Four jobs?
WOW! It's hard to believe, here one job is enough :lol: . But then we work only 35 hours per week
I now understand why it's so hard for her to trust someone, her life isn't the easier life someone could have. I'm sure if she is working so much it's for Nadia, she wants to pay college.
I wonder what Vaughn will do now, will he try to understand what her life looks like and how different it's from his?
sorry bout the chapter mix up.... i swear i didn't get any sleep last night :thud:
Chapter 5
In the next two weeks, Michael made three visits to the diner to see Sydney. During those times, they talked about random things, but rarely about anything personal. Once Sydney asked Michael what it was like to be in court and trying to prosecute a murderer and he explained that he had never taken a murder trial, rather he dealt more with smaller, less dramatic issues. That, however, was the extent of their personal conversations. Sydney never offered anything up about herself and when Michael would try and ask, she’d give an evasive answer and change the subject. Michael continued to walk her home and, naturally, she teased his jumpiness the entire way.
By the first week in July, after Michael had been visiting Sydney for nearly a month, he finally mustered up the courage once more to ask her out on a date. He thought by that point that they had secured what could be described as a friendship-- enough for her to not shoot him down entirely (at the very least) and hopefully accept his offer to meet her someplace other than the dingy diner.
When he walked into the diner that evening, he was panicking slightly; trying to remember the speech on why she should accept his date offer he had come up with on the drive there. He saw her behind the counter fiddling with something, her back to him, so he walked over and sat down, a huge grin plastered on his face. The moment she turned around, though, his grin faded and his heart sank down to the pit of his stomach. Her bottom lip was cut and swollen slightly and there was an obvious purple bruise high on her cheekbone near her hairline. His throat went dry and he tried to swallow, but it was difficult.
She saw him, but said nothing. She simply carried the plates she was holding to a nearby table and then returned without a word. Finally, after two minutes of staring in silent horror, Michael managed to croak, “What… what happened to you?”
“What?” she asked, playing completely innocent.
“Your lip,” gesturing towards the dark maroon colored scab.
“Oh,” she said, touching it gingerly. “It just split… no big deal. You want coffee?”
“Yeah…,” he said distantly. He knew she was lying. He felt sick to his stomach. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand at all, it was women being abused, whether it was from boyfriends, parents, step-parents or whatever the case may be, he loathed it. There was never any excuse to hit a woman; not one.
Slowly, he began to put the pieces together on what he thought was the right puzzle. She was evasive, didn’t talk about herself, wouldn’t let him any closer to her apartment than across the street and she had snapped at him that one time he asked her out. From those facts, he deduced she must have had a controlling, overprotective and obviously abusive boyfriend. Anger boiled in his veins, but he could say nothing, not there; he’d have to wait.
“Thanks,” he sighed once she handed him his coffee.
She nodded. “You had court today right? How’d that go?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “Lost…”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically.
“It’s alright; wasn’t exactly my fault. My client lied to me,” he told her.
“Oh… that’s awful,” Sydney sighed. “I don’t understand that. Why would you lie to someone trying to help you?”
“Good question,” he sighed.
Sydney wasn’t in a talking mood that evening, and barely answered his comments or questions with more than one syllable. Michael paid for his coffee and started to leave, but before he got into his car, he decided against it. He had a flash image of Sydney going home to her apartment to a drunken boyfriend who would beat her even more. That image made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t let that happen; he wouldn’t. His overly good, do-right-unto-all persona took over as he waited for Sydney outside the diner. It was over an hour before she came out and he called after her. “Are you like stalking me now?” she laughed softly at him. “I thought you left.”
“I almost did,” he told her. “Sydney you need help.”
“Help? With what?” she retorted shortly as she walked off towards her apartment.
“Don’t play dumb, Sydney. I know your lip didn’t just split and I know that bruise on the side of your face didn’t just appear either. Who did this to you? Your boyfriend?” he asked her.
She shook her head and said bitterly, “You don’t know anything about my life Michael, so don’t pretend to.”
“Alright, so tell me. What happened?” he asked her.
“I told you, it split-”
“Oh, don’t give me that bull felgercarb,” he cut her off, practically yelling. She stopped suddenly, turned around and glared at him. “You just said in there,” he shouted as he gestured back towards the diner, “it was stupid to lie to someone trying to help you. Well here I am trying to help and there you are lying.”
Her eyes narrowed and she stormed off again. “I didn’t ask for your help, Michael.”
“No, you didn’t, but I’m going to help you anyway,” he said as he chased after her.
“What do you want from me, Michael!?” she screeched. “WHAT?”
“I want the truth. Tell me about it, Sydney,” he told her sincerely. She shook her head tearfully and bit her bottom lip. “Please,” he said softly as he took a step towards her.
She took a step back. “No; I can’t.”
“Why not?” he challenged.
“I…,” she shook her head.
“Please Sydney, tell me what happened,” he said as he took another step forward. “Someone hurt you, who was it?” he whispered as he reached out and gingerly touched the bruise on her cheek. For a moment, she nearly went forward into his arms, but then she quickly realized what was happening and backed away.
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because…. because I can’t…” she sobbed as she continued walking.
“Please Sydney, come on. You can trust me-”
“NO! No, I can’t,” she snapped back at him. “I can’t trust anyone.”
He was confused by the force in her statement for a moment but then continued, “You can trust me. Please, come on. I can’t let you go back to an apartment where you’re going to get abused again.”
She let out a soft choke as she turned away from him once more. “No one is going to abuse me. I live with my sister, no one else, and she’s too scrawny to do this.”
“So who hurt you?” he asked again.
“God damn it, won’t you leave me alone?!” she shouted at him.
He cracked a small smile. “I told you being persistent was my worst flaw.”
She turned away from him and took a deep breath. He was persistent, annoyingly so, yet at the same time, no one in her life had ever paid that much attention to her. She turned back to him as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and fell down her cheek. “You want to know?” she asked, her voice shaky but powerful. He nodded slowly. She turned away once more and looked down at the street before speaking once more.
“I don’t have a boyfriend; my father did this. After our mother died three years ago, he became an alcoholic and we found the reason why my mother never kept alcohol in the house is that he’s a horrible drunk. My sister and I moved out; I quit school and got custody of her. Now I work four jobs to support us and give her money for college. She wants to go to MIT. She’s smart enough to get in, too, and I’ll be damned if we can’t afford it just because my father has to be such a bastard.” She finished and looked up at him. His mouth was slightly agape in shock, but he said nothing.
“Now you know, so just leave me be,” she sighed as ran across the street and into her apartment, leaving a stunned Michael behind on the sidewalk.
Poor Syd. I can't believe her father is so horrible! I also kind of feel sorry for Jack though, 'cause he must be miserable because of losing his wife.
God, I had no idea that's why Sydney had to do all those jobs. Plus, MIT is tough to go to. All I know is that American Univerities are expensive. Plus, it's twice as much for Canadians. I wanted to go to UCLA, but no... it's too expensive.
