The next day, I woke up, hungover, to the sounds of Rick and Aunt Sarah arguing. After cleaning myself up, I took some Tylenol and went downstairs.
"Oh man," I thought to myself. "They're talking about last night."
As I made my way closer to the kitchen, I began preparing for whatever was about to happen, even if that meant getting kicked out. I tried telling myself that maybe I was better off just moving back in with my mom.
But I soon found out that wasn't the case at all.
They were arguing, but not about me. From what I could gather from the next room, Rick hadn't come home until early that morning. Both sounded upset so I just slowly made my way back to my room.
I waited in bed and closed my eyes until I heard three very distinct words coming from Rick.
"...about time he got a fucking job..."
And then the door slammed. I just prayed he slammed it.
It was. I went back down found Aunt Sarah was bent over the island in the kitchen in a silk bathrobe. Her hair was tousled and she was biting her hand. I couldn't tell if she was crying, but if she was, I wanted to give her space. I backed up I've again, but this time she heard me.
"How much of that did you hear?" she asked. She turned to me and I found she wasn't crying - just hungover like me.
"Just the door slam," I lied.
Even disheveled, Sarah looked so gorgeous in the bathrobe. It was a typical pink that clung to her body but only went down to just above her knees. My eyes wandered down from her knees to her feet and I remembered every detail of what happened the night before.
"Sorry if we woke you," she said.
"You didn't," I lied again. I couldn't help myself, but I had to add, "Everything okay?"
"Rick didn't come home last night," she said. "The idiot said he crashed at the bar. But I don't believe him. Or maybe I do. I don't know. All that matters is this."
In her hand was the piece of plastic. I looked closer and saw it was the corner of a wrapper from a condom.
"Oh shit," I said. "What did he say about that?"
"He didn't," she said. "He didn't see me pick it up after it fell out of his pocket."
It was then that I realized just how close we'd become. Why my aunt was confiding this to me, I didn't know - maybe she was lonely without Abby and with a husband that was most likely cheating on her. I didn't really care though. I was happy to be that person for her.
So I said, "Are you going to confront him about it?"
"I don't know," she said and palmed the wrapper. "If I do then...then it becomes real, you know?"
I walked over to her so I was on the other side of the island where she was bent over.
"You deserve better. Do it or don't - it's not my place to say. But whatever happens, I'm on your side." And then I smiled and placed my hands on hers. "Plus he's an idiot if he's cheating on you. You're one of the kindest and most beautiful people I know."
Yeah, it was sappy, but I had to take that chance. She smiled back in response and reached out to stroke my cheek. It was warm and tender, almost maternal, but I didn't care.
"You're a smart kid," she said. "If only Rick were a little more like you."
I kind of frowned at that. "If Rick were more like me he wouldn't have a job."
She broke away. "So, you heard more than you let on."
"Just a little," I admitted. "He's right, you know? I can't mooch off you guys forever."
"You're not mooching," she said.
"Well, you may think that," I replied. "But I can't help but feel I may not be wanted here."
"I want you," she said and then quickly added, "here."
"Well, I still need a job," I replied.
Aunt Sarah looked off in the distance like she had an idea and smiled. She told me of one of her friends (one of the few who worked) that had a job at the local newspaper. She said she would ask her about something the next time she saw her.
I thanked her, she cooked breakfast, we ate, and I left to go work on my resume for this lady. Before I left though, Aunt Sarah stopped me.
"Is that all?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I said.
"Well, we are going to have to talk about last night sometime," she said. The blood drained away from my face as I remembered it all. She saw this and cracked up. "Relax. None of it was your fault. We both had too much to drink and things got a little out of control."
"To be honest," I replied. "I'm kinda glad it did."
Aunt Sarah said something, but I didn't hear it as I was already on my way back to my room. It wouldn't be until later that I did find out what she said.
"Me too."
#
The following weeks moved by pretty quick. I got a couple part time gigs: one at the paper and one washing dishes at one of Rick's bars. Both of which I knew Aunt Sarah had a hand in.
The bar was the worst. Disgusting work, bad pay, and a manager who I think Rick must have paid to make my life a living hell. But I couldn't complain. I had my other job to look forward to.
The paper was kind of boring for the most part, but I got paid more than minimum wage, so I couldn't complain. And Aunt Sarah's friend, Cass, (who turned out to be the editor) was pretty easy-going.
I don't know what I did, but Cass apparently took a shine to me. She had me working more with her, proofreading her articles, showing me a few things about writing press releases, and we eventually had a thing every morning where I brought coffee and she brought breakfast.
It was then that I started to notice how she preferred to wear her hair down more and more. If she did have it up, she was also wearing glasses. And she began wearing skirts, but they seemed to be possibly a size to small on her shapely legs.
To be blunt, I could tell when Cass started flirting with me. It was little comments at first, but it became less and less subtle as time went on. But I didn't mind. She was attractive - late 40s, blonde, and it was hard not to stare at her ass when she was in heels.