by Platt, Sean
She wasn’t a murderer.
And besides, if he went missing or was found dead, Andy could end up in prison. Or a mental institution. His life would be ruined. Probably hers too. Nobody would think he did this on his own, especially if Anderson had poisoned his friends and co-workers into thinking the worst of her.
“Please, Liz … I’m starving.”
His voice scraped at her insides. “I already told you, I don’t have the key.”
“And I already told you to go and get it.” His first note of anger, but still he sounded mostly defeated, drained of his usual bluster.
“I’ll talk to Andy when he’s back.” She would have to demand the key. Even if Anderson was dangerous, and they needed to keep him in the shed until they could get the authorities out here, he still needed food and water.
“You can trust me to do the right thing, Liz. Please, I’m begging you, just open the door.”
She turned back around, then with leaden steps, started back toward the cabin.
“Please, please, please,” Anderson kept pleading behind her.
She walked faster, almost a trot, his warbles mostly faded by the time she reached the door.
“I love you, Liz. I always have. You’re the only one for me, now and forever.”
Even distant, his words made her remember the man he used to be, and how much she loved the early-days Anderson who smiled every time he saw her, promised to adore and defend her forever, no matter what, and banished the monster who had always haunted her life.
Before he became the new one.
She searched the cabin again but still couldn’t find the key.
Liz imagined how her confrontation with Andy might go as she awaited his return. An inescapable, existential dread drenched her in sweat. She felt sticky with the realization that if her son could lock his father in the shed and leave him to starve, then she didn’t really know him at all. Or, if this was an alter, she had no idea what this alter was capable of.
She checked her phone again. Still nothing.
Maybe in a couple of days, she could walk to the store, or wherever else she needed to go for some help, to find a working line to call Colette. No matter what Junior had said, everybody couldn’t be gone. Someone would help her.
Liz had come up to the cabin expecting escape, knowing that her way out was coming. A week ago, she had been lying on the bottom floor of her life, lower than she’d ever been.
Four days ago, she’d felt hope and had arrived at the cabin almost buoyant, never imagining that her next few days would be riddled with a mystifying atmosphere and the ever-present threat of death.
She mused for an hour or so until Andy finally came home.
His return was nothing like she expected. Liz pictured him walking through the door in one of his usual moods. Dark and somber. Angry and on edge. Emptier than an apology beginning with if.
Turned out, Went for supplies meant more guns and the ammo to go with them. Andy looked like a prepubescent Yosemite Sam. He’d nabbed a cowboy hat from somewhere; its original owner must have had a head the size of an ottoman. The thing hung comically low.
Andy was carrying two duffel bags filled with guns, or so he announced with fanfare as he dropped them on the floor with a heavy thud three feet inside the cabin. He had two holstered pistols, hanging low on either side of his waist, and another gun he wouldn’t let go of. He kept waving it around, aiming at this or that, occasionally pretending to pull the trigger.
“Is that loaded?” Liz asked, trying to sound like she barely cared.
“Of course it is, Mommy!” He sounded ecstatic.
“Would you mind putting it down? You’re making Mommy a little nervous.”
“You don’t have to be nervous, Mommy. I’m not scared at all. And I can protect us from the monsters.”
“Did you see any monsters while you were out getting supplies?”
“The monsters won’t mess with me now!” He pretended to shoot one of them, then rattled with laughter. Long and obnoxious.
Liz acted like she didn’t want to crawl out of her skin. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“About what, Mommy?”
“About Daddy.”
No response.
“Dad.” Still nothing. “Anderson. Your father. Is there anything you want to tell me about what happened to him?”
“Dad made me go fishing. I fell asleep on the boat. When I woke up, he was gone.”
“You can tell me anything, honey. I won’t be mad.”
“At first, I didn’t know how to get home. But then the sky gave me directions. It took a long time.”
“Maybe there was an accident, but it’s not too late. We can still do the right thing.”
Instead of answering her, Andy pointed his gun at something invisible in the kitchen and pretended to shoot it. Then he yelled, “Great shot, Andy!”
“Please, honey … can you put the gun down? And tell me what happened to your father?”
He lowered the gun but didn’t drop it. He seemed to be gripping it tighter as he approached her. His mirth evaporated, and his straightedge smile returned. The shift in his dull brown eyes was chilling.
“If Anderson was alive, I’m sure he’s dead now.”
She swallowed and affected nonchalance. “Why is that?”
“Because the monsters would have gotten him.”
“The monsters?”
“I keep telling you about the monsters. But you never fucking listen. Do you, Liz?”
“Right. The monsters that are afraid of you. Why are they afraid of you?”
“Because Andy — I mean, I’m messed up.”
Again, his face changed. “I need a nap.”
“But it’s only—”
“I’ve been up since early this morning, and woo doggie am I tuckered out!” he said, affecting a bad Southern drawl.
Then he left her sitting alone at the table, staring out the window, her gaze fixed on the shed and the dying man trapped inside it.
She was glad that Andy was going for a nap.
The second Liz knew he was sleeping, she would do what had to be done.
Sixteen
Twelve Years Ago …
There will never, ever be another day like this. Liz kept holding her son close as she had the same thought on repeat. I can never become a mother again.
She’d taken her pregnancy seriously for all seven of the months she’d known about the child growing inside her, since back when the odds were fifty-fifty that it would have been a little Baby Elizabeth. But as soberly as she had treated each of her trimesters, now that her son was sleeping in her arms, Liz knew with a cellular certainty that nothing in her life would ever be more important than protecting the fragile human lying like a doll in her arms.
He took to her breast immediately. The nurse called Junior impressive, and Liz, a warrior. After trying to get out of his mother and into the world for nearly eighteen hours, he’d been sleeping on and off ever since.
They would be leaving the hospital soon. Anderson was restless, ready to get home and on with the life they’d been waiting more than half a year to start enjoying. Preparing with long conversations and afternoons spent painting, buying more than they needed to decorate a nursery, neither of them had seen coming, at least not so soon.
Anderson was so attentive, ever more doting as her due date approached, always asking what he could do to help make things easier on her. He barely left her bedside. She had to shoo him out of the room so he would finally go and get himself something to eat. She was lucky to have him.
She thought he was back after sensing a shape in the doorway. But then Liz looked up with a smile and wished she was still looking down.
“Elizabeth …”
Her glare must have stopped him.
“I’m … I just wanted to—”
“You should go.” She pulled Junior closer against her chest. Took comfort in the rhythm of his tiny beating heart.
&n
bsp; “It’s been a long time.”
“Since I was eighteen, right? Isn’t that when I left?”
“That sounds about right …” An anemic smile on an uncertain face.
“That sounds about right? It should be easy to remember since it was my birthday.” No response from her father, so Liz tapped her head and said, “I kept a record up here if you’re curious. Of your last words, I mean … I still remember them, in case you forgot.”
“I’m sorry for saying that.”
“You’re sorry you called me a whore? Or are you sorry you said that if I was giving myself — or my honey pot — away to a man who was obviously using me, then I could get the hell out of the house you raised me better than that in?”
He let her finish, then shook his head. “Both. I’m sorry for both things.”
“Are you sorry for saying that since I was finally eighteen, I could hurry up and get the F out of your house yesterday?”
The only thing that kept Liz from using the actual word was being skin-to-skin with her baby. Same reason she wasn’t screaming at the top of her lungs.
He shook his head again. “I should never have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. I married that man who was so obviously using me. You know, the one I was giving myself away to. I did get the F out of there, and now I have a family. A good family.”
He looked at her, not daring to speak.
Then Liz finished with the part she had fantasized about saying the most. “And you don’t get to be a part of that family.”
“I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing you … or not meeting him.” He glanced at Junior, and Liz couldn’t help but clutch him even tighter as she turned ever so slightly away.
“How did you know where I was, or even that I was having a baby?”
“I saw your post … on LiveLyfe.”
Of course.
Liz wanted her father to leave but didn’t have the courage to kick him out. It felt so cold, even though he deserved it.
He took two steps into the room.
“You should go,” she told him again, though this time, the words left her like a burp.
He paused. “I’m sorry for how we left things.”
“How we left things?” She glared at him again. “How about being sorry for my entire childhood?”
“There’s no need to be dramatic, Elizabeth. We might have a few things to talk about, but you hardly suffered through your ‘entire childhood.’”
“Get out.”
“Elizabeth …”
“You’ve already said my name too many times today. Now, get out.”
“I just want to see my grandson … then I promise I’ll leave.”
“You don’t get to decide or negotiate or do anything other than turn around and leave this room.” She drew a breath. “I’m trying really hard to be nice right now, but you’re pushing me.”
“Isn’t it time that we put this behind us?”
She glared at him again. Thinking. Wondering if she should continue to swallow it down, or finally let everything out. All the old feelings were back. Everything Anderson had taken her away from. Now she got love daily, instead of an endless string of belligerent putdowns. Her husband was a bit gruff with her every once in a while, but always in a protective way, and only because he loved her. Anderson was a cop; there would be something wrong with him if he wasn’t a bit rough around the edges. He made her feel safe, an emotion she hadn’t known since she was a little girl, back when it felt like her daddy really loved her.
“What exactly is it you want to put behind us, Dad?” That last word still felt wrong.
“All of it, Elizabeth. Can’t we just bury all of it?”
“That sure would be convenient for you.”
“You’re so angry. Can’t we—”
“OF COURSE I’M ANGRY!” Liz finally lost it. Junior stirred, but mercifully he didn’t start crying. “Shhhhh …” she soothed him.
And the asshole was still just standing there.
A nurse peeked in. Liz gave her a smile that weighed more than her head, then nodded to let her double-know she was fine.
She wished Anderson was back. Her man would handle everything if he was here.
Liz looked up at her father. “I want you to go.”
“Just let me see him.”
“You will never see him.” She shook her head emphatically, almost manic. “Please leave. I don’t want you to be here right now. You’re ruining this for me. Haven’t you ruined enough of my life?”
“I’m not trying to—”
“There will never be another day like this, and you’re ruining it!” Junior stirred harder. Liz clutched him tighter. Kept her voice low this time. “You have some nerve trying to see my son after the things you did to me!”
He looked genuinely taken aback. “What is it you think I did to you?”
“You know exactly what you did to me!”
“I was a good father to you, Elizabeth. Until you started being a full-of-yourself entitled brat of a teenager, spreading your legs for—”
“Get out!”
He took a step toward them instead. “You need to stop blaming me for everything that’s wrong with you, or wrong with your life. You’re confused. You’ve always been confused. The things that you think happened never happened — that’s just the mental illness, like your mom. Or the poison inside you. The drugs have warped your mind.”
“I’m not on drugs. I haven’t been on drugs for a long time. Anderson made sure of that.”
“Well, you sure as hell were taking them back when you were probably whoring yourself for a fix.” He shook his head in disgust. “Now, look at you.”
“I only started taking them to forget about what you were doing to me. They didn’t warp anything.”
“You were crazy long before you ever took anything!”
“No.” Liz shook her head as she glared into his lying eyes, hating him more than ever. “I might be confused about a lot of things. But not that. And you have no right to try and make my memories more convenient for you.”
Her voice was rising, Liz inching closer and closer to blowing her top.
“You’re crazy as shit and always have been.” His words were like spit. “And your kid is gonna be a fucking lunatic too!”
She smiled. And then started giggling.
He shook his head, misinterpreting the nature of her expression and laughter. “You really are crazy.”
Then he turned around and found himself face-to-face with her husband.
Anderson grinned. “You know, me and Liz never discussed it because I don’t like seeing her upset, but I was hoping you might show. I even insisted that Liz post to social with all the appropriate tags even though she isn’t really into such things. It’s been a long day waiting for you. I finally figured—”
“Whatever she told you—”
“Doesn’t even matter.” Anderson grinned again. “I don’t need to know anything more than I’ve already seen and heard.”
Anderson entered the room. Closed the door with a smile. Then waited a beat and lurched toward her father to alarm him.
Her father leaped back, startled, then circled around Anderson to position himself nearer to the exit.
“At your best, you’re still an abusive man who likes to have little girls under his thumb. At your best, you’ve hit and demeaned your daughter. At best, you don’t belong anywhere near our child. So I’m going to need you to get the fuck out of this room and plan on never—”
“You can’t—”
“I can.” Anderson shoved her father in his chest and sent him pinwheeling back toward the door. He grabbed a handful of shirt collar and yanked him close, then growled in a low voice, just loud enough for Liz to delight in. “You’re gonna leave this room right this goddamned second, and I better never see you within ten inches of Liz or our son.” He leaned in even closer, and Liz could barely hear this last part. “I do and ain’t nobody go
nna find your body. “
Her father left without another word, or so much as a glance back at the person who used to be his daughter.
“You okay?” Anderson asked, standing at her bedside.
Liz looked down at their still sleeping son, crying tears of sorrow for seeing her father and tears of joy for Anderson being there to send the man away. “Can you believe he didn’t wake up through any of that?”
“That wasn’t an answer, sweetheart.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t great seeing him, but I feel great now that he’s gone.”
He dragged a chair over to her bed and sat in it. They held hands until she broke the silence.
“Thank you for making me feel so safe.”
“I’ll make you feel safe for the rest of our lives,” Anderson promised.
Her son would have everything she never did. He would grow up in a safe, loving house, and never have to worry. Her Happily Ever After was starting right now.
She moved one hand from underneath Junior to take Anderson’s in hers.
Their fingers braided.
Then Junior started to cry.
Seventeen
October 18, 2011 …
Andy never fell asleep.
He came from downstairs and sat on the couch, drifting and staring off. Sometimes into space and often out one of the windows, but never with the total vacancy he sometimes got, the kind that would lend Liz the confidence to limp over and grab herself a gun from the bags on the coffee table in front of him.
Andy’s version of napping didn’t involve closing his eyes for more than the usual blinking. He curled up in front of his stockpile of weapons like a dragon guarding his mountains of gold for an hour or so before leaping to his feet and exclaiming, “That was a nice nap, Mommy!”
He went back to pacing and waving his gun, pretending to shoot things that weren’t there, with a low rumble of uncomfortable laughter to follow more often than not.
Liz tried varying attempts at Is there anything you’d like to talk about? and let Andy know she wouldn’t be mad about anything, no matter what he had to tell her.
