Unwanted: Finding Where You're Loved, page 1
UNWANTED
Finding Where You’re Loved
ELISE MANION
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©️ 2023 by Elise Manion
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 (example: quotations for a book review), no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher.
No Generative AI Training Use.
For avoidance of doubt, Author reserves all rights, and there are no rights to reproduce and/or otherwise use the Work in any manner for purposes of training artificial intelligence technologies to generate text, including without limitation, technologies that are capable of generating works in the same style or genre as the publication, unless the Author’s specific and express permission to do so is given in writing. Nor does anyone have the right to sublicense others to reproduce and/or otherwise use the publication in any manner for purposes of training artificial intelligence technologies to generate text without Author’s specific and express permission.
Published by Happy Distraction Press
First edition July 2023
ISBN Numbers:
Softcover: 979-8-9882110-1-3
Ebook: 979-8-9882110-0-6
For more information, visit the author at:
www.elisemanion.com
For Lauren.
You make every other Tuesday special.
Contents
Chapter 1
Leaving Hell
Chapter 2
Jeremy
Chapter 3
Bad Reputation
Chapter 4
Valentine’s Day
Chapter 5
Delinquent
Chapter 6
Backpack
Chapter 7
Caught
Chapter 8
Goodbye For Now
Chapter 9
Back To Hell
Chapter 10
Fairy Box
Chapter 11
Road Trip
Chapter 12
The Call
Chapter 13
Garden Of The Gods
Chapter 14
Oregon Or Bust
Chapter 15
Trevor
Chapter 16
Therapy
Chapter 17
Restraining Order
Chapter 18
Thankful
The End… For Now
Also by Elise Manion
Thank You
About the Author
Chapter One
LEAVING HELL
My mother is a professional tennis player, studied art in Paris, and loves to smoke meth. In reality, only the latter is true but she likes to pretend. A lot.
On my sixteenth birthday she pretended to be a pimp with her dealer by exchanging my virginity for an eight ball and a new pipe.
After a humiliating pelvic exam and STD swab the next morning, the free clinic sent me home with the morning after pill and a pamphlet on safe sex practices.
Happy birthday to me.
On my seventeenth, I found a 24-hour diner and stayed there until sunup.
I plan on spending my eighteenth birthday in another state with people who love me.
“Sophie Miller! Get your fat-ass ready or you’re gonna be late for school!”
“Coming, Mom.” I slipped my math homework into my backpack, pulled the paperclip attached to the broken zipper and headed into the kitchen for a healthy breakfast of rainbow fish crackers. I heard the pop of the beer top before I crossed the threshold between matted carpet onto cracked linoleum. Our state-of-the-neglected stove only had two working coils. We hadn’t baked anything in over a year, since Mom used the oven space to store her drug paraphernalia. I’d worried she would burn us alive but one of her boyfriends gutted the inside for parts a while ago.
The dishes I’d done last night still sat in the drainer, but a batter bowl and black-encrusted skillet now filled the sink. She slid me a paper plate piled with hockey pucks dripping in oil and syrup. “Made pancakes. Eat up, buttercup.”
“Thanks.”
Deena pretended to be a good mommy and not acknowledging an accomplishment ended with palm-printed cheeks and lots of screaming. I didn’t want to get on the bus sporting another shiner.
I’d talked to my father last night. He lives in Oregon and he’s finally getting me the hell out of Colorado. I needed to prepare myself for the ugly scene once Deena found out. She owned every title in the sport of Fit Throwing. Dad said if you looked up “conniption” in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of my mother, mouth agape, spittle dotting the air like a halo, and eyes shooting lightning next to the description. I’ve never looked it up because I see enough of her face already.
“Danny wants to have a conference call tonight,” Mom said about my father. “Probably wants to fudge on his child support again. Rotten bastard,” she muttered.
“What time?” I chewed the burnt dough without looking her in the eye. The wrong expression could set her off.
“When he gets off work. With the time difference around six, I think. Grandma LaPage is coming to make sure he don’t try anything again. Every time we have these calls, he pays less and less. He’s not getting outta child support altogether as long as you live here, no matter what his new bride says.” She spit new bride out of her mouth like a loogie. Dad often describes his current wife, Tammy, as sweet. So far, I hadn’t seen it, but at least Tammy’s sober.
“I’ll be home after Young Writer’s club.” I threw the paper plate in the garbage, the uneaten hockey pucks covered by my napkin. Mom hadn’t noticed, distracted as she poured another beer into her favorite cup.
“Don’t dawdle.” She left me for her art room where a dozen canvases waited for an inebriated mind to throw up on them.
February in Colorado Springs made for hazardous walking. Ice covered the sidewalk on our street because none of our neighbors ever shoveled snow. Navigating over the packed ice and mud from neglected yards made me slower than normal.
The bus arrived the same time I did. Mine was the last stop before school which meant most of the seats were already taken. It didn’t matter, though. Zane, the bus driver, reserved the first seat behind him to keep Oliver Dell, the school bully, from picking on me.
“Sophie, where’s your coat,” Zane asked. “You must be freezing.” He turned up the heat.
I pulled at my overlarge sweatshirt and shrugged. “I’m fine.” I had on mittens and, though my boots were secondhand, they were waterproof and I didn’t complain.
“Did you talk to your dad?”
I caught his kind eyes in the large mirror he used to watch students and nodded. “He’s going to talk to Deena tonight.”
“Good. You need a break from all of this crap, kiddo.”
He’d seen the school bullying firsthand. I’d never discussed my home life, though my mother had a reputation and Zane wasn’t stupid. Thankfully, he’d never mentioned the bruises. If he’d reported them, nothing ever happened.
When I was little, some of my teachers must’ve reported my mother because children’s services had shown up at my house. Mom cried, Grandma LaPage got angry, and I always ended up back home.
I kept to myself the rest of the day, more than grateful when school ended. The writing club I belonged to was small which I viewed as a plus. The members were serious about storytelling, absent of the school cliques, leaving us free to be ourselves. We were working on journaling and it was important to keep my entries in order. If I thought about the fight coming tonight between my parents, I would throw up my free lunch, and let’s face it, no one wants a second sighting of salisbury steak.
Afterschool clubs didn’t have access to busses. I had to walk a mile home. Thankfully, the sun was out and the ice had melted on most of the sidewalks until I got to my street. When I reached the crappy pathways leading to my house, I cringed when I saw a familiar car parked in the driveway.
Grandma LaPage’s giant Hummer shone like a beacon for anyone looking to strip it for cash. The tires alone would fetch four digits apiece. I’ve tried to tell her not to be here after dark but she won’t listen. Typical. Once, I tried to tell her what happened on my sixteenth birthday.
She laughed.
“That will teach you to try alcohol before you’re twenty-one, Sophie. Nightmares and hallucinations. Stop being so dramatic. You are not moving in with your father.”
Dad listened for about five seconds until he’d spoken to Grandma LaPage.
No proof.
Teenagers from single parent households lie to get what they want, she’d said.
No one believed me.
The screaming started two minutes into the conference call. “That never happened! She’s a liar and you know it, Danny. Look what she did to us.” Daggers from Mom’s eyes aimed straight for me, and I knew if she got her hands on me tonight I’d hurt tomorrow. Why my father waited so long to bring up my assault, after I asked him not to, baffled me until…
“I know she is, Deena, but Tammy and I think it would be good to give you a break.”
“Tammy,” Mom spat. “I don’t give
“I’ve already spoken with my lawyer. If you don’t put her on that plane tomorrow, there’ll be a warrant out in your name for child endangerment.”
Grandma LaPage cleared her throat. She usually waited to intervene until things escalated to threats, especially the scandalous kind. She feared a shunning from her circle of friends the most. “Now, Danny, there’s no need for any of that. If you’d like to have Sophie for the rest of the semester on a trial basis, Deena and I would be happy to agree—”
“MOTHER,” Deena snapped but Grandma ignored her.
“—as long as you don’t involve the police again. It’s getting old. Nothing ever comes of it except gossip and drama. It isn’t good for any of us.” She rolled her eyes at Mom and paced the floor. She wouldn’t look at me while she negotiated with Dad, but I had a feeling she’d already purchased my plane ticket to Portland. Never a warm and fuzzy person, I could see why my mom had turned to drugs and alcohol for comfort. Everyone needs a good mother and it looked like bad mothering started with Grandma LaPage.
My dad left us on my fifth birthday. I cried for a week. Grandma LaPage told me not to waste my tears because Danny Miller is a mean son of a bitch. I’d heard the mantra repeated throughout my life. When I asked Dad why he left, he blamed my mother. She couldn’t stay sober no matter what anyone did; not me, Grandma LaPage and, least of all, my father. I don’t blame him for getting out. I just wish he’d taken me with him.
But, at last he was rescuing me from a life of hell. I couldn’t wait to pack my bags.
Over the speaker, my father took a deep breath. “Did you buy the plane ticket, Eleanor?”
“Yes. It lands in Portland at one. Temporary custody should be finalized by the end of the week, as long as you hold up your end of the deal, which means no more threats of lawyers, and going to court. I mean it this time, Danny.”
Dad chuckled. “Put Sophie on the phone, not on speaker.”
I snatched the cell from Grandma and switched it to normal. “Dad?”
“Hey, Baby Girl. Get your bags packed. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Thank you, Dad.” A relieved tear dripped down my cheek.
Mom ripped the phone out of my hand. “No, Danny. You can’t have her.”
I knew he’d won because Grandma wasn’t smirking. “Go to your room and pack. You’re coming with me tonight so your mother will have time to adjust to your absence.”
What she really said was, Go get your stuff before she blows her top and beats the crap out of both of us.
Not wasting time, I threw everything into my ratty backpack. When I finished, Mom’s tantrum raged. Pots and pans banged and crashed, and I’m sure our neighbors thought a banshee had moved in.
Grandma LaPage paced the living room in front of the window. The sun had set so she kept an eye on her Hummer. “Ready?”
“Yes.” I didn’t stop until I stood next to the passenger side door. I didn’t say goodbye to my mother. I rubbed at the guilt in my chest, but rational explanations and consolation were impossible once she started throwing things.
Grandma took her time locking the front door—as if anyone would go in there with all the noise—before picking her way through the ice in her designer boots to the Hummer. She hit the fob, the doors unlocked and the interior brightened.
Mom didn’t work a real job. Grandma supported her, and only her. She was the reason we had a roof over our heads, but Grandma LaPage and I didn’t enjoy a cookies-and-hugs relationship. When I was little, I used to wish for the kind of grandmas found in story books but after my sixteenth birthday I stopped reading fairy tales.
I tried not to breathe all over the Hummer’s leather interior though my heart raced the entire silent ride to Grandma’s house.
Once I was with Dad, I would be safe.
I’d be loved.
With clumsy effort, Claude LaPage climbed out of his recliner in front of the television to give me a hug. “Hello, kiddo. I hear you’re going on a trip tomorrow.”
“To Dad’s, yeah.”
Grandpa Claude was a sweet man in the early stages of dementia. He didn’t say much and ended our hug with a pat on my shoulder. “Well, I hope you don’t stay away long. I’d miss you.”
“Thank’s, Grandpa. I’ll miss you too.” He didn’t need to know I hoped to never come back.
He gave me another couple of pats. “Well, let’s eat. I bought a pizza when I found out you’d be spending the night.” He had Domino’s on speed-dial.
I flopped my bag on the floor and we headed for the dining room table where two pizza boxes, paper plates, and some napkins were laid out. Apparently, Grandpa thought I was a pig. The three of us would never get through two whole pies.
Grandma LaPage prided herself on being proper, even on pizza night. We sat at the dining room table listening to a ticking grandfather clock and the squeaks of Grandma LaPage’s knife and fork on fine china. Grandpa Claude savored each bite of pizza as if it were his last. No one spoke.
We had nothing to say.
Grandma tucked me into the dusty spare bedroom by saying, “Your plane leaves at seven. I’ve arranged the airport shuttle to pick you up at five-thirty.”
“Thanks Grandma,” I said, opening the pack for my pajamas. “I’ll be ready, I promise.”
“Goodnight, Sophie.” She closed the door leaving me with my excitement. My last night in Colorado Springs. Temporary custody or not, I never wanted to see this place again.
I woke long before the shuttle arrived. Grandma and Grandpa sent me off with a brief hug each. Grandma had negotiated temporary custody with my father and I was afraid to ask what that meant. If she wanted to get rid of me why not turn over all custody? Clearly my mother was unfit, and my grandparents were unwilling to let me live with them.
I knew my way around the crazy Denver Airport from previous visits with my father. As usual, take-off was bumpy but once in the air I plugged in my headphones and ignored everything else around me.
February in Oregon was all about precipitation and it didn’t disappoint. Rain greeted me when we landed. Dad, Tammy and the twins met me on the other side of TSA since I had no baggage to claim. I didn’t have much anyway. Tammy’s twins, Trevor and Traci, were thirteen and towered over me by a head.
Dad engulfed me in a bear hug, eliciting a smile from me. “There’s my girl,” he whispered nearly breaking my ribs. I didn’t mind, it felt good to be in his arms again, safe and sound. Dad always greeted me this way.
When he finally put me back on my feet, Tammy asked, “How was your flight?” Her one-armed hug lasted about two seconds. “Did you eat breakfast?”
Trevor spoke as he picked up my backpack. “I hope not. I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Traci, almost as big as her brother, said before she pulled me in for a bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re here! I need another girl in the house to keep Trevor in line.”
“Whatever. Can we go?” Trevor asked Tammy, who rolled her eyes herding us toward the exit.
Dad hung his enormous arm over my shoulders as we tagged along behind. “Tammy and I cleaned out the spare room upstairs. It doesn’t have a closet because the previous owners used it as an office. We’re gonna hit the home improvement store after we eat. Didn’t have time to make the room perfect for you. Tammy bought a bedroom set and we found an old armoire at a thrift store to hang your clothes. It’s in the garage airing out. I thought you could pick out some paint and Tammy can help you decorate your room.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “Thank you, Dad. Can I get purple?”
Staring ahead, his face turned stony. “What shade of purple?”
I laughed. “Light purple.”
He winked at me. “We’ll see.”
After visiting a fast food drive through—Trevor and Traci bickering the entire time—we made a quick trip to the home improvement store. Tammy helped me pick out a pretty shade of purple, along with a lighter color. “We can use the lilac as an accent wall and paint the wardrobe the same color. The cream will balance it out so you don’t get sick of it.”
