Rush

by Beth Yarnall

  Only she hated the thought of Lucas with someone else, of him holding a child some other woman would give him. Oh, God. Her chest hitched, the tears backing up behind her eyes faster than they could fall.

  “I slept in the hall every night,” she said, her words coming out as broken as she felt. “Ethan was so small. He… he couldn’t help crying. He was just a baby. So small. She… one night he cried. I went to him like always. Can’t wake mommy. But she… she was already there, standing over the crib. She had a pillow. She had it over Ethan. I stopped her. After that I slept in the hall. Someone had to protect him. He was so small, just a baby. I can’t…”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “You’re doing fine. I’m right here. You slept in the hall to protect him…”

  “Yes. Only I was so tired. Night after night in the hall. That night… that night I failed. I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to. I was just so tired.” She clamped her eyes closed tight, the memories of that night streaming by like buildings past a moving train. Ethan. Her mother. Jason. Flicker, flicker, flicker.

  “I don’t know why I woke up,” she continued, pressing her fingers against her eyelids, against the images. “Maybe it was the quiet. Quiet when there should have been noise.” She rocked back and forth just the way she used to rock Ethan when he couldn’t sleep. “My mom’s door was open. I always closed it so she wouldn’t hear him cry. I went into his room…”

  She bolted off the chair, away from Lucas. She couldn’t be near him when she told this part. The room was suddenly too small. He was too close. It was all pressing in on her, crowding her chest.

  “I need air. It’s too hot in here.” She clawed at the robe, yanking it open.

  He went to the windows without a word and opened them.

  When he made a move toward her she shook him off, backing into the corner. “Stay there, okay? Just stay over there. I need air. It’s too hot.” She fanned herself with the open robe. Had she ever been this hot?

  “Take easy breaths, querida. You’re hyperventilating. That’s it. Good. Take your time.”

  “It’s so hot.” She wiped the cuff of the robe across her forehead.

  “Do you want some water?”

  “No. Give me a minute.” She bent at the waist, gripping her knees. This was the hard part. This was the part she’d never told. Oh, God. Her breakfast threatened a reappearance. She moved to the bed and sat down, putting her head between her knees. She would not throw up in front of him again. After a few moments, her stomach offered an uneasy truce, settling enough so she could sit up.

  Lucas was there across the room, looking like he’d dash to her side if she needed him. How had she ever doubted him? He’d been there for her in ways no one else ever had been. He was tall and strong, honorable and honest. Despite everything, he loved her. And she loved him right back.

  She held out her hand to him. “Come here.”

  He came to her, taking her hand and easing down on the bed beside her.

  She placed his hand between both of hers and began again, focusing on their joined hands. “I went into Ethan’s room. My mom was sitting in the chair rocking him. Only… Something wasn’t right. I don’t know how I knew. I just did.” She plucked at the hair on the back of Lucas’s hand. “She said… she said that the demon came and took Ethan. She held him up saying that she had told me that would happen. It was my fault the demon took Ethan. She pushed him at me. His body hung from her hands all wrong. His head bent back like it wasn’t supposed to. His face b-blue.

  “She said… she said the demon came and took her baby. She pointed at the crib and said: He left that behind as punishment. I was crying then, begging her to let me have Ethan. I thought if she gave him to me I could fix him. But she wouldn’t. Go look, she said. Go see what happens when bad girls don’t listen to their mothers. It was my fault, she said. She said that over and over. Your fault. It’s your fault the demon came. Your fault he left the bad omen behind. Go look, she yelled. Go see what you did.”

  Mi pitched into Lucas’s chest and was immediately wrapped into a hug. He murmured sweet things to her, sweet things she didn’t deserve. It was her fault Ethan was dead. All her fault.

  She had to finish it, get it all out. “I went to the crib. She wouldn’t give me Ethan until I did. There was a stuffed bear sitting in one corner. And then it hit me what she was saying. The bear was the omen. The demon left the bear and took Ethan. The demon… the demon was my brother.

  “Jason killed Ethan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Thirteen years she’d kept the secret, not ever realizing how much of her she’d given over to it, how much of her had been eaten away by it. Expunging the secret left behind a vast empty space she didn’t know how to fill. It was as though a chuck of her life had been ripped from her, leaving a yawning gap that should be filled with memories of a life well lived. Would she always carry this emptiness? Would she always be less?

  “How can you be sure it was Jason who killed Ethan and not your mother?” Lucas asked.

  “Jason never went into Ethan’s room,” Mi said. “He was only ten at the time, but he resented Ethan, never wanted anything to do with him. There was no reason why his bear would be in there.”

  “Are you sure? I’d be more apt to believe your mother did him harm than ten-year old Jason.”

  “I wasn’t sure then and I’m not sure now. I don’t know who killed Ethan.”

  “Did you ever ask Jason about the bear?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She moved to the window, looking out at the traffic on the street in front of the hotel. “Jason had a lot of problems. Even before Ethan was born. He did poorly in school and was bullied. His father drifted in and out of Jason’s life until he went to prison for armed robbery. Before he went away Jason lived with him for a short time. I think during that time he might have been molested. Maybe even more than that, I don’t know. All I know is that when Jason came back to live with mom and me, he was different, angry and withdrawn.”

  She turned back to look at Lucas, leaning against the window. The air felt warm and wonderful across her skin, so out of context with the memories she relived.

  “He ditched school, stole, lied, and started walking in his sleep. And then Ethan came along, stretching what little money we had even thinner. Jason had to quit his baseball team. He loved playing baseball. I got him odd jobs doing yard work or whatever to help pay the bills. Mom was… well, a lot like she is now. At ten, Jason was pretty much left to fend for himself.”

  For that, Mi would always feel guilty. Between her mother and Ethan, she had no more room to take care of a ten year-old boy. She’d let him down just as surely as his parents had. Maybe even more so since she was all he had left.

  “I caught Jason in Ethan’s room once,” she said softly as the memory came stealing back, bringing with it more blame, more shame.

  “And?”

  “I was doing some housework before bed. Ethan started crying, then stopped before I could get to him. Jason met me in the hall, holding Ethan. He was sleepwalking.” She paused, this next part was hard to tell. “I asked him what he was doing. He said… he said the baby had been bad and he was throwing him away. I don’t know if he would have done it or not, if my running into him in the hall had prevented Jason from doing that or something more. I just don’t know.”

  She looked at him bleakly, all the color leached from her face. Lucas ached to reach out to her, but every time he started to rise she’d turn away from him, shutting him out. Maybe she just needed the space to unload years and years worth of heartache and pain. The fear her fifteen year-old self must have felt was unimaginable. The degeneration of her youth could be pin-pointed to the birth of her youngest brother yet, when she talked of him it was only sadness he heard. Sadness and regret.

  He’d seen the progression of it in the photos from her house, the stealing of her life, her family, and security. Secrets had replaced the usual teenage trappi
ngs of dances and friends, homework and dreams of the future.

  “The next morning Jason didn’t remember any of it. Nothing,” she continued. “I tried to keep watch over Ethan, but my mom got by me that night. Jason could have, too. I just don’t know.”

  “So you didn’t say anything when the police came.” He was beginning to understand her mindset, why she’d kept these secrets locked away for so long.

  “No. I never talked about it with anyone until right now. I know you think I’m wrong for what I did, not reporting my suspicions. What choice did I have? Tell them my mom killed Ethan? They’d throw both Jason and me in foster care while my mom went to jail. Jason was all I had left. I had to protect him. The last time he left us he got hurt.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell them your suspicions about Jason?”

  “Jason had no memory of what he did when he walked in his sleep. How could I tell the police my suspicions? He was only ten. They would have taken him to jail. What if I was wrong and it was really my mother? What would have become of him then? Who should I have chosen, my mom or Jason? What should I have done? If it was my mom, Jason and I would go to foster care and maybe never see each other again. If it was Jason, he would have gone to jail.”

  “But they ruled Ethan’s death as Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Malcolm.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I should have known you’d have me investigated. Well, if you know so much then tell me the rest.”

  “That’s all I know.”

  “Right.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What did I do? The only thing I could. I put Ethan’s cold little body back in his crib. I gave my mom a sleeping pill, and put Jason’s bear back in his bed with him. I laid down next to my mom on the pull out couch in the living room. I didn’t cry. I didn’t pray. I just stared at the ceiling, wondering which one of my family members killed Ethan. In the morning I picked up the phone and called the police. I gave them a story they believed. And then I did what I could to keep what was left of my family together the only way I knew how.”

  She seemed to run out of steam, dropping into the chair by the window, her arms and legs loose, looking at nothing in particular.

  “What about now?”

  “Now?”

  “The police believed Ethan’s death was by natural causes. Why keep the secret?”

  “Why? Because there’s no statute of limitations on murder. The threat of foster care is gone, but not jail. If I was sure my mother killed him then yes, I might take the chance of what she’d say or do in therapy. I just can’t do that with Jason’s life.”

  “So you’d rather he be angry with you and your mother than know the truth?”

  “I’d rather not give him more to deal with than what was forced on him as a child. What good would it do to tell him I think he killed his brother? How would that help him?”

  “Letting him shirk his responsibilities to you and your mom is helping him? Letting him keep the resentment he’s built against you and your mom helps him deal with what happened when he was a kid? He’s a man. He needs to start acting like one. You’re preventing him from doing that.”

  She sat up in her chair. “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Do you?”

  “You think I like how he treats me? You think I like how he lives his life? You’ve seen his apartment, he doesn’t even care enough about himself to keep it clean. He barely holds down a job. If he’s ever had a girlfriend I’ve never met her. I don’t even know if he has any friends. He moved out when he was nineteen and has hardly spoken to me since. I know it’s not because he doesn’t need anything. He doesn’t want anything to do with mom or me. He’d rather starve than spend time with us or owe us for anything.”

  Her voice caught on the last sentence and he could see how much her brother’s estrangement hurt and angered her. He had to press his point here, even knowing how much she’d balk. The thought of her living one more day with what she’s had to deal with was more than he could stand.

  “You need to tell him. He has a right to know. None of you have moved on from that night and none of you will unless you tell them everything.”

  “Haven’t you been listening? I can’t.”

  “You have to.”

  “And what if he hates me more for telling him?”

  “That’s what you’re really afraid of, isn’t it? That he’ll hate you instead of just pitying and resenting you.”

  “Shut up,” she said, her whole body crying defeat.

  “You know I’m right.”

  “You don’t know anything!”

  “I know that you and your brother will never have a chance at a real relationship until you face your past, work through it and eventually get past it. Your secret has put a wedge between you and your brother and now it’s putting one between you and me. You need to decide what you want more: your secrets or your relationships. Until you figure that out no one will be able to get close to you.”

  “They pass out psychology degrees with discharge papers in the Navy?”

  “Think about it. I’m taking a shower.” He knew it was a risk, leaving her right then. He expected her to run. She wasn’t tied to him anymore now that Gann was dead. With every step he took away from her, the feeling she’d leave him grew and grew until he closed the door behind him and it sunk into certainty.

  What was that stupid saying? The one about loving someone enough to let them go and if they come back they’re yours, but if not they never were?

  That guy was a fucking idiot.

  *****

  Mi put the cat carrier down on the floor inside her entryway. She’d taken his cat. How pathetic was she? She’d stood there in the hotel room, staring at the closed door of the bathroom, wanting to rip it off the hinges and pound her fists into his chest. Instead she threw her stuff into the bag, grabbed his cat, and split. Real mature. Of all the ways she’d pictured their break up, cat-napping had never figured in.

  His furniture was still here, all fragile glass and sharpened steel. The house should have been musty from being closed up for so long, but it had a fresh, clean smell. That, too, was his doing. She wanted to be mad at him for it, add it to the pile of all the other things she was angry with him for, but she couldn’t muster the energy.

  She was just so tired, having barely enough energy to set up a make shift cat box with some newspaper and the lid from a cardboard box she’d used to keep back taxes and receipts. Once that was done, she set out some food and water, then let the cat out of the carrier.

  “Well, Gooch, this is it… your new home.”

  The cat sniffed his way out, crouching down low. She picked him up and showed him the cat box and food, then locked the front door. Her bedroom was basically the same, all of her furniture was there, but most of her closet and drawers had been emptied and unpacked at Lucas’s. She stripped down to her underwear and climbed into bed. Although it was only noon, the emotional void of unleashing her secret had weakened her, leaving her bone-deep tired.

  Staring at the familiar ceiling, she tried for sleep. The mid-day light coming through the blinds zebra-striped up the wall and ceiling, a mocking reminder of how out of kilter her life had become. She rolled over first one way then the other. Her bed—so comfortable before—now seemed lumpy and lonely. She felt itchy as though her skin didn’t quite fit anymore. Everything was wrong.

  Her conversation with Lucas played in a loop through her mind, highlighting over and over how right and yet how wrong he’d been. She couldn’t tell Jason. Yes, he was a man now, but when she looked at him all she saw was that ten year-old boy who still slept with a bear and was so falsely over confidant and wild-eyed with fear he held himself apart. He’d never brought a friend over to play or asked to go the park or the movies, none of the ordinary things boys did at that age. He did his work, then went to his room.

  She never knew what he
did in there, respecting his privacy and space. Maybe she should have knocked on the door, checked on him. Every time she thought to do it, her mother or Ethan would need something and all thought of the quiet boy behind the closed door was replaced by infant care and catastrophe avoidance. It wasn’t fair. None of it. Not to Mi, or to Jason or especially to Ethan, who never lived to see a single birthday.

  It wasn’t fair, but it was their life. It was all they had except for each other and in the end even that hadn’t been enough. The last semblance of family unity they’d shared was at Ethan’s funeral when they’d stood—the three survivors—next to a too small coffin at the side of an open grave. Their mother cried big, copious tears, her sobbing echoing the cry of a crow perched on a nearby headstone. Jason had slipped his hand into Mi’s, staring dry-eyed into the hole where their brother would soon go. She didn’t know if his gesture was for her or for him, but it was the closest they’d ever gotten to any real show of affection between the two of them.

  She had many regrets where Jason was concerned and Lucas had stirred them all up with his questions and opinions. If Lucas had thought telling her secret would free her, how wrong he was. The secret was out, but she was far from free. Letting it go had left an empty space, allowing anything that wanted inside to come in and take up residence. The sides of the hole were slowly caving in a grain at a time, back filling the gap with regret, resentment, and rage. So much rage.

  For Lucas, for Jason, for her mother, and for herself most of all. She’d wasted so many wishes for a different life that she’d long ago given up the practice. But as she drifted closer to sleep, she sent out one last wish.

  *****

  The sharp trill of her cell phone jolted Mi awake, startling her out of a dreamless sleep that was as black as the night outside her bedroom window. Her heart tripped again when she read the caller ID. Jason.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you? I’m bringing her over. I can’t handle her when she’s like this.”