Not After Everything (18 page)

Henry calls right away. He tells me how grateful he is that I came to Jordyn's aid and that he'd have probably “killed that little shit.” He's also glad to have my help every day of my forced absence. So, thanks to Henry, I'm able to avoid Dad for practically the entire two weeks. Because I'm a coward.

The Saturday before the official start of winter break, I come home from work to feed Captain before heading over to Jordyn's place, a regular thing now. Dad's not home, so I can shower in peace. But when I open my bathroom door, he's in my room, sitting on my bed, his shoulders slumped, staring at the wall.

Shit. I forgot to lock the door.

The music was turned up way too high and I didn't hear him.

I eye the disaster he's created—and it is definitely a disaster—trying not to be obvious when I glance over to the loose panel. But my hiding place is intact.

I towel off as I casually stroll over to the pile of clothes that used to be in my dresser. I can do this. I can face him. I can confront him. I pick out a pair of jeans and some boxers, pulling them on without bothering to shield my nakedness from him. I have a sneaking suspicion my dick is bigger than his.

Sure enough, he turns away, boosting my confidence.

“You want to tell me what the fuck you were looking for?” I say.

He just sits there. I don't even realize what I'm doing when I pull him up from the bed and shove him up against the wall. It's like it's happening to someone else. My forearm pins his neck and I can feel the pressure all the way up my arm. My injured hand should hurt when he tries to pull my arm away from his neck, but I'm too pissed to feel it. His face is red and now I see that he's crying. He refuses to look at me.

“You have no right!” It's like all the shame and fear has suddenly turned into rage. My face is hot and my head is light. “I stay out of your shit. I work hard for mine. It's about time
you
show
me
some fucking respect.”

He chokes out a laugh, or maybe it's a sob.

“I hate you.” My voice is an intense whisper. My eyes burn. “The wrong parent died. I wish you'd just kill yourself already. You know how many times I've fantasized about that. About coming home to your body swinging from the railing. Yeah, I always picture you hanging because I hear it's a slow, painful death. Once you kick the chair out you start to regret it but it's too late.”

He still won't look at me. Which is just as well. I don't want him to think the tears I'm blinking back are anything other than pure rage.

“Now, get. The fuck. Out. Of. My. Room.” I let him drop.

Coughing and rubbing his neck, which is an angry shade of pink, he stands and pulls himself together. “You're gonna regret that.” His words are threatening but his voice is shaking and he still can't look at me. He grabs the bottle of Jack I hadn't even noticed off my desk and trudges up the stairs. I expect him to slam my door but I don't even hear it close.

I begin to straighten up my room, but I'm just too angry. What gives him the right to invade my space? We're both grieving. Who the hell does he think he is? I abandon my cleanup, pulling my shirt on. I've got to see Jordyn.

Just as my foot hits the bottom stair I hear the most awful yelp from the kitchen. I rush up just in time to witness Dad kicking the shit out of Captain. There's blood everywhere. I have no doubt he has every intention of killing him. The look in his eyes is terrifying. It's inhuman. I reach him as he lands a heavy stomp on Captain's rib cage. I hear snapping just before I throw Dad back into the counter. He makes a move to come at Captain again, but I backhand him with my good hand and he stumbles.

He laughs, spitting at Captain on his way past us up to his room. “You should probably just put that fucking thing out of its misery.” His bedroom door slams and I'm left there staring, wondering how the hell this happened. Did I cause this? Captain's nose is bleeding pretty badly. And he's whimpering in pain. He looks like he's been hit by a car. I should've just kept my mouth shut. I'm not sure if there's anything that can be done for him, but I run down to my room and grab all my cash and a towel, lock my door, and then I scoop Captain up.

I have a hard time driving to Jordyn's, I'm shaking so hard. And I can barely breathe. If Captain dies, I swear to god I will kill my father. I honk frantically as I pull up to the house. Jordyn and Kelly come running out.

“What's going on? Did something happen? Are you hurt?” Kelly asks, pulling open the car door.

I manage to choke out, “Captain.”

Jordyn understands and rushes to the back window. “Oh my god!” She gets in and cradles Captain's head in her lap.

“I'll meet you there,” Kelly calls to Jordyn as she runs back to the house.

“Go!” Jordyn screams.

I do. She calls directions to me as I speed to the place where she volunteers.

“He did this, didn't he?” She's pissed.

I nod. “But it's my fault. I started it.”

“It's not your fault. He's a fucking psycho.”

“Please don't tell your mom and Henry, Jordyn. Please.”

I can see how much she wants to ignore this. But she takes a deep breath. “We'll tell them he got hit by a car.”

“Thank you.”

The vet rushes Captain into the back and Jordyn follows, leaving me alone in the waiting room. Kelly and Henry run in a few minutes later.

“Are you okay?” Kelly asks, guiding me over to a row of seats.

I'm still shaking. “He got out and someone hit him.” The fact that she's asking about me makes me wonder if Jordyn has said something to her. I begin to pull away, but then Kelly sits next to me, putting her arm around my shoulders, and I can't help myself; I turn toward her and let her hold me like my mom used to and I cry.

“Honey, I'm so sorry,” she whispers, stroking my head.

“He was my mom's,” I manage to get out.

She holds me tighter, rocking me, rubbing my back, and all her mothering suddenly makes me sadder than anything that's happened tonight. Henry sits on my other side and pats my back as I completely come undone.

Finally, after forever, Jordyn comes out. I jump to my feet, somehow finding the energy.

“He's going to be fine,” she says, which makes me start crying again. “The X-ray showed six broken ribs and we were afraid his lungs might be punctured or his stomach ruptured because of the bloody nose, but, luckily, it's just a bloody nose. He's going to hurt for a while, but he's going to make it.”

I pull her into me and hold her tight, still crying, because there's no more room in me for all the relief.

• • •

“I can't take Captain home. He'll kill him,” I say as Jordyn drives my car back to her place. Which was a good call because, though I managed to pull myself together, I now feel like every ounce of energy has been drained out of me.

“I'll take care of Captain until you get the hell out of that house.”

I look over at her, the red stoplight reflecting off her hair. “I really don't deserve you.”

“I wish you'd stop saying that.” She turns and kisses me.

I nod.

“You can't stay there tonight.”

Kelly's made some kind of pot roast, and what little I manage to get down is delicious. I just don't feel like eating. At least I'm not wearing my blood-soaked clothes; Kelly insisted on washing them and gave me one of Henry's shirts and some sweatpants that look older than me.

“Can I get you anything else, Tyler?” she asks as she watches me pick at my meal.

“This is absolutely delicious, I promise. I'm just . . .”

“Well, I made plenty. I'll send some home with you for when your appetite returns.”

“That's good 'cause Tyler's on his own for the next few weeks,” Jordyn says.

I look at her curiously.

“Why's that?” Kelly asks me.

I have no clue.

“His dad's visiting some relatives for the holidays,” Jordyn says. “Where'd he go again? Idaho was it?”

“Uh, yeah. Idaho. To see the brother he hasn't spoken to for years. That's why he didn't want me to come along. He's not even sure he'll be welcome. His sister-in-law set it up as a surprise,” I ramble.

Jordyn nudges me with her leg under the table. I rest my hand on her knee.

“Maybe you should stay with us for a few weeks,” Kelly offers. “I won't have you spending the holidays alone. Especially for your first Christmas . . .” Sounding a little choked up, she stops herself. It's the first time I haven't been annoyed with someone unable to finish that thought. It's like, it's not about not being able to say it because it's awkward, but because it hurts her the way it hurts me.

“I think that's a great idea,” Henry says, laying a hand on her back.

“It's very nice of you to offer, but I don't want to intrude.”

“I insist.” Kelly blinks rapidly and looks down at her plate.

“You know we have four guest rooms, right?” Henry grins, lightening the mood.

“You can get your things tomorrow. But you're staying tonight. That way I won't have to worry about you driving in this mess.” Kelly gestures toward the window. It's snowing pretty heavily. I hadn't even noticed.

I don't really have much of a choice. Kelly has made up her mind and that's that.

Jordyn squeezes my hand under the table. I squeeze back.

“Thank you,” I say. To all of them.

“So it's settled.” Kelly takes another bite of potato.

Part of me wonders if her insistence isn't necessarily because she buys the bullshit story, but because on some level she knows what's really going on, or that maybe Jordyn told her, but that's probably in my head.

• • •

After helping Kelly clean up—she tried to shoo me away, but I insisted—Jordyn and I head down to the basement to watch TV. I can't focus, though. What's going to happen when I have to see Dad? I keep replaying the way he looked when he was kicking Captain and wondering if that's how I looked with Brett, if—

“You okay?” Jordyn asks.

I shrug.

She takes my bad hand and kisses it. “He'll be fine. We can bring him here tomorrow. He'll need pain pills, but that's about it.”

I nod. But now my mind isn't on Captain or my dad. There's a goddamn jewelry commercial on where the kids give their mom a necklace for the holidays and she cries and everyone is so fucking happy. I want to throw something.

Jordyn follows my gaze and gets it. She crawls closer and curls into me. She doesn't say anything. And I love her for it.

After another half hour of
A Christmas Story,
I finally speak. “I guess it didn't really hit me until your mom . . .” I trail off.

“At least you'll be with people who care about you. Your dad can screw himself.”

I kiss her temple, and then she's kissing me, and nothing else matters.

• • •

Jordyn begged to come with me to get my stuff, but is she crazy? I don't want her anywhere near Dad after what he did to Captain. If he's realized he can get to me by hurting my dog, who's to say he won't move on to hurting the people I love? I can't chance it.

Of course, Jordyn didn't listen. I saw her following me about four turns back, and now she's parked several houses away. At least Dad's car isn't in the driveway.

I walk toward her and gesture for her to open the window.

“Don't come in, but if you see him come home, start honking.” I turn away without waiting. This is how she can help me; hopefully it'll keep her out of the house.

I see Dad didn't bother cleaning up Captain's blood. There's a small, coagulated pool amidst a mass of dark red flecks next to the kitchen table. I hope it stains the tile grout like Mom's did.

When I round the corner to my room, I slow, seeing that my door's open and the lock looks like it's been blown apart by a mini stick of dynamite. My heart freezes in my chest. I run down the stairs. My hiding place is still intact, but I rush to open the metal box, making sure all the contents are still there.

They are. I sit back on my heels.

My things are all strewn around the room in even more chaos than before. What the hell is he looking for? Money? Drugs? Booze? As if I have any of those things.

I grab a duffel bag from the storage room and start shoving things into it. When I reach for some jeans atop a pile of clothes, the distinct stench of urine hits me. I drop the pants. Seriously? He
pissed
on my stuff? Who does that? I tear off a garbage bag and stuff the pee-soaked things into it. What a prick.

I pack everything I don't want ruined by Dad marking his territory again, then grab my metal box, and throw the duffel over my shoulder. With the garbage bag under my arm, I rush up the stairs. I have half a mind to retaliate. But
I'm
not a goddamn animal. I couldn't get myself to pee on someone else's stuff for anything.

I don't bother locking the front door, just stride quickly to my car. I hope someone breaks in and steals all his shit. Would serve him right.

Jordyn flips a bitch so she's right behind me the whole way back to her place.

“Open the trunk,” she says as I pull my bag from the backseat.

“Why? You worried I killed my dad and shoved his body in the trunk?”

“I'm offering to help you carry your stuff in, dumb-ass,” she laughs.

“Funny story . . .” And I proceed to tell her about the state of my belongings in the trunk.

“Who does that?” she says as we step through the door.

“My dad. That's who.”

“That's seriously messed up.”

“Welcome to my world.”

• • •

There's no way Kelly and Henry can know about my pee-soaked clothes. So after finally finding a Laundromat about twenty minutes away—no one would be caught dead in a Laundromat in our pristine little suburb—and washing my things twice for good measure, Jordyn insists on driving to pick up Captain, which is fine by me. I want to be able to hold him. He's still pretty drugged, but his tail thumps slowly against the ground when he sees me. My eyes get hot and I blink furiously.

The vet helps us load him into the backseat next to me, and then she hands Jordyn a bag of stuff—pills and bandages. She offers me a sympathetic smile before turning back to Jordyn. I hear her say it'll be a few more days until he's able to stand up on his own but he'll probably still hurt too much to move. Then she says something about the possibility that he could still go into shock and die and to check for white gums and I have to stop listening.

• • •

After dinner with Kelly and Henry, Jordyn flops down on my temporary bed and watches me unpack my stuff.

She brushes the metal box with the tips of her fingers. “May I?”

I abandon my task and join her on the bed. Unlocking the box with the key around my neck.

She lays the pictures side by side in front of her and studies them. “I love this one.” She picks up the one of the two of us on the couch. “Look how happy you guys are. God, you look so much like her.”

“That was only a week or so before.”

She carefully picks up the razor and turns it over in her hands, searching my face. I can tell she wants to know everything. She wants to understand. That makes two of us. Still, I try.

“I was at football training,” I say. “I mean, I was always at football—practice or camp or a game or hanging out with the guys or whatever. Football got me out of the house, away from my dad. But I was at training. It was so damn hot that week. Unusually hot for June. My socks were soaked through so bad, I could feel the sweat sloshing around in my shoes. I remember my knee was kind of acting up. Coach was pushing me extra hard.

“So I slipped out to head home and grab my knee brace and some fresh socks and Advil while I was at it. I was out of Advil, so I went up to my parents' bathroom to swipe some of theirs. I was so focused that I didn't see her at first. When I turned to leave, that's when I saw her in the tub. I immediately shielded my eyes because who wants to see their mom naked, but it was like I just knew something wasn't right and I had to look. My brain took forever to process what I was seeing. I didn't understand why she didn't wake up when I slammed the medicine cabinet. I didn't understand why the water was pink. I didn't understand why her skin was so white.

“When my brain finally figured out what was happening, I threw myself at her. I pulled her up out of the bath, slipping and falling. I was on the ground. She was on the ground, like half in the bath. I held her in my arms, trying to press my hands over the wounds and dial 911 all at the same time. But it was already too late.”

Jordyn is completely still for a second, then she takes my hand and lightly touches her lips to the tops of my fingers.

“She was still warm. I wonder if I'd gone up to get the Advil first, if I'd have been able to help her. Or if I'd been home five minutes earlier, would I have been able to stop her?”

Jordyn brushes her cool hand across my cheek.

“I threw up. After I called 911, I vomited. My mom was dead in my arms and I vomited all over her,” I say, my voice cracking. “What kind of reaction is that?”

She pulls me into her and wraps her arms around me.

We stay like that for a while.

Then all of a sudden my mouth is on hers. Her hands are under my shirt. Then my shirt's off. And then
her
shirt's off and my hands are on her smooth back. She's pulling me down on the bed, on top of her. And before I know it we're making love. I've always hated that term, “making love.” I mean, it sounds gross, right? But there's no better way to accurately describe what we're doing. It's slow and it's intense and I'm reveling in every moment, every touch, every sound. I want to consume her. I can't touch or taste or feel her enough. My heart beats in rhythm to our rocking bodies. I focus on the sensation of her cheek brushing lightly against mine, the way her legs wrap around me, the taste of her neck on my tongue. And the connectedness—her eyes, the look in them. This isn't just physical; I mean, the physical is beyond anything I've experienced, but it's so much more than that.

It's not until after we finish that I realize the magnitude of what's occurred. I've just had sex with someone I'm pretty sure I'm in love with.