Chapter Three
“Hannah Postern, a twenty-four year old Pre-Law student disappeared last night. Her roommate states that Postern was working the late shift at the Neal's Bar down on Hasentel Street and never came home. She has a six month old baby girl, Angie. The police opened an investigation and Postern's parents have begun a search party for their missing daughter,” the reporter on the radio said. Where are these women disappearing to? I wondered.
I turned off the radio as I put the finishing touches of make up on my face. I studied myself in the mirror and grimaced. I was wearing a short sleeved, boat neck shirt with a pair of denim capri's that hit my knee right before the prosthetic. It was Rebecca's idea of a good, proper outfit. “Proper” was Rebecca’s life motto. She didn’t understand the concept of freedom of expression or marching to the beat of her own drum. As long as everyone liked her and she was regarded as perfect, Rebecca was fine. I, on the other hand, felt suffocated by the bland fabric.
Tugging on the clothes, I desperately tried to find some way to make them my own. It was too hot for scarves and the jewelry wasn’t cutting it. I still looked like a mini version of Rebecca and my stomach churned at the thought of what people would say. Eyeing the closet, I weighed my options. If I changed and went back down to the diner, Rebecca wouldn’t say anything…not in front of everyone at least. She would have to wait until the end of her shift. By then I could be out of the diner and off on my own. But there would be hell to pay later. It just wasn’t worth it.
Pulling my hair up into a rubber band, I grabbed my camera off the dresser before leaving the room. The kitchen was empty when I got there and I grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl, biting into it roughly. Juice squirted into my mouth, dribbling out onto the neck of the shirt. Wiping the juice off with the back of my hand, I finished the apple and threw the core into the garbage. My stomach grumbled, begging for more, but there was nothing more to eat. The cabinets were practically empty; the only food available was frozen. And why would she keep food in the apartment if she has the diner right downstairs? My pride kept me from eating any of the diner food; I would have to wait until I could escape and then get myself something substantial to eat. Did this dump of a town have a McDonalds? I had to find out and soon.
I shuffled my feet across the apartment and took my time descending the steps, stalling as much as possible. I didn’t want to be in the diner any more than Rebecca wanted me there. I opened the door and was greeted by the sight of my sister and Jacob furiously cooking food on the stove. They were having some type of argument using only whispers. They didn’t see me so I slipped out the door, grabbed my apron, and positioned myself at the front counter, tucking the camera safely at the back of one of the shelves. There were two other servers on the floor so I leaned against the wood counter, watching. They walked from table to table, writing down orders like a couple of drones. None of them smiled or tried to engage in any sort of conversation with the customers. There goes their tips for the day. Pathetic.
Despite how furiously Rebecca and Jacob were cooking, there weren’t many people in the diner. An elderly couple occupied the back corner booth and a few teenage girls nursed early morning milkshakes at one of the tables. The sun was already bright outside and I could feel the heat from its rays through the front windows. People were bound to drive to the beach in this weather and I had a feeling that business at the diner for the day would be slow. The bells over the door chimed and I turned. No effing way. He did not come here again. Ethan waved at me, weaving his way around the empty tables. A thick book was tucked under his arm.
“I'm pretty sure that stalking someone is illegal in this state. Actually I think it's illegal in every state. Am I really going to have to call the cops?” I asked and Ethan smiled cheekily.
“I'm not here to see you, it’s just a benefit,” Ethan said. I cocked an eyebrow.
“So why are you here?”
“I'm here to see Jacob.” He smiled. Little shit, I thought.
“Why would you want to see that pain in the ass?” I asked, glaring at him.
“He's my big brother.”
“Your big brother?” I asked with disbelief. “How is that possible? He's pale and you're...not.” Ethan chuckled and shook his head.
“You can say it,” Ethan said. “I'm black. I’ve come to terms with it.” And he thinks he’s a comedian too. How sweet.
“Okay not the point,” I said. “What do you mean he’s your big brother?”
“The Big Brother, Big Sister program,” Ethan explained. “My father…I love him but lately he hasn’t exactly been around