Committed to You (9 page)

My Uncle Anthony jumped up from his chair and grabbed her just as she fell back. “Oh, Dorothy. Are you okay?”

“Why did your father have to go?” Tears fell from her eyes. Her words were squeaks amidst sobs.

I tightened my grasp on Jay, even more thankful that he, Evie, and Pipe were there. I’d always been the odd one in my family. My relatives gave me space and didn’t come around to talk to my mom and me much. At awkward events like this, I remained in a darkened corner, hoping no one would come up to offer some forced conversation that neither one of us cared to pursue. Mom enjoyed the spotlight anyway so no one ever noticed the little girl sitting in the dark corner and holding her dolls.

“What am I going to do? Where does this leave me?” Mom wrung her closed fists in the air. More tears streamed down her face. Inside, dread flowed through my system, causing nervous little bubbles to bounce in my stomach and set me on edge.

Anybody just tuning into this scene would’ve thought that my mother actually loved my father and that they had this beautiful relationship based on commitment and joy. It was the farthest thing from the truth. My dad worked hard and went on lots of business trips. Mom went out with men while he was gone. A few times I spied it through my bedroom window—her getting in and out of strange men’s cars, her wicked kisses under the moonlight by guys I never saw before, and once I remembered them arguing about her being pregnant and how it would ruin their marriage if she didn’t get an abortion. I never had a brother or sister, so I assumed she did and that the child was not by my father. Dad handed her divorce papers the day after I graduated high school. He’d been revising his life every since and only talked to her when he had to.

“He was the love of my life!” Mom screamed. “Why, God, did you take him so soon?”

“Dorothy, you’re going to be okay. It’s going to be all right.” More of my uncles got up to hold their sister. She was the baby out of ten siblings.

“Oh, Cynny, baby,” Mom wailed and stared at me.

“Yes, Mom?”

“Please get me some water.”

Evie frowned, but thankfully remained quiet. I was sure in her home when she came to see her mom, she probably got a hug and a warm welcome. The only time Mom hugged me was when cameras were around. Important cameras.

“I can get the water,” Evie offered.

“No way. I’ll be right back, and when Mom calms down, I’ll introduce you.” I let go of Jay, turned around, rushed back to the house, and entered the kitchen. Within five minutes of my being home, she’d already managed to make Dad’s death all about her. I’d assumed she would take a break from the spotlight and let it shine on Dad for a few minutes. I was so utterly wrong, it was depressing me.

I can’t stay here too long. Thank God I’m not sober or I’d be crying right now.

If Dad was here, he would’ve immediately understood. When they were married, he made excuses all the time to escape Mom’s gatherings. He was always running some odd errand or busy doing something that kept him away from her.

I’ll sit out there for fifteen minutes and then say that I’m too tired to stay. She’ll want me to spend the night in the house, but I’m going to put my foot down and demand that I get to stay with Jay in the hotel.

I reached for a glass in the cabinet. Mom asked for water, but I’d been making her drinks long enough to understand she meant a half glass of vodka, ice, and then water to bring it up to the rim. I’d been understanding that interesting fact about her since my tweens. We all had to maintain appearances. My role was to remain the pretty daughter who did what she was told and nothing else.

“Cynthia.” That deep voice sounded behind me. I knew who it was without turning around. That same voice crept into my thoughts every day whether I yearned for it or not.

How did he get in here without me hearing him? He wasn’t outside. Maybe he came from downstairs. Was he in my old bedroom? Oh God.

“Cynthia?”

“Please don’t do this here.” I got the tall container with flour written on the front, brought it to the counter, and pulled the well-hidden bottle of vodka out of the center. The liquid waved back and forth in the bottle as my fingers trembled.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

Is he going to let me out of here without touching me?

“I can’t. I have to get back to my boyfriend.” I spilled some of the vodka on the counter, stopped pouring, and wiped the tiny drops up. Footsteps sounded behind me. I turned around.

“Let’s go upstairs and talk.” Only three feet in front, he towered over me. “Did you know that your old bedroom still looks the same?”

His suit fit his huge frame with ease. His wife, my Aunt Sienna and mom’s sister, designed and tailored all of his clothes. It was their business and what kept them so successful. They’d just opened up their twentieth store in the US and had been considering starting a few in Canada.

When she met him, they both modeled high fashion lines in New York. Partying too much and their drug addictions destroyed both of their careers. They ended up moving down to our house in Florida and living with us for a few years when I was a kid. During that time, Uncle Kevin watched me a lot to help out and give back to my parents for letting them stay. He’d been my best friend, taking me on long strolls to the park, buying me ice cream whenever he could, and singing me sweet songs at night to go to sleep. When Aunt Sienna cleaned up and obtained a big modeling contract to revive her career, Uncle Kevin continued to stay with us while my aunt traveled all over the world and mailed her checks home.

That was when the night play began.

“You look beautiful.”

I jerked away as if he’d been about to touch me, but he hadn’t moved at all. “Thank you, Uncle Kevin, but I—”

“I’ve asked you to call me Kevin.”

“You’re my uncle.”

“You should come to New York and model for me. You’ve always been the most captivating woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Even as a little girl, I knew you would trap every man’s heart in a five mile radius when you got bigger.”

I stared at the ground. The bottle shook in my hand, the glass of half poured vodka, forgotten on the counter. “Uncle Kevin, I really should just give my mom her water.”

“Of course. Let me help you.” He moved in closer to me and placed his hand on my waist, smoothing his fingers against the thin material of my pants. “So soft.”

My body woke up with sparks of need to my core. His warm, peppermint breath brushed my skin.

“I missed you, Cynthia.”

I kept the bottle in the middle of us just so he wouldn’t close the distance any further. “My boyfriend is outside.”

“Is he your boyfriend or the other girl’s man? I saw the footage. He did kiss both of you and right now he’s just drooling over her outside.” He placed his hand on my chin and then slid the soft pad of his thumb to my lips. “I wouldn’t make you share me. Isn’t that what he is doing? That’s what everyone is saying, that you both share him. You don’t have to share me.”

“Don’t do this.” My eyes watered. A shudder ran through my flesh as he pressed his lips against my forehead.

“Don’t do what, little Cyn?”

“Hurt me.” Those two words were a whisper.

“How can I hurt you now? We’re both adults and not related. How is it wrong?”

“You’re still my family.”

“Through marriage.”

“You … had sex with me when I s-shouldn’t have been having sex.”

“You were always so mature for your age, and I was always so damn captivated by you.” He tucked a stray blond strand behind my ear. “You’ve always had this old soul.”

A tear streamed down the side of my face. “I was too young.”

“You’re not too young now, and I still desire you. What does that mean? If I was some pedophilia pervert, you wouldn’t interest me anymore, now that you’re older. Wouldn’t I be lurking around the yard after your little cousins?”

I snapped my attention to him. “Stay away from them.”

He grimaced. “I’m not interested in little girls.”

“I was a little girl when you took me.”

“You weren’t young here.” He slipped his fingers to the center of my forehead. “You weren’t young here either.” He brought his hand down to my heart. “You knew what we were doing and you loved it.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t.”

“Then why didn’t you ever tell anyone? I never threatened you. You could’ve just told someone else and I would’ve stopped.”

“I was scared.”

“I never threatened or forced you.”

I parted my lips, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I never hurt you. I did everything I could to make you happy.” He tilted his head to the side. “So tell me, if I’m the big bad guy, why didn’t you ever tell on me?”

“Because … ”

“Because you know deep within your mind that we truly did nothing wrong. If we lived hundreds of years ago, it would’ve been a normal situation.”

Someone cleared their throat loudly on the other side of the kitchen.

We both looked to see who might have overheard us. Evie flanked the space between us and the doorway. In her hand rested a butcher knife. When she got it, I had no idea. Mom kept a cutlery set on both ends of the counter so she could’ve seized any one of them. That sharp weapon swung in her fingers as she practically snarled at Uncle Kevin. Her lips lifted on one side. Fury gleamed over her brown eyes. She looked deranged and strong for her little frame. There was no way she could appear any wilder than she did in that moment.

My uncle chose to clear the tension first. “So this is your friend? Cynthia, why don’t you introduce us?”

I gripped the bottle hard. “Evie, this is my Uncle Kevin.”

He extended his hand to shake hers. She didn’t extend hers, which told me that she’d overheard enough of our conversation to realize that he was the one who hurt me long ago.

“Are you ready to show me that place down the road?” Evie kept her eyes on him, although throwing her question my way.

“What place?” I asked.

“The one far from here,” she said as if we’d really had that conversation. “Remember? Are you ready to leave?”

“S-sure. I’m ready.”

“Why don’t you go to the car,” she said. “I’ll grab the keys from Jay.”

“Where are you two ladies going?” Uncle Kevin made a last attempt at being cordial.

“Cynthia, are you ready?” Evie asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes.” I checked the half poured glass. “Let me just finish my mother’s water and take it out to her.”

“Naw.” Evie waved the butcher knife in front of her. “With all of your family here, I’m sure someone could make her another one, but definitely bring that bottle with you.”

I clasped tighter to the vodka, darted around my uncle, and hurried by her. It wasn’t until I departed from the dark hallway and passed the dead cats, that my nerves stopped jumping in my skin. And when Evie captured my hand and pulled me into her warm embrace, that was when I actually breathed again.

We drove, Cynthia and me, speeding by farms boasting rows of citrus fruit. Dirt kicked up behind the Cadillac wheels. When I returned the car to Pipe, I was sure he would kill me. Until then, I didn’t care. I just had to get us out of that crazy house where uncles prowled after their nieces, mothers performed melodramatic breakouts, and dead cats with haunting eyes watched people come and leave.

I checked Cynthia in my peripheral view. She leaned back on her side with a blank expression and stared off in the distance somewhere. I had no idea how to broach the subject.
Should I even ask about what went down in the kitchen?
So many thoughts littered my skull. I had tons of things to say, many words that most wouldn’t even think to say inside a church. None of the ill things were directed at her of course. They all targeted dear Uncle Kevin, the sick bastard that raped Cynthia when she was a little girl and had the nerve to try and convince her that she wanted it just as much as him.

I should’ve gutted that motherfucker, just spilled his insides in that kitchen. How dare he? And what about her mom? Did she not think for a few seconds that that freak was a good person to be around her little girl? Did her mother even care? My mom would’ve put a bullet in his behind the first time he looked at me odd.

My bottom lip quivered at the image of them earlier. I’d gaped at them both for a good minute without their realizing it. Tension thickened the area, and under it resided hot sex. Although she looked scared, Cynthia also seemed like she yearned to jump his bones right in that kitchen. I did my best to push that horror out of my chest.

She damn sure isn’t asexual. Sexually misguided maybe. Messed up in the head, definitely. But the girl does get aroused.
I couldn’t deal with it, so I yanked the butcher knife from the counter.
Why did I grab the damn knife again? Oh yeah, when the sick bastard said Cynthia had been mature for her age. Yeah. That’s when I wanted to cut his dick off.

I switched on the radio to get rid of the car’s silence and hopefully crowd my brain with something else.

They stood in that kitchen so close to each other just like long-time lovers.