by Lisa De Jong
“Do you miss it?”
“The Corps? Yeah, I do and I don’t. I miss my unit, the camaraderie. I don’t miss the shitholes I had to go to. And I damn sure don’t miss fighting for a cause I don’t believe in.”
“You don’t believe in our latest mission?”
“Nope. When I went to Afghanistan, I believed whole-heartedly in taking down terrorists. When I went to Iraq that first tour, same thing. We needed to be there based on the intel. This latest thing is straight up politics. And you know how I hate politics.”
I do know that. We’d talked long and hard about his return to the family. He didn’t want to get involved in all they were involved in, but he did want his family back. He wanted his future children to know their cousins. Heck, he wanted to know his cousins. “It is a mess. A mess I’m not sure we’ll ever get out of. I feel like it will plague our children long after we’re gone.”
“I do too, Celeste. It’s even worse over there now than when I was there.”
“I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, well, I still have friends there. Hearing it firsthand—it’s some scary shit. The shit nightmares are made out of, except those guys have to live it.”
“I’m glad you’re not there,” I whisper.
He finally moves to sit down beside me and grimaces a little. “Me too, mostly. I do wish that I could be there for my guys, though.”
His sincerity overwhelms me, and my eyes tear up a little. “Adrian—”
The sudden warmth on my leg cuts me off from speaking as he has placed his hand on my knee and is rubbing up and down a little. I glance down at his hand and let it rub back and forth for a moment before placing my own hand over his. I curl my hand around his and squeeze, staring at our intertwined hands. He squeezes my hand and releases it.
“Thanks for listening, Celeste. I’ve gotta get going, though. And the boys will have you up early tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that they will,” I say with a laugh. It must be nearly two a.m.
“See, this is what I don’t want to lose. Your friendship means the world to me. I want that back.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Good. I’m going to try really hard not to attack you again, OK?”
I hold up my right hand and vow, “And I will endeavor not to attack you and/or instigate attacks by you.” A laugh bubbles out of me. This is kind of ridiculous. Anyone else would just give in and go for it. Why do things have to be so complicated?
“Night, Celeste.”
“Night, Adrian.” I grin up at him as he starts to leave.
“Will you go in and lock up before I go?”
“Yes, Adrian.”
“Now she cooperates.”
“Don’t push it, sir.”
His chuckle follows me into the house as I close and lock the door behind me. I lean back on the door for a minute and let myself return to my laundry room. My eyes drift closed for a few seconds as I fantasize about what almost happened, what I wanted so badly to happen. I have so many “if only’s” running through my head, but that’s not going to do me any good. So I make a deal with myself. When I move away from this door, I’ll no longer fantasize about Adrian. That little deal makes me stay here longer than I’d intended.
Marveling over how we’d found a new way to deal with our slip-ups, I think this one works best—just pretending—pretending like it hadn’t happened, like we weren’t affected. Groveling and fighting about it just plain…sucked.
I reach up to my bun, release my hair, and comb my fingers through it. Straightening from the door, I take a step to go to fetch a glass of water before heading off to bed. A knock on my door has me spinning back and throwing it back open wide.
“Did you—” My words and smile die on my face as I look into William’s obviously drunken one. “William, what are you doing here?” I say in my sternest voice. I move to go out on the porch but I’m not fast enough. He’s in my house and stumbling to my couch before I can protest.
“Celeste, you don’t look happy to see me? Why? I’m not Adrian? You looked plenty happy to see him,” he slurs just about every word.
I ignore all of that. “William, why are you here?” I demand.
“I don’t know, Celeste. I just know I had to see you. I’ve screwed up. I’ve screwed up again.”
“What do you mean? What did you do?” Flashbacks of a drunken William bombard my memories as if they happened only yesterday. Blitzed out of his mind, he used to come crying to Tripp about every little thing there for a while until I’d told Tripp exactly why his presence was not welcomed around here.
He’s moved over to plop himself on my couch, so I move closer so that he doesn’t raise his voice and wake up the boys.
“I think it’s pretty obvious, Celeste. I fucked up because you’re the one for me, and I let Adrian get to you first.”
I shake my head at him and sit on the arm of the couch. “William, nothing is going on with me and Adrian. We’re friends and that’s all. But nothing’s going to happen between you and me either. You can understand that, right?”
“I understand that Adrian,” he sneers the name at me, “will never settle for friendship. You don’t know what kind of trouble you’re inviting there. He’s after everything this family holds dear. He wants it all. That’s why he’s back and he’s set his sights on you. He may display that sensitive musician side to you, but he’s got one hell of a mean streak and is definitely the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. He has never committed to any woman before. And you’re deluding yourself if you think he will start with you, sweet Celeste.”
Warring with my temper, I maintain control over myself. This piece of shit sure has a lot of nerve to come into my house and criticize a man who has been nothing but wonderful to my kids and me. But he’s drunk and already an unreasonable person, so I know better than to try to reason with him or argue those points. I have to knock my baser senses to the ground. It kills me not to defend Adrian and not to mention that even though William may be willing to commit, he still wasn’t willing to be faithful. Me arguing any of these points will result in nothing but forcing me to endure his company longer.
“Now see, there’s where you are wrong because I desire nothing more than Adrian’s friendship and he feels the same. That’s all.” I hesitate and let out a long sigh. “I think it would be best if you left now, William. The children are asleep and it’s getting really late.”
I can tell I’ve said the wrong thing as his eyes darken and his mouth curls up with hatred. He’s practically in my face as he bites out, “You can try to sell that shit somewhere else, Celeste. I saw you two on the porch. That’s not friendship,”
I’m not doing this. I no longer have any allegiance to William and I’m not putting up with his crap anymore. “OK. That’s enough. Let me—”
Before I can utter another word, William has pulled me down on the couch and has one of my arms pinned beneath his leg. I move to slap him off me with my other hand, but he grabs that hand and jerks it on to his own crotch and suddenly I’m twelve years old again. And I freeze. No, no! Not again!
“If I remember correctly, you like it rough, Celeste,” he coos as he moves his hand so that I’m massaging him. He begins rocking himself into me. I hear a whimper escape me, and I spiral. My mind spins out of control, but I clutch at what words will get him off of me. I come up completely empty. I literally cannot think beyond how much I loathe him and loathe the fact that he stole my innocence at such a young age. “Oh my God, Celeste. Do you feel how hard I am for you? How bad I want you? All I have to do is think of you and I’m ready for you. This won’t take long, baby. Your hand feels so good. Oh yeah…”
His head falls forward to rest on my forehead, and I’m reminded of the sweet kiss that Bradford placed there as our date wound to an end. I feel William under my hand and I’m reminded of Adrian gently caressing my hand on my porch swing as he shared his thoughts on war and comrades. And suddenly I’m no longer frozen. I’m enraged. I�
��m livid and I want this pervert off of me. I can feel his movement getting more erratic and more furious as if he’s starting to find release and when I feel him shudder I know I have to act.
Tilting my head back, I lock my eyes with William’s depraved ones and bring a smile to my eyes. He responds immediately. “Yeah, baby. Oh yeah. You like that don’t you. Help me out now, and I’ll return the favor in just a minute. I’m so close.”
I let my eyes fall to his lips and feel my stomach revolt at what I’m about to do. “Kiss me, William,” I mutter hazily, lick my lips, and meet his gaze again.
“Fuck yeah…” he murmurs as he slams his lips on mine. The second they touch mine I open my mouth and bite hard. A metallic taste floods my mouth immediately. “Fuuuck,” he sputters. His hand loosens a little but mine tightens to a vice. I squeeze as hard as I can and bite even harder as I do. Oh yeah is right, baby! I’m really feeling this now. This bastard deserves to pay. Pay for what he’s doing now and pay what he did to that twelve-year-old girl.
William whimpers and releases me enough so that I can spring from the couch. As I try to get around him, I misjudge my proximity to the coffee table and attempt to jump over it but slam and drag my shin along on the coffee table trying to get away. Pain shoots through my entire leg, but I stifle my yelp as I certainly don’t want my boys to wake to this mess.
Jogging to the front door, I throw it open and slow my retreat as my leg begins to throb. I limp down my stairs and out into my yard and turn, spitting his blood from my mouth as I do. And I wait. I wait for that bastard to recover and follow me out.
He doesn’t make me wait long. “You fucking bitch!” he snarls at me. “You were never anything more than a little cock tease.” He’s seething and stumbling down my stairs.
“I bet your stupid ass is sober now,” I say with a laugh. I’m so damn proud of myself, but I stop short of doing a little jig cause my leg is killing me and I still need him to leave.
“I can’t believe you did that shit, Celeste,” he whines, wiping at his mouth and holding his crotch.
I laugh. “Really? You can’t believe I stopped you from sexually assaulting me?” I scream. “That’s rich, William. Get the hell off my property before you have more than a busted lip and a sore dick.”
“Listen to yourself. He’s already corrupted you. You used to be a lady.”
“If being a lady means letting you get off on me while I am freaking out and sobbing, then I’m thrilled to relinquish that title. Now, get the hell off my property, you low life bastard.”
“What would my brother think of you talking to me like that? You think my brother would let you throw me out of his home?”
“If only I knew what your brother thought of all this. But I bet it would be pretty close to what he thought when I told him what you did to me all those years ago. I was too weak to fight you off then. But not now, William.”
“Wait…what do you mean about Tripp? You told him what we did?”
“What we did?” I screech. “You attacked me, held me down, and made me masturbate you! Yes, I told him. And he hated you for it. I wouldn’t let him do anything because—”
“You little bitch!” He rages and pales right before my eyes. “You probably made me out to be a pervert when all it was just me being a horny teenager. A lot of people do it. You need to let it go.”
Is he freaking kidding me? “How can I let it go? You never once apologized to me. Never once asked for my forgiveness. You acted like you had a right to do that to me. And fool that I was, I let you get away with that.” I take a calming breath and change my tone to one that I pray implies strength and sincerity because I mean every word of what I’m about to say. “Hear me now when I say this, William. If you ever lay your hands or any other part of your anatomy on me again, I’ll fucking kill you.” I lean toward him as I snap out my threat, but I don’t get any closer than that. I don’t want to breathe the same air as he breathes.
“Whatever, bitch. I’m done with you,” he mutters and moves around me.
Not taking any chances on what else he’d do to me, I spin and follow him with my eyes. When he staggers far enough down the street, I feel myself sag with relief.
My eyes burning with unshed tears of relief and my heart burning, I turn to head back into my house. I feel beads of perspiration break out on my forehead and under my arms. Adrenaline. Thank you, God, for adrenaline. As my foot lands on that first step, I feel a shooting pain radiate up my leg. I bend and pull my pants up to assess the damage. I gasp as I realize just how bad it is. An eggplant—the blood that has gathered has formed something that resembles the shape and size of an eggplant on my shin. Great! I just had to have a sturdy table that the boys couldn’t move around, didn’t I?
A faint whisper pulls me from my inner tirade. “Did he do that to you?”
My head flies up and I freeze. Archer is in a fighting stance with a baseball bat extended from his rigid form. He’s not even looking at my face but at my leg.
“Archer, honey…” I drift off. I don’t even know what to say. How much did he see? Oh, God, how much did he hear? Not only had that bastard stolen my innocence, but now he’s also claimed my baby’s. To think, I was just wondering if it were possible to hate him more than I already do. I push my pants leg back down and climb the steps to put my arms around him. Resting my chin on his head and turn and run my cheek over his soft, dark brown hair. “Come on, honey. Let’s go inside.”
I get Archer settled on the couch, tell him I’ll be right back, and walk down the hall to check on Paris and Finn. After I ascertain that they’ve remained blissfully ignorant to all that has transpired and thank God for small favors, I return to Archer and sit beside him quietly. I think it best to let him talk it out rather than start making assumptions and telling him what and how to feel about all that has happened. Grabbing his hand, I sit and wait for a few minutes. It’s killing me. I begin to think maybe he’s in shock and decide I should start talking when he says one simple thing that shatters my heart into a million tiny pieces.
“Dad would have never treated you that way,” he whispers raggedly. He finally turns and makes eye contact with me. Kind dark brown eyes that mirror his father’s are brimming with tears. “I miss Dad.”
He becomes blurry as my own eyes water. “Sweetie, I know you do. And you’re right. Dad would’ve never treated me that way. What Uncle William did was not very nice.” Understatement of the year! I think.
“Don’t call him my uncle,” he says coldly.
“All right, honey. William is mixed up between right and wrong, and he drinks too much. What he did was wrong. He’ll feel bad about it tomorrow.” I almost choke on the lie, but what do you tell your twelve-year-old son about a twisted person whom they happen to be related to?
“I’ve never liked him. Now I know why,” he says sagely. “I was about to come after him, Mom, but I saw that you had him under control.” I wince as I imagine him “coming after” William. That would have been bad.
“I’m so sorry that you had to see that. Please know that it will never happen again. I promise to only surround us with good people.”
He chews on that for a moment. “Adrian would never treat you that way either.”
My heart does flips as I hear him say this. He loves Adrian so much, and he’s such a good influence on him. “You’re a good judge of character, sweetheart. Adrian wouldn’t treat me that way either.”
I give Archer a kiss and bring him back to his room and tuck him in. I make my way through the house, turning off all the lights, double-checking all the locks, all the while feeling something building inside me. It’s ugly and scary and reminds me of the Devil himself. I’m terrified by what I feel right now, and I can’t even put a name on this emotion.
Easing myself into the shower, I begin to wash the extraordinarily long day away. What a naïve little fool I am, thinking I could have a little something for myself, whether it be Bradford or Adrian. What was I thinking?
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Closing my eyes, I feel my tears mix with the water that cascades over my face. Thinking back to that scared little girl in that dark closet who was forced to help a depraved young man masturbate, I turn my face up to the water and bite my lip hard as whimpers start to bubble from me. I open my mouth to release them but all that erupts is a silent scream. Bending over, I start gagging. I grasp my abdomen as the contents of my stomach swirl around the drain. I close my eyes and purge myself. Finally, I succumb to all that I’m feeling and I’m on my hands and knees, heaving and crying and praying.
Nine
A Bittersweet Cocoon
STANDING AT THE island, I roll my eyes as my mother asks me yet another invasive question about Bradford. Popping another piece of cheese into my mouth, I grant myself a reprieve from answering her. Just being around her causes me to regress about twenty years.
“Celeste, dear, you’ve had enough cheese for now, don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes again. When I’m finished reacting like a moody teenager, my eyes fall on Bonnie and Farah. Their reactions are so different it’s priceless. Bonnie is mocking my mom by pulling her skin taunt and narrowing her eyes at me. Farah’s eyes fly down to the most interesting head of lettuce she’s ever shredded. I laugh aloud at all of our ridiculousness. How a parent can instantly take away your adulthood and make you feel as small as a child is beyond me. I hope I never have this effect on my kids.
My mother spins from her place beside Maureen and cuts a look at all of us. “I don’t see anything funny about watching your figure. I don’t weigh anymore today than I did when I was in college.”
This elicits a whole new round of laughter from Bonnie and me. Farah is still too young to be irreverent. “Mother, no one should weigh what they weighed in her twenties. I was a stick then. I quite like my curves, thank you very much.” I punctuate that by popping another piece of cheese into my mouth and humming, “Mmm…”
“Really, girls,” she chastises. “And you never did answer my questions,” she reminds me. “Maureen, make sure to slice those cucumbers real thin, now. Celeste, Bradford?”
