
"She doesn't need any of that," I say, firmly. "She needs me. Imagine her being carted off to the psycho ward in a hospital - her mental state would just worsen! I couldn't ever do that to her, Tori. I can handle it, I'm her daughter, I know that I can take care of her. I just need a little time to get everything sorted first. Ok?"
"Just a suggestion.. if you ever change your mind, give me a call and I can help you contact the hospital. Take some time to think about it. I know you have it under control, and you've been taking care of her for a while now, but you can't do it forever. Unfortunately, there are some things that you cannot put right. Your mom needs help, and maybe you can't provide it to the extent necessary. I know it's hard to hear, but you need to look at this realistically. How long do you intend to keep this up?"
"I know all of that. Of course I do. But I can't just shove her into a hospital. She's already lost Dad, and Caleb too, and now she'll think that she's lost me too. And I can't - I won't, do that to her." I insist, anger simmering inside of my stomach.
"Fine," Tori says, a snap of vexation leaving her mouth. "But I've watched you for years, struggling with all of the responsibility that's been forced upon you. I've watched you waste away in front of my very own eyes, and you don't even notice what's happening to yourself. This isn't just about your mom, this is about you. Because as much as you discard your own needs in life, nothing can disguise the fact that you matter too."
"I know what I'm doing, Tori," I shoot back, my tone moderately losing is bite, so I just sound tired. "I understand what you are saying to me, and I know that you're right. I just need time, okay?"
I don't give her the chance to answer, because I've already grabbed Christina who was lingering a ways away, trying not to intrude, and exited the diner.
I feel terrible about getting into a disagreement with Tori - she's been nothing but kind and generous to me, but she just doesn't understand what it's like to be in my shoes. And that isn't her fault, but it's a lot harder than she makes it out to be. I should go back in and apologise, try to talk about things rationally, but right now I haven't the time nor the patience to do so.
"What was that all about?" Christina asks, curiously, as we reach her car.
"It's nothing.. just some complications that we'll iron out another time. Don't worry about it." I assure her, before slipping into the passenger seat. Wordlessly, she gets behind the wheel and puts the car into drive, backing up out of the parking space we claimed.
As we drive back, I keep my eyes stilled on the world outside of the slightly tinted windows, thinking about what Tori said.
Of course I've looked into professional care for my mom, at the very same hospital and the very same ward that Tori was telling me about, but I couldn't bring myself to go through with the idea. I'm afraid she'd hate me for it; she can't stand hospitals, and what gives me the right to chuck her in one?
I remember as a kid, I fell off my bike and broke my arm, and mom had to take me to hospital. She detested every second of it, wincing at the smell of disinfectant and the sound of small whimpers of injured patients. Sure, she's in a somewhat comatose-like state, but she's aware of what's happening, and I know that she's in there somewhere.
But even so, it's an opportunity for her to get better, and I should be willing to take advantage of it, right? But maybe the real problem isn't with mom, maybe it's the fact that I'm just scared. Scared to admit that it's out of my control, scared to come to terms with what's really happened to the woman who used to be my mother. And I'm not so sure if I'm ready to do that just yet.
It makes me incredibly selfish and terribly self-absorbed, but I'm just not ready. Perhaps I never will be.
I take a deep breath and exhale heavily. I need to stop acting like a child, and deal with what's in front of me. Mom's condition is out of my hands, and as much as I try, I cannot fix her. She needs the help that I can not, and never will be able to provide. She deserves that help. She deserves to get better, to claim her life back.
By the time we pull up to the gates of the house, I've made my decision - I'll call Tori tomorrow and ask her for the hospital details, at least so I can look further into what services they can provide. I can visit her while she's there; maybe I can convince Nita to let me have a couple hours off to go in and see her. Whatever happens, I'll make it work. I'm kind of an expert in that particular area, unsurprisingly.
Upon entering the house, with Harrison opening the door for us, I instantly hear Nita lecturing somebody - and I can only assume it be Fernando. She seems to have a certain dislike towards him, and picks on him more than she does us. However, Tobias gets on with him well - from what I've witnessed which is little - so I'm willing to bet that he is the reason that Fernando hasn't been kicked out on his butt yet.
But as we enter the kitchen, our hands laden with bags, I see that it is Tobias himself that is being lectured by Nita, who is busy buttoning up her coat while talking. We begin to unpack the groceries, and I try not to listen-in, but it's awfully hard when they are having a rather loud conversation in the same room as me; I can't exactly help but overhear what they're talking about.
"Please try not to embarrass me tonight, I know how you get around people you don't know, and it's beyond shaming. How can I be your wife when you act that way? It's like you don't love me at all." She huffs.
"Don't be silly, Nita," he protests, desperately. "Of course I love you.. I just get a little awkward at stuff like this. I can't help it.. I'm working on it, really. I just want to make you happy, and I promise that I'll try to do better."
"You know I only say all this for your own good, I'm trying to help you. And your promises no longer mean anything; actions speak louder than words, and so far, I'm not impressed."
I watch Christina's eyebrow flicker upwards, and she looks as though she wants to say something, but I shake my head at her, praying that she keeps her mouth closed. Thankfully, she picks up on my alarm and retreats back to unpacking groceries.
I've realised over the course of my short time here, that speaking up isn't a good idea. Nita and Tobias are our employers, our superiors, and they have the power to ruin my whole life, and I've allowed them to control me that way. If I get myself into any kind of trouble, they could drop me out on the doorstep, and then where would I be?
I know that I have to hold my tongue, and that I must choose what I say wisely and carefully. Otherwise...
"I understand," Tobias answers her, dejectedly. "I swear to you that I'll make a good husband, just give me half the chance and I will prove it to you. Just you wait and see."
In the next few minutes, they halt their little conversation and Nita tells us that she's going to the florists, and ends up taking Christina too, much to her dismay. I finish up unpacking just as the front door closes behind them.
I watch as Tobias stands from his previous position on the barstool, and turns to me. I raise an eyebrows in question.
"So.. what about that cooking lesson?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, we never got around to it, and I could really use the pointers."
We haven't had many interactions for the past few weeks, being that I've been so busy, and him with his work also. And because of his rare appearances around the house, Nita has been extra snappy, causing misery for all the staff. I should turn him down, tell him that I've got work to get on with, but I can't help but take pity on him.
I've heard Nita make comments there and then about his lack of culinary skills, but I have a feeling that she wouldn't even know how to work a microwave. And maybe if I helped him out now, there would be less arguments between the two. At least then Nita would find herself in better moods, which means we would not become subject to her pent-up rage.
"Why not. I'm not sure how long Miss Pablos will be gone, though, so I'll just teach you some of the basics.." I concede, nodding.
"Great," he beams. "What is the easiest thing to make, that maybe wouldn't burn the kitchen down?"
"How about I just show you how to whip up some pancakes? They're pretty simple, you just need to know your way around a frying pan."
"That idea is out of the window then. I have no idea what to do with a pan of any sort." He chuckles, but I sense the self consciousness laced into his voice.
"Don't worry about it, I can teach you. That's why it's a cooking lesson." I assure him, scouring the cabinets for the best-looking frying pan.
"So what ingredients are we going to need, chef?" He asks jokingly, giving me a teasing salute.
"Flour, sugar, cinnamon, baking powder, salt, milk, 2 eggs, butter and chocolate chips." I recite from memory as I preheat the pan on the stove. After some guidance on what the flour packet looks like, he manages to deliver me all the correct ingredients in under three minutes.
I grab a mixing bowl from the cabinet aside my legs, and - with Tobias's help - combine all of the dry ingredients into the bowl. As he mixes that up, I use another bowl to whip together the wet ingredients before gradually adding it to the other bowl, Tobias taking on head stirrer.
"So you used to cook as a kid?" He asks, a little curiously from what I can tell.
"Yep. My mom used to be a huge foodie, would spend all of her time cooped up in our kitchen. The smells in our house were never boring," I smile a little, remembering those days. "She'd always have stuff for us to try, whether it be cookies or soup or weird combinations of foods."
"She sounds great, but you speak about it like it's past tense. Does she not enjoy those activities anymore?"
"You could say that," I answer, carefully. "She just hasn't the time anymore, you know."
I'm not sure why I divulged a part of my past with this man in the first place. I hardly know him. So why do I talk about the usually painful memories with him with such ease? But there's a weird sensation I get in my stomach, and words claw at my throat, desperate to escape my lips. It's like I want to tell him about it all. I don't, of course. But it's an odd kind of urge. Not normal at all.
"My mom never did much baking, so I never had the opportunity to pick anything up," he tells me as I begin to pour in the chocolate chips, and he folds them into the batter. "She just left it to our designated cooks. Well, for a while, at least. There was this lovely lady we had called Evangeline. I think I must have been around eight when she was there. She made all kinds of cakes - cheesecake, banana bread, carrot cake, the lot - but then my mother went on this mad macrobiotic diet and drove the cook crazy with what she could and couldn't eat, so she left and that was the end of my cake-fest."
"Poor little eight year old Tobias with no cake in sight." I laugh.
He grins. "Oh, don't worry about that. I certainly didn't - there was this bakery not far away from my house, and they did the best chocolate cake. I'd sneak a slice or two now and again. And she was none the wiser. Well, until she found the crumbs on my carpet.."
We turn away from the counter and towards the now fully-heated frying pan, and I step back and allow Tobias to attempt at spooning in the mixture. He does considerably well, for a first timer that is. I take out a spatula for when it's time to flip them over.
"I've always had a sweet tooth," I admit. "Especially for Hershey's kisses; I must have eaten pounds of the things growing up."
"Is that so? Well, I guess you could say I'm a bit of sweet and savoury - chips are great, but I could also go for candy bars too," he reasons with himself, and I can't help but crack a small smile. "But I'm not accustomed to eating those anymore - Nita doesn't take to chocolate or candy. Her strict diet doesn't allow it apparently. Therefore, my treats have been revoked too."
I flip over the pancakes with the spatula, and watch him closely, now that he's not paying close attention to me or our conversation. He seems a little down, I notice. I think the whole situation with Nita is impacting him more than he'd like to admit. I'm not too sure whether it be hurt or anger or just boredom, but it's not my place to intervene.
So I look back to the pan and concentrate on cooking the pancakes as close to perfection as I can get them.
"Hey, how do you make a pancake smile?" He asks, a mischievous smile on his lips. "Butter him up."
I roll my eyes at his lame joke and take the pan off the heat. "Seriously, that is the best you got?"
"I'd like to see you come up with a better one." He challenges.
"Fine.. why was the pancake a bad singer? Because he was flat."
"And that was better than mine? Yeah, right. Keep dreaming." He laughs and goes over to the large refrigerator to retrieve the whipped cream and some strawberries.
I plate the slightly lopsided pancakes up and Tobias gets to work drenching them in whipped cream, as I cut up the strawberries. He seems to be excited at the prospect of something sugary; Nita isn't around to stop him.
He sits down at the island counter on a barstool with the mountain of pancakes fruit and cream, as I carry the dirty dishes over the sink. But before I can get started on cleaning them up, he clears his throat, forcing me to turn around to see what he wants.
"Well.. aren't you going to join me?" He asks, gesturing to the stack before him.
I frown. "No, that's alright. It wouldn't be appropriate, besides we made them for you -"
"Wouldn't be appropriate?" He echoes, puzzled. "If you won't join me willingly, then I shall have to use the employer card - it is mandatory for you to sit down and enjoy our creation with me, otherwise I will be forced to revoke your position here."
Sighing, I move around the counter and perch in the stool beside him. He hands me a fork and I take a small mouthful, unsure of this whole thing.
I shouldn't have even initiated in a cooking lesson, with it being so inappropriate and all, and now this? I'm supposed to be his maid, not his friend. Maybe I'm just overthinking it. I'm just helping him out with cooking tips, which is a harmless move on my part, and now he's just being kind in making me enjoy the pancakes with him.
But still, something doesn't feel right, and there's an anxious feeling swimming around in my stomach, screaming at me to move, but I can't bring myself to do so.
"These are good," he says, after swallowing his first large mouthful. "I'm proud of us. Well, it was mostly you but I helped. So I'm going to take at least a quarter of the credit."
"You can make these alone next time, so you have learnt something. Well, maybe not when Miss Pablos is around - I don't want to get you into trouble with the whole sugar ban thing." I add, taking a forkful of strawberries and cream from the top.
"It was more fun with someone to make them with. And I may forget when the next time comes around." He shrugs, innocently.
"I don't think Miss Pablos would approve -"
"Why are you always worrying about what's appropriate, and what Nita would approve of?" He asks, stopping his attack on the food abruptly. "It's not like you've done anything wrong. You've helped me."
"I just don't want to get fired," I whisper. "I need this job, and I don't want to cause any problems. And by the way you speak about her, it doesn't seem like she'd find this cooking lesson appropriate to take place. I mean, I'm your maid."
"You won't get fired," he assures me. "Even if Nita did flip, I wouldn't let her just fire you, Tris. Besides, the place has looked extra spotless since you've been around. She can't afford to lose you. And if you don't mind my asking.. why do you need this job so badly? There are plentiful other jobs over in the city, I'm sure."
"I just do, ok. Some things happened at home, and it has fallen upon me to bring in the cash to keep us stable. It's not relevent to this conversation however, and I just want to do things by the book," I answer, sharply. "And most decent firms wouldn't want to hire a high school dropout with no qualifications to her name. That's just the way it is."
We eat the rest of the pancakes in a weird silence, and the tension is almost too much to bear. I wish he had never asked, and I wish I had never given him the satisfaction of an answer. As soon as the plate is clear, I swipe it up and head back over to the sink, placing it with the others.
"Tris..." I turn, reluctantly. "Thank you. And I'm sorry if I seem insensitive.. I'm just trying to figure you out. You're very mysterious, if you weren't already aware."
He leaves then, and I manoeuvre back to the dirty dishes, scrubbing them furiously.
I'm mysterious? He's kidding, right? How can he be the one to call me a mystery, when I have no idea what the fuck is going on inside of his head! I'm usually very good at reading people, but not him. He's different. And I don't know if I like it or not.
I exhale heavily, and push my hair back out of my eyes. If these thoughts in my head are battling it out all night, then this should be one interesting dinner party.
-o-o-o-
Authors Note:
A new chapter! I decided to write up the cooking lesson as it was something you guys were excited to read about, and add a time jump to hurry things along a little. The dinner party will be the next chapter, so stay tuned to see what happens!
The reviews y'all leave seriously warm my heart, and I appreciate everyone who takes the time to not only read but support this story! It gets me excited to upload a new chaper!
Leave me a review and let me know what you thought to the FourTris encounter!
- GuilyMind
