Make This Place Your Home

By Mary Rubarb

Libby knew that the life she'd always known wasn't normal, but it was hers. When that life is suddenly gone, all that Libby has to cling to are the memories of what she once had. When Libby is sent off to live with an aunt she never knew, she is faced with an entirely new life. Suddenly, she has friends. Here, she is thought of as smart and talented. But how could she be happy in her new life when in her old life, she'd let everyone down? Is it only a matter of time before these people realize that this life isn't where she belongs?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886856163

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Make This Place Your Home

Mary Rubarb

ISBN 979-8-88685-615-6 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88685-616-3 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Mary Rubarb

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

My Normal

My Life Collapsed

The System

Aunt Kristen

My First Day at Prep School

That Afternoon

Friday

The Journey

Back to the Apartment

The Funeral

She's Back

The Way Back

Sunday

Auditions

The Weston House

My First Sleepover

Albert's Surprise

The Hunt for Margo Zeller

Chanel and Leon

Ottomotive and Emotional Repair

Routine

The Play

Fifteen Years

About the Author

For Aunt Deb, my best friend and my constant support. Without you this book wouldn't exist.

Chapter 1

My Normal

I was seven when my dad started doing drugs. Before that, things were actually kind of normal. He met Tanzie when I was eighteen months old. We did all the normal things—the park, the zoo, toy shopping. I don't think I can remember many happy family memories that Tanzie wasn't a part of. After six years of dating and four proposals, Tanzie left.

After she left, everything changed. For three months, Dad tried to keep up the normal. We went to the movies, to Chuck E. Cheese; we even went on vacation to the beach. But no matter what we did, his heart just wasn't in it. Then, one day, when I came home from school, he was smoking. My dad always told me not to smoke. He hadn't ever touched a cigarette in his life. But there he was, smoking.

Soon, everything my dad touched smelled like smoke. Every meal he cooked me was undercut with the smell of tobacco. Even after he washed my clothes, they had that lingering cigarette smell.

Eventually, the cigarettes led to drinking, and the drinking led to drugs. By the time I was eight, I didn't even recognize my father anymore. I'd become completely self-reliant, and it had become my job to take care of him. In seven years, nothing much has changed. Most fifteen-year-olds are stressing about clothes and dates. I have to worry about my dad and my job and somehow finding the time to get all my homework done.

That day was no different I put out food for my dad in the morning, and then I head to school. When I wake up, my dad is always passed out from the night before. When I go to sleep, he's not usually home. The only way I know he eats anything is the empty dishes he leaves lying around everywhere. That morning, I decided to attempt the dishes. I should have been finishing my homework. At 3:00 a.m., I had fallen asleep, homework unfinished, Dad still not home.

I had only washed a few of the dishes when my phone rang. Hey, Libby, you ready to head out? Blake asked. Blake is seventeen. We started dating when I was a freshman. For some reason, a popular junior like Blake took notice of a nobody freshman like me, and ever since then, we've been a couple.

I'll be right out. I grabbed my unfinished homework and shoved it in my bag.

Are you staying over tonight? I asked hopefully as I climbed into his car. The apartment was usually so lonely I couldn't stand it, but when Blake was there, things were better.

Actually, Blake started as he pushed his shaggy golden blond hair out of his eyes, my parents are out of town. I was thinking you could spend the night at my place. I have the keys to the liquor cabinet.

I don't drink! I stated firmly.

Maybe we could do more than sleep this time. He smirked at me.

You know I'm not ready. We've had this conversation before. I'm not going to have sex until I'm married. I know you think I just have commitment issues because of my dad and because Tanzie left, but I'm not budging on this. I was stern. I was always stern when it came to these things.

Fudge, Libby! Except Blake didn't say fudge. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel and his foot on the brake at the same time. The car slammed to a stop, and the horn blared. How do you expect me to stay with you? I could get any girl I want to do anything I want! Why do you think you can keep telling me no? You're a nobody! You aren't important to anyone! You're just a witch! But he didn't say witch. And if things don't change soon, I'll replace you with someone who can give me what I want!

I went silent then. A single tear spilled down my cheek. Blake didn't mean what he said, I told myself. He's just angry, I rationalized. Blake loves me, I insisted to myself.

He started driving again. He didn't speak, and I didn't try to fill the silence. When Blake got angry, it was best not to make things worse. I knew if he heard my voice before he calmed down, it would just set him off again.

When he pulled into the school, he just slammed the door and walked away. He didn't say goodbye nor kiss me. He was still angry.

I grabbed my bag and started toward my first class. Even though this is my second year at King Arthur High School, I don't have a single friend other than Blake. I don't really mind it, this not having friends thing. I have so much to do I hardly have time anyway.

I went to my classes and looked for Blake, but he wasn't around. Usually, he drives me home at lunch so that I can make food for my dad, but today, I had to walk. By the time I got back to school, I was late for class. Why did I always have to make Blake mad at me?

At the end of the day, I looked for his car, but it was gone. My phone buzzed. I'm gone, the text said. I walked back to my apartment building then. I would have loved it if Blake had forgiven me, but he rarely forgave me after only seven hours.

My dad quit his job when I was ten. He instead switched to a strict regimen of partying and passing out. I needed a job, and that same year, my neighbor had twins. Mrs. Watkins' husband died when she was pregnant with the twins, so she got a job as a waitress at Harvey's Diner. I watched her kids from three thirty to ten o'clock. She doesn't have a lot of money, but she pays me enough to pay most of the bills and buy a little food.

Hello, Libby May Zeller, Mrs. Watkins greeted with a big smile.

Mrs. Watkins always called me by my full name. Whenever I see Mrs. Watkins, I smile. She is by far the most beautiful person I have ever met, both inside and out. She kissed me on the forehead as she rushed out the door. Mrs. Watkins is only ten years older than me, but she always says she thinks of me like a daughter. When I was eleven, and I got my period, Mrs. Watkins was the one who explained it to me.

I watched her run down the stairs and then went into her apartment. The twins' names are Simon and Sawyer. They are true terrors at times, but I still love them. When I walked into their apartment, I found the boys eating cookies at the table. Hey, boys.

They looked up and smiled, their mouths filled with half-chewed chocolate chip cookies. Libby! they screamed, little chunks of cookie flying from their mouths.

Finish chewing, I reprimanded. They swallowed quickly, half of their food still unchewed. Then they jumped up and started running and screaming. Simon jumped on my back, and Sawyer wrapped himself around my legs. I dropped Simon onto the couch and scooped Sawyer into my arms. I don't have any siblings, and Sawyer and Simon are like brothers to me.

Come on, boys, let's go outside, I said as I lowered Sawyer to the floor. They took off for the door at top speed. They started barreling down the stairs just as I closed the door.

Behind our apartment building, there's an old swing set and a basketball hoop with no net. It's not much of a playground, but it's perfect for the boys. They always have so much energy after school that even throwing a flat basketball around is fun.

After an hour, we went inside to do homework. The twins are in kindergarten. Primarily, their homework is just coloring and filling in numbers or letters. Sometimes they have to sound out words. They can already read their names and pretty much any word ending in at. They worked on their homework, and I attempted to work on mine.

I'm flunking out of school. It's not that I don't know the stuff. It's that I don't have time for homework. The teachers said even if I ace every test, which I have, I won't pass. Apparently, homework is important; I started with math. I haven't finished my Algebra 2 homework in two weeks. I can usually finish a couple of subjects a night, which always leaves most of my teachers unhappy.

The doorbell rang about three problems in, and I gladly jumped up to get it. Mrs. Watkins always orders take out before she leaves. I love not knowing what I'm going to find on the other side of that door. I open the door to find a pizza man on the other side. Half pepperoni, half anchovy. My smile grew. Anchovy is my favorite. I grabbed the money off the table and handed it to him.

Thanks. He walked away, and I carried the pizza back to the boys. Simon grabbed some pepperoni, Sawyer grabbed one of each, and I grabbed anchovy, and we settled down in front of the TV.

After three episodes of SpongeBob, a half hour of homework, and two bedtime stories, the boys were asleep. There's something special about the Watkins' apartment when it's quiet. Even though our apartments are virtually identical, theirs is just more of a home.

Once Mrs. Watkins comes home, I return to my own apartment. Normally, when I get home, I make supper for my father and then do my homework until I fall asleep. But sometimes I'm just too tired to cook. My dad always understands he just eats a bag of chips or a carton of ice cream. This was one of those nights. All I really wanted was to finish my homework and go to sleep. I really wish I hadn't gone straight to bed that night. I wish I would have gone into the kitchen and seen the breakfast and lunch plates still full and sitting on the table. Instead, I fell asleep early, surrounded by unfinished homework and Hershey's Kisses wrappers, listening to an old Bruno Mars CD Blake had bought me. I had no idea that in the morning, everything would be different. I had no idea my world was about to shatter.

Chapter 2

My Life Collapsed

The power must have gone off in the middle of the night because when I woke up, my alarm clock was completely blank. I wasn't surprised. I hadn't had enough money to pay the electric bill that month.

This happened every few months, so I wasn't really fazed. I just went a little faster than usual and skipped the shower, not wanting to endure the darkness. Instead, I just threw my hair into a ratty ponytail and rushed down to prepare a bowl of cereal for my father.

This seemingly insignificant moment was the moment that changed my life. I saw my father lying on the couch just like every other morning, but it wasn't any other morning. When I reached the kitchen, I saw the breakfast and lunch dishes sitting on the table, still untouched. That's when I knew something was wrong. The thing you have to understand about my dad is that he loved food. He always loved food. In addition to the drugs and alcohol came an even stronger urge to eat. He doesn't usually wake up until around 2:00 p.m., then he devours both breakfast and lunch and leaves so he can go chase the party. Him not eating would be like me not breathing, a completely unlivable situation. I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but with my dad, it was true.

I walked back into the living room and looked down at him. I could see his chestnut brown hair jaggedly cut with a pair of kid's scissors whenever he thought it was getting too long. I could see his bulging gut, which came only after Tanzie left. I could see his standard bottle of alcohol lying on the floor next to him empty. I couldn't see them, but I knew his eyes were bright green, just like mine. There was a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jeans and a needle in his arm. All of these things were quite normal for him. However, this time, something was different. He wasn't breathing. I hurriedly checked his pulse, hoping for something that wasn't there. Worse yet, his body was cold.

I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911. It was agony waiting to hear a voice come through on the other end of the phone. Finally, I heard, 911, what is your emergency?

I don't know when I started crying. I just know that as I uttered these words, hot tears ran down my face. Come quickly, I pleaded. I think my Dad OD'd.

Five minutes later, there was an ambulance at my house. I sobbed as the EMTs pronounced my father dead. One of them tried to comfort me, but I pulled away and ran to the window. That's when I saw Blake's red Mustang pull into the driveway.

When he saw the sirens, he rushed inside. Blake was one of the only people in the world who could make me feel better as the EMTs carried my dad's body out of the house. As he wrapped his arms around me, it felt like I wasn't alone, even though my dad was gone.

I don't know what standard procedure is; I just know that the EMTs left with my dad's body. I guess they were taking him to the morgue or something. Blake promised that he could take care of everything, something along the lines of, I've got this fudged up crap. But he didn't say fudge or crap. Blake was never one for sensitive words, even in sensitive situations. I felt like it would be okay for one second; in Blake's arms, I was okay. My dad was dead. I couldn't imagine a worse life, and then Blake pulled away. Sometimes when Blake is about to get angry, it feels like the air is sucked out of the room. One minute, all is good, and the next, I'm shivering and waiting for him to explode.

What the heck is wrong with you? But he didn't say heck. All you had to do was keep him alive. You didn't have to fudging keep him sober or awake. All you had to fudging do was keep him alive. You little fudging witch, you are completely useless. Congratulations, you weren't able to keep either of your parents alive. But he didn't say fudging or witch. His words were hitting me harder than usual, probably because my father had just died. How could he say these things to me right now? Tears were starting to spring to my eyes, but he wasn't finished. Do you really think that I can keep dating you, a fudging orphan like you? Someone who refuses to fudge me. We are done, you useless, no good, little witch. As he talked, I found myself wishing that he really was saying fudge and witch. He wasn't, though, and as much as I tried, I couldn't reassure myself like I usually did.

After that, he just left, and now I was really alone. My father was dead. The boy I loved had broken my heart. What did I have left? I curled up on the couch and just let myself cry. The couch still smelled like my dad, like smoke and alcohol. It wasn't a smell I particularly enjoyed, but in that moment, it was all I had left of my dad.

At some point, I fell asleep. I don't remember it happening. I must have cried myself to sleep. All I know is that I was sound asleep when I heard the knock at the door. I pulled myself off the couch. I could feel how puffy my eyes were, but in that moment, I couldn't care, not even a little. I opened the door of our small apartment, hoping that by some miracle it would be my father. It didn't matter in that moment that my father never knocked. I just wanted it to be him; more than anything, I wanted it to be him. If it couldn't be him, maybe it could at least be Blake.

When I opened the door it was Mrs. Watkins. Honey, I heard what happened. That was all she had to say, and then I threw myself into her arms and just let myself break down again. Come stay with us. She pulled me away from her chest and looked into my puffy red face.

I nodded and pulled out of her arms. I walked into my room and pulled a suitcase down from the top of my closet and shoved some clothes inside. I threw in my CDs and a stuffed rabbit my mother had given me when I was a baby. I added in some of my favorite movies, my laptop, and my Encyclopedia Brown books. I didn't have room for all my stuff; I had a fair amount of stuff.

I figured I could get it later. At that moment, though, all I wanted to do was get out of that apartment. Before I left, I grabbed some pictures off the bookshelf in the living room. Even if it was only temporarily, I couldn't imagine leaving them behind. Mrs. Watkins was still waiting by the door; she never came into our apartment. There was something about it that she just couldn't stand. I think it was mostly just about my dad, but I'd never asked.

She took my bag from my hands, and we walked down the flight of stairs to her apartment below. I saw the clock when she unlocked the door; it was noon. Somehow, it felt much later. So much had changed since I'd last been there I couldn't believe it had only been a day. Mrs. Watkins dropped my suitcase by the door and sat down on the couch, motioning me over.

Sit down, sweetie, she said with a consoling smile as I walked over. She pulled me onto the couch, and I let myself collapse into her once again. Mrs. Watkins had always been amazing, and in that moment, I drew more comfort from her than I'd ever imagined possible in the situation. Do you want to talk about it? she asked, once I had finished crying.

Um, I just found him like that. How could I not have noticed? Am I the most horrible daughter in the world? I asked her, pleading for an answer. I felt like I could cry, but there weren't any tears left in my eyes. I was all cried out. Blake came and then he dumped me, I managed to get out before my voice broke, and tears I didn't even know I had in me started to spill over.

I'm so sorry, sweetie. I can't believe he did that to you today. You are not a terrible daughter. You took care of your father for years. You are the most dedicated girl I've ever met. I wouldn't trust just anyone with my kids. It is not your fault your father died. He was the one who stuck that needle in his arm, not you. She said it with such conviction before pulling me against her chest and letting me break down once again.

I heard the words she was saying, but they didn't mean anything. They were just words. Those were the words that anyone would have said. No one would tell a fifteen-year-old girl she was responsible for her father's death, no one except for Blake. He'd always been brutally honest. Who was I to doubt him now? Obviously, he was the only one willing to be honest with me.

I didn't hold Mrs. Watkins' lie against her. She was doing her best. That's all my life would be now, people doing their best to deal with me, an orphan. My father hadn't tried to deal with me since I was a child, and as much as that hurt, I was glad. I didn't want my life to be made up of people dealing with me. People should care or they shouldn't pretend that they do. I would rather someone completely ignore me like my father did than stumble through life with people all doing their best to deal with me.

I loved Mrs. Watkins, and I knew that she loved me too. I wasn't like a daughter, though, no matter what she might say. It couldn't be because, in the end, I wasn't her daughter. Tanzie hadn't been able to see me as one; my dad had barely been able to love me even though I was his daughter. Loving me had never been easy, and honestly, I'm not really sure why. Maybe my mother loved me better, but I wouldn't know. She died when I was ten months old. I was so sure that Tanzie had loved me, but in the end, she chose to leave. If she'd really loved me, she never would have been able to. I know my dad loved me once, but I alone was never enough for him. When it was just the two of us, he was left trying to figure out how to deal with me.

This time, I didn't let Mrs. Watkins hold me for as long. I'm sure she would have spent hours like that, but I just couldn't. Wallowing wasn't making me feel any better. In fact, it was making me feel worse. Can I use your shower? I asked, pulling away from her.

Of course, sweetie. She tried to force a smile, but I could tell she didn't mean it. I knew where their bathroom was, partially because I had spent so much time here and partially because it was in the same place as ours.

I closed the door behind me and pressed my back up against it, willing myself to be strong. I didn't have it in me, though. Once I was in the shower, I curled into a ball in the bathtub and let the water hit me as I cried. My life was collapsing around me. Where was I supposed to go. Honestly, I was surprised that the police or social services hadn't come already. That's what they did right, they collected orphans and sent them off to wherever. I didn't know where I'd go, though.

I knew my father had brothers, but I had never met them, and mostly, my relationship with my grandparents consisted of them buying me stuff. I couldn't see any of them taking me in. My dad and his brothers weren't close, even before the drugs. My grandparents had never wanted more than the vaguest of relationships with me. I didn't know about my mother's family. Dad hated talking about mom. I always assumed, growing up, that Tanzie was the love of my dad's life, but he could talk about her sometimes. Whenever my mom came up though he just couldn't, his eyes would fill with so much pain. So I had no idea if she had any family or if they even remembered that I existed. I didn't even know if they would care.

The hot water pounded against my skin until I couldn't tell if my face was wet from crying or the shower. When the water started to chill, I stood and washed up. Just because I was a mess inside doesn't mean I had to look like one on the outside. Blake had always thought it was important that I look good. Blake said that since we were dating, how I looked reflected back onto him. So I tried.

When I was finished, I dried off and then pulled on the same clothes I had been wearing before—black jeans and a purple and pink striped sweater. I found a brush in a drawer under the sink and sat on the counter as I brushed out my thick hot fudge brown hair. I had my father's hair, though mine was a little darker. I let it hang down to dry, not wanting it to get tangled as it usually did when I put it in a ponytail. I didn't have any makeup, but I'd never had any. Instead, I pinched my cheeks to give them a nice blush. This was a trick Tanzie had taught me so long ago. She always hated blush, but she liked the look of it.

On the inside, I was a mess, my world was collapsing, and I felt like a part of me had died along with my father or at least the life we'd had was dead. My life with my father had never been great, not since Tanzie left. I still loved it, though; it wasn't normal or typical. In fact, many people would say it was downright terrible. I loved it, though. I loved my father, and I liked taking care of him, even though I shouldn't have to. I loved babysitting Simon and Sawyer. I loved being with Blake. I loved knowing I could trust Mrs. Watkins to be there for me, even if it was only to deal with me. This was my whole world. Now my world had died along with my father.

I felt like crap, but I didn't look it. I had always been aware of how beautiful I was, and looking in the mirror, I could see it once again. I had my mother's bone structure but my father's features. His bright green eyes and brown hair. His rounded nose, his crooked grin. I was all him wrapped up in the body of my mother. I was all them, but now they were both gone.

I closed the bathroom door and headed back into the living room. Mrs. Watkins was in the kitchen, making grilled cheese sandwiches. They were my favorite. She knew that because she knew me. Soon she wouldn't be a part of my life anymore. They wouldn't let me stay here now that I was an orphan. They would try to find my closest relation and send me to them or they would just put me in foster care or a group home. None of those sounded like very good options.

Hey, sweetie, she greeted as she placed one of the grilled cheese sandwiches on a plate. It was odd. Mrs. Watkins had always called me Libby May Zeller. Always that, never anything else. Now she kept calling me Sweetie and Honey. Everything was changing. I didn't want it to. Even when things were at their worst, I felt safe in this life. I had anyway. Now I felt raw. I felt like every corner held something unexpected that was looking to hurt me. The world was scary now. I was alone. I didn't have my dad, I didn't have Blake, and suddenly, Mrs. Watkins was calling me Sweetie.

I sat down at her dining room table and tried to lose myself in the smell of the grilled cheese. Smell always had a way of relaxing me. Some people had music or books; I had scents. The smell of grilled cheese always calmed me down. The smell of lavender always reminded me of my mom, even though I couldn't remember her. The smell of smoke and alcohol reminded me of my dad more recently. The smell of truffle oil always reminded me of my dad before the drugs. The smell of Ax Body Spray always reminded me of Blake. The smell of chocolate chip cookies always reminded me of Simon and Sawyer. The smell of greasy diner food was a direct link to Mrs. Watkins. Vanilla was the scent that made me think of Tanzie, and I thought of Tanzie a lot. Another trick Tanzie had taught me was to use vanilla instead of perfume. She had always used it,