What Lies Beneath the Skin

Chapter Three:

When Blackbirds Sing

Hayden

I slept for fourteen uninterrupted hours that night, a sleep that left me nearly catatonic when I tried to wake up somewhere around noon the following day. The bed was comfier than I expected, and my aching joints felt like they had been shocked back to life from the embrace of the thick sheets. It was difficult to force myself upright so I could attempt to catch my bearings, but I didn’t want to lie there like a corpse all day. Rachel left a beautiful breakfast spread outside my door as a welcome, full of freshly made French toast and a thick omelet, which I scarfed down like my life depended on it. She was a damn good cook, and I felt guilty not thanking her in person, so I was determined to be at dinner that evening.

I spent my day unashamedly watching daytime television and looking up things about the town I was in. The most noteworthy attractions were centered around state parks and museums; a huge mountain called Sleeping Giant seemed to be the biggest draw for visitors, but not exactly something I found interesting. Hamden sat in a weird spot between two major towns that outshone it; New Haven was the second biggest hub of the state, as Yale University and hospital resided there, while North Haven had access to bigger shopping experiences to draw in crowds. I didn’t mind that Hamden was relatively quiet; I didn’t need to stand out more than necessary right now, if ever, and wanted to blend in to my new space as flawlessly, and as soon, as possible.

The third floor was completely silent for the rest of the day, so quiet that I found it oddly unsettling. I felt like I was the only person in the entire building, so to distract from that, I peeked out of my room in an attempt to familiarize myself with my new home. I hadn’t noticed yesterday that this floor was mainly private rooms the family used for personal use, give or take a couple rentable rooms as last resorts. I knew this because unlike the stagnant white doors on the second floor, each room had its own flair to distinguish itself, along with photos and other homey decorations that no normal hotel would have on display.

The first door, which was at the top of the steps, had a simple gold file organizer screwed into it, with a label that said, ‘Leave stuff for me here- Garrett’ stuck to it. The organizer had numerous oddities stuck in it, as if the owner had been neglecting it for some time, but nothing looked overtly important. The door still was the same white as the other lower-floor rooms, but a flag for a local university and some miscellaneous stickers were haphazardly placed on it to give it some personality.

The next door was painted a homey beige, and had a wicker wreath with fake flowers and mushrooms fastened into it. This door was slightly propped open, and when I peeked inside, the room itself was decorated to match the theme of the door. The curtains were white with fake vines falling down the sides of them, the bed spread a vibrant gold to match the accents and mirror, and the corners stuffed with fake plants. The bed was a king with two separate throw blankets placed along each side, so I figured this was Rachel and her partner’s room.

The final door was a vibrant, blaring hot pink, so bright that I was astonished I’d missed it the first time. This door obviously belonged to the spunky girl I had met yesterday; if the color didn’t give it away, her tasteful, ‘Leave crap I don’t care about here- Paige’ and, ‘If you can read this, you’re ugly… I mean you, Garrett’ signs certainly helped. She had a file organizer just like Garrett’s room, but her’s was black with sparkles in the paint, and was empty beyond a request for her to pick up a shift in the restaurant this weekend.

The hallway walls also had framed photos of numerous people, whose names were written in delicate cursive underneath each of their pictures. Dates were under the names as well, and as I studied them, I realized they were the same faces I’d seen on Rachel’s website. She personally decorated and hung the success stories of each of her cases along the hallway, so she and her family could keep the memories. I put off reading their backstories until I knew I was allowed to, but still ran my fingers over the edge of the frames with a soft smile. I wished I could thank them personally for providing me comfort in my choice to come after all, and hoped they were all leading the beautiful lives their frames promised.

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That evening, I made sure I was presentable enough before limping my way down the carpeted steps, careful not to add too much weight to my ankle as I navigated my way to the foyer. There were more guests than I thought staying at the hotel; the dining room was half full of mismatched families well before I arrived around seven. A young couple and their twins were fighting over how they wanted their hot dogs cut, while an elderly pair laughed politely at the father’s eye roll. A girls’ softball team consumed the twelve seater booth in the back corner, and were yapping wildly about their victory in today’s championship. I was glad to see there were guests after all, admittedly; it further validate that this place was, foremost, an actual hotel, and I hadn’t been conned into some weird delinquent shelter after all.

Paige was passing plates out to various guests with that same unbothered smile from yesterday morning, but when she saw me shuffle into the room, her eyes lit up like fireworks. “Hiya, Hayden! Sit anywhere you’d like; I’ll be right over with a menu!”

“Uh, thanks…” I forced a grin for her, then found a table for two in the back corner. I made sure that my sweatshirt was pulled up over my neck enough as I waited, fidgeting with my placemat and clothing awkwardly to pass the time. I didn’t see Rachel amongst the crowd, and figured she was cooking based on where she came from yesterday morning, which did disappoint me slightly, but I knew I would see her soon enough.

“Ah, sorry, I had to run someone some ketchup. Looking for recommendations, or do you just want to explore on your own?” Paige asked when she made it to my table. She pulled a thick notepad out from her apron as she asked this, and clicked her pen twice to get it going.

I shrugged lightly, “Um, honestly, you can surprise me. Is your mom cooking?”

Paige chuckled and scrawled something on her notepad, “Thankfully. My brother usually helps her, but he’s got class tonight, so she’s flying solo. Do you have any allergies, foods you don’t like? It’s ok to tell me if you hate mushrooms!”

“I actually really like them,” I laughed, unable to ignore her charm.

She peeked at me over her notepad, proud of herself for pulling the laugh from me, “You do? Then I have the perfect order. I’ll get that going, and in the meantime, how does some lobster bisque and bread sound?”

“Sounds like you’re doing too much, but I don’t think you’re going to let me say no.”

“That, you are right about. I’ll be back shortly!” She whisked the menu up and danced towards the back; I shook my head lovingly at her excited skip. I hadn’t eaten at a true restaurant in quite a while, let alone a place that served my favorite soup. I forgot that I was in an East Coast town now, and here, seafood was going to be much more accessible. I’d always been a huge fan of shellfish, so the prospect of getting soup with fresh and locally sourced lobster was more than tantalizing. The placemats guaranteed this, and based on the reactions from the guests sitting around me, I figured I was in for a treat.

Paige’s whimsical laughs echoed from the kitchen before she came back with a white bowl and a basket of assorted breads, which she laid before me alongside a soda and another colorful beverage. She popped an umbrella and maraschino cherry into the red drink, then handed me a silverware set. “My mom makes the best Shirley Temples in the world. I figured you’d like to give it a try! I go through these like I breathe oxygen.”

I stared into the sparkling beverage excitedly, “Wow, uh, thanks Paige. And tell your Mom I said thank you too, especially for breakfast. It was a really sweet gesture, and I want to thank her myself when she’s done tonight.”

Her eyes teemed with glee now that she had me talking; she glanced over her shoulder before nudging mine, “Mind if we eat together? You’re my last table for the night, and I’d love to get to know you more, if you’re up to it? I won’t ask you personal questions like my mom does; she doesn’t consider that some people just want company and not a therapy session.” She said a bit bitterly at the end.

“I mean, sure, I don’t mind.” I offered hesitantly.

“Great! Be back in fifteen!” She was gone before I could respond, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy to. I turned my attention to the giant bowl before me, and after taking my first bite, the world could have collapsed around me and I would have had no clue otherwise. The sweet sherry wine mixed with chunks of lobster claw and dense cream was beyond heavenly, and paired with the honey bread Rachel served warm under a slightly dampened cloth, I could have died and been none the wiser. I devoured the soup well before Paige returned with another equally rich and elegant spread, which she balanced with both hands due to the weight of our meals. She saw my empty bowl and half gone drinks and smiled ear to ear with pure accomplishment. “What I tell ya? Best soup in the world?”

“You weren’t kidding. That was unbelievably good,” I scoffed.

“And we’re just getting started…!” She set down two huge plates, a side dish, and more bread, “Mushroom Risotto, Chicken Florentine, and Homemade Caesar Salad. May seem like a lot, but I wanted to make sure you went to bed full.”

“I’ll be rolling to bed at this point,” I chuckled, blazing bright red at how sweet her gestures were. She sat opposite me and unraveled her silverware bundle, laying the cloth napkin over her shirt to be safe. “You seem to be the all-in-one around here, Paige. Waitress, host, reception… is there anything you don’t do?” I asked as I spooned the risotto.

“Clean toilets and make beds; beyond that, I try to help as much as I can.” She shoved a bite of chicken into her mouth, and stabbed at her mushrooms a few times angrily, as they weren’t sticking to her fork. “I backed out of college last month, so until I figure out my next steps, I’d rather be helpful any way I can.”

“How old are you? And why did you back out of school?” I prompted, giggling at her ongoing battle with the mushrooms.

“I’ll be eighteen in July; I graduated in June, and since I turn eighteen before the year is up, they allowed me early admission. I was going to go to a school in New Haven, but the tuition is ridiculously high for there being only a thousand kids. I was considering going where my brother’s at, but I’m not a big fan of big schools, though I might end up there if I go back.”

“You keep referencing your brother; what’s he like?” I politely pressed, cutting my chicken up awkwardly. I was trying desperately to get my knife through it, but when I applied the slightest of pressure on the knife with my left hand, an audible cry slipped from my lips.

Paige noticed I was having trouble cutting the food and delicately placed a hand over my shaking one. “Want me to help? I don’t mind?”

Embarrassment raced through my veins when I realized she had caught me. I instinctively tried to take my hand away, but she didn’t let go at first. “No, I, I got it…? I mean…?”

“Stop being so silly!” She went to gently take the knife from my hand, but as soon as her fingertips touched mine, her face paled instantly. She didn’t look down to assess anything at first, but spoke slowly and calmly. “I don’t mean to pry, but I think your fingers are broken, honey?”

“I... I…?” I dropped the fork and brought my hand back into my sleeve, “I’m…?”

“Sit tight a moment, I’ll be right back. We’ll fix this, then get back to our conversation.” She shot up like a rocket and darted around the corner, leaving me close to tears at the table.

My fingers were broken all right; I’d been running on adrenaline alone, so until I had to actually use them, I was able to ignore the horrible, throbbing pain. My ankle continued to quiver every time I took a step, and walking for ten miles certainly hadn’t helped. My back, the back of my head… all the pain I’d forced down was crawling up my throat and spine by the second, as if Paige activated a switch within my brain to engage them.

When she came back to the table I was fully crying, head down and hood up to try and conceal the tears slipping down my cheeks. Paige was slightly taken aback by my reaction, but instead of gawking, she took my hand from my lap and pulled the sleeve back. Her reaction shouldn’t have surprised me, but it still made me jump when she gasped loud enough for her mother to hear. Rachel had been cleaning up the last of the tables from dinner service, and Paige’s gasp made her drop a dish too fast into the bucket; it shattered with a deafening crunch.

She took Paige’s shoulders and sternly jerked her back, her eyes wide with slight anger, but mainly worry. “What’s wrong?” She barked seriously.

Paige swallowed lightly and forced herself to look at her mother, “I think we should take him to a hospital.” She breathed ever so softly.