Hush

by Nicole Hart

  “You got coffee made?” I already knew the answer from my caffeine-addicted sister but decided to ask anyway.

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” She pulled two mugs from her cabinet before turning in my direction.

  “I suppose it does.” I took a seat at her modern, glass kitchen table, surrounded by her custom cabinets. I was so excited for her to have such a beautiful home; she deserved it.

  “So what the fuck’s been up?” She slid a cup in my direction, already made to my liking.

  “Just working, the usual.” I inhaled the heavenly scent that escaped from the Harry Potter mug in front of me.

  “That’s crazy about that murder at the university.” She sipped her black coffee while taking a seat across from me.

  “It is. It’s so shocking. And sad. Did you look up the photo?” The face of the young man flashed before my eyes. I had sent Sara a text after we had left the stadium, and she promised to look it up as soon as she finished Skyping with her husband.

  “I did. The resemblance is fucking crazy, dude. He looked just like Jackson when he was younger. Before he started looking old as fuck from all that whiskey.” My sister had zero filter and always said exactly what she thought.

  I never faulted her for it; I actually admired her for being so brutally honest. And it was sad but true—Jackson was so different from who he used to be, down to the way he looked. Her words of truth stung a little, simply because she was right. Jackson wasn’t even thirty yet, but you wouldn’t know it. Not anymore.

  My silence to her comment must have stunned her because she placed her hand on mine before speaking again. “Sorry, that was kind of shitty to say. But he’s just different now, ya know? I don’t even recognize him anymore.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s fine. I get it.” I took another sip of my coffee to distract myself.

  “Not just the way he looks, but everything about him. He never comes around anymore. And when I go to your house, he doesn’t even acknowledge me. It’s just weird. He hasn’t seen Mom in months, and he used to check on her all the time.”

  “I know,” I repeated, knowing she was right.

  “Have you talked to him any more about the drinking?”

  “Not in a while; it doesn’t do any good. It’s a habit he has no intention of breaking. I mean, it could be worse. It’s not like he’s abusive or anything.”

  “Fuck that, Rach.” She rolled her eyes at me before continuing. “Don’t fucking settle for a shitty marriage just because he doesn’t beat you. That’s crazy.” She stared directly into my eyes, causing me to dart mine away from her.

  “I didn’t say it was shitty,” I defended myself, my life.

  “It’s not the way it used to be though, right? You’ve said yourself, you guys are more like roommates now. I mean, I understand he’s the only man you’ve ever known, but that’s no reason to just settle. We’ve been through too much shit in our lives not to make it the best we can now. That’s all I’m saying.” Her tone grew softer, and I didn’t want her to try to coddle me. I didn’t need that.

  “I see what you’re saying.” I was over this conversation.

  “Have you guys still not done anything?” she whispered, as if we were still teenagers with the need to hide our secrets from the world.

  “It’s been four months.” I wasn’t going to lie. The fact that I hadn’t had sex with my husband in that long was devastating and weird, to say the least. We used to be like rabbits, getting it on everywhere, all the time. But then it just…slowed down until it came to a stop. And I didn’t understand it.

  “That’s fucking crazy.” Her eyes were wide, and shock covered her face.

  “Yeah, I know. And it’s taking its toll,” I admitted as the face of the man from work yesterday ran through my mind.

  “What? I see it on your face. Spill!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and I couldn’t help but giggle. She knew me better than anyone.

  “It’s stupid,” I insisted, pulling the mug to my lips once more.

  “Fuck that. Spill, sister.” Sara grabbed the coffee from my hand, leaving me no choice but to talk.

  “I just saw the hottest guy at work yesterday. He was a patient’s dad, but I couldn’t help it.” His lean body was burned into my memory, and the guilt started to sink in once more.

  “You totally wanted to jump his bones.” She giggled over her cup.

  “Shut up! I did not.” I brushed her comment away, but she wouldn’t let it go.

  “Did you talk to him? Flirt with him a little?” She wiggled her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at me.

  “No! God, Sara! I was at work. Plus, I’m married.” I kicked myself for not using my marriage as my reasoning first.

  “It’s his own fault. If he’s not getting you off, someone else would be more than willing.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Stop! God, you’re horrible.” I giggled.

  “Nope, just honest. And you know it. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with admiring a sexy man. Now tell me all about him before Mama wakes from her nap.” She folded her arms on the table and leaned in, waiting for details.

  The quiet moans coming from Mama’s room quickly pulled our attention from the romantic comedy Sara and I were watching while lounging on her oversized sofa. We both launched to our feet and headed into her room, and the cries become more prominent the closer we got.

  I was ahead of Sara and the first to enter the room, but she was right behind me.

  “Mama, what’s wrong?” I asked, knowing a verbal response wouldn’t come but asking just the same. Mama was sitting straight up in her bed, scraping her right hand over her left, staring at her fingers, moaning as tears streamed down her porcelain cheeks.

  “What is it?” Sara mumbled before each of us flanked Mama’s side trying to comfort her.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I grabbed her hand, the scar over her ring finger still too deep to hide.

  “Did you have a bad dream?” Sara wrapped her arms around our mother’s frail shoulders, trying to soothe her cries as I continued to rub my hands over hers.

  “Mmmm…mmmmm.” Her lips were tight, but her eyes were wild with fear, and for a moment, I wondered if she was still asleep. She was still rubbing one hand over the other as if she were trying to wipe something away. That’s when I realized that her scar was the focus of her frustration.

  “Mama, stop. It’s okay. It’s fine.” I closed my hand around hers and scanned the nightstand next to her bed.

  Sara realized what I was looking for and swiped the ring from the glass plate next to the lamp, handing it to me.

  “Here, here. See, it’s all better.” My voice a calm whisper as I placed the white gold ring with three hearts on her scar-ridden finger.

  “It’s all gone. It’s all gone.” Sara rubbed her back in a circular motion, and Mama’s moans quieted, her tears replaced with shaky breaths.

  “It’s okay,” I repeated once again, trying to reassure all three of us at once.

  “It’s all gone, Mama. Nothing can hurt you anymore. All that’s over.” Sara pressed her lips to Mama’s temple, and my heart began to thrash against my ribcage.

  I only wished that I had as much confidence in the situation as Sara did.

  She didn’t know. She didn’t see what I saw.

  We spent the next thirty minutes trying to comfort her in silence as she slowly drifted off to sleep. We slid out of the bed and exited her room without a sound, closing the door behind us.

  “I fucking hate him. Still,” Sara murmured under her breath as we walked back into the kitchen.

  I watched her start a fresh pot of coffee, nodding as she held up my cup.

  “Me too.”

  “He fucked her up bad. She’ll never be normal again.” She shook her head and grabbed a cupcake from the container on her counter before shoving another in front of me.

  “Do you ever get scared?” I asked without thinking twice.

  “Of what?” She cocked her
brow at me in confusion.

  “That he’ll come back for us.” I stared at the table, unable to look her in the eye.

  “He’s a fucking vegetable. He’s not going anywhere.” She chuckled at her own statement.

  “Technically, it’s just a coma. He’s not braindead. What if he wakes up?” I bit my bottom lip, trying not to let my fears and emotions get the best of me as Sara let out a full-on laugh from the other side of the kitchen.

  “He hasn’t moved in twelve years, he’s not going anywhere. Besides, the doctors all said the longer he’s comatose, the less likely he is to wake up. If he does wake up, he ain’t walking out of that nursing home.” She poured both of us another cup of coffee while she spoke and then sat at the table with me.

  “But what if he did?” I wanted to know what she thought.

  “Then fuck that motherfucker. I’m not scared of him. I’ve got a forty-five with his name on it if he ever came around any of us—that’s if Jake didn’t do it first.” And I knew she believed it. She wasn’t scared of him, she didn’t have a fearful bone in her body.

  I don’t think she was ever scared of him. The only reason she didn’t stand up to him when she was a child was to try to protect Mama.

  “But seriously, sis. We’re okay. He can’t hurt us. Not anymore.” She stared at me, waiting for me to make eye contact with her.

  I gave her a nod, assuring her that I believed her. And I hoped to God she believed me because I wasn’t so sure.

  I’d never told anyone what Jackson and I saw that day. It was the secret that we’d promised we’d take to the grave. But a part of me always worried that Duane would wake from his coma and come after me. He knew I saw him. He knew I left him there to die. And he would come back to punish me if he ever got the chance. I was sure of it.

  Sara and I were so close, part of me wanted to tell her the truth. But she was so young then, and I was too afraid she’d tell Mama. And I also believed deep down in my heart that Mama would be upset with me for leaving him there and not calling for help. Because no matter how horrible he was—to all of us—I knew she loved him. And now, too much time had gone by for me to confess the truth. So the only option was to leave it alone.

  “Anyway, enough of the heavy shit.” She stood and took both of our cups to the dishwasher.

  “Agreed.”

  “Do you want to finish the movie?” she asked, pulling a bottle of wine from the refrigerator, and I chuckled. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and the fact that she even had it in the house surprised me.

  “Actually, it’s getting late. I better get home. I think she’s down for the night, so I’ll come back tomorrow after work.” I glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered if Jackson was even home. He hadn’t called to check on me, which he rarely did anymore, but I assumed he was still working.

  “Party pooper.” Sara stuck her tongue out at me before putting the wine back in the refrigerator.

  “Save it for this weekend. I’ll come over unless Jackson has plans for us.” Who was I kidding? Jackson didn’t make plans for us, and I knew I’d be here as long as Sara wasn’t busy with Jake.

  “Okay, bitch.” She pulled me into a tight hug and gave me a squeeze.

  “Give Mama a kiss for me and let her know I’ll be back tomorrow. Let me know if she has another episode; I can come help.” I wrapped my arms around my baby sister and held on tightly.

  “I will. Be careful. And let me know if you get the nerve to hit on the sexy daddy at work.” She wiggled her eyebrows before smacking her hand over my bottom.

  “You’re a horrible person,” I retorted with a snort before turning to the front door.

  “You fucking love me.” She aimed her middle finger in my direction.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved my finger right back before closing the door behind me.

  I really couldn’t imagine my life without my sister. She was my savior even when she was too young to realize what that was. Her strength and sense of humor kept me going, and I could never thank her enough.

  “Is that minuscule enough for you?” I nodded toward the chopped onions sitting on the cutting board in front of me.

  “I suppose that’ll do.” Sara observed my handy work. She was so picky when it came to certain foods.

  She loved potato salad with onions, but they had to be ridiculously small or it made her “gag.” I knew it was because that’s how Mama used to make it when we were kids. She’d always worked so much that she didn’t often cook—not to mention, there was never really an abundance of food in our house anyhow. But when she did, it was always delicious and perfect.

  I rolled my eyes at her observation and gave her a dramatic bow. She reciprocated by kicking me on the bottom with her bare foot when she brushed past me. I shook my head at her as she made her way out of the sliding glass door to the backyard with a plate of hamburger patties in her hand.

  It was still ridiculously hot outside, but Sara had purchased a canopy for the patio to provide a little shade. And that’s where I saw Mama, holding a glass of sweet tea, intently watching Jake at the grill.

  I threw the finely chopped onions into the bowl and secured the lid before going outside to check on my mother.

  I gave her shoulder a light squeeze so I didn’t startle her. “You doing okay, Mama?”

  She simply grabbed my hand and pressed it against her cheek, causing my chest to constrict at her affectionate gesture. I let out a sigh of relief, thankful that today was a good day for her.

  “Let me put some more ice in your tea, okay?” I pulled the glass from her frail fingertips and walked back toward the house before yelling over my shoulder at Jake, “Do you need anything while I’m inside?”

  “Nah, I think I’m good for now.” He gave me a nod with his bottled beer held up in front of him before swatting Sara on the bottom with a roll of paper towels.

  I loved the affection he always seemed to show my sister; even the smallest or silliest gesture made me happy. When I stepped into the kitchen, the screen on my cell lit up on the counter. I noticed it was from Jackson, so I slid it open.

  I rolled my eyes at his short answer. I’d sent him a text two hours ago asking if he wanted to join us at Sara’s. And I knew his two-word response actually meant only one. No.

  Not that I was surprised. He never came over with me anymore. Part of me was glad. His drinking embarrassed me sometimes, so keeping my home life and my family life separate was just easier. I tried to downplay Jackson’s problem, but it was obvious to everyone, even if we didn’t speak about it often.

  Although, I wasn’t positive he was even drinking yet, it was only noon. But it was also the weekend, so it was likely. I couldn’t even force him to budge this morning when I left the house. He was sleeping off his whiskey from the night before, and I knew he’d gotten to bed late, so I wasn’t surprised.

  I typed with my own short response and pushed him from my mind, hoping to enjoy the day with my family, minus my husband. As usual.

  I hit send and turned my phone over before refilling Mama’s glass with crushed ice and fresh tea.

  “How about a glass of wine?” Sara wiggled her eyebrows at me when she joined me in the kitchen.

  “Geez, it’s only noon.” I popped an olive into my mouth and rolled my eyes.

  “We’re fucking grown, remember?” She shoved her hip against mine before opening the refrigerator and then grabbing the chilled bottle still waiting from earlier in the week.

  “I know that.” I felt a little defensive as I grabbed another olive from the bowl on the counter, because she was right.

  “Besides, you can have a glass or two now, then you’ll be good to go by the time you have to drive home later.” Her reasoning actually made a lot of sense.

  I hadn’t had a drink in months, it really wasn’t my thing. I drank some in high school and right after, but once it became such an important part of Jackson’s life, it became more of an annoyance to me. And I definitely never had a drink in
front of him. That would only give him ammunition when he got on my nerves during a binge.

  “Maybe one,” I conceded as Sara pulled two glasses from her cabinet.

  “Or two,” she corrected, stabbing the cork with the wine opener and giving it a twist.

  The city traffic was light tonight, and I was thankful, yet a little surprised. The sound of nineties’ pop filled my car, and I bobbed my head along to the music while sitting at the red light. My buzz from the two glasses of wine I’d consumed during lunch was long gone, but my good mood remained. I really did love spending time with my family.

  Mama had a great day, and I always enjoyed hanging out with Sara. And Jake made me feel welcome in their home, which I was thankful for. It made me feel guilty for the way Jackson ignored Sara these days when she came over. Not that he was ever much of a social person, but it was so much worse now. Sara brushed it off though, and it never seemed to bother her—not that she let on, anyway.

  It also made me grateful that my little sister had found such a good man with a good soul and playful spirit. He always cracked jokes and cut up. Sara said it was because he was in the military and had been forced to be so serious while he was there. But he shut it off when he left the base and didn’t allow that side of him to peek through.

  I pulled into my driveway and saw Jackson’s truck parked in his usual spot. I felt guilty because a small part of me hoped he’d be gone to the bar or out with a co-worker. I didn’t want to deal with him being drunk and hateful tonight. I had a great day, and I wasn’t ready to have my mood shattered.

  But as I walked through the front door, darkness had settled over the living room. I flipped the tableside lamp on when I set my purse on the couch before making my way to the equally dark kitchen with my plate of leftovers for Jackson.

  Once I placed the container on the bar, I walked down the hall to our bedroom. I stuck my head in the doorway and saw Jackson sprawled out on the mattress, seemingly in the same position he was when I left. My heart leaped into my throat as I walked closer to him, the scary scenario that lived in the back of my mind coming front and center. I always worried that one of these days, he would actually drink himself to death. But as I got closer, I could hear his light snores, and I let out a small exhale.