a/n: thanks for the reviews :) i'm glad you guys are liking it ! And you find out who the mother is in this chapter...hahah. A lot of you guessed it right, so ;)
Chapter 5
A Game
Apparently Facebook isn't so popular anymore. Twitter and Instagram are the new crazes of media.
She wanted to go through pictures; wanted to see her life in pictures, rather than hearing it through words. Because after all, a picture is worth a thousand words.
The Instagram pictures are mostly of her and Andrew. There is one from the night they got engaged, dozens of comments attached to it.
"Congratulations!" "It's about time!" "I knew you two would make it!" "You're both so lucky!" "I'm so happy for you!"
Spencer knows some of them from high school, but the rest are only empty names. Do they even know what happened to her? Did they notice the sudden disappearance of happy pictures from her instagram?
Happy.
She does look happy in these pictures. But, she has always been good at hiding her emotions. She has always been excellent at it. Not even her best friends (or ex- best friends, she guesses) could detect the pain in her smile, sometimes. She was a master of illusion, and a spectacular actress. She still is, she guesses, but it is different now. She is so much more tired. She is so distraught, and her problems aren't trivial anymore, they are corrosive.
She notices that there aren't any pictures of Aria or Emily or Hanna (well, there is a couple at the beginning, when she first got it, two and half years ago) but then it stops. They disappear among Andrew Campbell, and other prestigious looking snobs (not that Andrew is a prestigious snob.)
She has always been a detective—always mapping out mysteries, and solving them to the best of her ability. She is determined to solve this one.
What happened to her in the years that have gone missing? How did she become this person—this person who appears happy, yet so unappealing?
"Goodnight, Spencer," a voice disrupts her from her brooding.
She steps up to the couch. She isn't sure why. He said goodnight, not, "hey, let's have an hour long conversation." He probably doesn't even want to talk to her. She rejected him, and the only explanation she gave was, "it's complicated," one of the worst reasoning's there is.
"I didn't realize how late it was," she says, lamely.
"Yeah," he nods. "It's getting to that time of year again where the sun seems to never set," he offers.
She nods, puffing her cheeks out a little.
She wants normality. And it is Friday, which means she probably won't see Toby till Monday, and that is just…unsettling to her. Because he is her friend, but it would be weird asking him to hangout out of this territory because then their friendship would reach a new level. A new level that uncovers secrets, and she doesn't want to reveal any secrets. She wants to stay in this little comfort zone with him.
"Are you busy?" she asks. "Like, tonight…" she elaborates, awkwardly, motioning her eyes away.
"I don't know," his words disappoint her.
She looks up at him, her doe brown eyes staring up with hope, "come on. I'm so bored, and I was gonna order a pizza, and I have no one to share it with."
"You see, we're different, Spencer. If I were in that situation, that would be a pro."
She chuckles softly, "well, it isn't to me. I need someone to share it with. And considering no one else is around, that job falls on you."
He chuckles a little, "I don't know, Spencer…"
"Come on, it will be fun. I'll even get breadsticks, and we can play a board game, or something!" her words are full of vibrance and persuasion.
His eyes line up with hers, and after a second, right after his mouth twitches into something resembling a smile, he says, "yes."
She beams up at him, her smile so wide that it almost runs past her cheeks. "Great!" she exclaims, "I'll order the pizza, and find some board game—preferably one that isn't outrageously boring with only two people."
"Fine, but I am paying for half of it. It's the least I can do."
She rolls her eyes, "because it will hurt your precious masculinity if you don't?"
"No, because I already owe you, like, five sandwiches, and I don't need to a pizza to that, too," he explains.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she chuckles before telling him she'll be right back with the board game of her choosing.
…
They sit at the kitchen counter, a scrabble board and pizza box clothing the granite. Two intense stares hover above the compacted board. The game is close to ending, and the scores are close. Spencer is in the lead, but Toby is close behind. She would never admit to it, but there is a high chance that Toby could beat her. She cannot let that happen. Scrabble is her game. She always wins.
Toby begins to add his tiles to the board, not one tile being left behind. He already has fifty points.
Oh no.
"Goofball?" she questions, her voice laced with incredulity.
"Are you seriously questioning that? After putting down glyceraldehyde?" he counters.
She purses her lips, her eyes fluttering down to the board, instead of the man in front of her.
"By the way, thanks for the G," he states, an amused smile on his face.
He begins counting the letter scores, and she intensely follows him, making sure what he speaks is true.
In the end, his total is 106 points. Blowing her 94 points out of the water.
She resists the urge to roll her eyes.
"I think that's enough of a score to beat yours," he points out.
"It's not over yet," she grumbles out.
He laughs, "aren't you optimistic," he observes.
"Not at all," her hard eyes meet his, "just…confident," she smiles a little.
He inwardly smiles, his eyes challenging hers. Something inside her flutters, and she looks away.
Around fifteen minutes later, Toby is declared winner, making Spencer seethe, and Toby laugh.
"Loser puts it away?" he says from across the counter, a smirk leading on his face.
"Winner shoves it up their ass?" she counters, in a higher than usually pitch.
He laughs again, "wow," he states. "I know I kicked your ass, but don't be such a sore loser," his voice unfolds, as he begins to gather the tiles on the board.
"You did not kick my ass," she fights, following his movements, and sweeping tiles off the board and into her hand. "We were close—fifteen more points and I could have—," and then sparks. An accidental hand brush sends her words astray and the fire inside her ablaze. She recoils from his touch, feeling small and nervous, and vulnerable. Is it easy to see her reaction? Are her cheeks beating with the color of love and death and passion? Did the veins in her face dilate, creating the horrid thing known as blushing? Did the same happen to him? She is too afraid to look, "won…" her sentence takes its last breath.
"Yeah," he agrees silently after a moment. "You were close," he admits, beginning to put back the game again.
Spencer nods, still bewitched by the mishap with their hands. God, it shouldn't be like this, should it?
A ringing phone slices through her thoughts. Although, she does not recognize the ringtone. It must be Toby's.
"Ugh, sorry," he murmurs, clearly frustrated, "I need to take this…" he explains.
She continues to clean up the game, occasionally peering up at him every now and then as he talks to someone on the phone.
"Hello?...She's what?...What happened? Is she…which hospital?...I'm coming…No, I'm coming—I am coming. She is my daughter, too!"
And that's where she tunes out, and keeps her eyes adrift. Daughter? Did she hear that correctly? He has a daughter? He is, like, twenty six. How can he have a daughter? Who is the mother? Is he some type of cheater? No, he couldn't be…
He is off the phone in a few seconds, looking beyond anxious and frustrated.
She isn't sure what to say.
"Is everything okay?" she questions, worry in her voice. Obviously it isn't, but that is what people always ask. How are you? What's wrong? Is everything okay? They are just a way of showing that you care, she supposes.
"Not really," he offers, letting out an unsteady breath before meeting her curious and concerned doe eyes, "my daughter's at the hospital. It is just a fever, but…" he shakes his head, stepping up from the bar stool. "I have to go, I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine," she assures him, standing up. "Really. You should go," she offers a tender smile.
In a sigh of relief, he offers a thank you.
He rushes out of the house, and out the door.
Spencer already misses his presence.
She cleans the rest of the board game up, and then the pizza.
He has a child. He is a father. It seems surreal. He is so young—so much life lies ahead of him, and he has a kid? She can't imagine having a kid at this age, especially right now. She shakes her head. Just another reason why she and Toby wouldn't work (among hundreds), he has a kid. She is the worst with children. She is incapable of talking to them. They never like her.
She walks to the door to lock it, and then she notices the man. His truck still resides upon the grass, the blue sheet draped across the bed. It has been, like, ten minutes. Why on earth is he still here?
She walks outside, both equally concerned and curious.
He is in the driver's seat, looking more aggravated than he did inside. She waits for him to notice her to wave.
He offers a somber wave back, before visually sighing, and climbing out of the truck.
"Is everything all right?"
Clearly, it's not.
"My truck won't start up…" he explains, a wrinkle forming above his intense and concerned stare. He looks back at the beige truck, "I've been trying to work it for awhile. I'm kind of familiar with mechanics, but mostly with bikes. Not his…" he explains, walking towards the hood. He pries it open, and she follows him, staring at the mechanics beneath her eyes.
"I wish I could help, but my level of intelligence doesn't reach this area," she says sadly, staring up at him.
"It's okay," he supplies, staring back at the engine and all that surrounds it. "And it doesn't help that I can't see anything…" he groans.
"I could get you a flashlight," she responds quickly, but then she thinks of something else, "…or I could just drive you." She says it in a small, fluttering, voice. She has driven a couple times since the whole…thing. Her parents don't like when she drives, but she is an adult. She can do what she wants. It is her car.
"Really?" he beams up at her. "It wouldn't be any trouble?" he asks.
"No trouble at all," she says truthfully. She doesn't understand why everyone is so weary of her driving. She learned how to drive at fifteen, not twenty three. "Just, I need to get my keys, and a coat…it is sort of chilly, tonight…" she adds.
"Yeah, of course," he agrees, bobbing his head.
Spencer goes back inside and grabs her keys and jacket. She whispers a farewell to the emptiness of the house, and then makes her way out.
On the way to the hospital, she speaks out the words in a lull, "I didn't know you had a daughter…" she observes, carefully.
"Yeah," he sucks in a breath. "To be fair, I don't know much about you, either…" he counters. Except it isn't venomous or spiteful; it is almost playful. Light and kidding.
"Maybe one day…" she breathes out. She doesn't know why she says it. The thought of exposing herself to Toby is utterly horrifying. She doesn't want to lose his friendship. She needs it. And everything will change if she uncovers the truth of her past.
Silence, again.
"What's her name?" she asks, a little more confidently than her previous question.
"Tabitha, but usually I just call her Tabs, or Tabby…or monkey," he admits the last part in a softer voice than before.
She giggles a little, smiling at the thought of the man next to her having a miniature-female-version of himself.
"She's five," he answers her next question before she can even ask it. "And before you can do the math, I was twenty one when she was born…" he supplies. He keeps talking, and she feels sort of…content at the thought of him opening up. She likes knowing that he feels comfortable talking to her about the real stuff. "We were high school sweet hearts," he supplies. "We got married at nineteen. We weren't planning to have a child at twenty one, but…life happens…" his voice trails into silence.
"Nineteen…" she reflects. "That's kind of terrifying," she admits.
"Yeah…looking back, it is weird. If Tabitha ever got married at nineteen, I would probably have a heart attack."
"How did your parents feel about this whole…marriage?"
"Not happy. Neither of us where ever close with our families, though. We got eloped," he explains. "When they found out—my parents, her parents—they were pissed."
"I bet," Spencer bellows a laugh. "I don't even know what my parents would say if I got eloped…" her voice trails.
And then Spencer remembers she is engaged. Engaged. How is she engaged? How the hell did that happen? Was she planning to have kids, too? She is so confused. It isn't like she was full out against marriage, but she wasn't all for it, either. The idea of it was sweet—vowing you'll love someone forever, but people always broke those promises. Like her dad, for instance. He had an affair with the woman next door, and in result of that, spawned a child. Her half brother, Jason.
"Yeah, I don't know. I don't talk to my parents that much. The last few years have been…weird. They kind of like my ex-wife more..."
There is no somber in his voice, or even disdain. He just says it. Says it with hollow words, and void emotions.
"I'm sorry," she feels a need to say it.
"It's fine," he chuckles, shaking his head. "People change," his voice fades into quietness.
"I couldn't agree more," she grimly agrees. If only Toby knew…
They arrive at the hospital, and Spencer is confused on whether or not she should accompany him. Does he want her there? Or does he crave for privacy?
"Did you want me to go in with you?" she asks in a shy voice.
He heaves, "if you want to."
"Do you want me to?" she asks.
He smiles at her, and then ignores the question, "I have to warn you about my ex-wife…" his smile becomes dark. "She is, sort of, —," he struggles for the right word. "She is flat out insane," he supplies.
Spencer laughs a little, "come on, I bet she isn't that bad."
"She is," he nods. "She…changed, and became…I don't know. Just, if she says anything to you, don't take it personally, okay?" he tells her.
"Okay…" she replies in a patronizing tone.
They walk out of the car and into the hospital. Spencer follows Toby from there, feeling an urge to grab his hand. She hates hospitals. She hates the color schemes of it. She hates the smell of it. She hates the sounds of it. She hates what happens here. She hates the memories that goes along with the hospital.
She woke up in a hospital. Confused as ever, screaming as some random man kissed her forehead (she later learned that man was Andrew.) She flailed her arms around, her throat exploding with screams as the doctors held her down.
That's when this nightmare began.
They finally reach her room, and Spencer feels extremely nervous all of a sudden. What if his daughter doesn't like her? What if she hates her?
She cringes at the thought.
A woman with dark hair and a willowy figure sits on the hospital bed, her back facing them. Her hand is on her daughter's forehead. An olive skin man sits in a chair in the corner of the room. He stands up when he notices the duo in the door way. His dark, unkind eyes examine her. She feels vulnerable all of a sudden. She wraps her arms around herself. Then, he moves his gaze to Toby.
The woman then turns around to look at them. Her eyes skim over Toby, to the brunette bedside him. Her glare is impeccably evil. Her death stare is almost as vicious as Spencer's, but Spencer chooses not to use it. She is here for Toby, not to create unnecessary drama.
The woman steps up from the bed, a wicked smile coming across her face.
"Well, who's this, Toby?" she keeps her eyes on Spencer.
"This is my friend, Spencer. She drove me here. Something was the matter with my car," he explains, a sort of rigidness in his voice. "Spencer, this is my ex-wife, Jenna," he says hurriedly.
Spencer offers a small smile, but Jenna only narrows her eyes.
"Hi, I'm Garret," the olive skinned man comes closer to them. He extends his hand out to Spencer, "I'm Jenna's husband," and then he smiles. But Spencer can't tell if it is genuine.
"How is she?" Toby asks his ex-wife.
"The doctors say she isn't breathing right. They have her hooked up to some machine to help her. Might have to stay the night."
"And do they know what's wrong with her?"
"They're still figuring it out," Jenna says coolly.
Toby goes past her, and to his daughter. Spencer follows him, after making another round of deathly eye contacts from the two.
Toby pushes his hands through the little girl's wavy blonde locks. Her eyes stay closed.
"Daddy's here," he comforts the sleeping girl, "it's okay."
"Toby don't wake her," Jenna's voice interrupts the peace.
He rolls his eyes, a sigh trailing from his mouth. He turns around, "she's out like a light. She isn't going to wake up from a little whispering," he fights.
"She might."
Toby sighs again.
"Okay, well, you saw her. You can go, now," Jenna dismisses him.
As if God granted her a gift, her phone begins to ring. But it is just another struggling thing. She excuses her self, explaining the importance of the call. She ignored his last call, and she can't ignore this one, too.
When she is out in the hall, she answers, "hello?"
"Spencer, where have you been?"
"Home…mostly. I'm out with a friend, right now."
"Which friend?"
"I don't think you know them. Look, Andrew, can I just call you later? I'm not in a spot where I can have a conversation."
"You ignored my call, earlier."
"I'm sorry about that. I was with someone."
"The carpenter?" his voice enters.
What? How does Andrew know that?
"I saw his truck there. When you weren't answering, I got worried. I went over to check on you, but then I saw his truck, and I figured you were already being taken care of," his words drench with envy. "Your father told me, you two were spending a lot of time together."
"Andrew stop. You're making assumptions," she grumbles. She has seen this side of him. Usually he is patient. "Yes, I'm with him. But I really…I just really can't talk right now."
"Fine, Spencer," he sounds angry. "Just call me back when you have a chance," the words sound civil enough, but the viciousness that is laced with them, unsettles her.
She goes back into the room, and it seems the two have waved the white flag. No one is fighting, or speaking anymore.
Toby takes her out into the hall again as soon as she steps through the door.
"I'm gonna stay here the rest of the night. I can have someone pick me up tomorrow morning," he assures her.
"You're staying here all night? With those two? That sounds…brutal…"
"Yeah, but she is my daughter. My whole life…" he goes on, glancing at the door. "I would do anything for her," he finds Spencer's copper eyes again.
This brings a smile to Spencer's face. "You're a good father," she tells him.
"I try my best."
"But are you sure you'll have a ride back? I can easily drive you. In fact… I kind of want to. Lately, I haven't really had much to do."
"You won't mind?"
"Not at all. Plus, your truck. You have to come back for it, right?"
"Yeah, that's true," he agrees. "I owe so much to you, Spencer," he tells her.
"It's what friends do," Spencer smiles, squeezing his shoulder.
"See you tomorrow?" he asks before opening the door.
She nods, a smile on her face, "good luck."