Authors: R. K. Ryals
Deena gnashed her teeth. “I’m not doing
this.”
Hetty frowned, her gaze falling on the
brown-shuttered house. “I’m not sure I know what to do here, Deena.
If it’s wrong to admit that, then so be it.”
“Let me leave,” the girl persisted.
“I can’t do that.”
Tansy stepped toward her sister. She was the
older of the two. It was obvious, not just because of her curvier
figure, but because of the way she carried herself. Deena walked
like she was ready to attack the world, a lot of fire and spit and
misdirection. Tansy walked like she knew when to step down from a
fight.
“Come on, Deena—”
The younger girl laughed,
cruelly. “Why the hell is everyone looking at me like I’m the
messed up one?” She nodded at Tansy. “I mean, look at you!” Her
voice rose. “At least I’m brave enough to leave! You just keep
staying, don’t you, Tansy? You just keep staying with everyone.
With Dad while he killed himself. With me now. I’m not helpless,
and I’m not dumb.
I’m
still in school.
I
didn’t drop out.”
“Deena!” Hetty scolded.
My brows rose, my gaze flicking to Tansy. A
high school dropout?
She didn’t look at me, but
the words she flung out were definitely
meant
for me. “I have my
GED.”
It wasn’t any of my
business.
She
wasn’t my business. None of it was.
“Tell me you really want to stay here,” Deena
continued. “Tell me you really want to spend the next year working
in an animal clinic.”
Tansy’s jaw tensed.
“She doesn’t have to work in the clinic,”
Hetty assured.
“And I won’t,” Tansy inserted, surprising
everyone. She swallowed, her gaze falling to the yard. “You
wouldn’t need any landscaping done, would you?” She glanced at her
grandmother. “This place is bare and depressing. Just buildings. No
color. I could do some flower beds, maybe plant a few bushes, and
put in some décor. It could help aesthetically, and I’d be outside
more.”
Her eyes narrowed, a silent message passing
between her and Hetty. Being outside meant keeping an eye on her
sister.
“The clinic
could
use some sprucing
up,” Hetty agreed.
“This is shit,” Deena grumbled. “Total
shit.”
I suddenly wanted to see this kid in a boxing
ring. Not because she was angry, which she was, but because she had
a stubborn streak fighters could admire.
“You’ve got to learn when to throw your
punches, kid,” I said, my gaze on her face.
Her eyes found mine. She squinted. “What the
hell are you spewing about?”
“Back down,” I told her. “You’ve lost this
round. Shake it off. Prepare for the next.”
Tansy stared. “Are you trying to teach her
how to run away?”
My lips twitched. “No, I’m trying to show her
when it’s time to step back and re-evaluate.”
“Because you’re so capable of that yourself?”
Deena asked, her gaze roaming my figure. “Who the hell are
you?”
“Eli.” I nodded at her.
Deena glanced at her sister, recognition
flaring. “He’s the dude we saw in the red car coming out of
Atlanta! The dude from the hospital, right?” She laughed. “Oh, what
an ironic world we live in.”
“You should find Danny now, Mr. Lockston,”
Hetty advised.
Shrugging, I ducked into the building’s
shadowy depths. The door swung inward behind me, stopping just
short of clicking shut. I stared into the crack, my gaze on the
scene beyond, on the three females watching each other warily.
“You coming to help now, Mr. Lockston?” Danny
called.
Dogs barked.
“Yeah,” I answered. “And it’s Eli. Just
Eli.”
Turning away from the door, I faced the scene
within. Danny was opening large pens, releasing animals into the
hallways between them. Dogs greeted him, throwing suspicious
glances my way as he herded them to a back door leading to the
fenced-in yard beyond.
It was a long day.
The extra boots Danny had mentioned didn’t
fit my large feet, and I spent the afternoon ruining my shoes
bleaching pens, throwing soiled blankets in a large washing
machine, replacing the filthy items with clean ones, filling food
and water bowls, assisting Danny with baths and medications,
cleaning up shit, and in the end, smelling like I’d rolled in all
of it.
By the time I climbed into my brother’s car
hours later, I felt like I needed to shower with a powerful
antiseptic followed by a generous dose of cologne.
“Don’t say anything,” I warned when I saw
Jonathan’s nose wrinkle.
Two days a week at the rescue. I could do
this.
“Hey!” a muffled voice cried.
I winced.
“Roof girl,” Jonathan supplied, grinning.
My gaze rose to find Tansy standing just
outside the car. Jonathan rolled down the window.
“Hey,” she repeated, breathless. “Look, I’m—”
She sniffed, her fingers coming to rest beneath her nose. “Oh,
wow.”
Jonathan laughed, his howl filling the car’s
interior.
I scowled, my eyes on the girl. “Anyone ever
told you not to approach a guy when he’s dirty? I’m not up for
small talk.”
Amusement made her eyes gleam despite my
angry words. “I just came to apologize for my sister earlier. She’s
been through a lot recently.”
“Just her?” Jonathan asked.
Tansy looked away, the gleam leaving her
eyes. “Yeah, well … just know she’s not really an awful person.
She’s actually pretty cool beneath that scratchy façade.”
My irritable mood wouldn’t let me care,
especially when her fingers were still pressing against her nose.
“Look, it’s all good. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I really need a
shower.”
She backed away.
“He’s just being an ass because he stinks,”
Jonathan called.
I ground my teeth.
Tansy smiled. “It’s not that bad.” She
dropped her fingers. “Your nose starts to get used to it after a
while.”
“Bye now,” I intervened.
Laughing, Jonathan pulled away.
My gaze fell to the side mirror, to Tansy’s
disappearing figure. The sun caught on her crimson highlights,
setting her on fire, pulling me in and warning me away.
“I like her,” Jonathan said suddenly.
Scowling, I leaned back in the seat. “Good.
Why don’t you ask her out? She looks about your age.”
“She’s seventeen.”
I glanced at him.
He shrugged. “I asked while I was waiting on
you.”
Only seventeen. Wow.
“See,” I said, “only a year older.
Perfect.”
And yet … if it was so perfect, why did the
thought of my brother asking her out make my skin crawl?
***
If shoveling dog shit was bad, having to deal
with my mother’s theatrics right after shoveling dog shit was
worse. No sooner had Jonathan cut the engine on his car than the
interior filled with her wailing.
“Let Pops have this one,” I told my brother.
Pushing the passenger side door open, I climbed out and trotted
toward the guest cottage. “I need a shower and a smoke.”
“You don’t even care!” Ivy screamed, her
screech ripping through the air. It ran along my flesh like
sharpened fingernails down a chalkboard.
“She’s in a mood,” Jonathan grumbled.
Moods were bad. Moods were worse than tears.
They were blasting tirades full of rock bottom lows. Moods meant
Mom wasn’t just feeling sorry for herself, she was blaming people
for not giving a damn.
“It’s Pops’ mess,” I reiterated.
“You’d really walk away and leave him to
that?”
I froze, my head down. “Damn,” I muttered,
too low for Jonathan to hear.
We were getting too old for this, too old for
her melodrama.
“Why do you do that?” I asked. “Why do you
make me feel so damn guilty for abandoning them?” My head rose, my
gaze finding my brother.
He shrugged, his hands sliding into his
pockets. “Because deep down, you’re a good guy, Eli.”
Closing my eyes, I inhaled and counted to
three. My eyes re-opened, my nasty, shit-covered tennis shoes
taking me to the main house.
Jonathan followed, his clean smelling figure
right on my heels. “You don’t want to change first?”
“Hell, no.”
Entering the residence, I stopped in the
foyer, my gaze on the scene before us. It was the story of my life.
Mom’s tears, her screams filling finely decorated rooms, her
heartbroken sobs full of “I’m sorry” or “It’s all going to be
okay.”
Pops stood rigid in front of the living
room’s large fireplace, the mantle covered in pictures of our
family, especially Grams. Mom sat on the edge of a plush, white
sofa, her manicured nails gripping a decorative navy blue
pillow.
“No one cares about me!” Mom yelled. “You
want me to stay here, but you don’t have any idea what that’s doing
to me.”
An arched entry separated the foyer from the
living room, and I placed my hand against it, my fingers curling
against the wall.
“What’s it doing to you?” I asked. “Go on,
tell us.”
Mom’s head whipped around, her
mascara-covered face transforming her into something out of a
horror movie. Mom liked mascara. It made crying more dramatic.
“Eli,” she mumbled. Her gaze lifted to find
Jonathan behind me. “Jon.”
“What is being here doing to you?” I
repeated.
Pops stepped away from the fireplace. “Eli,”
he warned.
I ignored him, my attention on Mom. “Do you
want to break up with us?” I asked. “Do you want to end your
relationship with your family?” I motioned at the room. “I know the
speech by heart. How many times have you given it now?” My brows
rose. “It’s not you. It’s me, you understand? We just don’t have
enough in common. It’s like we’re from two different planets. I’m
not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing this because it would be
better to do this now rather than later, right?”
Mom stood, her face tightening in anger.
I held my hand up. “No … don’t come closer.
It would just be too hard. This is hurting me just as much as it’s
hurting you.”
“Eli—” Pops began.
“No,” I interrupted, my gaze finding his
face. “You were the one that said we needed to work this out,
right? You’re the one who brought her here.” My gaze fell back to
her face. “Did you love any of us? At all? Or do we mean the same
thing to you as your lovers? Awesome at first but growing old too
quickly.”
“You have no right to speak to me like that!”
Mom yelled. “I am your mother. I deserve more respect!”
My gaze fell, my shoulders slumping. Her
words threw me back in time, threw me back into a scared and angry
seven-year-old body.
“Take it, Eli,” Mom coaxed. “Just take it,
okay?”
I pressed my lips together, my head
shaking.
A tear slid down Mom’s cheek, leaving a
black trail behind it. “Please, sweetie. I don’t like to see you
cry. This will make it much better. Take it … for me.”
My lips trembled, tears chasing each other
down my face. “I don’t want any, Mama. It tastes really bad.”
“It’s Ivy,” she reminded me. “I know you
don’t want any, but it’s special. It turns you into a
superhero.”
I eyed the spoon in her hand, the phantom
bitter taste burning my tongue. I hadn’t even taken it yet, but I
knew the flavor.
“Mama—”
“It’s Ivy, sweetie. Open up. Swallow
quickly, and it’ll be all over.”
My lips parted.
Mom leapt, shoving the spoon into my mouth.
I choked and swallowed. My tears turned into sobs.
Mom left me, pausing at my bedroom door long
enough to say, “It’s going to be okay, Eli. You’ll feel better in a
minute.”
Bile rose up in my throat, my heart
pounding.
My eyes rose to my mother’s face. “There’s no
feeling better anymore, Ivy. You can’t tell me to be quiet and then
wait for it to work.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “Eli—”
“What are you talking about?” Jonathan asked
behind me.
“Eli …
please
!” Mom begged.
I looked at Pops. “There you go. That’s all
it takes. Threaten to turn her into a villain, and she shuts
up.”
A sob fell out of Mom’s mouth, the force of
it shaking her shoulders. “You are so cruel. So, so very cruel,”
she gasped. Her angry eyes found mine. “You’re a disaster! Look at
you! You smell like a sewer! And you … you …”
Her words were lost in the tears.
“You don’t want a hug?” I asked, my arms
spreading. “Come on, Ivy. I’m your oldest child. I should at least
get a hug.”
She recoiled, her sobs turning into winded
gasps.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a
travel pack of Kleenex and threw it at her. “Do you loathe me
yet?”
“Eli,” Jonathan whispered.
I glanced at him.
His eyes were sad. “If I’d known you’d do
this, I wouldn’t have asked you to help.”
The anger filling me ebbed away, leaving
behind pain and guilt. I knew what Pops and Mom expected of me.
They wanted my silence. If the secrets destroyed me, so be it. If
the secrets turned me into a monster, then so what.
My gaze remained on my brother, but I spoke
to Pops when I said, “You can’t make me forgive her. You can ask me
to keep her secrets, but you can’t make me forgive her.”
“Not even for this family’s sake?” Pops
asked. “It’s been years since we’ve all been able to be together in
one place at one time. You can’t keep carrying this with you. You
don’t have to like her. Just tolerate her.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Mom. “You need
help.” My eyes flicked to Pops. “I’ll tolerate her if she helps
herself.”
With those words, I slipped past Jonathan and
left, Mom’s rising sobs chasing me. Some secrets were too much to
bear.
Jogging to the guest cottage, I started
stripping off clothes before I even made it in the door. My shoes
left me on the porch, my pants in the front hallway. My shirt waved
good-bye somewhere in the den, and the rest was discarded inside
the bedroom.