Authors: Katie McGarry
West
I lie in bed and blur my vision so that the ceiling-fan blades merge into one. In my hand, I click the remote to my stereo on and off. Sound to no sound. Haley’s ghost surrounds me here. Her laughter echoes in my head; the memories of her touch whisper against my skin.
The house is too still. Too silent. The impulse is for sound, noise, music, dancing and alcohol, but I can’t live like that anymore. Haley said I was better. I am better. I told her she was worth fighting for and as she was on the verge of believing it—I abandoned her.
The burst of agony through the numbness causes me to roll off the bed and head out the door. Haley said impulse has to do with emotion, with not thinking. The urge is to forget. I bypass the dark stairs and slow when I reach Rachel’s door.
The bottom of the door brushes against the floor as it opens and this time there is no bluish glow. She had physical therapy this evening and her breathing is light. Asleep in a chair across the room with a closed laptop on his lap is her twin, Ethan.
I ease down to the floor with my back against her bed. The silence in here is by far more deafening than my room, but I’m searching to fill the emptiness, the shell that I’ve become.
There’s a shift and a hand slides down and touches my shoulder.
“I gave her up, Rachel.” My voice cracks and the desperation, the pain I’ve tried to bury, breaks through to the surface. “I gave her up and, right now, I don’t know why.”
Wetness fills my eyes and I slam my fist into the floor, pissed. Rachel moves to the edge of the bed. “Then you win her back.”
“Dad will give her what she wants.” I stop. Fuck me. Fuck him. Fuck all of this. “He’s not my dad.”
She’s silent for a second and the sigh that escapes her lips cuts deep. “Mom told us.”
There’s a flop next to me and my eyes widen when a groggy Ethan rests his head against the bed. “Can we get the mental breakdown over so I can get some sleep?”
“Why are you in here?”
“The same reason you are,” he says. “The same reason the three of us ever do anything and end up together. Though our problems seemed a lot less complicated when we were pouring bubble bath into the Jacuzzi. It doesn’t matter who your dad is, West, because the real Youngs, they’re in this room. It’s always been the three of us against everyone else. For some reason, it’s just taken us longer to get back together.”
I lower my head into my hands and I fight the wave of grief that sweeps over me. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Well, if we get a vote, can you stop being Dad?”
“Ethan,” Rachel chastises.
Anger curls within me. “What did you say?”
“He’s here, Rach, and he’s asking for help. We either say this now or lose the opportunity.”
She settles back onto the pillows, a silent acceptance.
“You’re pissed because Dad painted you into a bad spot with Haley, right?” Ethan says.
I nod, but I’m madder at myself.
“Shouldn’t Haley be mad at you for taking away her choice? To me, that sounds a lot like how Dad treats us.”
“You say you don’t know who you are,” adds Rachel. “But the question should be—who do you want to be?”
Haley
My uncle waits for us on the stoop. With the front porch light off, he’s more of a shadow, but the evil pulsating from the house tells me it’s him. He leans against the metal pole supporting the overhang and watches as Kaden and Jax drag my half-conscious father toward the house.
“What time is it?” asks Kaden.
“Doesn’t matter,” answers Jax. “The bastard isn’t going to let any of us in.”
Yet we continue forward. “It’s his brother. He’ll take him in,” I say. Maybe not us, but hopefully he’ll take my father. “We’ll tell him Dad’s sick.”
“Is there a flu where you reek of beer?” Jax readjusts his hold on my father. The rain continues its onslaught and it makes holding on to anything close to impossible. “There’s a reason why my dad’s a psychotic control freak. Dad’s dad would get drunk, then beat the hell out of him. PTSD isn’t just for soldiers.”
Jax and Kaden stop on the street in front of the house and share a long, hopeless look. Kaden nods to the curb and both he and Jax lower Dad to it. “Keep an eye on him, Hays.”
Dad sways and I rush to his side for support. Chills run through my body as I sit in a stream of water rushing to the sewer grate. Dad mumbles something and I can’t hear it over the pounding of the rain against the rooftops and the roaring of the water in the sewer tunnels below.
Above us an aging streetlamp buzzes to life. The dull light flickers, creating an eerie strobe. I close my eyes as rain flows over me like a violent waterfall. How did I end up here? How did my life get out of control? “Why?”
Dad lifts his head and John’s words echo in my mind:
He’s lost his fight.
Anger swells within me and becomes a tidal wave pouring onto shore. “Why!”
Behind me, Jax and Kaden begin to plead. Dad rubs his hands over his face. “You weren’t supposed to find me.”
When I was twelve, my father fought his last match. His opponent was half his age, stronger and agile, but my father had skill. I remember watching the bout, my hands wringing together and I kept my eyes glued to my father as if my will was enough to push him to win.
It was a bloody fight. Twice he went down. Twice he got back up. At the end of five rounds, my father stood victorious. Now, he sits in a gutter.
“You don’t drink. This isn’t you,” I whisper.
Dad raises his head to the sky and he blinks as if he’s drifting into coherency. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
I think of home...my home...my bed. I should be there, lying in that upstairs corner room. When it rained, the wind chimes beneath my window on the porch would tinkle and I’d snuggle deeper into the blanket, grateful for protection.
But I’m not there. I’m here. I’m rotting in the sewer next to the father that disappointed me. This disillusion, this overwhelming sense of being let down, it has nothing to do with losing the house or homeless shelters or that we live in hell. “How could you give up?”
I shiver, not from the cold but because I feel like someone died—like my father died and he died months ago, but I’m just now discovering the truth.
I glance over my shoulder as footsteps approach. Jax grabs his father’s arm as he stalks in our direction. “He’s sick, Dad. Let Kaden and I get him in bed.”
My uncle twists away from Jax and I lean into my father. “You’ve got to lie. It’s past curfew and it’s the only way we’re getting in. John’s out looking for you and the last bus to the gym is gone. We’re out of options.”
He reaches over and pushes the drenched hair away from my face. “Why did you come after me? You should be safe in bed.”
My teeth audibly click together and the hurt overpowers me, taking me down as if I was tackled below the knees. I want to cry. I want to scream, but I can’t. Those are the ways of a child and I’m no longer one. I’m the adult chasing after her father. “Because I don’t abandon the people I love. I wouldn’t do what you’re doing to me right now.”
“Help me up.”
I stand and hold my hand out to him. He takes it and with more effort than it should take, he shakes to his feet. My uncle rounds on us. The rain has already soaked through his black T-shirt. “What’s wrong with you?”
“He’s sick,” I answer. “Let us get him inside before he passes out again.”
The glare he throws me causes my spine to straighten. “Unless I speak to you directly, keep your mouth shut.”
I bite my lip to halt a response from spewing from my mouth. I hate him. I hate how he demeans me. I hate how he makes me feel as big as a speck of dust and what I hate more is that he’s done the same thing to my father, to Jax, to everyone. There’s definitely a hell and he’s on the expected list.
I pray my uncle keeps the distance between them. Maybe, just maybe, through the rain, he won’t notice the strong scent of alcohol.
“I felt sick this morning,” Dad says. “And it got worse on the bus ride home. I sat down near the side of the road and must have passed out.”
My uncle moves closer and the anxiety within me surges to new highs. He rocks forward and sniffs. I briefly close my eyes. He knows. My uncle knows. “You are a damned failure.”
The world tunnels as I stare at my uncle. My father a failure? Kicked down maybe, but not out. I’ve seen him struggle to his feet before and he can do it again.
Dad lowers his head. “I know.”
I step in front of him, clutch his shirt with both hands. “You’re not!”
“I am.” His voice breaks.
“Listen!” I bend my knees so I’m smaller than him in his broken state. “You are the strongest person I know. We can do this. You just have to get your fight back.”
“Let me go, Hays. It’s better if you let me go.”
“But...”
Dad pulls my hands off his shirt and stumbles back to the ground. My fingers still curl in the air as if I’m still holding on to him and I realize blankly that’s what I’ve been doing for months—holding on to a corpse.
I flinch as if someone shot a high-powered rifle into the night. There was a shot except there was no sound. Only the rain against the street. For months, my uncle has been firing bullet after bullet in my father’s chest and my father stood there and took it until he completely bled out.
And I’m no different. I’ve done the same thing. My head tilts and the world spins as I look over at my uncle. He can fire all he wants because I’m finally firing back.
Before rational thought catches up to the emotion, I explode into my uncle’s face. “He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be! You’re the one that’s pathetic. Hiding behind words, behind threats, and when you’re too scared you shift into a waste of a little boy and belittle those who can’t protect themselves. If you’re so strong and so powerful, then hit me, you son of a bitch, because I’ll hit you back.”
He doesn’t even shrink from my proximity. Instead he becomes blank stone. “Pack your shit, get out of my house and take your pathetic family with you.”
Dizziness wavers my vision and I suck in raindrops as I try to breathe. Months of telling West to contain his anger and I go and lose control of mine at the wrong critical moment. What have I done? “I’m sorry.”
“Too late.”
My uncle steps onto the grass and I cut in front of him. “I’m sorry. Please. I was wrong.”
“Get of my way before I move you myself.”
“Touch my sister and I’ll fucking kill you.” Kaden stalks toward us.
I stay focused on the evil in front of me. The evil that gives a roof over our heads. That puts food in our stomachs. That offers protection from the streets. He’s evil and he’s a bastard, but he’s saving our lives.
There’s a craziness that invades my brain, an insanity worming inside my soul. It distorts colors, sights and sounds. The world becomes gray and cold. Years of fighting, years of confidence, years of any self-worth disintegrate, scatter and drop along with the pouring rain.
One knee goes down and sinks into the freezing mud, then another, and in front of pure madness, I beg, “Throw me out. Just me.”
Because I am nothing.
West
Give her the choice. Stop being an impulsive, controlling jerk and give her the choice. The same choice Dad should have possibly given me countless times. Not a choice between ripping your heart out from the right or the left, but the choice of controlling my own future.
Outside school, I get a few raised brows from people. The rumor mill must have already spit out I broke up with Haley and returned to Worthington.
A Plymouth older than my parents backfires. The brakes screech and the car stops. The side door pops open and Abby barrels out. “Thank God you grew a fucking brain.”
I glance at the Plymouth that shakes out of the way. “Who’s that?”
“Nobody. You’ve got problems.”
“Not worried about Denny right now. I’ve got to talk to Haley.”
“That’s it,” she says. “Her uncle kicked her out last night and her family followed. I saw them packing up a car this morning. Her little sister said they’re leaving for California.”
I slam my hand into the concrete wall. Fuck.
Haley
I fold the blanket John gave me last night and leave it on the pillow in the corner of the gym. My grandfather canceled today’s sessions because of what happened last night and the gym is unusually quiet.
Jax grunts when I nudge him with my toe, and instead of waking up, he rolls over.
“Come on, Jax. John’s going to be back with my parents soon.”
With an even louder grunt, Jax sits up and the blanket falls away. After blinking repeatedly, he shrugs on a shirt. “Where’s Kaden?”
“Taking a shower.” I plop on the matt beside him and think about how many years the two of us have spent in this place together. When we were six, one of us used to hang on a bag while the other pushed it as a swing.
Jax is more than a cousin, more than a brother; he’s a part of me and I’m not sure how I can live life without him. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Fuck!” He slams his hand onto the mat, then rubs his eyes. “Just fuck.”
My uncle did what I asked. He threw me out and me alone. What I didn’t expect was my brother and cousin yanking me to my feet and Jax spitting into his father’s face. I left and they voluntarily left with me. When we arrived at John’s half-drowned and desperate for shelter, he reopened the gym and called my mom.
Mom and John had a long talk and the result is he’s giving us his car and we’re leaving for California—today.
“You didn’t have to leave with me.” Guilt consumes my stomach because my thoughtless comment to my uncle caused Jax to leave his home.
“Yeah, I did. I should have left a lot sooner. He’s toxic.” Jax presses his finger against his head. “He worms his way in, past your skin, past your muscles and into your soul. Once he’s in, he continues, eating you until you’re dust. I’m already half-dust, Haley, and I’m tired of trying to hold together what’s left.”
I lay my hand over his. “I love you.”
He lowers his head and grabs on to his hair, causing his knuckles to go white. “I’m gonna fucking miss you.”
Jax jumps up and slams his fist into a bag as he takes off for the showers. My mouth turns down and I rap my head against the wall. Jax and Kaden are staying. I don’t know who I am without them.
The door to the gym opens and my grandfather walks in. He starts for his office, but one glance at me and he changes directions. Air rushes out of my mouth with such force that my hair moves. I escaped questions last night. My luck, like always, has run out.
John’s slow as he slides down to sit next to me and he does something very un-John-like: he pats my knee. “Stay.”
“The camper’s barely big enough for you and one of the boys. I have no idea how you’re going to squeeze Jax and Kaden in it.” As much as it will kill my mother, Kaden won’t come. His life is here—with the gym. I don’t know where I belong anymore.
“We’ll figure it out. There’s the bed, two bunks and the floor once I clean it up. I’m not sure Jax would be comfortable on a mattress after all this time.”
I check to see if he’s teasing, but he’s not. “Why is my uncle scared of you?”
“I saw him grab Jax by the arm once when he was a toddler when we were at your old house.” John grasps his biceps. “Left a huge mark on his arm. I said nothing to him then, but paid him a little visit later that night.”
It’s not surprising he and my uncle had a chat. John’s an advocate of keeping fights in the gym. “What did you say? I can’t imagine one word I could have said that would have changed him.”
John scratches the stubble on his chin. “I beat the shit out of him.”
I choke on my own spit. “You what?”
“Beat the shit out of him. I then told him if he lifted a finger to any of his kids again, I’d call the police and let them watch us as I beat the shit out of him again and then they could arrest us both.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. But I could never stop him with the words.”
“Jax is a good guy because of you,” I say.
“Your cousin doesn’t have much and it’s going to kill him when you go.”
“I can’t stay.”
“I hoped by training West you’d find your fight again.”
“My fight’s gone.”
“You’re too young for that, Haley. Take a look at your father. Is that what you want to be? We could blame what happened with Matt, but you still had some fight in you then. When you lied about what happened with Conner to save Jax and Kaden, I thought maybe you were on the right track.”
I turn my head as the deep, dark secret I fought to protect rolls off his tongue. “How did you know?”
“Jax and Kaden knew the moment you came home with no meds you were jumped and they knew Conner was the one to do it. Besides, they also knew you could kick Conner’s ass.”
I chuckle, though I don’t know why. Matt never flinched from the assumption that West was strong enough to take on Conner, but I wasn’t. I trained Matt. I dated him. You’d think he would have known.
John continues, “I told Jax and Kaden to let you fight your own fights. With Matt, Conner and your uncle—with whoever. Unless you asked for help. I thought if you had to fight in some area in your life, it would prove to you how strong you really are or at least teach you how to rely on us. Even if we wanted, we couldn’t help unless you let us.”
I think of meeting West, arguing with him, teaching him to fight. “It almost worked.”
“It doesn’t have to be almost. Stay, Haley. You’ve always had the heart. You just need to start leading with that instead of your head.”
I snort. Here I’ve been trying to convince West differently. The memory causes a slice of pain. God, I’ve lost the guy I loved. I loved him. I loved him so much and he walked away the moment his father snapped his fingers. He couldn’t have loved me back.
“Mom needs me.” And until last night, I’ve been able to pretend the truth hasn’t existed. “Dad’s a mess.”
“You’re eighteen. There comes a point in time when you need to start making your own decisions about your life. You can’t control your father and you can’t help your mother. They’ll either make it or they won’t.”
“What about Maggie?”
“I raised your mother. She’ll take care of Maggie and, trust me, your great-aunt will keep Maggie in line, too. The old bat is too mean to die.”
John scratches his forehead and I’ve never seen such an unsure gesture from him.
“What?” I hope it’s not bad. I’m already free-falling and I don’t feel like hitting a few rocks on the way down.
“When you get to California, you should talk to someone.”
“Talk?”
“Yeah.” His hand waves in the air. “A professional—like that Mrs. Collins.”
Uh...no. “I don’t need—”
“You do,” he cuts me off. “Something happened to you and as hard as I tried I couldn’t fix it. If you have to go, go, but don’t continue to live a half life.”
Mom sticks her head in the gym. “Can you lend a hand, Dad?”
John stands and Mom smiles at me. It’s not a reassuring smile. It’s the type that says she wishes she could reassure me. “Get your brother and cousin. I want to say our goodbyes and get on the road.”
I nod. That describes my life—nothing but goodbyes.