by Tess Oliver
I sniffled into phone.
“I think about you every fucking minute of the day, and I will not let you slip out of my life. I will take you from him.” He hung up.
I curled up against the pain and watched the blur of traffic thinking about all I’d been through since that fateful day when the tires had screeched and the sky and ground had turned into a melted nightmare of twisted metal, broken glass, and blood.
***
Just seeing Nana’s sweet face at the door brightened my spirits completely. She clutched Nix’s note in her shaky hand. “Scotlyn, right?”
I nodded and stepped inside. A woman walked out of the kitchen. Her eyes weren’t amber in color, but they had the same shape as Nix’s. She looked me up and down, and I hoped my eyes weren’t too pink from crying.
“So, you’re Scotlyn,” her tone had just enough suspicion in it to make me feel uneasy.
I smiled and stuck out my hand, which she shook hesitantly.
“I’m Nix’s sister, Diana. The note said you don’t talk.”
I took out my pad of paper. “I lost my voice in an accident.”
She stared at me for an awkward moment. Yesterday, I’d made the decision to wear a dress, but today, I’d opted for shorts and a t-shirt. I wished I’d opted for another dress. “I’m sorry to hear that. How do you know Nix?”
“We’re friends,” I wrote hastily. After my horrid morning, her grilling was making me nervous and my pen felt unsteady in my hand.
Nana stepped in to save me. “She writes incredibly fast, and she’s helping me write down some of my past . . . before it is gone forever.”
Diana’s face softened at her grandmother’s sad reminder. “Well, Nana asked me to bring by some stuff to make cookies. Apparently, she was in the mood to bake since you would be here to help her.”
“Yes, I haven’t baked in a long time, but I’ve had a terrible urge for a chocolate chip cookie,” Nana said enthusiastically.
I smiled and nodded to show I was equally enthusiastic about the idea.
Diana put her number in my phone in case I needed it. It was obvious she still had her doubts about me.
“Nana, don’t forget that I’ll be back here tomorrow morning to take you for your vitamin shot, and I’ve made you an appointment for a physical. Maybe the doctor can find out why you’ve been so tired lately.”
“I’m tired because I’m old.” Nana winked at me.
Diana kissed her grandmother and left and then we went in to bake cookies.
***
Nana and I sat on the backyard bench nibbling our accomplishment. She’d left Nix’s note inside but seemed to remember my name now, which made me feel absurdly pleased. Nana had decided that the cookie baking had worn her out too much and that she didn’t have the energy left to tell her story, so we spent the morning and afternoon just hanging out. After the horrible morning I’d had, it was soothing just to sit with Nana and listen to her talk. It made me realize just how much I missed out on by not having a grandparent.
We watched a rather daring squirrel make its way across the electric cable above the yard. “You know, Scotlyn, I’ve forgotten. Were you born without a voice?”
I pulled out my paper. “I lost my family in a car accident. I survived but without a voice.” The words came out of the pen easier this time as if just writing it again was helping me accept the whole thing.
Nana read it. “Oh my, of course, how could I forget that? You poor dear.” She fell silent for a moment and then spoke again. “When I buried my son, the pain was so unbearable, I was sure I would never recover. When they lowered the coffin into the grave, I wanted to throw myself in behind it. Richard had to drag me away from the gravesite. Oh, and poor Alex. He stood there so stoically, trying not to cry. His face was as white as snow. Losing a parent is awful when you are young.” She placed her hand over mine. “Losing both is something no child should ever endure.”
“I lost my sister, Olivia, too.” Her name looked familiar in my handwriting. I’d always made a fancy curlicue at the end of the O. It was a habit that had remained without me even thinking about it.
Nana picked up my hand and held it on her lap. “No wonder you lost your voice. I don’t think I would be able to speak either. But you’ll talk again. The pain will lighten and your voice will be set free.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat and thought sadly about the incredible mind of the woman sitting next to me, a mind that would be wiped clean in the near future. Sometimes life was too unjust and ridiculous.
By one in the afternoon, Nana was ready to rest so I tucked her in and wrote a note to remind her that I’d left. I texted Nix but there was no response, and much to my dismay, he didn’t walk in as I left.
The white sidewalks reflected the heat of the day as I headed to the bus stop. My disappointment in not seeing Nix was profound. His words on the phone this morning rolled through my head over and over. I wanted nothing more than for him to free me from Lincoln’s control. I wanted nothing more than to be with Nix. But I didn’t want to be dependent on him. I needed my independence first. And I knew Lincoln was not going to just let me walk out his door. Even if he truly didn’t love me, which I was fairly certain of now, he wouldn’t give up control without an ugly fight. He’d invested far too much in me.
The pain in my back was still sharp, and with the sticky heat of the day, a ride on the bus didn’t seem nearly as romantic as it had yesterday. The bus stop bench was so hot I had to slide my hands beneath my thighs to keep the heat off of my legs. I glanced at my phone, but there was no return text from Nix.
A homeless man, the type I’d always thought of as a lifer, a man who’d been out on the streets so long as each day passed he looked less and less like a member of the human race, sat down on the bench. He stared at me through bloodshot eyes and a face so coated with grime, dirt actually fell off of it as he moved his bearded chin. Aside from the odor, it didn’t bother me to have him sit next to me.
I glanced at my phone. According to my calculations, the bus was about fifteen minutes away. Lincoln was obviously still asleep, or he would have texted me by now. If I was lucky, which seemed unlikely after the events of the day, he would sleep through the remainder of the afternoon.
A grit covered palm appeared in front of me. “I could use a few dollars,” the man mumbled.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a five. I placed it on his palm, but he kept it out for more.
He was definitely more persistent than most. He folded the five up in his hand and lowered it, but, unfortunately, he remained on the bench. I inched away from him hoping he’d get bored soon and leave. But once a day started badly, it seemed that nothing could turn it around.
From the corner of my eye, I could see him shift forward on the bench. It seemed he was finally going to leave. Just as a wave of relief rushed through me, his fingers grabbed my arm. I jumped up and struggled to break free of his alarmingly strong grasp.
“I’ll bet you have more money,” he snarled, obviously so strung out he’d resorted to more violent tactics than mere begging.
With my free hand, I reached into my pocket to pull out some more money. Several customers in the pharmacy behind the bench came to the window to watch, but no one came out to help. Just as I was about to throw the money at him, a police car pulled up to the curb. Two policemen stepped out.
It actually took the guy a moment to decide to release my arm. He turned and stumbled away, but one of the officers followed after him.
The second policeman lifted his glasses off his face and looked at me. “Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head, and my stupid tears flowed again.
He took out his notepad. “What’s your name, Miss?”
I was so stunned by the whole event, I could even figure out how to show him I couldn’t speak. I reached quickly for my notebook in my back pocket, and he lifted his hands.
“Whoa, stop right there. I just asked for your name.” He
looked at me suspiciously.
I shook my head trying to show him that I couldn’t tell him without the paper.
A scowl crossed his face. “Look, Miss, just cooperate. All right, show me some identification.”
My heart was slamming against my chest, and I had nothing to show him. I lifted my hands to let him know that I had no identification.
His frustration grew, and my tears flowed faster. “Maybe you’ll cooperate better down at the station.”
I’d been the victim, and now, my inability to talk had made me the criminal. My eyes were blurred by the tears, and my head was spinning at how quickly things had dissolved into shit. Then a voice floated through my mist of misery. And the sound of it brought instant comfort.
Nix walked up behind me. I pressed my face into his chest and collapsed into his arms. And I realized that they were the first arms ever to provide comfort and relief from despair since my family had died.
“What seems to be the problem, Officer?” he asked.
“Just needed for her to give me her name so I could write a report. But she hasn’t cooperated.”
The conversation went on above my head, but I kept my face pressed against Nix’s shirt. I could feel the beat of his heart beneath my cheek, and the sound of it soothed me. “Scotlyn is mute,” Nix explained, and it seemed to have rendered the officer temporarily silent. “She uses a paper and pen to communicate.”
Not leaving the complete and utter security of his arms, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the paper. I lifted it up and the officer looked at me apologetically.
“I’m sorry, Miss, it is just that you reached for it so quickly . . . I didn’t know. I apologize.”
I nodded weakly.
The policeman pulled out his notepad while his partner handcuffed the homeless guy.
“What is her full name?” the first officer asked Nix.
“It’s Scotlyn—” he paused and smiled down at me. “You own my heart, and yet, I don’t even know your last name.”
I wrote Scotlyn James on a piece of paper and handed it to the officer. I hadn’t written my last name in a long time, and it felt foreign to me. Now the brave crowd in the pharmacy had stepped outside to get a closer view. The poor homeless man stood with shaky limbs, and his chin drooped low against his chest.
I wrote quickly. “Don’t arrest him. He needs medical attention.”
The officer read the note. He nodded. “We’ll get him some help.” He looked at Nix. “Why don’t you get her home? She looks pretty shaken up.”
Nix’s arm tightened around me. “I will. Thanks.”
Nix walked me back to the Mustang. “I don’t suppose you’re going to put up a fight about going on the bus today?”
I shook my head wearily. I had no strength to put up a fight about anything. I slid into the front seat of the car. My back was still sore, but the pain had subsided some. Nix got in the driver’s seat and looked at me. His eyes shifted from dark gold to pale brown as the sunlight streamed through his front windshield. I reached for his hand, pulled it to my mouth, and kissed the back of his knuckles.
“Do you want to come see the boat? It’s nice out there at this time of day. I don’t want to take you back to him yet.”
I hesitated. Lincoln had not texted me yet, but I was sure he would soon. After the wretched day, he was the last person I wanted to see. In fact, the only person I wanted to see was sitting right next to me. I nodded.
CHAPTER 19
Nix
Looking breathtakingly beautiful and completely breakable, Scotlyn sat stoically in the front seat obviously trying not to cry anymore, but sadness filled the air around her. She kept her eyes glued to the road as if looking at me would just start the flow of tears again. I’d known since she’d texted me in the morning that things were going badly, and all I wanted to do was make things right for her.
Eventually, she pulled her paper out and she wrote. “I thought I could handle going out on my own. I was delusional.”
“That’s not true. That policeman was a knucklehead. And it all turned out O.K.”
Her pen did not fly across the paper like it usually did. Her sadness showed in her handwriting. “Only because you came along. I’m glad you came, Nix.”
“I am too. I was just driving by to go to Nana’s house, and I saw you standing there with the police. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.” I smiled at her. “I’ll bet you take a pretty cute mug shot.”
I caught a tiny sliver of smile on her lips, but it vanished when her phone vibrated with a text. She glanced at it reluctantly and typed something quickly.
“I guess he’s expecting you home,” I said, trying to keep the anger out of my tone. My rage toward Hammond was the last thing she needed today.
She shrugged and put the phone in her pocket.
The harbor came into view, and she stretched up to look at it. Any remnants of morning fog had burned off and sunlight reflected off the rippling water. The boats danced along the small waves that rolled into the dock area.
“I hope you don’t get seasick. The water is pretty rough in the afternoon.”
She grabbed the edge of the window with her fingertips to watch the parade of docked boats roll by. The bows and sterns of the boats rocked smoothly up and down keeping perfect rhythm with each other. She sat back and picked up her paper and then looked at the boats once more before writing. “I’ve never been on a boat, unless you count the one at Disneyland.”
“Well, as long as you don’t get carsick, you should be all right.”
She stared down at her pad of paper. Something about what I’d said had upset her. Her pen moved deliberately across the paper like it had when she’d written that she’d lost her family. I pulled into my parking spot and turned off the car. She held the note, but it seemed that she wanted to read it again before showing it to me. Then she handed it over.
The letters looked more rigid than her usual writing style. “The day of the accident, I complained to my mom that I had to have the front seat or I would get carsick on the mountain road. It was a lie. I just wanted to sit up front.”
Scotlyn stared out at the boats, not wanting to look at me. It made my throat ache just looking at her. “You think your mom should have been the one to survive?”
She stared down at her hands. It was obvious she’d lived with the guilt of this in her silent world, probably going over it again and again in her mind. She’d lived and her mom had died.
“First of all, if a car goes off a cliff, anyone inside is at risk of dying. No matter what seat you happen to be sitting in.”
She sniffled.
“And, if it had been different, and your mom had lived but both of her daughters had died, do you really think she would have wanted to go on? My grandmother suffered so much when my dad died, I didn’t think she would survive it. And he was a grown man. It sounds strange to say it, Scotlyn, but your family got off easy. You took all the misery of the loss and pain by yourself.”
Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
I stepped out of the car and went to her side. I opened the door and lowered my hand for her to take. I swept her out of the car and into my arms. The cool ocean breeze swirled around us as she pressed herself against me. She lifted her face from my shirt and wiped it with the back of her hand. Her round blue eyes were wet with tears as she hopped up onto her tiptoes and kissed me. Then she dropped back to her heels, took my hand, and pointed toward the boats.
Scotlyn held tightly to my arm, and her head turned back and forth as she took in the view. A pelican took flight off one of the masts, and she stopped and pointed up at it.
“Yeah, they’re cool until they fly over your newly washed car,” I said.
She pointed at the name on the boat.
“Nana’s name is Lucy, and according to my grandfather, she was very zany, like the movie star.”
She pointed to the name again and then patted her heart. I understood her as if she spoke to me.
“Nana is pretty easy to love,” I said. I could hear the radio playing inside as I stepped onto the deck. I held her hand as she stepped onto the Lucy. Long blonde strands of hair blew across her face as she looked around. One strand blew across her lips, and I reached up to pull it away.
“It’s not much but it is home.”
She swept her hand around and then touched her heart again.
“Really? Most girls hate that it messes up their hair when they come out here.”
She raised a smooth brow at me and twisted her plump lips.
“Well, I mean the one or two girls who I’ve brought—”
She pressed her long finger against my mouth and shook her head.
“All right, I’ll shut up.” I opened the door, and we stepped into the tiny cabin space. The back of Dray’s head showed over the couch. He was too busy with a magazine to turn around.
“Is that you, Nix? I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of opening up your new magazine. Miss July is definitely two thumbs up. Don’t worry I didn’t jack—”
I cleared my throat loudly, and he turned around. He jumped up fast and then had to press his arm against his rib cage. His face scrunched up in pain. “Sorry, I thought you were alone.”
I looked at him pointedly. “I wish we were.”
He scrubbed his hair with his hands and searched around for his shirt. I plucked it off the handle of the door and held it up for him. He nodded with a smile at Scotlyn. “Well, I was just heading out to look for—” He glanced around trying to think of something he needed.
“Beers?” I asked.
He snapped his fingers. “Yes, that is it. Beers.” He slid on his shoes. “We are out of beer.” Dray smiled at Scotlyn. “Goddamn, you are amazing. Nice seeing you,” he said and hurried out.
Scotlyn’s eyes were wide with humor.
“That was my roommate and best friend, Dray. He’s had a few too many concussions this month.”
