Spindle

Episode:1: Never Come Back

POV: Odessa

For the past two years, my existence has been met with a tolerant loathing that made me wish that I could sink through the floor.

I had grown accustomed to tiptoeing around people who had been born with the poor luck of being related to me and learned to speak in a tone that was not so soft that I was forced to repeat myself, but only loud enough that the person I had spoken to could pretend they hadn’t heard me at all.

I had been robbed of my remaining childhood years, and though I had every right to be chronically bitter, I couldn't allow myself to feel anything but elated as I grabbed my bag from the trunk of my uncle's car. I had shipped the rest of my stuff earlier that week so I would have less to carry.

Uncle Joe peered into the trunk and appeared puzzled by its emptiness. “I thought I saw you pack your mother’s photo albums,” he commented.

I did my best not to appear pleased. I had packed my mother’s photo albums, along with other childhood keepsakes, but as I was walking the box to the car, I realized that moving offered me a chance at a fresh start, which meant I had to get rid of my old baggage. “I threw it in the dumpster,” I informed him as I reached over and slammed the trunk shut.

His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened so his lips turned a sickly shade of white. These were warning signs that my uncle was preparing to blow up. In the past, I would have run for cover, but not today. I was wise enough to step back to create a little distance, but I stood my ground; I wasn't running from him anymore.

“Damn it, Odessa! Why would you do that?” he bellowed. “Some of those pictures were irreplaceable!”

“My dorm room is small; there isn’t much storage space,” I replied casually, knowing my careless demeanor would get under his skin.

I watched as the flush left his cheeks and traveled to his forehead, causing the vein near his right temple to pulsate. I had to tuck in my bottom lip to resist smiling. What I was doing was petty, I knew that, but it was well deserved after the hell he and my aunt had put me through.

He lifted his fist but then remembered himself and stuck out his index finger, which he wagged at me. “I would have never expected this level of ungratefulness,” he spouted, “After everything I have done for you; fed you, clothed you, put a roof over your head. Heck, I even drove you here today…”

He faltered at that last part because he knew he was full of shit. He drove me there because he had to if he wanted to get rid of me. My scholarship covered my food, board, and tuition; everything else was up to me. “If you had agreed to release some of my trust, I could have bought a car or a plane ticket.” I reminded him, though his refusal still burned my biscuits, I refused to give up the upper hand by allowing my anger to surface.

“You know I can’t do that,” he countered, doing his best to sound reasonable.

That was a lie. As my trustee, he had the power to release me early if it was in my best interest. He was refusing because he wanted to punish me. I wasn’t going to see a dime until I was twenty-one, and I didn’t anticipate receiving the full amount because I suspected my uncle had been embezzling from my account. If not for the money I had saved from my job as a server, I would have arrived on campus flat broke.

It was tempting to let the old anger rise to the surface and finally voice my disdain, but I resisted because I couldn’t dispose of Uncle Joe as I had the album box, so instead I extended my hand, “Thanks for the ride.”

Uncle Joe shook his head as he took my hand. “See you at Thanksgiving,” I said.

Uncle Joe dropped my hand then and ran his fingers through his thick, graying curls. My Uncle Joe was a bully by nature, so seeing him so nervous set me on edge. “What’s wrong?” I pressed him.

“It’s your Aunt Millie,” he began to explain. His expression was sheepish at first, but quickly shifted, becoming stoic as if he made an internal decision. “We don’t want you to come back.”

I had expected to return home during the school breaks, not because I wanted to, but because the cost of living was so high and it was difficult to find an apartment to sublet on short notice. I surmised that my uncle and aunt knew this already and thought completely severing ties with me would be the perfect parting gift.

This was the final shot; my old life was officially dead, only to be resurrected on my twenty-first birthday when I came to collect what was rightfully mine. My Uncle’s face contorted, and his mouth moved as he attempted to say anything that might soften the blow, but I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to assuage his guilt. “I guess this is goodbye,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.

He gave a sorrowful look, but I didn’t entertain him. I simply turned on my heel and marched in the direction of my dorm. Feeling pathetic as I kept an ear out, hoping Uncle Joe would make the effort to call me back. He didn’t. I was only a few feet away when I heard a car door slam shut, and a few moments later, I heard tires peel away from the curb. Though I hated myself for it, I couldn’t resist the urge to look back.

“I’m just closing that chapter of my life,” I told myself as I watched my uncle’s familiar white Buick stop to allow a couple of students to cross the street. I may have watched my uncle’s car until his taillights disappeared over the horizon if I hadn’t suddenly collided with something solid that sent me flying off my feet.