by A. E. Murphy
“I really wasn’t a good person. Not to Lane, not to your mother, not to anyone.”
I almost want to laugh but there’s nothing funny about this. “So my mother was a prostitute, you were an adulterer, and Lane was the good little wife expected to take care of your unwanted bastard when you went off to the military every few months?”
It’s starting to make more sense to me now. I almost feel bad for Lane. Almost.
She still should have stepped up. If she chose to forgive Stanley she should have also forgiven the child his mistake created. Though I suppose that’s easy to say in hindsight.
“She told me she was pregnant when she found out, and we both agreed for her to go out of state and get an abortion.”
“But she didn’t.”
“She used the money I sent to buy more drugs. But apparently she got clean from about four months onwards and you were born small but healthy. Or so I’ve been told.”
I scowl at the thought my own mother could do that to me, even if she did quit, she didn’t quit right away. “What a bitch.”
“She wasn’t a good person. Lane and I didn’t know about you until you were four or five and your mother came knocking for money. I think she was clean for a while after you were born but…” He shakes his head solemnly. “I paid child support. I even saw you a couple of times but I didn’t know how to act around you.”
“So why didn’t you save me when she tried to leave me with you?”
He rubs his thighs with both hands. “I wasn’t a good person.”
“That can’t be your fucking answer to everything, Stanley,” I snap, eyes blurring with unshed tears. “You should have chosen me over everyone else.”
“I know that now, I couldn’t see it back then. You were just this thing that threatened to blow my world apart. You weren’t a real child to me. You were a manifestation of my darkest hours.”
“I know that feeling,” I mumble because he became that for me.
He reaches toward me but thinks better of it. “I did try and get you back. Your uncle… he acted like he adored you like his daughter, and for the most part, it seemed that way. He was an excellent manipulator and I should have seen through it.” His eyes scan my face, sadness swimming in them. “I didn’t know. Honest to God, kid, I didn’t know. If I’d known, I’d have taken you, but I didn’t want to take you from all you knew. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what the right thing was. I gave you to your uncle, I left you there, only to break him and you by taking you away? And to what? A grieving, angry man with no patience, quick to aggression, snarling at the world because of memories? I thought you were in the best place you could be. I worried Lane might resent you, I worried I might resent you. I hate myself for that.”
My jaw shakes and a sob tears its way up my throat.
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. For all you’ve been through, you don’t wear your anger on your sleeve. Not like I did and my shit didn’t come close to yours.”
“I’m not strong.”
“You are. So strong. So brave. So beautiful. And I love you with my entire heart and I would never hurt you like that again.”
I stand but he reaches out and grasps my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. I need to leave. I need to get out of here. I don’t want his point of view anymore. I don’t want to feel guilty for being born. I know that’s not what he’s trying to accomplish but it’s how I’m feeling. Vulnerable isn’t me. I’m not that. I’m not.
“How is it you know how to dance when you’ve spent your life so shadowed and tortured?”
He just asked the easiest question I’ll ever have to answer.
I shift from foot to foot and look up at the sky for a moment, inhaling deeply and blowing it out slowly. This entire thing is so fucked up, all these confessions. I don’t know if I feel better or worse.
“My body was all I had, even when they tried to take it from me, it stayed strong and I made it stronger. I couldn’t learn an instrument, I couldn’t play soccer or learn to swim, so I mastered what I had and I was good at it. And it felt good. I felt powerful. I could rid myself of the frustrations of unfairness in my life.”
Sniffing, he releases a single tear that means more to me than he probably knows. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”
He stands too and shoves his hands into his pockets as I shake my head with sadness.
“I need to go,” I mutter and he nods, looking at me as though he wants to hug me. I almost want him to hug me too. Almost.
When he looks back towards the door, my emotions get the better of me, my anger fades and my lips take control. “What would you have called me?”
He stares at me, eyes watery and his features so clearly similar to mine. I don’t know how I didn’t properly notice it before.
“If you had wanted me before I was born, what would you have called me?”
“Are you asking me to name you?”
I shrug. “I don’t like what Mallory represents and Scandal is stupid, so I guess I’m curious.”
“You can choose whatever name you want and we can change it.”
“I want my dad to name me. I want something from somebody who loves me that I can keep forever.”
He wipes the tear away with the back of his hand and falls silent. I’m about to walk away when he finally speaks, tone husky and weathered, “Keren.”
“Keren?” I taste it, letting it linger in my mind. “Why Keren?”
“When I was a little boy, my mother, your grandmother, used to tell me this story every single night about this young woman called Keren who battled an entire army of demons and sorcerers to save her home from destruction.” He gives me a gentle smile and his hand slides from his wrist to mine. I squeeze him back and listen. “There is nobody stronger in this world than you, but I figure Keren comes pretty close.”
I bury my face in his shoulder. I’m an emotional wreck. He holds me tightly and strokes my hair, kissing the top and whispering his love.
“Come home,” he begs, “come back to us.”
“I really just need to go right now.”
His arms get stronger for a moment and I know he understands.
Pulling free, I turn away and vow to never cry again. I’m done crying. I’m done feeling sad. It’s time to move on.
I head back inside, needing a reprieve from him and the swirling vortex of sorrow that surrounds him.
I meet Asher, Alice, Carter, and Presley back in the sports hall and jump onto Presley’s back, he grunts but holds me without complaint. I wave my fingers at Misha as we pass. She’s taken it upon herself to call me a slut what with me having two boyfriends and all, not that we give a fuck. She’s just jealous.
I bite Presley’s ear and point ahead. “North, my little wee pony. North!”
“That was a terrible Scottish accent,” Presley informs me.
“Yeah, it was more like a Scottish accident,” Alice says and follows it with her hands doing the, ba dum tss.
She then, because she’s Alice, decides to jump on Carter’s back, legs wrapped around his thighs like a monkey. He doesn’t even try to hold her up, he just keeps walking and she slides down his body until her butt is on the floor and he’s dragging her along with her hands around his thigh.
“COME BACK, MY LITTLE WEE PONY!”
“Now that,” Presley comments, “was a good Scottish accent.”
I laugh into his neck, feeling happy again now that I’m with them.
“Oh my God!” Asher cries and slaps a hand to her mouth. We stop in the crowd and she looks at me with big, round eyes. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“What?” I ask, hopping off Presley’s back.
“It’s your uncle, the senator,” she shows me her phone and I see a picture of his burning house, a house I know very well. “He’s just been confirmed dead.”
“Not just dead,” Alice utters, looking at her own phone with a horrified expression. “Torn apart by an animal an
d then also burnt to a crisp.”
For some reason HELL BEAST flashes through my mind and makes me visibly shudder, no idea why. I must be in shock. Happy shock. Because I can’t stop laughing.
I jump up and wrap my arms around Carter’s neck, kiss him on the lips, then Presley’s and kiss him on the lips too. “Oh we are going to party tonight.”
“Is she happy about her uncle dying?” Asher asks quietly.
“I’d be perfectly fine if mine died. He bought me socks for Christmas and snuck the last three chocolates out of my advent calendar,” Alice puts in with a sneer.
“Maybe she’s hysterically sad?”
They both look at my grinning face. Alice cringes and pokes the ends of my lips, trying to pull them down. “Don’t do that… don’t… no… you stop that right now, Scandal.”
“My name’s not Scandal anymore,” I announce, breathing in a breath of fresh air. “It’s Keren.”
“I like it,” Carter approves and Presley nods too.
Looks like we didn’t need the panty box after all.
Living with Presley has its perks, like the fact he gets up earlier than me and makes coffee. Always a bonus. Or the fact I have somebody to hold all night. Sometimes I wake up automatically, so used to sleeping with an alarm set for every hour, and I’ll see Presley’s sleeping face. No nightmares, no monsters, just his peace which then becomes mine. And sometimes Carter when he stays over.
Our laundry is still done by Lane who doth protest about us living together in little notes on the clean bags she returns. The last one read:
“Please tell me you’re on birth control.”
I am and always have been no thanks to my uncle who had me put on birth control when I started my period. I’ll be due a change soon but I’ll make sure it happens. I don’t want kids yet. I want to dance my life away, not clean diapers.
Besides, with two very virile teenage men, because they are not boys in any sense of the word, I have to stay protected. They don’t ever leave me alone and I love that they don’t get jealous over each other. That would cause some issues for sure. And I don’t get upset with them when they want to do their own thing, though that has only ever been like once for an hour.
And it was so hard, let me tell you.
Christmas morning comes and I shift nervously before knocking on the door.
Full forgiveness is still a long way off, but I’m now at a state of mind where I’m willing to try.
So when the door opens and Lane smiles so blindingly at me, I don’t immediately want to punch her in the mouth anymore, like I did to Misha at that Christmas party after the concert and school dance that we didn’t end up attending. My right hook connected with her nose and the bitch flew into her boyfriend. She cupped her face, blood pouring between her fingers. I’m suspended for two days when we go back in January but it was worth it. She was creating drama she so desperately said she didn’t want to create when we first met.
I’m not a violent person, but when somebody tries to cause a rift between me and my boys and my friends, I will put them in their place if they don’t listen to reason. And I really did try to reason with her. She wasn’t as smart as Asher and that is not my problem.
“Come in,” Lane ushers, pulling me inside.
We move to the dining room where Presley, Paisley, Lane, and Stanley all sit around a fancy-ass table, plates set and dishes in the center that are full of food.
“Scandal’s here.”
They all look up and beam at me. I notice a separate place next to Presley and wonder if she set that just in case I decided to come.
“It’s not Scandal anymore,” I say, sitting and leaning in to kiss Presley on the cheek. “It’s Keren.”
Lane, who took her seat while I kissed Presley, takes Stanley’s hand over the table.
“Does that mean you’re coming home?” Stanley asks, looking hopeful and emotional.
I look at Presley who seems saddened by the idea.
“Sometimes.”
“One step at a time,” Lane mutters, patting his large hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses it and I love the happiness I see in his eyes. “Dig in, everybody. Before it gets cold.”
Stanley clears his throat and I know what he wants. We all join hands and bow our heads as he says thank you and shit to his God. Then we dig in just as Lane said and I sure have missed her food.
After dinner we open gifts, I didn’t get anybody anything because I have no money or means to live, but I’ve gone my entire life without it so I don’t ever miss it. Though now that I’m older, I need to stop relying on other people. Stanley paid me a little when I worked with him. I might do that or get another job until we graduate, something I am dedicated to and will succeed in doing. It’s nice having a goal.
Although, saying that, I’m the only living heir of my uncle’s. I might even inherit his estate. That would be the funniest thing in the entire world. I can’t wait to find out about that. They can’t put it all to rest yet because his body is still being examined, or what’s left of it. I hope they toss his pieces in the sea when they’re done.
Merry Christmas, fishes and sharks, bon appetite. Sorry if my uncle tastes like ass.
After we open our gifts… I got a smart watch… so cool… we take Paisley and Presley to see their mom. It’s sad because she doesn’t have much time left and we all know it. We’re all waiting for it. If she doesn’t get a transplant soon, we’ll be planning her funeral. Something I promised Presley Lane and I would take care of even if we weren’t talking.
When we reach her room, I spy Mistress Molly heading for the stairwell and my heart stops.
Nobody else seems to notice her, but why would they? They’ve never met her before.
I follow her a little way down the hall and stop her when we reach the end.
“Molly,” I say, trying to recall our last encounter. I remember her giving me those roses which are still alive today but the rest is a little fuzzy. “What are you doing here?”
She smiles and pats my cheek with one hand. “Magic,” she whispers, dipping her head and searching my eyes. “Is an incredible thing.”
Whistling, she goes on her merry way, leaving me like… what the fuck?
Then I hear screaming coming from down the hall and I turn back and run, forgetting about Molly and her epic quirkiness, sneaker-clad feet slapping against the sterile ground.
“What?” I ask, almost skidding past the door in my haste. The rubber soles of my shoes squeak as they try to grip the smooth floor.
Presley yanks me into the room and into his arms. He’s laughing but also crying. I’ve never seen him so happy. “Mom’s getting a new heart! She’s getting a new heart today.”
I pull back and look at the happy faces. Paisley is dancing by the bed. Lane is hugging Rebecca; Stanley is standing off to the side just watching the exchange.
It’s sad that somebody had to die for this to be possible, but I’d like to think that their death was inevitable and not a trade.
“I’m so happy for you,” I breathe, pressing my lips to his until Stanley clears his throat, forcing us to separate.
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Lane says and I cringe.
“Oh don’t get all Hallmark on us, please,” I say, gagging. “You’re ruining the moment and making it cheesy.”
She sticks her tongue out at me and Stanley tugs me into his side, laughing at me I think.
“Right,” the nurse declares when she enters the room with an equally big smile on her face. “Everyone out. Rebecca needs her rest before the surgery.”
“I’ll stay,” Presley whispers, smile gone and worry in its place, and I nod because he probably should. Somebody should.
“I love you,” I utter, kissing his lips again. “She’s going to be fine.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “Call Carter. Tell him what’s going on.”
“I’ve got it, don’t worry.” We kiss once more and our hands linger together as I pull
away.
I squeeze Rebecca’s hand. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Stanley and Lane leave and I follow right behind.
“So… are we going to talk about the fact you have two boyfriends?” Stanley asks, sounding mildly uncomfortable.
“Not unless you want the gory details.”
“Absolutely not.”
I grin at him and he shoves me to the side, sending me flying into the wall. Laughing, I link my arm through his and press my temple against his shoulder.
I scream at the top of my lungs as Carter powers us through town on his bike with me on the handlebars and my back against his chest. Presley races alongside us on mine, dodging a car as it hurtles our way, honking its horn as we barely miss its hood.
November through to January is the best time to visit Louisiana in my opinion. Everything is decorated, everything is beautiful, it’s still warm, though not so warm I don’t need a sweater. I’ll be so sad when the season ends. I’ll be sad when we have to go back to school.
People wave at us as we blur by, others laugh.
I’ve never been just a kid until now. I’ve never been so carefree and happy. I’ve never known such a stress-free existence.
I take to it pretty well. Some might say I thrive. Some might say we three thrive together.
It has been over a month since Presley’s mom’s operation and so far, so good.
Lane and Stanley are helping to look for a house as she gets stronger every day and they want her to have something to come home to. Mr. Myers still hasn’t come back and it’s getting to the point where we don’t think he ever will.
That suits me just fine. If he ever puts his hands on these kids again, I won’t be held personally responsible for what I do. From what I hear though, Rebecca is looking for him but I can understand why; he is her husband and she wants to file for divorce.
It has been a good winter break. We’ve partied with friends, partied alone. We did a Ouija board which freaked me the fuck out because it kept asking me personally to join it. It kept spelling my name and then spelling the words, join me. Like hell to the fucking no, thanks, demon. We burned it and never looked back.
