Charming (12 page)

“Yeah, fine. You? What’s that noise?” Haley squeezed the edge of the bed for support, the sounds carrying her back to the car accident, to the metallic smell of blood, to the flashing lights of the fire trucks and ambulances.

“Saw someone running from the house when I got home. The alarms were going off, so I called the police.” A door slammed, muffling all the noises, and Chris said, “That’s better. Sitting in my car now.”

“Burglars?” Breathe in. Breathe out. The sound of sirens brought Haley back to the accident. Mom’s hair floating around her head. Hanging upside down. Stuck in the seatbelt. Haley’s ears ringing. “Anything missing?”

“The police said whoever it was never made it inside. They’re just checking the property to make sure he isn’t lurking, then they’re taking off. I think they’re on edge because they still don’t have leads on who murdered the cable guy.”

Lurking. Watching. Like the feeling Haley always got and Dad always knowing what she was up to.

“Haley, you’re forgetting to breathe again. It’s easy, just inhale then exhale. Please don’t hyperventilate on me.”

Digging fingers into the springy mattress, she said, “Chris?”

“She breathes!”

“Not joking. Just… can you listen for one second?” Haley saw her reflection in the dresser mirror, wide-eyed, pale, and restless. She couldn’t believe she was about to tell him— “I haven’t seen my dad since early Saturday.”

An awkward silence stretched and grew between them, a silence that allowed the muffled sounds of police to filter through the phone and make Haley even more nervous.

“Are you telling me you think your dad tried breaking into my house?”

Oh God. What was she trying to tell him? How could he get her to say anything? “No. I don’t know. He seems to know what I’m up to most of the time, without me telling him. But, no, I don’t think he’d do that. It’s just… he’s not perfect, Chris, but this is rare for him.”

“I’ll talk to my dad to see what he thinks we should do about yours.”

We
. Such an odd word in Haley’s life, the girl always alone, always figuring out problems with little help and carrying weights too heavy for one person to carry. “Thanks.”

“I have to go. Someone’s knocking on my window and giving me the evil eye. Guess the cops have more questions, after all, hopefully not about the Callahan’s because that was
not
me. I was just the unlucky bastard who called that fire in. Hope they don’t think the rumors are related to this… dammit, they probably are.” He sighed, giving Haley time to process what he was doing: revealing himself, his true self to her.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

“Do you want me to come over when the heat is gone?” Laughing, Chris said, “To make sure you’re safe, of course, from the murderer slash lunatic on the loose.”

“I’ll be okay.” Better if he wasn’t here. “No need for a knight in shining armor.”

“I was so hoping to don my shining armor, too. Even rented a horse.”

Haley smiled and barely recognized her own reflection. “Didn’t you say you have to go?”

“Right. Want to hang out after school tomorrow?”

Several alarms went off in her head, not the house alarms or the police sirens, but the he’s-getting-too-close kind. “I have homework.”

More like makeup work for sleeping in class and ruining a relationship with the teacher.

“Okay. Good night, Haley.”

“Good night, Chris.”

Haley turned on some music to chase away the loneliness creeping into her thoughts and curled into a ball to fall asleep, pushing Chris out of her mind, Joce, and Dad. Everything was okay. But when she woke up, she found Jocelyn trembling and sleeping next to her.

Next to her!

Not okay, not at all.

“Joce, wake up.” Haley nudged Joce’s shoulder. “You’re still wearing your clothes from yesterday. You’re starting to freak me out.”

Joce sat up and rubbed her eyes, face pale and void of makeup, entire body shaking, her blonde hair a tangled mess. “Sorry for last night—and now. I got in late and didn’t feel like changing.”

“Or like sleeping in your own bed?” Haley propped her back against the wall, hugging a pillow to her chest, afraid to look at her sister. “What’s going on, Joce?”

Jumping to her feet, Joce narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think something’s wrong? I try to do nice things for you, and you assume something must be wrong. I sleep next to you because we’re sisters and should probably be closer than we are, and you want to know what’s going on, push, prod, force. Can’t I just
try
?”

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Haley grabbed Joce’s arm and pulled her back down, clamping her wrist so she couldn’t run away. “It’s just that talking to you is like trying to storm the White House. You’re totally locked up and guarded, guns swinging. You don’t usually come to me.”

Joce yanked away from Haley’s grip and stared up at the ceiling, arms crossed. “The White House? Really? Screw you. I could say the same thing about you, and you
never
come to me. I hate that analogy. Sometimes I hate you. But I try, dammit. Do you hear me? I
try
.”

Ouch.

Joce reminded Haley so much of Dad, the way he dished out anger before he turned to the bottle, the way he’d tell Mom he loved her one minute and then lash out the next, how he’d play catch with Haley and then tell her she was stupid for missing the ball. Mom would talk to him at dinner, ask him about his day, and he’d usually scream and tell her to stop being so pushy and demanding, to stop treating him as if he was useless.

Haley could only pray Joce didn’t venture down that same path. “You’re going to hate me, but are you on drugs or something? Are you drinking?”

“I… I… What?” Joce clenched her fists at her sides. “If you think I’m ever touching booze, then you know
nothing
about me, then you’re a worse sister than I could ever be.” Tears streaked Jocelyn’s cheeks. “I’m worried about Dad, and you think I’m a drunk. He’s never disappeared, Haley, never. I don’t care how much he drinks, how mean he is, his alcoholism has never driven him away from us.”

From you
.

“Don’t
you
care? Don’t
you
worry? Or are you so self-focused that you didn’t notice? He loves you, Haley, and you throw his disease in his face. Hell, I love you, and you throw Dad in my face. You throw Mom in my face.”

Jocelyn ran out of the room, hands covering her eyes, then slammed the door, leaving Haley alone, as usual. This was the first time since Mom died that Joce admitted any sort of fear, any sort of loss, at least in a tangible way that Haley could relate to.

“Joce.” Haley darted across the hall and knocked on her sister’s door. “I love you so much, probably more than you’ll ever truly understand, or maybe even accept. I want to move on, be friends, be close and share beds and clothes and help you with boys—like you’ve helped me with Chris. I’m sorry I’ve kept things from you. I’m sorry I kept Mom’s house from you, or the fact that she wanted to leave Dad. I’m sorry I was with her when she died. God, I’ve never been so sorry in my life.”

“Tell me about it, the night Mom died. What happened?” Joce whispered from the other side of the door. “What happened in the car?”

Haley sank to her butt, leaning her forehead on the wood, heat welling behind her eyes. “There are so many things Mom made me promise never to tell. So many things she wanted to protect you from. I can’t give you everything, not without feeling like some kind of traitor, but I can tell you that we were on our way to Amanda’s.”

Joce gasped.

“To get you. Mom had had enough of Dad. She didn’t… feel safe.”

“But you never made it.”

The light turned green, and Mom said, “I’ll fix this.”

Haley glanced at Mom, tears blurring everything, everything but the headlights careening toward them. “Look ou—”

A car slammed into the driver’s side door, pushed their BMW so hard, so fast that
it flipped, ear-piercing screeches of metal and asphalt drowning out their screams…

“No. We never made it. We were trapped, upside down. Mom knew, Joce, she knew she was dying. I knew she was, too. But someone pulled me out of the car, and before this person could get back—”

“The car exploded.”

Haley pressed her fingers against Joce’s door, wishing for someone real and warm to cling to. “The car exploded.”

Heat, horrible, painful heat seared Haley’s skin. Chunks of debris blasted through the air and lodged in her arms and legs. She ran toward the fire only for someone to hold her back. “
Mommy
. Please, someone, anyone, please, help her. Please.”

“It’s too late. I’m sorry.”

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Lanky warm arms wrapped around Haley. Joce. She’d opened the door. They held each other for several long minutes, sniffling on each other’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Joce said, falling back to her butt. She glanced up to the clock on her nightstand, bit her lip and pulled away, then rushed out of the house, calling over her shoulder. “See you after school.”

What the hell?

Not going 2day.
Throwing herself onto the bed, Haley contemplated following up her text to Christine with a visit to her stash of pot. Maybe she was right and getting high would take away the pain, the confusion.

Not wise, Haley-loo-boo. U have Mr. T’s test 2day
.

Meet u outside in five

“She’s bi-polar.” Haley slipped out of her jean jacket and shoved it into her bag, the sun so high and warm she’d melt if she kept the thing on any longer. Cars zipped past, blasting music and rumbling everything around with the bass. Younger kids ran along the side of the street or rode home on bikes. The world never stops, even if you do. “That, or someone strapped a bomb to her chest and told her to confuse the hell out of me. She didn’t show up for any classes. And it’s not like the administrators can call home and ask Dad if she’s okay. He’s out on his bender or whatever it is that drunks do.”

Christine brought her joint to her lips and sucked in with unnecessary emphasis, reckless with even the way she held the thing in public. One day, someone would catch her. She swore she didn’t care. “Maybe you should both try my medication.”

Haley glared.

“What? Do you ever see me all anxiety-ridden like you? And I hardly ever treat my parents with the kind of animosity Jocey-poo”—Christine shook her head—“That doesn’t work. I like the sweet, innocent Jocelyn insult much better.”

“You’re right. Drugs are a fantastic way to mask the truth.”

“Hateful bitch.” Laughing, Christine took another hit. “But whatever. I know what I do. I accept it. Let’s hope the lasting side-effects aren’t as bad as your dad’s alchy problem.”

“I heard that shit blackens your lungs much faster than cigarettes.”

“Myth.” She exhaled right in Haley’s face, a prize-winning smile lighting her face.

“Ever do that again and I might take back my ‘no violence’ pledge.”

Christine held up her hands in surrender. “But it—”

“Smells like a dead skunk on the highway.”

“Oooh. Fine.” Making the sign of the cross, Christine continued, “Anyway, I suggest you stop trying to figure out what’s wrong with Joce and just accept all the kindness she throws your way. You’ve kept things from her; maybe she’s kept things from you too. Maybe she really is trying and it’s taking every ounce of nice juice she has in her skinny little body. But whatever the case, she owes you big time for all the shit you’ve taken for her, whether she knows it or not. Just enjoy your sister for a while, Haley-loo-boo.”

“You think so?” Haley glanced up and saw Joce sitting on the steps of the front porch.

“Yes, ma’am. And now’s your chance.” Christine took off toward her house without saying goodbye, leaving Haley next to the curb with a thousand thoughts and the crushing weight of doubt.

“You skipped school?”

Looking down the street, Joce shrugged and handed over a small paper shopping bag. “Bought you this. Thought you could wear it if you hang out with Chris again. You seeing him today?”

“Not today.” Haley accepted the present and went inside to start on her homework and chores. “Can we spend some time together, being sisters? We’ll figure out what to do about Dad not being here. Maybe we can drive around town, call the local hospitals and bars?”

“I have better things to do than hang out with my pothead sister,” Jocelyn said, still standing outside on the porch. “You can look for Dad. I’m going back to Amanda’s.”

Definitely bipolar.

No way could Haley focus on Mr. Thompson’s latest ‘I hate you’ assignment. No way could she scrub toilets, cook dinner for people who wouldn’t show up, or go to work when all she could do was worry.

Haley grabbed her jean jacket from her bag and headed to the cemetery; the little orange tabby followed and meowed every few steps, probably wondering where dinner was. But then, a couple blocks down the street, the cat turned and ran the other direction.

No one wanted to be around her.

If Mom were here, she’d know what to do, what to say, and Haley would have no issues asking. Now, the only person she could go to was Gran, but Haley wouldn’t dump these problems on her. Gran lived in an old folks’ home and taught knitting lessons. Missing dads and bi-polar Joces would be too much. What if Dad had been murdered?