The Walls

by Hollie Overton

  CHAPTER TEN

  Happy birthday, dear Ryan. Happy birthday to you.” Pops, Lance, Ryan’s girlfriend, Ella, and twenty-five other teenagers gathered around the picnic table, singing loudly and faces aglow from the candlelight, as Ryan leaned down to blow out his candles. In the past year, Ryan had suddenly blossomed, his newfound physical prowess giving him more confidence. Kristy couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that her baby boy was sixteen. That early dawn when her water broke seemed like just yesterday. Pops was working the day shift, so their neighbor Mrs. Roberts drove Kristy to the hospital. She was grateful Pops wasn’t there. Having her father in the delivery room would have been way too awkward.

  Betty, a kind, elderly, gray-haired nurse, coached Kristy through her arduous labor, clutching her hand, wiping the sweat and tears that streamed down Kristy’s face, feeding her ice chips and urging her on.

  “You’ve got this, sugar. You can do it. You’re so strong,” Betty chanted over and over for seventeen straight hours. Kristy had pushed so hard she thought she might come undone. Then she saw her baby boy, all eight pounds, two ounces of him. Even covered in goo, his tuft of sandy brown hair matted to his tiny head, his tiny legs and arms flailing, her baby was the most incredible sight she’d ever seen. At her touch, Ryan’s cries instantly faded. “It’s you and me forever,” Kristy had whispered through her tears. It didn’t seem possible that he was almost an adult. But here he was extinguishing all sixteen candles (and one for luck).

  Ryan turned to Ella, the young redhead practically glowing in her pink party dress. Ryan pulled her in for a kiss, his smile infectious. A hollowness formed in Kristy’s stomach, a profound sense that she was running out of time with him. Or maybe that’s what being a parent was all about. Raising someone you loved with all your being and then having the courage to let them go. She was doing her best trying to keep it together.

  Today was about Ryan. Kristy had been surprised by how many kids had shown up, including that shithead Scotty Welch.

  “You’re inviting him?” Kristy had asked when she saw the guest list.

  Ryan shrugged. “His friends thought the move I used to kick Scotty’s ass was dope. He had no choice but to be nice to me. I like the other guys, so I have to invite Scotty.” Kristy was this close to saying hell no, there was no way that kid was stepping foot on her property, but Lance made the final call.

  “The more the merrier, babe. Besides, we shouldn’t hold grudges. Isn’t that right, Ry?” Kristy lost that argument before it even began. The party had been a good distraction for Lance. He’d been so busy organizing he didn’t have time to take out his frustrations on her. He’d agreed to host it, then threw himself into making arrangements.

  “We’ll need to do some work around the place. Get it in working order.”

  Lance knew how much pride Kristy took in her home. They’d already done a bunch of repairs when he moved in. “What needs to be fixed?” she asked.

  “The yard needs some serious landscaping and the fence needs repainting. Ryan, are you up for the challenge?”

  Ryan eagerly agreed, and each night and on the weekends they would disappear outside, painting the peeling fences, mowing the lawn, the two of them thick as thieves. Lance would come to bed exhausted, pulling Kristy into his arms, telling her how much he loved her, and how lucky they were to be a family. Though she wished this reprieve would last, Kristy knew it was temporary. She had to do something. Maybe counseling, but first she had to get Lance to agree that anything was wrong. She had been asking around about lawyers, talking to Carmen. “It’s for a friend,” she said. “Someone I’ve known a long time who’s in a bad place.” Carmen had given her several names. But the last thing Kristy wanted was to ruin Ryan’s birthday. That’s what she had to focus on.

  “Who wants cake?” Kristy asked.

  “I do,” Pops said enthusiastically, and everyone laughed, including Ryan. Kristy started to cut the cake, but Lance grabbed the knife from her and set it on the table.

  “Darlin’, hold on one second. Listen up, everyone. Can I have your attention?”

  Scotty Welch and the jocks inched closer to the table. Ella and Ryan and the debate kids made their way over, alongside another group of grade school friends. Lance clapped his hands.

  Everyone crowded around Lance, eagerly awaiting his announcement.

  “Pops, give me two minutes and then you can have your cake. I have a little surprise for our boy,” Lance said. Kristy gritted her teeth, irritated that Lance had claimed ownership of her son. You had nothing to do with him, she thought. He’s not yours.

  “What surprise?” she asked Lance.

  “You’ll see.” Lance reached for his phone and sent a text, then zeroed in on Ryan.

  “What’s going on, Lance?” Ryan said.

  “Yeah, what’s happening?” Pops asked quizzically.

  Lance slapped Ryan on the shoulder, a playful display of macho affection. “Your mama and I are getting a little tired of playing chauffeur. Isn’t that right?” Lance asked.

  Kristy hesitated. Some days driving Ryan to school was the only time she saw him. It was often her favorite time of the day. Kristy could tell from Lance’s probing gaze that she was meant to respond. Play along, he seemed to be saying.

  “You heard what Lance said,” Kristy replied, wondering if anyone could spot the false enthusiasm or her strained smile. She doubted it. They were all too engrossed in the Lance Dobson show.

  “Ryan, I thought about buying you a yearly bus pass, but you only turn sixteen once,” Lance said.

  He pressed another button on his phone. Seconds later, Kristy watched as a brand-new black Jeep came roaring toward them, stopping just a few feet from the party. With its sparkling silver rims and a sunroof, it was, quite simply, a teenager’s dream car. Hell, it was Kristy’s dream car. The door opened and Mac emerged, an aw shucks grin on his wide, open face. Kristy stared at Mac in disbelief, her best friend, handing over the car keys to Lance, the two of them smug and satisfied with themselves.

  “I recruited some help,” Lance said. “Scotty’s dad hooked me up.” Scotty beamed, the other guys high-fiving him, a shit-eating grin on the young man’s face at being in on the secret. “And Mac volunteered to be part of the surprise.”

  Mac grinned at Lance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kristy this surprised.”

  “I’m surprised all right,” Kristy said, fighting to keep her rage from bubbling over. Lance and Mac had gone out for beers once or twice, but this was too much. Lance went behind Kristy’s back and used her best friend to organize a birthday present for her son.

  Ryan’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy. An expression Kristy had never seen until right this moment, and it was all Lance’s doing. She should have been happy, but Kristy had never been more devastated. She’d bought Ryan a navy-blue sports coat, for God’s sake, and given it to him before the party.

  “It’ll be great for your tournaments,” she told Ryan. Lance was turning her into a fool, someone pathetic and unimportant. Lance didn’t notice her fury, his hero moment still unfolding. He turned to Ryan and held out the car keys.

  “It’s a big responsibility but you’ve proven you’re ready for it,” Lance said.

  “Holy shit!” Ryan said. “Is this for real?” That’s what Kristy wanted to ask. Her mouth hung open in disbelief, listening to the jealous murmurs of the other teens.

  “Wow! How cool is that? Isn’t Mr. Dobson awesome?” Ella said to Kristy, as if Lance were some kind of deity who had just walked on water.

  “He certainly is,” Kristy responded, resenting how Lance had turned Ryan’s sixteenth birthday into his own one-man show. But that was the real Lance. In every situation, he took center stage, hating when anyone, especially Kristy, dared to usurp his spotlight.

  “Go on, check it out,” Lance urged, motioning Ella and Ryan forward.

  Kristy normally weighed every word, calculated her phrasing and
intonation so she wouldn’t upset Lance, but this time she forgot herself.

  “You got him a car without consulting me? What the hell were you thinking?” she said under her breath so that Ryan and Ella couldn’t hear. Lance’s head swiveled away from the celebration, eyes narrowing, a movement almost imperceptible to anyone but Kristy. She thought about challenging him. What are you going to do, Lance? Punch me in the abdomen? Twist my arm? Pull my hair until I cry out? Go on. Do it. Do it here in front of everyone.

  But the thought of Ryan’s smile fading as he tried to reconcile what Kristy was saying with the man he’d grown to love, or of Pops gasping for breath, his airway constricted by his anger and disbelief, terrified her.

  “I think Kristy’s had too much to drink,” Lance would say, and they’d see her eyes were shiny from two glasses of wine. Ryan would tell her to go to bed. “Mom, you’re embarrassing us.”

  There was always the chance that Lance would explode, reaching out to strike Kristy, sending her crashing onto the table, sending the cake flying. Ella would scream, hands covering her mouth. The other girls would rush off. Scotty Welch would hurry home, gleefully recounting the Tucker family’s latest drama. No. Kristy couldn’t do that to Ryan. She couldn’t ruin his party. She pasted on the dutiful smile she’d patented, a smile so unflappable no one would see the cracks beneath the surface.

  “Lance, all I meant to say was that it’s just so generous. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” Kristy said, too afraid to take her chances that things might spiral out of control. She stood on her tiptoes for a kiss, hoping physical affection might defuse things. Lance’s smile returned, his face flushed from the onslaught of accolades.

  “We’re a family, Kristy. One day you’ll see that,” Lance said softly, and Kristy heard the tinge of warning in his voice. He gave her a quick kiss.

  “Now let’s get this cake served,” Lance said, handing the knife back to Kristy so she could resume her cake-serving duties.

  It wasn’t really a cake knife; it was a long, sharp kitchen knife. Its weight was heavy in her hand; it would cut through the cake without much pressure. An image of the knife cutting through human flesh flashed through her mind, right through the carotid, the artery that joins the heart to the brain. The thought startled her as the knife sliced effortlessly through the cake. She tried to shake it off, dutifully slicing and placing thick layers of chocolate on small paper plates while everyone ignored her, more interested in Ryan’s new car than her sad store-bought cake. Kristy didn’t know exactly what Lance was doing. Was this something he’d planned, some way to isolate her from her family, or even replace her? If so, it was working beautifully. Kristy wanted to scream at Lance, They’re my family. They’re mine.

  Kristy wasn’t some schoolgirl or novice in the ways of the world. She spent most of her working life surrounded by violent men, impulsive men, unrepentant men. And yet she’d been duped. Lance’s true nature was beginning to surface, and not just in private. A few weeks ago, Lance announced that he’d been let go from the YMCA after a disagreement with the owner. When she pressed for more details, Lance slammed down his glass of water on the bedside table.

  “Gave over two years of my time to that place, training dozens of fighters, and that pencil dick has the nerve to say he can’t pay me an extra five dollars.”

  Lance had also fallen out of favor with his business partner, Roy, though Kristy didn’t hear that from Lance. When Roy’s wife, Yoli, stopped returning her calls, she asked him if something was wrong. Lance grew quiet, the kind of quiet that made Kristy uneasy.

  “We’re not seeing them anymore,” Lance said.

  “What about work?” she asked.

  “I’m going out on my own. I’ve been doing all Roy’s work anyway, the advertising, getting new clients, while he shares in the profits. Darlin’, it’s better for us in the long run.” She wanted details but she couldn’t push. Not anymore.

  She’d discovered the truth a few weeks ago while she was grocery shopping at H-E-B. Kristy spotted Yoli ahead of her in the checkout line. She waved but Yoli turned away, like she hadn’t even seen her. Kristy hurried over.

  “Yoli, hey!” Kristy said, relieved to see that she was okay.

  Yoli’s eyes darted around the store nervously.

  “Where’s Lance?”

  “He’s at home,” Kristy said. Yoli looked uncertain, her eyes scanning the store as if any second Lance might leap out from an aisle. “Yolanda, what’s wrong?”

  “Kristy, I don’t want to get into it.”

  She tried to leave but Kristy reached out.

  “Please. I’ve left messages. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine. Lance told us to stay away from y’all and that’s what we’re going to do.”

  Kristy’s stomach lurched.

  “I don’t understand. I thought we were friends,” Kristy said.

  “Friends don’t swindle friends, Kristy,” Yolanda said, her temper flaring.

  “Swindle? What are you talking about?”

  “Lance still owes us for the wedding reception.”

  Kristy’s mouth hung open. “He said you were covering the cost.”

  “Of the venue. Those were the terms. We normally charge at least six thousand to rent out the barn for parties and events. We gave it to y’all for free. But the food and the waitstaff cost money and so did the rentals and decorations,” Yoli said, her voice thick with frustration.

  “How much do we owe you?” Kristy asked.

  “Four grand.”

  Kristy’s mouth dropped open. That’s the exact amount she’d given Lance to cover a portion of the wedding expenses. He didn’t want to take it but she insisted. “We’re a partnership,” she’d told Lance, the irony of that statement laughable now.

  “I’m so sorry, Yoli. I’ll pay you back. It may take a few months but …”

  Yoli shook her head.

  “No. We’re done. Lance has already been spreading lies about us all over town. When Roy called Lance out, he got real nasty. Lance isn’t … he’s not the same person we met.”

  “But you guys have been friends for so long.”

  Yoli scoffed.

  “Roy and I met Lance two years ago when he moved to town. Roy was going through chemo and the business was in trouble. Lance seemed like a godsend. Looks like we were wrong about that.”

  “I’m sorry …,” Kristy began.

  Yoli cut her off. “None of this is your fault, but it’s best if we don’t speak again.”

  Kristy watched Yoli rush off, leaving her all alone in the aisle. Her intuitions were correct—there were things about Lance she didn’t know.

  Ryan was still marveling over the car. Mac ambled over to Kristy, beer in hand, a goofy grin on his wide face.

  “Sorry to keep this from you, but Lance said he’d end me if I spilled the beans,” Mac said.

  “Well, a promise is a promise, isn’t it?” Kristy replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “Did you hear you and Pops are gonna have the place all to yourself next week?”

  Kristy’s confusion showed.

  “Lance invited me and Ryan to go hunting,” Mac said.

  Of course he did, Kristy thought. He had to take everything and everyone that was hers and kill innocent animals in the process.

  “Unless you don’t want me to go?” Lance said, his booming voice startling Kristy.

  “Don’t be silly, Lance. I know you’ve been looking forward to it.” Kristy smiled at Mac. “Lance has been after me to go with him for months but …”

  “I know. I know. We’re heathens for going out and killing helpless animals,” Mac said with a wry grin.

  “I didn’t say that,” Kristy said, feeling off balance. Lance threw a protective arm around her waist, pulling her in closer to him.

  “But we know that Kristy was thinking it, don’t we? My wife witnesses grown men put to death but she’s squeamish about hunting,” Lance
said, and Mac chuckled. Kristy hated how holier-than-thou he was about her job, a stark difference from when they first met. She was worried Lance might ask her to quit, want to keep her close to home, but so far he hadn’t said a word about her job.

  “You’re cool with us going, aren’t you?” Lance asked. This time Kristy didn’t have to lie. She had never wanted anything more than a weekend without Lance. His campground had limited cell phone access. She needed that time to figure out what the hell she was going to do.

  “Of course. I’m sure you guys will have a great time,” Kristy said.

  “Good. Mac, I’m gonna get another beer. You want to join me?”

  “Sure. I’ll see you around, Kris.” She nodded, watching the two of them walk away, wishing Mac would look at her, that he could see her spiraling slowly into despair or that she had the courage to say the words out loud to him.

  The party stretched on into the night, the sun setting, a golden haze illuminating Ryan and his friends, so shiny and hopeful, still unaware of the crushing disappointments life had in store for them. Kristy watched from the periphery, sipping a glass of white wine as Lance assumed the role of surrogate dad, holding a martial arts demonstration and allowing Ryan to take him down as the entire yard, including Pops, erupted in cheers.

  It was almost eleven when everyone began to head out. Lance had made his way through a case of Budweiser and some Jack Daniel’s shots, and Kristy assumed he’d stumbled upstairs to pass out. Standing at the kitchen sink, she remembered how much she’d enjoyed washing dishes with Lance. He didn’t do the dishes anymore. Not since the wedding. This was Kristy’s domain now.

  “Jesus Christ, Ryan, what’s gotten into you? You’re acting like … like a total asshole!”

  Ella’s shouting startled Kristy from her reverie. She glanced out the kitchen window, and through the shadows she spotted Ryan and Ella hunkered down at the picnic table. Kristy couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Ryan’s brow was furrowed, annoyance clouding his face. That look, the same one Lance got when Kristy misspoke. Ryan shrugged and looked back down at his phone. Ella stared at Ryan, like a wounded bird seeking comfort. When he continued ignoring her, Ella burst into tears and ran into the house.