Just before I put the picture back down, something caught my eye. I held it closer and examined it. As soon as I identified what it was, I broke into a fit of crying.
A small, bloody handprint was stamped on the wall and then left a trail as the tiny fingers slid toward the ground and onto the floor.
My heart raced to the point that it felt like the vibrations it created would make my heart crack and eventually crumble.
I stood up and walked away from the closet. My mind raced, and my stomach seized in turmoil. I needed to read more. I needed to know what had happened to Kei, what it was that she had experienced, but I didn’t know if I could handle it.
Standing at the side of her bed, I stared back toward the closet, my eyes glaring at the pile of Kei’s reality, the remnants and reminders of her past, proof of the person she once was, the past she’d never revealed, at least not to me.
It was several minutes before I gathered enough composure to sit back down and continue unraveling the story.
Kei’s mother had sent her children off to school in the morning and then gone upstairs and shot her husband while he slept. She then went back to the school; checked her sons out, claiming they had a doctor’s appointment; took them home; lured them into their room; and shot them. The madwoman then cleaned the kitchen, went to lunch, and ran some errands. A traffic jam caused her return home to take longer than she’d expected; and by the time she got back, Kei had gotten off the bus, let herself in the house, and found the bodies of her father and brothers.
As Kei fled her brother’s room, her mother caught her. They struggled, and Kei eventually broke free and ran down the hallway. Her mother shot her six times as she ran away. Five bullets hit her in the back, one in the head. Mrs. DeMet then covered Kei with the pink blanket, dialed 911, reported that she’d killed her family, and sat down next to Kei’s body and waited for the police to come. Unbeknownst to her, Kei was still alive. She was playing dead.
My eyes scanned an article about the arrest, and I focused on one sentence. “When asked what caused her to react so violently, Helen replied: ‘I woke up in the middle of the night and caught him touching my daughter.’”
The newspaper fell out of my hands as I ran to her bathroom, barely making it in time to throw up into the toilet.
For the next hour or so, I sat crouched over the stool, like I used to after one of my drinking binges. I couldn’t stop throwing up. It wasn’t as much because of what Kei’s father had done; it was more because of what her mother had. It was the question of how such a young child dealt with the realization that her own mother had tried to kill her.
When there was nothing left in my stomach and my dry heaving had stopped, I lay on the bathroom floor.
It was all coming together. She’d implied that she had secrets. I chose to ignore the clues. I chose to picture her life as ideal. In reality, her life had been anything but.
I finally gained enough composure to put the items back in the box and shove the box back into the closet. I then searched for her ticket, found it, and shut the closet door.
I sat on the couch and watched her sleep. She looked peaceful, happy even. When I compared that to how she must have felt as a child, I could only assume that she was afraid to go to sleep at night. She probably understood that it was at night when the monster came to her room.
“Kei?” I touched her elbow and shook her gently. “Kei?”
“Hmm?” she moaned.
“Let’s get you upstairs to your room.”
She opened her eyes and tried to focus on me. “What?”
“Let’s get you upstairs. It’s not good for you to sleep down here.”
She made an attempt to sit up but was so groggy she couldn’t. So I scooped her into my arms and carried her up the stairs.
I took my time. I didn’t want to let her go. Something about knowing what I knew made me want to hold on to her, make her feel safe, or at least make myself feel like I was protecting her or taking away her pain. I literally had to resist the urge to squeeze her close to me.
I laid her in bed and pulled the blanket over her. I didn’t want to leave her side. I wanted to protect her from what was in the box in the closet, so I sat between them.
It was no wonder she felt the way she did about nobbing, as she called it. She’d never known it to be used as anything but a weapon or a form of control, whether it was the vile actions of her father or the rape of the children and women in the camps in Uganda she told me about. And then there was me. I never used it as a weapon, but I’d all but told her it meant nothing more to me than any other recreational activity did. There was nothing special about it. Nothing about it meant love. Or at least it hadn’t so far.
Up to that moment, I’d never felt love for someone other than my parents.
C H A P T E R
12
Kei spent all morning crutching around like a crazy person. She wanted to make sure everything was in place and looking perfect before my mom and sisters arrived. I on the other hand could care less. The place could’ve been a pigsty and they wouldn’t have noticed. They were more interested in seeing the sights and meeting Kei.
“Cabot!” Her voice traveled down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I was trying to make a sandwich.
“What?” I yelled back.
“How much longer?”
“Uh…” I looked over at the clock on the microwave. “About twenty minutes. Settle down.”
“I can’t settle down. Get up here and approve of this room.”
“It’s fine.”
“Get up here this instant!”
I contemplated ignoring her request, for no other reason than to annoy her, but then decided against it. After all, she was running around with a broken ankle so that my family would feel welcome. It was the least I could do.
I rushed upstairs, walked into the room, and sighed. “Kei, you need to relax. You’re freaking me out, and it’s my mother. I have no reason to be freaked out.”
“And your sisters.”
“I still don’t have any reason to be freaked out, and neither do you.”
“I want your reunion with them to be perfect.”
“I just saw them a few months ago. It’s not that big of a deal. I see them all the time.”
She gave the corner of the comforter a final tug and ran her hand over the top, smoothing it out one last time.
“Seriously, your OCD’s on overdrive. You’re not supposed to be up. You need to go sit down and relax.”
“I will. Just tell me if this looks okay.”
“It looks great.”
“You didn’t even look. Please look at the room and then give me the appropriate amount of awe and wonder.”
I opened my eyes as wide as I could, stuck my neck out, and looked around the room, which got an eye roll from the red head. “It looks amazing! You outdid yourself, Kei. Honestly, it’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Thank you.”
“Sure.” Acting job over for the moment, I walked back into the hallway. She kept talking from behind me.
“So this is where your mom will sleep. Then I’ve made space for your sisters in the boys’ rooms. They’re never here anymore, so it shouldn’t be a problem, although the décor is a little boyish. Do you think they’ll mind?”
“No.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the kitchen to make a snack.”
“A snack? I’ll be gutted if you mess up the kitchen right before they get here.”
“Kei!” I turned and latched on to her shoulders. “Settle the frick down. It’s my mother. She’s nice. My sisters are nice too.”
She sighed.
“What are you worried about?”
“Well, I’m not certain if you’ve noticed this or not, but I’m what some might call odd.”
“I’m coming to that realization.”
“Yes. And, well, it’s not very often that I meet my pals’ parents.
And other than Mariah and Millie, I’m not around American women very often. At least not in America when they’re acting all American.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Usually, the American women I meet come to my world. I’m comfortable there. They buy clothes to dress how we dress, and they behave themselves how they think we behave. Here, it will be different. I won’t fit in.”
“You’ll fit in just fine. You and I get along great.”
“We’ve only got each other. What choice do we have?” she asked.
“True.”
“See?”
“I’m kidding. It’s going to be fine. And not that they won’t like you—because they will, of course—but why are you so worried about what my mother and sisters will think of you?”
“I have no idea. That’s my honest answer. I have no idea why I care, but I do, an immense amount.”
The doorbell rang, and I watched the blood drain from her face. “You said twenty minutes. It’s been less than five.”
“Did you know you say been like bean. ‘It’s bean five minutes.’”
“You aren’t helping.”
I slid one hand down her arm and clasped it in hers. Our fingers entwined. “Let’s do this thing.”
“Uh…”
Before she could put together a sentence of protest, I picked her up and was carrying her down the stairs and toward the front door. I put her back down as I reached for the door handle.
“What a gorgeous property! My word, Cabot. This area is stunning.”
“Hey, Mom.” I left Kei inside, walked onto the patio, and gave my mom a hug.
“You look wonderful,” she said with pride. “Your clothes even match. It’s a miracle.”
“Thanks.”
“Help your sisters carry the bags in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I barely even got a greeting from my sisters. They blew right past me.
“Forget the house. So where is she?” Chloe asked.
“Yes,” Cassidy said, giggling. “We’ve got to meet this girl you’ve talked so much about.”
“She’s in there somewhere,” I muttered as I pulled the bags out of the trunk. “You’ve probably already scared her away.”
“There she is,” Chloe squealed. I suddenly felt very sorry for Kei.
“Alas,” Kei squealed back. “Here I am. The girl.”
“Isn’t she adorable,” Cassidy stated as I walked through the front door. Kei was standing against the wall in a look of complete panic.
“You must be Kei.” My mother moved past my sisters, and she approached Kei, hand held out in front for a shake.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Catharine.”
Kei shook her hand weakly and somehow managed a smile.
Still holding Kei’s hand but changing her grip from a shake to a clasp, Mom turned and held out her open hand to my sisters. “These are my daughters, Chloe and Cassidy.”
“Hello,” Kei whispered.
“I’m Chloe,” she said as she walked up and gave Kei a hug. “Thank you for keeping my brother company over the last few months. I think you’ve helped him regain some sanity.”
“As if I’d lost any,” I muttered.
“Oh, you’d lost it,” Cassidy said as she walked toward Kei. “Hadn’t he, Kei?”
“All of your names start with the C sound,” was all she managed to say.
“Can we move out of the entryway please?” I mumbled.
“Grouchy,” Chloe snapped. “You’d think you were the one who’d just spent hours on an airplane.”
“Maybe not, but I’m suddenly drowning in estrogen. I can hardly breathe.”
“Get over it,” she snapped again. “It’s your fate and shouldn’t be anything new. You’ll be miserably drowning in estrogen for the rest of your godforsaken life.”
“Take it back,” I ordered.
“No.”
“Mom, make her take it back.”
“Chloe, take it back.”
“Fine. I take it back.”
“I feel as if I were listening to two six-year-olds in P-1 class back home,” Kei observed.
“You practically are,” Mom answered.
“She really is adorable, Cabot,” Cassidy tried to whisper but failed. “I can totally see why you—”
“Okay, well,” I interrupted, “Kei, why don’t we get them to their rooms.”
“Right,” she said, finally escaping the corner. “Your rooms are this way.”
She started hopping toward the back stairs but didn’t make it very far before I swooped her up in my arms again. Me carrying her was much more efficient than her hobbling around everywhere. And I sort of liked it
They followed us down the hallway and up the small staircase that sat on the east end of the house. The girls’ rooms were at the end of the hallway, on opposite sides of the hallway across from each other.
“Chloe and Cassidy, these are your rooms, and Mrs. Stone, your room is right here.”
“Oh, please call me Catharine. Mrs. Stone makes me sound old.”
“You are old,” all three of us said in unison.
“Take it back,” she requested.
“We take it back,” Cassidy shouted.
“They’re so disrespectful,” Mom muttered. “Are children more respectful in Africa, Kei?”
“I believe so.”
“Then maybe I should move there,” she said. “I could use a little respect and rest.”
“Maybe you should,” I said as I set Kei on the ground. “But from what Kei says, women in Africa don’t get much rest. They do the majority of the work.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it, Kei. It just sounds so fascinating,” Mom cooed. “What an amazing life you’ve lived, and to be so young.”
All the women entered their rooms, leaving me and Kei standing in the hallway alone.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “They’re going to annoy you to death with all the questions.”
“Much like you did and still do?”
“Yeah. Lucky you, you get to retell it all,” I teased.
“I don’t mind.”
“We’ve heard a lot of it from Cabot already,” Chloe announced from her room. “He’s talked nonstop about you every time I talk to him.”
“That’s not true at all. They’re just trying to embarrass me,” I whispered.
“Unfortunately for him, there isn’t much going on around here. What else is there to talk about?” Kei asked. “If I talked to my parents, he’d probably be all I talked about as well, and I don’t necessarily fancy him in any way.”
“Was that necessary?” I asked.
“What?” she asked with a shrug.
Chloe’s head popped out her door. “Did you just say ‘fancy him’? That’s the cutest stinkin’ thing I’ve ever heard.”
Embarrassed by my sister’s behavior, I shook my head and walked into Mom’s room. As I did, I heard Kei hop down the stairs. I’m sure she was trying to escape the craziness of my family.
C H A P T E R
13
“Another amazing meal, Cabot. Thank you,” Mom said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Another amazing meal,” Chloe choked. “Are you telling me he’s actually been cooking?”
“Every night,” Kei said. “He’s very good at it. Quite the foodie, if you ask me. Maybe he’s missed his calling.”
“He takes after his dad,” Mom added. “And I think he would have been a chef if he hadn’t been helping in the kitchen on that fateful day.”
“Fateful day?” Kei asked.
“The day he was noticed,” Cassidy answered.
“Noticed?”
“Discovered,” I said. “One day—”
Chloe talked right over me. “While he was helping out my dad at the director’s house, his wife told him that he needed to put Cabot in a movie.”
“How old were you?” Kei asked.
“Seventee
n,” Mom said.
“So you’ve already been doing this for five years?” Kei asked.
“Mostly small parts. Hardly any speaking roles,” Chloe said. “All he did was either smile a lot or smile a lot and take off his shirt. I don’t think anybody cared if he could act or not.”
“That’s it? That’s all it took, someone noticing you whilst you stood cooking in a kitchen?”
“That, and evidently the director’s wife was attracted to him,” Chloe said before giving me a wink. “It was the wife again who got him his first big role. She’d read a book, loved it, and thought it would make a good movie. Bada bing. Next thing you know, it’s going to be a movie and she tells her hubby that she thinks Cabot should play the male lead.”
“Did you and the wife have something going on the side?” Kei asked.
I started to speak, but one of my sisters interrupted again.
“No way,” she said. “He’s not like that.”
“She said it had something to do with his bone structure,” Mom added.
Kei looked over at me and gave me the once-over but gave no indication of what she thought. My mother was still talking. “I got this phone call from him, and he told me that he was about to go in and audition for this part. He knew nothing about it and didn’t think he’d get it, but he didn’t want to be rude, so he went. Next thing you know, he’s being shipped off to Italy to start shooting.”
“Italy,” Kei muttered, “for your first movie?”
“I know. Sorry,” I muttered back with an embarrassed shrug. “If I would have known you then, I would have taken you with me.”
“Sure you would have.”
“Yep,” Cassidy said. “It’s one crazy business, and Cab is the it kid right now.”
“Enough about me, please,” I begged.
“I agree. What about you?” Chloe asked, looking at Kei.
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