Harleen woke up with a sharp pain in her left temple and a stiff body. She was lying on a soft bedding and her legs were covered with some thin fabric. She opened her eyes. It was dark, she couldn't see much. Irregular shapes were creeping in the shadows, forcing her teary eyes to blink a few times. Then she smelled that familiar flowery scent of the cheap fabric softener her mother always used. Quinzel was in her bedroom.
Now that her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness she could scan the room. The curtains had been drawn so that was why there was little light. The old wooden dresser was standing in the left corner, lots of plush toys lying on it and a laundry basket close by. To the right, there was a desk cluttered with textbooks, pencils and crumpled papers. Posters were hanging above it on the wall. Three small beds had been crammed into the room, each one for Harleen, Barry and Luke. The baby crib that had been bought for Kathryn was Charlie's now. The eldest daughter had her own bedroom.
Harleen sighed and blinked again drowsily. Luke had climbed onto her bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. The girl smiled while reaching for the lamp on the tiny bedside table. His curly auburn hair was dishevelled, there was a red print on his round cheek. He looked sleepy just like her. Quinzel's eyes started to water, her vision getting blurry, and she had to rub her eyelids. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting in a car.
Her ears felt clogged, sounds were muffled, as if she were submerged beneath the surface of the water. She could faintly hear a familiar song. The young woman slowly raised her arms and put her palms against her temples. Her head was about to explode, she had shut her eyes tightly. The song was getting louder. It was a distorted version of "Just for tonight" by The Chiffons. Kathryn had listened to it on her walkman. The younger Quinzel daughter had been able to steal it and listen to the cassettes on few occasions.
Harleen reluctantly had put down her hands. She was the only one in the car. There were no keys in sight; she had pushed against the door handles and they unlocked with a soft click. She'd immediately shut them with a jerky motion. A kid passing by shot her an odd look, making her cringe. Then she looked down, her safety belt was not fastened.
The woman reached for the glove compartment and opened it. There wasn't much inside - a crushed pack of Marlboros, a pair of leather gloves, and some papers. She had turned around to look at the back seat and saw a pile of dirty clothes tossed on the seat. Suddenly she heard a knock on the car window near her ear. She jumped up startled and glared sharply at a figure standing next to the car. It was Scott. He crooked a finger beckoning to her.
Harleen gulped hesitant to move. The man just stood there staring at her with his blank grey eyes. She had no choice but to come out of the vehicle. She got out, stumbled on her shaky legs to be grabbed by Scott. He held her arm tightly so when Quinzel regained balance, she had to pry herself free from his grip. If he didn't look away so quickly, she'd be able to see a flash of concern in his gaze.
"Let's go, girl," he mumbled and pushed her forward slightly.
Harleen stood before a diner, which was placed at a crossing of streets filled with various restaurants, stores and other establishments. There were quite a lot of people hurrying down the sidewalks, the area looked busy. It was probably middle of the week. The diner had big wide windows, through which she could see people inside. Above them, there was the green awning that acted as a sign for the name of the restaurant on it. The place did not look old school from the outside. Maybe besides the signs that read 'Happy Easter'. She heard the car doors being shut and seconds after Scott appeared by her side.
They entered the diner. A gust of hot air hit her, making her sigh. The inside was homey and inviting. The colours were warm, an orange hue present wherever you looked, creating a halo of much needed artificial sunlight. The ceiling was angled and lamps were hanging from it in rows so that the lighting was laid-out evenly. There was a long counter with bar stools, booths and individual tables pushed to the windows. The walls had been painted a rather ugly shade of green, which did not fit the linoleum floor. The young woman could smell the stench of oil of fries and burgers. She wondered if they were selling milkshakes in long glasses with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream.
She had been pushed to sit in one of the booths in the far corner. Scott sat in the opposite seat and took out a red pack of cigarettes just to toss it on the table before him with a resigned sigh. He was fidgeting while sneaking glances at something or someone behind Quinzel. She turned her head and saw a woman behind the counter drilling holes in Scott with her sharp eyes. She did not look pleased. Just as the psychiatrist was turning back, a person slid onto the seat next to Scott.
She had bushy, dark hair that covered her round, freckled face like a curtain. She had piercings - Quinzel was able to notice that only because the girl tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She was thin. The beige shirt she was wearing hung on her body, making it look as if it was a few sizes too big for her. She also seemed quite young. Something about her felt familiar to Quinzel for some reason.
It appeared the girl was a friend of Scott's, or at least that's how she behaved. She was sitting very close to him, their arms were touching it obviously made the man uncomfortable as he shifted a little to his left away from her. She seemed to notice none of it. A big smile spread on her thin lips.
"Took ya long enough!", she exclaimed.
Scott had mumbled something incoherent under his breath and looked away, then started to twist his fingers. It was quite entertaining to watch them both. They were complete opposites. Scott was a brooding, grumpy man unable to communicate with others or show his emotions whereas the girl represented everything that was connected with warmth, kindness and forwardness.
They had begun to speak. She asked the man a few innocent questions, to which he responded shortly. To some stranger observing this conversation unfolding it might seem like two old friends catching up, but to Harleen it looked completely different. The girl's body language was obvious; she was, in fact, beaming. Scott had to be aware of the affection toward him and he clearly did not reciprocate her feelings. The girl finally turned her eyes to Quinzel.
"I hear you're not local, huh?"
Harleen felt a strange jab at the back of her head. She was supposed to reply now, but for some reason, words just couldn't leave her mouth. The current situation felt familiar when it actually shouldn't. She couldn't recall ever being in this diner or meeting this teenager, but something was off. The woman didn't have a chance to answer though.
"Nancy ain't so happy with you right now," the girl said to Scott but kept looking at Harleen. "Thought you said you'd be here on Friday."
"Something came up."
"Somethin'? Javi givin' ya hell again?"
Scott rolled his eyes. "Not now, Morgan."
The girl clicked her tongue. She had grimaced and her pretty face got hidden in her locks when she ducked her head. She got up from her seat and hastily left, disappearing behind the white door close to the bar. Scott leaned over the table with a heavy sigh.
"Go with her. I'll be back in a few hours," he put a cigarette in his chapped lips. "Then I'll teach you how to shoot like I promised."
The stench of smoke irritated Harleen's nostrils. The waitress, Nancy, yelled at him but he purposefully ignored her. Just as she was about to approach their table, Morgan came out of the kitchen. Scott and she went to the right, past the booths and two vending machines, and exited through the back door into an area where garbage bins were. The doctor was right behind them. The man said something to the girl, but Harleen couldn't hear it because a car alarm started blaring nearby. He then jumped over a fence a disappeared behind a corner.
Morgan turned to her. She was smiling. "Nice seeing ya again."