by Ike Hamill
Zinnia watched her own hand pull at the door handle. She wasn’t surprised that it did nothing. Just below, there was a crank for the window. She spun it and it went around like it was on bearings. There was no resistance at all and the window didn’t move an inch.
In back, Reynold was grunting and screaming each time he slammed his shoulder into the door.
“The window, Reynold,” Zinnia said. She glanced around, looking for something to hit her own window with. There had been some story on the news about how to break through a car window in an emergency. The newscaster’s voice, so smug and condescending, was all she could remember. She had kept watching mostly because of his ridiculous hair. The substance of his report hadn’t actually penetrated her brain.
In the rear seat, Reynold had turned to the side and rolled onto his back. The car lurched as it hit the water. An instant later, she felt the back end of the vehicle jerk to the side. It was unbelievable that the current was able to nudge them so easily. Until then, she hadn’t even begun to understand the power of the river.
Reynold drove his foot into the window. On the second hit, it shattered. Zinnia thought for a moment about throwing herself over the seat to follow Reynold out. He was already pushing his legs through the shattered glass and pulling himself the rest of the way through.
Water began to roll through the smashed window, but her own window was still above the surface of the river. Zinnia calculated that it might be faster to go through her own. When she turned to kick, her head came into contact with Jim’s flailing arms. Again, he must have mistaken it for an attack. Instead of beating the wheel, he began to beat her. Zinnia forgot about escape and raised her arms just to protect herself.
Still, her window smashed. Through the hole, she saw Reynold with a rock in his hand.
The dashboard lights flickered and went out.
Water was filling the interior of the vehicle.
Reynold’s hand clamped around her ankle and pulled. She felt the jagged glass slice her calf and she screamed. The water sloshed over the seat and up from the footwell. Zinnia struggled to keep her head above water while Reynold pulled on her leg and she tried to push herself through the broken window. It looked like freedom was getting smaller and farther away when the water overtook her.
LILY
LILY WAS CURLED UP on the couch. The cushions still held a little of her mother’s warmth.
She tucked the blanket around her and angled her book to better catch the light. Quiet feet came down the stairs. She glanced to make sure it wasn’t Jessie.
“Hey,” Eric said.
He folded himself into the puffy chair, sitting cross-legged.
“Jessie?” she asked.
“Asleep. Where are your mom and dad?”
“They had to go out. I get the feeling they wanted to talk with Jim about something. They said they would be back in a few minutes.”
Eric nodded.
“What a crazy day,” he said.
“Yup.” She folded her book around her finger to save her place. “I bet Mom lets Jessie stay home tomorrow. You know, if I cut school and then fell through the ice, they would have sent me to school with pneumonia, just to teach me a lesson.”
Eric smiled.
“You never cut school,” he said.
“Yeah, because I knew there were consequences. I’m telling you, by the time the second kid comes around, parents just don’t give a shit anymore. He gets away with murder.”
Eric laughed. “Not me. They watched my every move.”
“Well, yeah. They had to prove that they were going to be good guardians for you,” she said. “No offense, but Mom worked really hard to prove that she was superior to… You know.”
“None taken,” Eric said with a sigh. “My mom tried her best, I guess, but there’s no doubt that she wasn’t cut out to be a parent.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Lily loved her cousin Eric, but she could never seem to find the right rhythm with him. She couldn’t tease him the same way that she did with her brothers. Eric carried so much pain and sadness around with him—it seemed cruel to heap any more onto that pile. But without the banter that she had with her brothers, her interactions with Eric seemed restrained. Half the time she regretted the things that she said to him. The other half, she regretted not saying anything at all.
“You’re doing great work on the house,” she said. “How long you think you want to do that stuff?”
“Until it’s done,” he said.
She laughed. “It will never be done. You don’t even know. As soon as the attic is finished and the rec room has been remodeled a second time, Mom is going to want you to fix up the formal dining room. She’s planning on being a very fancy lady one of these days, you know. There are going to be dinner parties and valets.”
“I’m definitely moving out before then,” Eric said.
“I’m not saying you have to move out. I’m just saying maybe you should be out establishing yourself in a career,” she said.
“How long are you planning to work for the travel agent?”
Lily thought about it. She had fallen backwards into the job, but it had turned out really well for her. She liked working with people instead of laundry, and it seemed like the Andersons really liked her. They were a solid married couple who ran the travel agency, so there was none of Mr. Stollingford’s ass grabbing.
“I don’t know—for as long as they’ll have me, I guess. It’s glamorous, thinking about all the places people are going and looking through the brochures. I really like it and travel agents aren’t going anywhere, you know?”
“Yeah,” Eric said.
“Can I ask you something?” Lily said.
“Sure.”
She wasn’t sure how to say it aloud. The question had been burning inside of her, but if she voiced it the idea might gain weight and start breathing on its own. Now that Jessie was asleep and everyone else was gone, it felt like the only time she might be able to actually say it.
“You think Wendell is still alive?”
Eric didn’t just reply reflexively. That was the good thing about Eric—he seemed to really consider a question before he answered.
“I don’t know. I really hope so,” he said. “When my mom died, I thought it was a… I don’t know, like an isolated incident? I mean, I knew logically that people die all the time, but it seemed like it wouldn’t be that close to me except the once. Then I went out on the road. I hitchhiked up to Detroit with a kid named Dennis. We snuck across the border into Windsor. Before we got to Toronto, he got his head smashed in. We were trying to climb this building so we could sleep on the roof and he tried to grab one of those window air conditioners. He fell the whole way and then the thing landed on his head. I saw a group of people gather around him as he died. I didn’t want to be too close. I don’t know—I was afraid. After Dennis, it seemed like anyone could die at any time.”
She didn’t know what to say. From the little pieces she had heard of Eric’s time on the road, he had lived through a nightmare. Her own adventure to Houston had been like a luxury vacation in comparison.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure Wendell is fine,” Eric said.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m not.”
She nearly jumped off the couch at the sound of someone knocking on the front door. She had a terrible premonition that threatened to make her heart beat out of her chest. Wendell would be on the other side of that door—at least what was left of him. With a bloody face and crushed head, he had made his way home.
Eric began to rise.
Lily shook her head.
“What?” he whispered. “There’s someone at the door.”
She wanted to tell him not to get it. There couldn’t be anything good waiting on the other side of that door.
Lily couldn’t get out the words and Eric went to answer.
# # #
Her words ring in the room, even though she’s pr
etty sure that she didn’t speak them aloud. “Don’t answer it.”
Eric glances back at her as his hand settles on the knob. He flicks on the porch light before he pulls it open a few inches.
Lily rises from the couch. The blanket falls to her feet and she steps out of the folds.
“Mr. Hoffer,” a low voice says.
“Officer Libby,” Eric says, pulling the door open the rest of the way. When the police officer sees Lily, his eyes soften. She has met him, once or twice, when she was out with Jim. The officers only have one or two bars that they’ll go to. Frank Libby acts like Jim’s brother, even though Frank is her mom’s age. The two have an easy relationship that’s rooted in trust. Because of that, Lily has always felt like she could trust Frank Libby too. But now, standing on her porch with a dark cloud over him, she doesn’t want to trust him. She hopes that Eric will slam the door before he can say whatever he’s about to say.
“Lily, can I come in? I have to talk to you.”
“Just say it,” she says, already knowing what it is. Jim was supposed to be off duty already, but something has happened.
His eyes look down at the hat in his hands. When he looks up, a chill runs down her back.
“It’s about your parents.”
1977
LILY
LILY SAT ON THE unmade bed for ten minutes before she couldn’t stand it any longer. She began to make the bed and then saw the smears on the sheets. There was mud, blood, and a stain she didn’t want to think about. The smell was one thing, but the stain… She pulled the sheets off. Before wrapping them up in a ball, she gathered shirts, socks, and underwear from the floor. There were no pairs of pants to wash—Jessie only had one pair of pants that he wore anymore.
With everything gathered up, she straightened the bedspread and made the room a bit more presentable. There were no books and papers to be tidied. The closest thing to an intellectual pursuit that Jessie was involved in was the stack of Playboys on the nightstand.
She sat back down to wait.
He would be back. He always came back to take a shower before he went out. His room was a disaster, but Jessie took some amount of care with his appearance.
She heard the feet pounding up the stairs and knew it was him. Eric would have never treated the stair treads with such disdain—he had taken too much care in installing them to do that.
Jessie actually had a smile on his face when he came into the room. The smile faded when he saw her.
“What the fuck, Lily? Don’t touch my shit.”
“I thought I would add your laundry to mine,” she said. It was a lie. There was more than one load in the ball she had made of his clothes.
“Well don’t. You suck at it.”
He went to his dresser and began to root around for a fresh shirt.
“Jessie, I have to talk to you.”
He gave her the finger and tucked fresh clothes under his arm before heading towards the door. She got there first, shutting it before he could grab it. Pressing her back against the door, she caught his eyes and nearly flinched from the anger there. She had never thought Jessie would be capable of violence towards her. In that moment, she realized that she might be wrong about that.
“Jessie, you have to go to school.”
“Buuuuullshiiiiiit,” he said, drawing out the word. He reached by her and tried to jerk the door open. Eric had offered to help with this conversation, but she had turned him down. Eric still had a decent relationship with Jessie and she hadn’t wanted to squander that. Now, it seemed like a mistake.
“Jessie, they’ll put you in foster care.”
He looked down at her with sympathy for her stupidity. “Ollie dropped out last year at sixteen. Guess where he’s not? Foster care.”
“Because Oliver has two parents, Jessie. I only get to keep being your guardian if you stay in school.”
He jerked the door again, banging it into her. She held her ground.
“If you quit or flunk out, it’s foster care until you’re eighteen.”
“It couldn’t be worse than living here,” he said.
“You’re wrong,” she said.
This time he pulled slowly. He was taller and stronger and he managed to slide her out of the way.
“Foster care is hell, Jessie. Don’t put yourself through that.”
He went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind himself.
Lily was tempted to leave his laundry right there on the floor. It would serve him right to come home later and find no sheets on his bed. She couldn’t do that. Lily knelt down and gathered his clothes before she headed downstairs.
Eric followed her into the laundry room.
“What did he say?”
She sighed. “He’s not going back. They’re going to take him away and he’s going to be committing crimes and on drugs before he’s seventeen, I know it.”
Dropping the laundry into the machine, she collapsed down to her elbows, propping herself up on the lip of the machine. Eric was hovering behind her.
“Don’t cry,” he said.
“Why the fuck not? If I can’t cry about failing my only living relative, what can I cry about?”
“You’re not failing him. He’s just…”
Lily pulled a shirt from the basket of the machine to wipe her eyes. She immediately regretted it. The fabric was crusty and it reeked.
“He’s just what, Eric?”
“He’s just trying to, you know…”
“No. I don’t know what the fuck he’s trying to do.”
They both turned as they heard feet pound down the stairs. The front door banged against the wall. It didn’t slam behind him—he must have left it wide open.
“I’ll go close that,” Eric said.
She was alone with the laundry. There was too much stuffed into the machine so she started to pull some things out. In the pocket of one of Jessie’s shirts, she found a little bag of pills. Her tears began to fall again as she turned it over, wondering what they were. Jim would have known. Jim would have been able to tell what the pills were and he probably would have been able to tell her where Jessie had gotten them. For that matter, Jim might have been able to talk some sense into Jessie.
“Lily?” Eric called from the front of the house.
“Coming.”
She sprinkled some detergent on top of the clothes and cranked the dial. The pipes shuddered when she clicked it on. Eric had put in new pipes to the laundry room. Ever since, it sounded like the pipes were going to shake themselves apart whenever she started the machine.
“Hey,” she called as she walked towards him. “You wouldn’t believe what I just found in that little fucker’s…”
There was someone standing in the living room with Eric. From the uniform, she thought it might be Frank Libby for a moment. It wasn’t. She was holding out the little baggy of illegal drugs in front of a police officer who looked to be about her own age.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
# # #
The cop blushed and then looked away, giving Lily a chance to tuck the bag of pills into her back pocket.
“Ms. Carroll, right? Lily Carroll?”
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. Every now and then Officer Libby came by to tell her about Jim. She had eventually told Frank Libby that she didn’t want to see his face anymore unless he was there on official police business.
“What?” she asked.
Eric mumbled an excuse and headed for the kitchen. She suspected that he would hide around the corner and listen in. Lily didn’t care.
“You’re the guardian of Jessie Carroll, is that correct?”
Lily straightened up.
“Yes, why?”
“Do you own the vehicle in the driveway? The BMW?”
“Yes. Jesus, get to it already,” she said, moving to the window. The BMW was there, right behind her father’s Gran Torino. She had always figured that Jessie would get the Gran Torino eventually—he loved that car—but she cou
ldn’t imagine letting him drive it until he started acting like an adult. The BMW was another thing altogether. She had tried to sell it three or four times. One time she even took it into the dealership to see what they would give her for it. Each time, she backed out at the last second and drove the car home. It wasn’t doing anyone any good in the driveway, but she couldn’t bear to let it go.
Behind the BMW, blocking the entire driveway, was the police officer’s car. The shape sitting in the rear of the cop car was too far to make out, but she could guess at who it was.
“Your brother was attempting to steal the BMW by bypassing the ignition. He was stripping the wires when I came up to him. You’ll want to have it towed and repaired before you try to operate…”
“I’m sorry, but it’s a crime to modify your own vehicle now?”
“Pardon?”
“Is my brother locked into the back of your vehicle, Officer…” she squinted at his nameplate, “Green? Isn’t that false imprisonment or something?”
“Your brother was modifying…”
“I asked him to fix the ignition on the BMW, and now you’ve taken him prisoner. Do you have some explanation for that Officer Green? Or are you in the habit of harassing innocent citizens now? Don’t you have something better to do?”
He stammered for a few seconds and then clamped his lips together. His cheeks got even more red than they were before. Lily grew angrier with each moment that he stood there.
“Could you go let him out now?” Lily said, pointing.
“Of course,” he said turning for the door. Before he let himself out, Officer Green paused and turned. “He’s talking now, you know.”
“Who is? Jessie? What the fuck are you talking about?” Lily demanded. She was already thinking of her next steps—maybe a call to Captain Williams was in order. He should know that his staff was out making life hard for a boy who was orphaned by one of his officers a year before. There was another side to the story that was creeping in from the edge of her brain though. Clearly, Jessie had been trying to steal their mom’s car. She wasn’t going to let that stop her righteous anger. Some days it felt like that was the only genuine emotion she could have.
