Faking Changes

Chapter 2

2

My life now was pretty great. I had found a wonderful best friend named Abby. I lived in a gorgeous lakefront cottage in Harbor Shores, Michigan. I managed a lovely, waterside restaurant that had quickly become the place to be and be seen. Best of all, I had an amazing dreamboat of a man who seemed to enjoy spending time with me.

I’m not sure how I managed to get my life so in order, but I was grateful that things worked out the way they had. Somehow, the broken little girl from the wrong side of the tracks had turned her life around to be rather awesome.

Sure, I'd been forced to do some things that I wasn't proud of along the way in order to survive, but I had made it out. Living on the mean streets as a teenager is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. Okay, maybe the mouth-breathing oaf, but no one else.

Thankfully, that part of my existence seems a million light years from where I am now––almost like it happened to someone else. I am determined not to allow the demons of my past to ruin the life I have built here. This is how life is supposed to be. This is normal.

People who had happy childhoods live the way I am living now. My friends here all had these standard upbringings, rather than the filthy squalor that I lived in and subsequently escaped. Sometimes I feel like an imposter because of these facts, but I do my best to tamp these inferior feelings down. I steadfastly refuse to let my past define me. I'm convinced that if I keep telling myself that, eventually I will start to believe it.

With impeccable timing, Tabitha, my slightly plump, yellow tabby cat jumped up to rub the top of her head along my upper arm. I scratched her chin, making her purr loudly. "We're two of a kind, aren't we, Tab?" I murmur aloud, smiling at the cat.

She had been near death from starvation when I found her in the alley during my homeless days. I had nursed her back to health––sharing what little food I had, even when my belly was rumbling with hunger. Taking care of her and watching her recover had been the bright points of my days on the streets, which were otherwise filled with danger and filthy unpleasantness.

The cat arose from a broken past as well. She was incredibly loyal to me and––just like me––never seemed to forget where we started or how far we had come. Whenever I fed her, she scarfed her kibble down quickly, like she wasn't certain when we would be eating again. It was more than a little heart-wrenching to watch.

Tab was also incredibly wary of strangers––with strangers being anyone who isn't me. She still didn't trust Abby––even though Abby had taken us in and shared her safe and lovely home with us. We had lived together for years, but Tab still purposely and actively avoided Abby. It gave Ab a bit of a complex. It wasn't just Abby, though. Tab didn't like anyone other than me. Scratch that – anyone other me and Seth. For some inexplicable reason, she had snuggled right up to Seth from the first time she saw him. I guess he's just irresistible to all females––even the feline variety. I'd roll my eyes, if it weren't absolutely true.

As much as I have actively tried to keep myself from falling for Seth, it has proven to be nearly impossible. For starters, he is totally hot. We are talking tall, dark and handsome times ten thousand. It's not just his looks, though. He's also thoughtful and kind and funny and oddly dorky in a sweet and lovable way.

He is like a big, soft, warm teddy bear that I want to grab ahold of and never let go, I decided. Okay, maybe a teddy bear wasn't a good metaphor because he's also sexy as hell, and I don't like stuffed animals in that way.

Speaking of his superb snuggliness, we have had some hot-and-heavy make-out sessions of the panty-dropping variety, but for some reason my panties have not yet made their way south. This idea to hold off on the n***d festivities was not my idea, and I do not agree with the decision...at all. After all, we have established that Seth is just about perfect in every way, and he is supremely sexy. Why would I not want to bag that?

My thoughts had taken a rather crass turn. Imagining what Abby's reaction would be if I were to say that last part to her made me laugh out loud. Even with as much sizzling bedroom action as she has been getting since marrying Seth's identical twin, Sam, she is still shocked whenever I openly talk about anything s****l.

The limited knowledge she had of the traumas of my teen years gave her serious concerns about my ability to have a healthy and happy relationship with a man. I have never shared with her the shocking details of the a***e I endured in my childhood home, but she knows it was bad enough that I felt safer trying to make it on my own––homeless and alone.

After doing what I had to in order to survive on the streets, I hadn't thought there was anyone alive in worse shape than me––until I saw Abby. I found her on a park bench. She was just sitting there staring off into space. She was clean and dressed appropriately for a non-homeless person, but she looked so dejected and alone that something inside me felt the need to comfort her.

When I joined her on the bench, I wasn't sure if she even knew anyone else was there. I didn't know what to say, and I was concerned that my unkempt appearance and likely pungent odor would frighten her. We were silent for so long that I almost left...thinking there was nothing I could do to help anyway.

Suddenly, she said, "Over the last few months, I've lost the three most important people in my life." She looked pathetic, almost broken. I nodded at her, uncertain of what to say. Turns out, I didn't have to say anything. She told me all about the sudden deaths of her parents in a car crash and the breakup of her marriage.

"Pig." I said the single word after she finished telling me about walking in on her husband getting a bj from their real estate agent, which was the catalyst for their divorce.

"It's not all his fault." I couldn't believe she was actually going to defend this butthead's appalling behavior. "I wasn't able to conceive a child. In fact, my body's so messed up that I can't even have an orgasm." The last word was drawn out as she finally dissolved into tears.

I had no idea what to say. This woman had just spilled her heart out to me, and I couldn't think of one comforting platitude to share with her. Falling back on a pitiful attempt at humor, I finally said, "Wow, and I thought I was a hot mess. Your life is so jacked up that this homeless street rat is feeling sorry for you," I gestured at myself.

She looked at me then, for the first time. If she was shocked by my filthy appearance, she hid it well. I figured she was going to tell me to get lost, but instead she laughed. She laughed hysterically, like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

When her laughter subsided, she turned serious. "It seems that I'm all out of people who love me. Will you be my people?" It was a childish question, and she looked so vulnerable when she asked it, as if her whole world depended on my response. I was touched beyond reason. No one had ever made me feel so important in my entire life, and I fervently didn't want to mess this up.

"It must be your lucky day," I informed her, "because I just happen to be a people. I'll have to check my schedule, but I think I should be able to fill in whenever you need me." It was the most I had reached out to anyone since the time I had attempted to tell my school counselor, Mrs. Renault, that I didn't feel safe at home. My mother had assured her that she would 'take care of it,' and that had been the end of that. Apparently, 'take care of it' meant 'ignore it completely' in my mother's universe. She and Mrs. Renault had totally let me down. That is when I learned that I needed to take care of myself because I was the only one who would.

To my utter surprise, Abby hugged me then. It was a real hug, too. Her firm embrace felt like she was holding on for her life. No one had ever hugged me like that, and it felt glorious. I clutched onto her, not wanting to ever let go.

"Will you come live with me?" She framed the question like I would be doing her a favor. I didn't want her charity, but when I tried to decline, she became insistent. She said her gut was telling her that this was the right thing to do.

My gut was starting to do flip-flops in excitement over the too-good-to-be-true prospect of having an actual roof over my head, but I didn't want to seem too anxious. "Where I go, the cat goes," I informed Abby, gesturing at Tabitha, who was sunning herself nearby.

"Oh, I've always wanted a kitty." Abby reached out to Tab in an attempt to pet her. Tab jumped up, arched her back and hissed vehemently.

Abby jerked her hand back, straightened and said a little shakily, "Oh, my! Well, okay then. That's not great, but we'll figure it out."

It's been several years since that fateful day, and we still haven't figured it out. Ab is my best friend in the entire world. I can't imagine how different my life would be if I hadn't joined her on that bench that day, and I don't want to think about it. She completely turned my life around––and Tabi's. I'm eternally grateful to Abigail Brown. Tabitha, however, is not.