by Erin Dutton
Chapter Six
Ally pulled her SUV into the parking lot of New Life House and chose a spot close to the building. She’d expected an institutional building, similar to any other generic health-care facility, not the large, renovated, two-story Victorian house before her. The lot beside the house had been cleared and paved for parking, but otherwise, the house fit right in with the rest of the nearby homes. The modern wood sign in the yard, identifying the business, also departed from the period of the home. The house needed a new coat of bold, blue paint and some freshening of the white trim. Otherwise, from the street, it appeared to be in good repair.
Shirley got out of the car and smoothed her hands over her hips, either out of nervousness or a desire to eliminate the wrinkles from her dress. When Ally had picked her up, she’d come out of the house wearing her Sunday best, though Ally couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to church. She wanted to ask who Shirley was trying to impress with her flowered dress and beige flats. Carey wouldn’t notice. And she doubted anyone else here would care what she wore.
As they climbed the steps onto the wide front porch, Ally’s foot wiggled on a loose board. At the door, a gap showed where the wide concrete porch had settled and tilted away from the structure. Ally glanced at the doorbell. Should they ring? Or did they just enter as if this were a business? She was saved from deciding when the door opened and a large man filled the doorway. He easily topped six feet. A polo with a New Life House logo stretched over his rounded belly. His gray sweatpants negated any professionalism he’d gained with the polo.
“Can I help you?” His voice was deep but warm, rather than intimidating.
“We’re here to see Carey Rowe.” When Carey had called to invite them to visit, she’d made sure he’d had whatever permission he needed. He’d been there for two weeks and insisted he was ready for visitors.
“Certainly, come in. I’m John. I work and live here with the guys.” He stepped back to usher them inside. “I’m the bad guy who makes sure they do their chores and attend their meetings.”
The foyer opened up on both sides with large, square archways. To the left was a dining room with a long table and eight chairs. On the right, two couches, a chair, and a coffee table had been crammed into a living room built to accommodate only half as much. Five guys filled the furniture, including Carey.
“Rowe, you’ve got visitors.”
Carey levered himself off the couch and crossed to them. His athletic shorts and T-shirt appeared to be the unofficial uniform of the place, judging by the other men in the room. As soon as he was in touching distance, Shirley pulled him into a hug.
“John, this is my ma, and that’s my sister, Ally.” Carey extricated himself and gave Ally a nod. They’d never been huggers. “Let me show you around.”
He led them into the large kitchen, with two refrigerators. A handwritten sign on the front of each designated them as “house food” and “personal food.” The one for personal food went on to instruct the residents to store their items on their designated shelf and not to consume items off another resident’s. A dry-erase board, with chores listed next to each man’s name, hung on one wall. Carey had dish duty today.
“You saw the living room. That’s where we hang out and watch movies and stuff. We all have bedrooms upstairs, but visitors are restricted to the first floor.”
Shirley looked like she wanted to argue, but Ally didn’t care about seeing his room anyway. She’d seen several cleaning chores on the chart, but the place still smelled faintly sour and stuffy. Was that just the product of this many adults living in one house, or was it a man thing?
“There’s a visiting room over here.” He led them to a room in the back of the house, then pulled closed a set of pocket doors. “We don’t have much privacy around here.”
“That’s probably on purpose,” Ally said. She wandered around the room, studying the detailed wood moldings and built-in bookshelves. In the home’s heyday, this room would have been the library. A few shelves were stocked with recovery-related books that looked to be geared toward helping family members cope with their loved one’s disease.
Shirley gave Ally a sour look, then enveloped Carey in another hug. He rolled his eyes at Ally over her shoulder. When Shirley pulled back, she kept hold of his upper arms.
“You look good, honey.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. My room is tiny, but it does have a mirror.”
Aside from a haircut and a shave, he didn’t look much different than he did when Ally saw him at the courthouse, minus the orange jumpsuit. His eyes did look clearer, but the years and his rough living had started to line his face.
“Sit down. Tell me what’s been going on out there in the world.”
The furniture in this room fit much better in the space, though it was clearly chosen for short-term visits, not comfort. Carey sat on the boxy couch and Shirley followed, sitting close enough to grasp his hand. That left Ally in a patterned chair that looked like it had outlasted its usefulness. When she perched on the edge of the seat, it shifted beneath her in that not-quite-stable way that old furniture does. She tuned out Shirley’s chitchat. She doubted Carey cared about the gossip from Shirley’s circle of friends either, but he endured it more patiently than she expected.
Carey talked about the group therapy he had to attend, as well as individual sessions with a drug counselor, and his household chores. One of the employees had helped him get a job cleaning at an office complex at night. But he didn’t like his boss, so he wasn’t sure it was going to last.
“He’s such a dick. He made sure I knew that he knew I have charges pending. And he acts like he has to watch me so much closer than the rest of his staff. Like I’m going to steal the paper clips to sell for drugs or something.”
“Has your lawyer visited?” Shirley asked.
“Once. But he didn’t have any new information. I’m stuck here until I complete this program.”
“Meanwhile, you have this court case hanging over you.” Shirley rubbed his arm as if he were the one who needed comfort, but she looked more upset than he did. “I don’t understand how that woman can just say you did something and ruin your life over it.”
“Maggie.” Ally had stayed quiet while they both acted like the course of events that led him here were no big deal, but she wouldn’t let Shirley blame Carey’s “ruined” life on Maggie.
“What?”
“The woman he terrorized in order to feed his addiction—her name is Maggie.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. How do you even know that?” She was saved from answering truthfully as he continued to talk. “Oh, right, you were in court during my hearing. Anyway, I’m sure she’s talked the ADA into trying to throw the book at me.”
“As I’m sure Jorge told you, her testimony isn’t the only evidence against you.”
“I’ve met tons of guys in jail who did worse, and they’re cutting deals with the prosecutor for probation. They don’t even have to do more jail time.”
She doubted the prosecutors were doling out light sentences for felonies. But given his downplaying the seriousness of his own crime, she didn’t know what these other guys might be charged with. “Didn’t they offer you a plea deal?”
“Yeah. But I have to go to prison for three years. No thanks. I’ll take my chances in court.”
“Carey, they caught you with a gun on you. You’re probably going to prison either way.”
“One of the guys in here says if they can’t prove I did anything to that woman with that gun, at worst, they have me for carrying without a license.”
“So you’re getting your legal advice from addicts now? What were you doing with a gun anyway?”
He looked away and cracked his knuckles, a tell he’d had since they were kids. He was keeping something from her.
“Where did you get it?”
He shrugged, but the tension in his posture belied the nonchalance he clearly faked. “It was your dad’s.”<
br />
Ally surged out of the wobbly chair and stared at him. Rage flooded her, numbing her extremities and accelerating her heart rate. Her father hadn’t left many possessions behind when he abandoned them, but his gun was one of few Ally had managed to ferret away for herself.
When Shirley went on a bender, she hauled out the battered cardboard box that held his belongings and railed against Ally’s father while pulling individual items out of the box and throwing them away. By the time Ally was a teenager, the contents had dwindled. She’d saved a photo of his parents, a broken watch with a leather band, and the Smith & Wesson .38 Special. She’d hidden them in a shoebox in the top of her bedroom closet and shared her secret only with Carey. She’d left the box there in the years after she moved out, hidden at her mother’s house, because she didn’t want a gun in her own.
He’d used her father’s gun, the gun she was responsible for, to get what he wanted from Maggie. She pressed her hand to her stomach, fighting nausea. What if he’d wanted something more than just Maggie’s purse? What if she hadn’t given him the purse? How would she live with herself if he’d shot Maggie with her father’s gun—her gun.
“Why did you take it?”
“It wasn’t even loaded. I was going to pawn it.”
She searched his expression for an ounce of self-satisfaction to fuel her anger. But his face was surprisingly blank, as if he felt nothing. Maybe that was worse.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was on my way there. And I thought that if I pawned it, I might get only a little bit of money. But if I held on to it, I could use it to get more.” His eyes shifted back and forth between them as if imploring Shirley to help him. But she appeared too shocked to come to his aid. He’d stopped just short of admitting that he’d followed through on that idea, but he’d erased any trace of doubt Ally had clung to.
To Carey, more money equaled more drugs. Ally didn’t want to own a gun. In fact, she didn’t even have any ammunition for it. But she’d never been able to get rid of it. Carey’s need for drugs had driven him to the point where her only connection to her father meant so little to him and, by extension, she meant so little.
“I have to go.” She backed up a step, nearly tripping over that stupid chair. She stumbled around it and yanked open the pocket doors. The few occupants of the living room looked up at the clatter of the doors, but she stomped through without explanation.
She made it to the driver’s seat of her car before the first tear spilled down her face. She started the ignition, debating whether to wait for Shirley or let her figure out her own way home. Or, better still, let Carey be responsible for her for once. She’d just put the car in gear when Shirley came out of the front door.
As soon as Shirley got in the car, Ally took her foot off the brake and backed out of the parking spot.
“Why would you pick a fight with him like that? You know he’s having a difficult time right now.” Shirley spun in her seat, and even without looking, Ally could feel her glaring at her.
“Ma, shit. You couldn’t let me get a block down the road before you started in on me.”
“He needs your understanding right now.”
“What he needs is not to be coddled.” She didn’t bother voicing her other question. What about what I need? She squeezed the steering wheel as hard as she could. Despite the many angry thoughts swirling in her head, she’d get nowhere airing them.
Maybe she shouldn’t care about her father’s belongings. After all, he’d left them and never looked back. He obviously hadn’t harbored any sentimental feelings all these years. For whatever reason, the contents of that shoebox meant something to her. And Carey had known that. His lack of respect for her father didn’t surprise her. After all, they’d grown up hearing Shirley say how worthless he was. But even after everything he’d done to them, Carey’s level of disrespect toward her shook her.
* * *
“Do you want a drink? I just made my second pot of coffee for the day,” Kathi asked as she pulled another mug from the cabinet.
“Do you have anything stronger?” Ally had come straight to Kathi and Dani’s after dropping Shirley off at home. She must really have pissed Shirley off, because she didn’t even try to get her to come inside.
Kathi nodded and put the mug back. “Vodka or rum?”
“Rum and Coke.”
“Can do. I think I’ll join you. While I make them, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Ma and I visited Carey today.”
“Ah, that bad?” Kathi slid a glass across the counter.
“Worse.” Ally took a big swallow of her drink while waving her other hand in irritation. “As usual, mama’s boy can do no wrong.” Kathi had gone heavy on the rum, and the burn made her voice come out a little rough. “He’s almost certainly going to serve time for aggravated robbery, and I’m the one who’s not being supportive. Everyone involved is at fault except him.”
“So why does that have you so worked up today?” Kathi braced one hand against the counter and leaned forward, looking irritatingly more relaxed than Ally felt.
“What do you mean?”
“You said, this is as usual. But I haven’t seen you this upset before. What’s different?”
“He’s sitting there in that fucking recovery house blaming Maggie and talking about the advice he’s getting from the other junkies there.”
“Maggie?”
“Yes.” Ally picked up her glass and headed for the back door. “I need some air.”
Kathi followed her onto the deck. Ally strode to the other end, a half dozen steps, then spun around and came back. Why couldn’t they have a bigger deck? She needed more pacing room. Kathi had settled onto one of the chaise lounges, and Ally set her drink on the side table, then flopped down onto the one beside her.
“Maggie?” Kathi repeated more softly.
“I told you about her. From the coffee shop.”
“Yeah. I know. But this sounds personal.”
“Of course it is. Carey needs to take responsibility for the mess he’s made of his life.”
“I mean, it sounds like you’re feeling personal about Maggie.”
She glared at Kathi, but Kathi didn’t blink. She was one half of the couple that could get away with being brutally frank with Ally. “You’re missing the point.”
“I don’t think I am. Al, don’t you think this could get a little complicated?”
“There is no this. I had coffee with her, that’s it. And—we talked on the phone that one night. Then I saw her the next day, and she found out who I was. But that’s all. I haven’t heard from her in the two weeks since.” She lay back on the lounge and stared at the sky, picturing Maggie’s face. She’d thought of her often in the last weeks. Maggie hadn’t answered when she’d tried to call, and her apology text had gone unanswered as well.
“Okay, first, you’ve been holding out on us. Let’s start with the phone chat.”
“It’s no big deal. She needed a distraction from life. Who hasn’t felt like that?”
“So she called you?”
“Yeah. But this was before we knew how we were—well, connected. I actually figured it out during that conversation.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t tell her right away.”
“How do you tell someone something like that?” She sat up and turned sideways, then rested her elbows on her knees. She finished her drink.
“Refill?”
“Yes, please.”
“Be right back.” Kathi took both of their glasses inside.
Ally dropped her head into her hands. She’d known Carey had problems. He’d seemed in so much pain after his back injury that she’d thought the pain pills were a godsend. But he never stopped taking them, even when the doctor wouldn’t prescribe them any longer. She hadn’t realized how out of control he’d gotten, though, until she caught him stealing money from her wallet. She’d all but cut him off, and then she found out he’d been arrested.
“Where did you leave things with Maggie?” Kathi handed over a fresh drink. She’d carried the bottles of rum and Coke between one arm and her body, and now set them on the side table.
“She wants nothing to do with me.”
“And that bugs the shit out of you.”
“No.”
“It certainly does.”
“Sure. But why?” The rum was starting to do its job. Her head felt light and heavy at the same time.
“Because you’re a caretaker.”
She didn’t like hearing her concern for Maggie reduced to a character trait. She’d felt something for her. The huskiness in Maggie’s voice as they’d spoken on the phone had pulled out an echoing warmth within her. Maggie had even laughed a little, and Ally could listen to that sound over and over again.
“I liked her. Before I knew who she was. More than I have anyone in a long time.”
“Hey, I know we’ve been after you to get back out there. But this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Ally laughed. “Does that mean you don’t think we should all double-date?”
They’d worked through half the bottle of rum by the time Dani came home from her book club. She found them draped bonelessly across the chaise lounges like melted cheese.
“What’s going on out here?”
“Take my glass.” Kathi waved her hand at the side table between them. “You can still catch up.”
Dani bent and kissed Kathi’s mouth, then pushed on one of her legs. “Scoot.” When Kathi moved her legs, Dani perched on the end of her lounge. She filled half a glass with rum and added a splash of Coke. “What are we drinking to?”
“Please, let me tell her.” Kathi grinned.
“Go ahead. I’ll just lie here and sober up.” Ally rolled to her side and pulled her knees up toward her chest. She got tipsy on just a couple of drinks, but she always sobered up quickly once she stopped drinking.
