Quietly taking a few deep breaths, I closed my eyes. That big but was hanging there in the air. I already knew. “Where are the keys, Dad?” My voice was flat, as dead as the part of me that was still holding onto that last bit of hope that he’d just decimated.
“At the other cabin,” he admitted, “with Bethany.”
Something in the way he said that had me asking, “And where are you?”
At the uncomfortable laugh that left him, I had my answer.
Fuck.
“Where’s the cabin your family is at?” I asked woodenly.
As if my words didn’t hurt to say, my admission that they were his family, something I never would have said unless I was referring to all of us and he knew it, wasn’t clearly hinted enough at, he immediately perked up. “I’ll drop you a pin. Dougie showed me how.”
“Alright.” Clearing my throat, I swiped at the wetness quietly leaking from my burning eyes.
“That kid is something else, I tell you. Smart, you know? He’s turning nine next month, does more than I can with phones. It’s a wonder,” he said as if I didn’t know how old my own little brother was or that his phone had practically babysat him since birth. I’d never felt more like a stranger within my own family in my life.
With a noncommittal noise in my throat he thought nothing of, he went on.
Unlike Queen B thought, I knew my siblings as well as I knew not to leave anything sharp near Beau’s eldest, Beau Jr., who worried me, frankly, or leave my heels out of my suitcase when Max was in a dress up kind of mood. Dougie, dad’s eldest of his brood with the second wife, was phone smart but couldn’t be bothered with much else, unless it was green and hulked out or some bloody videogame. He was failing in school and may just repeat another grade.
I knew them, contrary to their apparent popular belief I was absent in their lives by my supposed own choosing.
“Okay, Dad, well, I got the pin. The weather is horrible right now. I’m going to talk to you later, alright? I need to focus on driving.”
The connection was awful. He was starting to cut out as I got the GPS set up and headed out towards the first stop on this crappy holiday trip.
I’ve been exiled to the family cabin.
“Call me when you get back- road- ‘kay-” I thought he said, then something about Bethany I couldn’t make out. His tone was almost urgent. I didn’t get it but whatever. I didn’t understand much of him nowadays, to be honest. I suppose I’d stopped trying.
After a few minutes of waiting to see if I could make out anything else, I hung up. Shrugging mentally, if it was important he’d call back.
Turning on the car stereo, I took out the Christmas CD in the player. I couldn't say I was in a very Christmas-y mood. Opting to listen to the music on my phone, I clicked on one of my playlists at random. Eyes on the road, I wasn’t really overly concerned with which one of the few playlists I’d made it was.
As “Devil in Disguise” started to play, Elvis’ familiar crooning voice coming out of the speakers, I had to laugh. Mom’s playlist. Tapping the roof, I laughed. If that wasn’t a sign, I thought, headed to meet with the devil herself.
“Thanks, Ma,” I said with a chuckle, shaking my head. And then, because why not, I quietly sang along.
Chapter 3
“What did he say this was for, again?” Bethany held the keys out but had her perfectly pink painted manicured nails curled around them possessively.
You mean, you don’t know, devil slag? I wanted to ask sweetly. I was too disappointed in the sperm donor to care at the moment, to be honest. Scrooged—that’s what I was feeling. I was done scrooged. I’d reached my limit.
I was just… done.
I’d gotten Dad’s text telling me to say the cabin was mine before I’d pulled up. While I found it curious, I just didn’t care to question it. If it sped things along, I’d tell her it was my secret lair and I was really a superhero. The idea he kept things from his wife didn’t surprise me in the least. He’d kept Bethany well-hidden enough from his first wife when she was alive, slowly dying of cancer, hadn’t he?
I shuddered to think what wifey two kept from him, honestly. Ugh.
“My cabin,” I said easily. It was scary how easily the words slipped from these lips. I’d gotten decent with this stuff over the years. I supposed I had my father to thank for that too, seeing as it came so naturally to him.
Damn, I had some deep daddy issues. And I wonder why I’m still single, I thought with an internal shake of my head.
“Yours?” Her eyebrow quirked.
I could make out the boys behind the door she held partially opened, her body blocking my entry, asking who was at the door. Disappearing behind it briefly, her voice was low but I could make out her telling them it was no one and to go play.
No one. I was no one.
When it happened again, I snatched the keys from her hand when she turned yet again to answer.
“Thanks, Bitchany!” I called jovially. Louder, I shouted, “I’ll be leaving the boys’ presents on the porch! Bye, fellas! Sissy loves you!!”
Whipping back around to watch me tromp down the stairs, retrieve the gifts for the boys to drop them off, she spluttered, gaping, “What did you just call me?”
Smiling, like nothing was amiss as little dark heads popped around her slim form, I waved. “You heard me,” I called out the second time she spluttered out her query.
I’d just signed the death warrant on my relationship with my father and brothers, but all things considered, how much longer did I have until Bethany had nipped all that in the bud? I was no one, after all.
Still, as I pulled out and drove away, those sweet little faces waving after my car excitedly, my heart lurched as my throat grew tight.
How long, though, I had to ask, until their mother’s poison settled in and they too gave in to her manipulations?
Chapter 4
Grabbing my bags out of the back of the car, I stood back to slam the hatch shut. Snow fell off the rooftop on my charcoal four door, tumbling to the ground to join the rest of that piling up white stuff already up to my tall snow boots. Standing out here less than ten minutes and my toes were already starting to prick. I supposed it wasn’t the best idea to go for the bargain buy when that could lead to regret; i.e. don’t buy cheap snow boots and then act surprised when you start to freeze your toes off in them. Oi.
Thankfully, I had a couple pairs of thick wool socks I could use to line the boots if need be. I just needed to lug all this crap into the den of a cabin Dad had loaned me and dig them out of my bag. Turning with a renewed sense of purpose, a mission to unfreeze these feet, I took a deep breath.
And then wished I hadn’t.
A garbled noise left me, followed by choking sounds.
“I don’t remember it being quite this… quaint,” I mumbled to myself.
Small didn’t even cover it. The phrase converted fishing shack came to mind, but in the small cabin’s defense, it was so covered with snow, the trees surrounding it, sidled up next to the little house in a way that made me worry for my safety if one of those monsters were to tumble, I couldn’t really say if it simply looked smaller due to all these factors or I’d just built it up to something larger in my mind.
“It’s bigger on the inside,” I said with a laugh, flicking my Tardis themed scarf over my shoulder, drawing the middle of it up over the lower half of my face to help chase the chill.
Thinking of the DVDs I’d brought hoping to initiate the little bros on all things Dr. Who, I hoped this woodpile had a TV and DVD player. Or working electricity, I thought, eyeing it critically.
Back into my car I quickly dove, nabbing up my laptop bag, as well. I could always watch the DVDs on that. I held out little hope there was Wi-Fi to use to log into my digital movies account and watch something that way or download a few books for my reading device. Dad had money but he was cheap.
When I opened the door to this place, I expected to find the bare minimum, if I
was lucky, with a dash of neglect.
With a bit of wiggling and picking at the ice crusting the lock, threatening to leave me stuck on the tiny cement slab of a front porch step, I had the key in the lock and was turning it when the smell hit me.
Expecting mustiness, a stink akin to patchouli and a thick smothering of pepper hit me. “Ugh. Dad,” I garbled out, nose crinkling. Stepping inside, dumping my things where I stood, I found the light switch, pausing to mumble, “Aziz, light,” to flip it on. The lights came on, those mock daylight bright bulbs the old man had favored illuminating the room. “I stand corrected.” Muttering under my breath as posh meets pothead with a bachelor pad flair I didn’t care for greeted me, I scooted my bags out of the way and reached behind me absently, searching out the doorknob.
Shutting the door behind me, I began the task of peeling wet layers. The chill in the air was uncomfortable but nothing compared to the howling winds gusting that freezing crap around outside. Peeling my gloves off, shaking my head, I pulled out my phone. A quick look around as I got the small electric heater going had me wanting to sanitize the place. Opting to stand in the middle of the room, I shook my head as I scrolled through my contacts list.
Clicking on that familiar number, I pressed talk and waited. He answered on the first ring. Considering the contents of his… love nest? Party den? This certainly was not your granddaddy’s weekend fishing hole, I wasn’t surprised in the least.
“You’re having your eldest child chill at your hoochie hut,” I said flatly, “instead of telling your wife to drink some man-up water and accept you had a life before her, and your horrid first life children are all part of that deal. Whether anyone liked it or not.”
“Hoochie hut?” Dad burst out.
“Love den? Sexual sanctuary? Pit of promiscuity? Seriously, am I going to find things I shouldn’t if I have a peek around?” I quipped quickly to add fuel to the fire, because I was annoyed, on top of everything else, to be shunted off to his den of iniquity like one of the countless mistresses he’d probably holed away the hours doing god knows what with in here under the premise of a ‘business trip’.
There was silence on the other end for so long I pulled my phone from my ear to make sure the call was still connected.
“You won’t tell,” he said with utmost certainty.
He was right, I wouldn’t, but it wasn’t for his sake. “I’ll tell her if you don’t sell it.” My voice was silky smooth. He could go turn around and buy another hoochie hut for all that I cared, but to see what he’d done with this little piece of Mom, of what our family had once been so long ago I’d almost completely forgotten, he was shitting on my memories. A huge, get your freak on, those looked like restraints on that thickly padded chair in the corner, what the fuck my daddy’s a freak, dump on Mom’s memory.
“You bought this for her.” My throat hurt as the words croaked free.
Dad blew out a long breath. “Why do you think we bought it?” As my eyes widened and I made a face, because I so did not want to know that, he added, “We kept all the good stuff stored in the shed out back when we brought you kids there.”
As I sat there digesting this, glancing around at hints of things that made me want to fumigate, scrub, sanitize the entire place, I cringed inside and out. One does not need to know these things about their parents. Ever.
“Your mother knew about Bethany and I.” His voice softened into that same sad tone reserved for talking about his dead wife. He still missed her as much as we did. Bethany did not a Mom make.
Why did this not surprise me, to hear that she knew? “She wanted you to be happy,” I mumbled awkwardly. He wasn’t, but that was beside the point.
“She was worried. She wanted us all to be happy.” More of that fun pausing stuff. “There’s a box of ornaments you kids made with her in the cupboard with all the board games,” he admitted hesitantly. “The angel snow globe ornament she gave you is still in there.”
“Thanks.” What did one say to all of this?!
“I miss her.”
“Me- Ah- Me, too.” Ah, of course my voice chose now to crack.
“I can’t sell it, but I’ll stop, ah-”
“Don’t say it,” I barked, making him laugh. Argh. Ick. Nasty- Disgusting-
“I was thinking of giving it to you anyway…” He let the offer trail off.
“Is this before or after I burn everything inside of it but the family memories?” I asked blandly. And there was a peek of the old comradery, at the price of my silence for a slice of family memories tainted with yet more bullshit. Yay?
“What about Beau?” I pointed out.
“What about Beau?” A snort left him. “He’d just turn around and sell it for whatever he could and cut you out of it, if possible. If you have it, it’ll still be here.” With confidence, he added, “You’d keep it around. You could even write your next book in it.”
It would certainly be quiet, I admitted, if only to myself. With the haunting moans of my parents’ past sexcapades and his adulterous affairs of long past. Blech. Burning it to the ground after I’d picked out the few good memories was sounding better and better. The shed was getting lit first.
“I’ll pay to renovate it? Think of it as a Christmas present, from your daddy to you, huh?”
My forever single sanctuary. Sex den to nun hole. How lovely.
Let us address the heart of the issue first. “To keep me quiet.”
Again, the sound of silence sang to me. He couldn’t accept us into the fold, but he’d pay his children off to hold us at bay.
Our family put the F U in dysfunctional.
And because I was just as fucked up as the rest of them. “I want another room added on…”
“I’ll even have the trees around the cabin trimmed after first thaw!” He sounded so excited. It was doing nothing for my bitter, butt-hurt mood.
“Or… you could just tell the missus to accept me into the fold, we’ll all be on our best behavior, have a nice holiday with the kids, you’ll sell this cabin and we’ll never speak of this atrocity again?”
“Very funny.” He honest to god thought I was teasing.
My heart sank.
“You do like it, don’t you? Ah, that other stuff aside?”
“It’s perfect,” I lied, wondering if my nose was growing longer or donkey ears were starting to sprout.
“Great,” he enthused. Someone said something in the background, a non-masculine voice. Clearing his throat to cover up the feminine laugh that issued at something he said as he poorly tried to muffle his voice on the phone instead of just hitting the damn mute button, he came back on. “Listen, I’ve got a meeting I’m late for-”
“Really? What’s her name?” I deadpanned.
As if I hadn’t spoken, he let out an overloud laugh that made no sense. In a burst of whispered words, he clipped out, “Ah, Lumi girl?”
“Hm?” Don’t tell me more. No more. Not another word. I don’t want to know. To each their own fetish and freak flag flyin’, just keep it to yourself, man. I really didn't want to know any more.
“Stay out of the back shed, hm?”
“Not a problem,” I clipped out quickly. Before he could say anything else, I hung up on him. Staring at my phone, wanting to bleach it with the rest of this joint, I shuddered and made gagging noises. Argh. Ugh. Blech. No.
It was amazing how much some people changed, how life and their choices changed them. Thinking of his smirking wife and her rude comments, a tiny smirk of my own formed on my lips. It was mean, no one should have to deal with either of their bullshit, but I supposed there was something very cosmically karmic to their unhappy union.
And they were still reproducing… Or were they, I thought as the unkind thought occurred to me.
It was sad to say, but it really wouldn't matter anymore. I wasn’t stupid. This was a get-out-of-my-life gift. I’d be relegated to texts or the infrequent phone call, no more once yearly trips for Christmas.
The
only real total loss for me was the boys. Was it really fair to them? I supposed it was fairer than them getting a double mind fuck hearing their mother was a liar. They’d figure that out someday all on their own, no help from me needed. Hopefully.
It was easier for me, I’d concede, and all parties involved because there would be no arguing, pecking or bickering, no daddy let me down talks or you’re wife’s a dick to me, your daughter’s being a bitch but all I said was no one likes a chubby girl, yadda- yadda.
Easier didn’t always mean right.
I didn’t even know why I was acting like I had a say in this.
I knew how this all worked. The writing was on the wall.
“I suppose I should start unpacking,” I muttered, and got to it. About to put my hands on the back of the sofa I stood next to, I paused. “But first, gloves.”
Chapter 5
Even after finding a bottle of disinfectant and having my cleaning way with the entire small cabin, unearthing the small angel globe ornament from Mom in the process, I was feeling no better about this whole cabin-to-keep-out-of-their-life thing. Rummaging around to find there wasn’t a speck of food in this place, nothing, uhm, normally edible—argh—a garbled noise left me and I shuddered. Gross, Dad, just… no. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to look that man in the eye after the hidden ‘goodies’ I’d found. It was a veritable treasure trove of perversion up in here.
Uncaring what he thought, I’d dragged all of his tasteful looking on the outside but full of hidden restraints furniture right out the back door. Too heavy to lug through this thick assed snow, I got each piece as close to the back shed as I could before calling it quits. The backyard looked like a graveyard for hidden perversions home collection, complete with pull out sofa, loveseat, two overstuffed leather armchairs that the bottom cushions slid out of for reasons I wasn’t going to fathom but had an inkling, and a very, erm, unique ‘bench’ I’d covered in trash bags before hefting it out of this heap.
The Snowmaiden, A Bride for Krampus Page 2
