Pitcher's Baby

by Saylor Bliss

  Breathe, Charlee.

  Breathe.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  The guy on the ground moves the ladder out the way, and the camel takes a bumpy step forward, followed by another. I rock back into Lucas. I can feel the warmth of his skin burn through my clothes and into my skin. My breath is coming in shallow pants that I can't seem to control.

  “This is fun, right?” His breath tickles my ear as he whispers against it. I glance down at my hands, sure that they are shaking. They aren't, but I am. On the inside, my whole body is trembling uncontrollably.

  “Yes. Yes, it is,” I reply breathlessly. What is he doing to me? I am not this person.

  He reaches forward and brushes a loose hair back away from my neck. His finger barely touches my skin, and yet I feel like he just electrocuted me. My body is on fire. His hand curves around Everly’s head, caressing it gently before trailing down her soft cheek. That sweet gesture is my undoing. It’s one thing to make me feel wanted and desired, but to see him take the time to show my baby the love and attention she has been missing from her own father these last three months, that touches a part me so much deeper.

  Our five minutes ends, and the attendant brings the ladder back around. We stop next to it, and then he explains the steps for dismounting. Lucas climbs down first, and then it's my turn. I grab the horn in front of me and slide my leg over. Before my foot touches the ground, I feel his hands on my waist. I know they are his without even looking just by the shock vibrating through my system. He helps me to the ground and holds on to me while my legs readjust to the hard ground below me. Little does he know, I will never be ok as long as his hands are still touching me—if I'll ever be okay. Honestly, it's just too early to tell.

  Lucas keeps his word, and when we finish our camel ride, we head back toward the front gate. It still takes almost forty minutes, because I keep seeing things that I didn't see on our walk back here and stopping to snap pictures like a tourist on vacation. I can't help it. I want to document this day. I never would have guessed it when we first pulled up here almost five hours ago, but the zoo has quickly become my new favorite place in the world. I can't believe I am just now visiting it for the first time at twenty-two. It seems blasphemous. There should be some law that states that you have to visit the zoo—like the one saying you have to get vaccinated. Better yet, they should give out free passes to the zoo after you get your shots. At least then, the poor little kids get something out of it other than a sore thigh and a SpongeBob Band-Aid.

  Thirteen years earlier...

  Several weeks have passed since we first arrived at Wendy and Mike’s. I hardly ever see my mom anymore. She and Frank got a job together painting the interiors of houses somewhere in the city. They come home every night covered in speckles of paint and head straight to their room across from mine. I hear them up all night long most nights. Sometimes they are laughing and playing, and sometimes their shouts fill the empty space. I hoped Mom would get better, now that we have someplace to place to call home, but every day, she seems to lose even more weight. Her face holds deep shadows cast by jutting cheekbones.

  Last week, I overheard Mike and Wendy talking about her. They believe she is on drugs and not trustworthy. Mike was worried about leaving her here in the house without someone home. I listened as he tried to reason with Wendy. “We need to ask them to leave, Love. I don't want them doing drugs here anymore. We are only enabling them, and you know it,” he said.

  “They are not leaving, Mike. If they go, then Charlee goes. We can't send her out there with them. She’s just now gaining weight back and looking like a healthy little girl. Shit, Mike. I've just now gotten her to quit hiding food in her room! We can't do that to her,” Wendy stated. Her mind was made up, and there was no way Mike or anyone else was going to change it.

  I stormed up the stairs after hearing them, my blood pulsing rapidly under my skin. My face felt hot, and my arms were shaking uncontrollably. I clenched and unclenched my fist repeatedly until I reached their bedroom. Without thinking, I shoved the door open. Mom’s head snapped toward me, her eyes wide. Frank dropped the needle he was holding and then tried to hide it under a pillow. I couldn't take it anymore. “I HATE YOU!” I said, jabbing my finger toward my mother. “You only care about yourself and whatever is in that nasty needle.” My chest was heaving as I screamed at her. “My daddy was right. You are a worthless piece of trash.”

  I barely caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. Her hand flew through the air, heading straight for my face, and then pain erupted along the side of my jaw. My hand flew to my face, covering the space she just slapped as tears filled my eyes. I glanced back at her, hate filling my eyes. “I hope it kills you, you selfish bitch.” I repeated the words I had heard my dad say over and over, and then I fled to my room across the hall and locked the door. I threw myself on the bed and cried myself to sleep in the cocoon of pillows.

  That morning was the first time I ever prayed for death. I begged God to take me away, rescue me from the hell I was living. I would do anything to escape the woman who called herself my mother. Anything.

  When I wake again, the house is quiet. I creep down the stairs after looking in through Mom's open door. I find a note stuck to the microwave in the kitchen telling me to keep the doors locked and make a sandwich for lunch. I glance at the clock on the stove and see it's just after eleven. Mom and Frank are at work, no doubt high as a kite. I pull the makings for a sandwich from the fridge and then take my plate to the living room. I've just sat down when the phone rings. Usually, I wouldn't even think about answering it, but something pulls me toward it today. Maybe it's Wendy checking on me, I rationalize. A man speaks in the other end, asking for Mr. Moore. I tell him he isn’t home and then press end, disconnecting the call.

  I sit back on the couch and pick up my sandwich, but now I've lost my appetite. A thought keeps sneaking its way back into my mind, and before I fully realize what I am doing, I have picked up the phone and dialed my Granny’s phone number.

  My dad never had a phone turned on at our house. He always claimed it would be pointless, and since my Granny lived just over the hill from us, if we ever needed to call anyone, we used hers.

  I wipe my palms down the leg of my pants while the phone rings in my ear. I hear a click followed by a soft, “Hello?”

  I suck in a mouthful of air as I try to find my voice. My whole body is shaking. I hear my aunt ask hello again, and then in the smallest voice, I whisper, “Is my daddy there?” My voice breaks halfway through my question. I hold my breath while I wait for her answer.

  “Pumpkin, is that you?” she asks. Her voice sounds like I imagine an angel's voice would sound. Calm and soothing. Loving. I never want her to stop talking.

  “Mmhmm.” I mumble, “I want my daddy.” The tears start falling down my cheeks then, a silent waterfall.

  “Oh, baby! We have been looking everywhere for you. Your daddy just walked out the door. Hold on, pumpkin. Don't hang up, ok baby? I'll go get him.”

  I hear her run through the house, her feet slapping against the hardwood floors in Granny’s house, and then her scream pierces the air.

  “EDDIE! EDDIE! ITS CHARLEE!”

  And then the stomping through the house is coming back closer, getting louder as she makes her way back to the phone.

  “Charlee, are you still there, baby?” she asks when she returns to the phone.

  “Yes, Ma'am.” I hiccup.

  “Oh thank God! I’ve missed you, baby girl. Do you know where you are?”

  “In West Virginia, I think,” I say, remembering the keychains at the gas station. I haven't been allowed out of the house much since we arrived, so I can’t know for sure. “Aunt Cindy? I want to come home. I want my daddy.”

  “I know, baby. We are going to bring you home now, okay? Don’t worry.”

  I hear someone come in the house through the phone line. The back door slams, and
then my dad’s voice is yelling something unintelligible toward my aunt moments before his rough, ragged voice fills my ears. He is breathing rapidly, like he just ran a mile, but just the sound of his voice on the other end fills my heart with hope.

  “Charlee?” He asks cautiously, like he is afraid it's some kind of sick joke the world is trying to play on him.

  Sniffling to keep the snot from running, I sob into the phone. “Daddy! Daddy!” I cry unintelligibly. My own voice sounds distorted. “I want to come home. I miss you.”

  He asks a question, but I don't hear him, because a noise at the front door pulls my attention away. Someone is jingling their key in the door. “Daddy, I have to go. Someone’s home. I love you,” I say, and then I hang up and toss the phone to the other side of the couch and wipe my eyes with my shirt. I pick up my sandwich, and I'm stuffing a bite in my mouth when Wendy walks in, followed by Mike. I'm trying to chew the bite in my mouth, but my mouth is too dry and I can't get it to go down. Wendy looks at me, immediately noticing the red blotches across my face. My heart is beating out of control in my chest. I'm terrified of disappointing them, and I know they will be mad when they find out I made a long distance call to Alabama. I start to cry again right as the phone rings, its shrill sound breaking the silence.

  Mike answers it while Wendy comes to comfort me. I feel her arms wrap around me and hear her speaking in my ear, but I can't take my eyes off Mike. He turns to me, all color draining from his face. “Charlee?” He asks, and I know I'm about to be in a crap ton of trouble. His tone breaks through to Wendy, and she pulls back, looking from me to him and back to me, before reaching for the phone in his hand.

  “Hello? This is Wendy. Can I help you?” She says into the mouthpiece. I don't know who is on the other end or what they say to her, but her hand flies to her mouth as her eyes fill with tears. “Oh my God! No. No. She is fine. She is right here. Hold on.” She says and then passes me the phone. I take it from her and press it to my ear, but I don't speak. Mike has his arms wrapped around Wendy as she sobs into his chest.

  “Charlee. Listen to me. If you are in any danger right now, I want you to say yes. Just yes.” My dad's voice instructs me. I don't answer. I'm not in any danger and I don't want him to think that. After a second, he breathes a sigh of relief.

  “My God, Charlee. You scared me to death. I'm gonna bring you home now, baby girl. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.” The tears have started flowing again, and I sniffle, trying to control them.

  “Pass the phone back to one of the adults now, baby. I promise, I will see you soon,” he says, and I obey without another word. I'm still worried about getting in trouble by Mike or Wendy and avoid both of their gazes. Mike accepts the phone from me and walks to the kitchen, still talking to my dad on the phone. Wendy comes and sits next to me on the couch and pulls me to her. She starts brushing my hair from my face while rubbing circles along my back.

  “I'm so, so sorry, honey. I had no idea.” I feel her body shaking with the sobs she is trying to control. “Is it true, Charlee?” She asks, pulling back from me, and I have no idea what she is asking, but I shake my head yes anyway. “Oh my God. We are going to get you back home, but we have to hurry, okay, princess?”

  I've been thinking about how our date is going to end since we left the zoo. Lucas offers to take me out to eat, but I ask for Chick-fil-A instead. What can I say? I'm a chicken addict. Don't judge. We eat in the car on the drive home. It’s peaceful and relaxing, but I still can’t get my mind to shut off. The sun is setting across the western horizon, casting its vibrant orange and pink tones across the sky. It’s a beautiful setting to end a beautiful day. I should have been able to enjoy it. A normal person would have, but all I kept thinking was . . . it’s a lie. I am a lie. And when he finds out who the real me is, he is going to run away. They always run away.

  End it now.

  Maybe I should. What is the point in continuing something that has an obvious expiration date on it? Oh, I can probably hide the real me for a little while, but somehow, she always manages to eventually escape, and when he meets her, he won't stay. Even if he wanted to, I wouldn't let him. I never do. I can't stand to see the pity or disgust in the eyes of people around me. Anytime someone got close to me, I would push them away. Except for Ashlin. She refuses to budge. She is my safe person. My light.

  We don't talk much on the drive home, choosing to listen to music on the radio instead. It's not uncomfortable, the silence in the car. His hand is wrapped around mine, and occasionally, his thumb will stroke the top of my palm or along my thumb, sending chills dancing along my spine. I wonder if he’s going to try to kiss me? I wonder if I'll let him. Oh, who am I kidding? I will let him. Oh, God! Will I let him? My body craves it. The softness of his lips against mine, the hardness of his body pressed along mine. I sneak a look at him every chance I get, loving the way his jaw ticks as he focuses on the road ahead. His head bobs to the music as his hand taps along on the steering wheel. Its mesmerizing, watching him.

  He glances over, catching me staring at him, and I quickly turn my head away, causing him to laugh. That sound. My God. Is there anything sexier in this entire universe?

  Breathe, Charlee.

  Breathe.

  We pull up to the front of the house, and he runs around to my side of the car, opening the door for me. It’s really sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet. I like that he takes the time to treat me like a queen. I thought this breed of gentleman died out in the eighteenth century, but clearly, I was mistaken, not that it matters. I have to end this before it turns into something more. If it hasn't already. My heart aches when I think of never seeing him again.

  We can do this.

  I can hide her from him.

  No, you can't, my monster whispers.

  He takes my hand, helping me from the car, and then grabs Everly from the backseat and walks with his hand on the small of my back up to my front door. When we reach the top of the landing, I turn to him and take Everly and her bag and continue down the hall to my room. I don’t know how to end this day. It’s been so perfect, and I’m afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining it all.

  “Lucas, I need you to trust me.” I repeat his words from earlier back to him, causing him to smile. “I need you to close your eyes for me,” I say as we reach my door.

  “Okay.”

  He closes his eyes tightly, just the way I did earlier today. I stand there staring at him, taking in the way his jaw curves seductively as it connects to his cheek bones. The soft texture of his full lips. I lean forward. There is only a slip of air between his mouth and mine. I close the distance slowly. Then I kiss him softly, barely caressing my lips along the length of his bottom lip. His breath catches in his throat as sparks of passion erupt between us like fireworks on the fourth of July. Still, he doesn't move, instead allowing me to do what I want, sensing that this is something I need from him. It's alarming. It's intriguing. I want more, but no. I can't.

  I pull away from him before his eyes open, before I lose myself in the feel of his lips completely. I can't let that happen . . . not yet. I have quite a lot to think about before then. A part of me wonders if it may already be too late. This man has slipped past all my barriers. He climbed the wall surrounding my heart and nestled himself up against it without me ever realizing it.

  I tear myself away. It takes everything inside of me to turn from him, but I do it. Not for me. I couldn't walk away for myself. I am much too selfish for that. No, I walk away for him. He doesn't deserve someone so broken. He deserves more. Much more. I slip through my door without him noticing. It clicks shut quietly, and then I allow myself twenty seconds to catch my breath. Twenty seconds to talk myself out of snatching the door back open and wrapping my arms around him. Twenty measly seconds, and then I pull my phone from my pocket and text him. I know he will know it’s from me when he hears the tone he has assigned to my name. I heard it earlier today when I sent him the pictures I took at
the zoo.

  Me: Open them.

  I hear purple rain play on the other side of the door, and moments later, I hear the ding of my own phone.

  Lucas: I've never felt something more beautiful in my life. The kiss of an angel. Thank you for a beautiful day.

  I don't know how to reply. I mean, what do you say when a guy compares your kiss to an angel? Sheesh.

  Me: I did too. Thank you for sharing your favorite place with me.

  Lucas: Anytime.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlee

  Gazing out of my bedroom window, I watch as a yellow butterfly darts back and forth along the brick wall, searching for a place to land. I don't know how long I have been sitting here staring at nothing.

  At everything.

  I had the best day of my life today, and I know I should be happy. I should be ecstatic, but all I feel is numb.

  Empty.

  I understand the emotions that I should feel. I even know how to pretend to have them, but I don't know how to push the numbness away so that I can feel them.

  I had a glimpse of what it would be like to be happy earlier today. When I was at the zoo. It was almost like I was someone else. I wish I could be that person. I want to be her. My body aches with a bone-deep loneliness. Today, I had fun, and for most of the time, I didn't even have to pretend, but all too soon, it came to an end. I barely made it on the other side of the door before the crushing weight of despair hit me in the chest. Before my sweet monster whispered in my ear, telling me all the truths I don’t want to hear.

  He doesn't really like you.

  He just feels sorry for you.

  He won't ask again.

  You're worthless.

  No one wants you.

  I curl into a ball and let the thoughts flow over me. She is right. No one would ever want someone like me. I am pathetic. And worthless. Damaged.

  Broken.

  Yes, my monster is right. I am broken. I always will be. My mother didn't want me. My father didn't want me. My brother smokes dope and drowns his sorrows in liquor so he doesn't have to deal with me anymore. Sometimes, in the darkest of the night, I pray that God will take me away. He doesn't.