The Promised World: A Novel

by Lisa Tucker

  “I’m taking him with me,” Lila finally said. “I’m taking him and his sister home.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Their mother is still under investigation, and I don’t think social services will look kindly on you as a guardian, given your history… not to mention your recent behavior.”

  Lila winced, but her voice stayed firm. “We’ll see about that.”

  “Can I get my toys?” William said, looking at Lila. He sounded like his usual sweet self now. He was even smiling shyly.

  She was a little uneasy, but she said, “Sure, honey, if it’s really important to you.” He must have felt it was, because before she could stand up to carry him back to his room, he’d jumped off her lap, and he was halfway to the front hall when it hit her that he didn’t intend for her to go with him. She didn’t force the issue; she knew he would be all right as long as her mother was down here, haranguing her. But she couldn’t resist telling him to hurry. “And let your sister know what’s going on. Tell her as soon as you guys are ready, we’re leaving.”

  “I won’t let you do this,” Lila’s mother said. “You shouldn’t even be driving. It’s not safe.”

  “What?” Lila forced a laugh even though she was intimidated by the way her mother was looking down on her with unmistakable condescension. “I’m a very good driver. I’ve never had an accident in my life.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m sure you’re aware that your brother did not want you driving with his children in the car.” She crossed her arms and smiled slightly. “I’d think you’d want to honor his wishes.”

  If only she could have shot back that this was absolutely false. Instead, she felt her face get warm as she realized that she’d never driven Billy’s children anywhere. But wasn’t this just a coincidence? Whenever the two families went out together, either Patrick was driving or Billy and Ashley had the kids. She did remember discussing this with Billy once, a long time ago, when Pearl was four and Lila was going to take her to get an ice-cream cone. She’d just started to back out of the driveway when her brother came running out without his shoes on, saying he wanted to come, too. “Scoot over,” he said. “I’ll drive.”

  She did as he requested, though she found it a little strange, knowing Billy disliked driving and let Ashley take the wheel nine times out of ten. “In case you’ve forgotten,” she said, “I do know how to drive. You taught me how. Remember?”

  “And I did a good job, if I do say so myself.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “There’s no problem. I just wanted to test out your brand-new car.” Her “brand-new car” was a beat-up Datsun that she’d bought for nine hundred dollars, all she could afford on her grad school stipend. “And I love ice cream.” He turned around to Pearl. “Tell your aunt how much I like ice cream.”

  “He likes the icky coffee kind!”

  “All right,” Lila said, “but you better not be turning into one of those macho guys who never lets his sister drive.”

  “Quién es más macho?” he said, holding up his arm and flexing his muscle. At which point Lila smiled, but Pearl cracked up as if it was the funniest thing in the world, which made Lila and Billy laugh, too. Before long, the conversation had turned to other things, and the subject never came up again.

  Now Lila was swallowing hard, trying to remember that her mother was dangerous. “She wanted to hurt you,” Dr. Kutchins said. “It made her feel powerful to hurt a defenseless child.” And she wants to hurt me now, Lila thought. She wants me to ask her why Billy wouldn’t let me drive with his children.

  “I’m a good driver,” Lila said. “You’re making this up.”

  “Oh, you poor thing, he never told you, did he? Does that mean you’re no longer taking your medicines? I think that’s risky, but if your doctor feels it’s no longer necessary… I assume he’s a specialist. I would hope so, given the stakes here.”

  She thought of Mrs. Lewis saying some of the drugs were to keep her from having seizures. One of Lila’s students had epilepsy and couldn’t drive. Was that what her mother was talking about?

  Oddly enough, she felt as if she knew exactly what having a seizure was like, but she’d always thought this was because of Billy’s story. She didn’t remember the title; he’d written it years ago, while she was still in college. The main character was a lonely young girl who feared she was going mad. The girl saw herself throw things in anger, heard herself scream from frustration and nightmares, but inside her mind was another child: quiet, calm, reasonable, good. The way Billy framed the story, the seizures seemed like a metaphor for the painfully harsh criticism the girl constantly leveled against herself. But the onset of each one was described so vividly that Lila felt like she’d experienced them right along with the character—she remembered the intense dread, the sudden brightness of the room, the sense that the objects around her were melting, the pervasive scent she could only describe as the smell of the color yellow.

  Her voice was trembling, but she forced herself to look straight at her mother. “I don’t have epilepsy anymore, if I ever did. And I think most of those medicines you gave me were to control me.”

  “Not most, but some of them, yes. You had violent outbursts, but the doctor said you would grow out of it in time.” She shrugged. “Perhaps you finally have.”

  She felt like her mother had slapped her. Before she could stop herself, she said, “What are you talking about?”

  “The doctor said the seizures and all the rest were a direct result of the skull fracture and the damage to your brain.”

  Her mother’s face was a mask of concern, but her eyes weren’t cooperating. They were laughing at Lila, mocking her for not remembering any of this. Mocking her the way they always had for being too stupid to win at chess.

  But Lila couldn’t say anything because she was feeling the truth that had been left out of Billy’s story. She was tumbling, flying, flailing, falling. She tried to grab the rail, but she was going too fast and the sharp corners of the steps kept coming up to hit her in the face and arms. Though she would never remember the end of it all, when her head slammed into the concrete floor of the basement, she knew exactly what it felt like to fall into the darkness that had ended her childhood. The strange part was that she hadn’t really even been afraid, except that she would get in trouble for ruining her special black dress.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Before he packed up his toys and stuff, William ran down the hall to tell Pearl that they were going home right now. Aunt Lila had come to save them!

  He hadn’t seen Pearl at all since New Grandma had locked him in his room ‘cause he tried to do what Daddy wanted and protect his sister. It was after his bedtime, but he thought he heard Pearl crying so he’d snuck back downstairs. They were in the chess room, and he crouched down by the doorway in the dining room where he could see and hear everything.

  “You believed he married her because he loved her? Oh, my poor girl. I thought I was simply stating a fact.”

  Pearl didn’t say anything. She was sniffing and gulping and staring at the chessboard.

  “Your father was a complicated man. Very few people knew who he really was.” New Grandma moved her queen and said, “Check.” Then she hit the button on the chess clock.

  Pearl looked at the board for a moment before she knocked her king over to resign. She turned away from New Grandma, toward the window. “I really thought I did.”

  William could see his sister’s reflection in the window. She looked so sad that he stood up and walked over to her and patted her face. He had to do it ‘cause it was like New Grandma was trying to squish Pearl’s feelings like a bug.

  He knew he would get in trouble for not being in bed, but he didn’t care. When Grandma told him to go back to his room, he decided it was time to be super-duper brave. He said no and then he said, “You stop being mean to Pearl.”

  She laughed. “Why, William, I can’t believe you would say such a thing.”

  �
��It’s not funny. You’re making her sad. You hurt her arm.”

  She stood up and put her hands on her hip bones, which stuck out like knives. Her skinny elbows were bent out like paper clips.

  “I think you’re making a mistake,” she said, staring into his face. “If so, I assume you’d like to apologize.”

  He was blinking like mad and clearing his throat, too, but he said it again. “You’re mean to my sister. YOU should say sorry!”

  “Go on, buddy. I’m okay.” Pearl’s voice was still the flat pancake, but she called him “buddy,” which made his eyes start itching.

  “Your concern for your sister is quite touching,” New Grandma said. “But I’m afraid this is getting tiring.” She leaned down and said in his ear, “If you don’t go to your room right now, I’ll have to ask Pearl to carry you there. Do you want that?”

  He felt trapped. It would be so embarrassing to be carried to his room like a baby. Plus Pearl’s arm would hurt a whole lot worse if she did.

  He said he would go upstairs, but before he left he said to New Grandma, “Don’t hurt my sister anymore or I’m gonna call Mommy and the social worker. I’ll tell my teacher, too!”

  “Stop it,” Pearl said. Now she sounded mad at him. “I told you she didn’t hurt me.”

  “Obviously, I’ve completely misjudged you, William.” New Grandma’s face was red as a ham. “You’re nothing like your father. You’re no different from every other American boy.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to the stairs.

  He ran away, ‘cause he was scared of her ham face. But when he got in his room, he felt kind of proud. She said he was nothing like Daddy, but he didn’t believe that. Daddy always said being an American was a good thing. Even if the government was evil, Daddy said, the people were good and the American books showed that. Plus, being a boy was a whole lot better than that romance thing.

  He figured New Grandma had to be sort of scared, too, ‘cause now she knew she would get in big trouble if she kept hurting his sister.

  He fell asleep for a while, and he woke up and the clock by the bed said it was 1:55, the middle of the night. He’d heard a loud noise, like something falling over, but he couldn’t run downstairs to make sure Pearl was okay and he couldn’t get to the phone to tell on Grandma ‘cause she’d snuck upstairs and locked him in the bedroom. It had to be Grandma ‘cause Pearl wouldn’t do this to him and there was nobody else there. He was so scared, but he knew he had to think hard and not cry. This was just like the escape Challenge and Daddy had told him there were two ways out. He could pick the lock or he could climb out the window and crawl down to the kitchen roof and then hold the big pipe until he got to the ground. First he tried to pick the lock with a Lego, ‘cause he didn’t have a credit card like Daddy had used. He forgot he was supposed to keep one of Mommy’s dead credit cards with him all the time. He pushed against the door hard with his shoulder and that didn’t work, either. So he had to do the window, which was a lot worse, ‘cause sliding down that pipe made his hands burn. Plus he’d have to go outside in the dark.

  Daddy had showed him how the window latches worked, but now that he had to do it, he wasn’t sure he remembered. He tried pushing and pulling and squeezing until his fingers hurt. Then he sat on the bed for a while, crying and being mad at himself. Then he tried the door again and the window again and the window in the bathroom, which had the same kind of latches and didn’t work, either. He was crying loud now ‘cause he was starting to feel like maybe he would never get out of here and he’d die and be a ghost like Hansel. Then there’d be nobody to help Pearl and New Grandma would flatten her for good. After a while, he was crying so hard he couldn’t even call for Mommy or Daddy anymore ‘cause his breathing was all messed up like a goldfish that jumped out of the tank. And that’s when the door just opened, like magic. Except it was better than magic ‘cause it was Aunt Lila and she was so nice to him; she picked him up and carried him around almost like she wasn’t Aunt Lila anymore but Daddy. He thought about them being twins and that made him feel less embarrassed that he was acting like a baby in front of her. When Aunt Lila told New Grandma it was wrong to lock him in no matter what he’d done, he was like, Ha, ha, ha, you old Wicked Witch of the West. The Good Witch is here and everything will be okay.

  And now they were going home to Mommy and he was so happy he skipped down the hall and opened Pearl’s door. She was sitting up really straight on the edge of the bed. Her hands were in her lap, and all of her was real still, like she was getting her picture taken.

  He told her the good news and she didn’t smile or move. So he came closer until he was right in front of her and told her again. When she still didn’t move, he said, “Pearl, you got to listen to me!”

  “I heard.” She was staring so hard at something that he looked to see what it was, but there was nothing but the blank wall.

  He figured maybe she didn’t believe New Grandma would really let them go. Or maybe the flat pancake thing would take a while to go away. But then she said, “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Aunt Lila seems gentle, you know? Like Dad.”

  “Yeah.” Even Aunt Lila’s big eyes weren’t weird to him now, just kinda sad. But he was confused why his sister was saying this. Then he thought maybe it was the bad stuff with the pills that had happened at Aunt Lila’s house. He sat on the bed next to Pearl. “I’m glad she didn’t die.”

  His sister was quiet for a minute. “Sometimes I want to die.”

  He cleared his throat like a hundred times; then he said, “‘Cause of Daddy?”

  “Remember how he used to tell us all the time that the world is beautiful? He’d say stuff like, ‘God is in every tree, every flower, every child, every kiss, every heartbreak.’ But you know what’s strange? Dad hated himself. It was like he believed all of the world was beautiful except him.”

  William was still trying to figure out what she meant when she stood up and said, “I guess Aunt Lila is waiting.”

  “You going to pack now?” he said.

  She nodded. “Go get your stuff.”

  He was about to run off when he thought of Daddy saying everyone needs encouragement. He looked at Pearl. “I’m glad you’re my sister.”

  “I love you, buddy. Remember that.” Her voice was so weird, like she was floating in the sky, so far away. “I’m sorry. Now go on and pack up your duffel bag.”

  “You didn’t do nothing,” he mumbled, but he turned and walked down the hall.

  When he got to his room, he started shoving his toys and clothes into the duffel bag. He didn’t care if all his clothes were wrinkled; he just wanted to get out of here quick. But when he had almost everything packed up, he saw the toolbox and remembered his big problem.

  He knew he couldn’t just leave Daddy’s gun. Even if he didn’t need it anymore, ‘cause Kyle was gone, he had to keep it with him. Daddy said to never, ever let anybody get their hands on it. “You would never shoot anyone unless you had to, to protect your family. Other people aren’t as trustworthy.”

  But he was so scared to go to the tree house at night. His tic was going nuts just thinking about walking into that spooky forest.

  He put on his jacket with the hood and tiptoed past Pearl’s room before heading down the back stairs that they never used ‘cause they led nowhere, just to the laundry room and the door to the walkway behind the garage. He forced himself to open that door and walk into the backyard. It wasn’t too bad at first, ‘cause he could still see the lights from the house. But when he got to the hill, the wind was howling and shaking the trees, and the moon was making monster shadows on the ground. He was so cold and he kept feeling like some bear was creeping up behind him, ready to eat him alive, so he took off running, and he ran and ran, deeper into the forest. He didn’t stop when his side started hurting, and when he tripped on a dead branch, he jumped right up and kept going. A few times he was worried he was getting lost, but then he’d see something familiar, lit up by the moon, and he knew he was on th
e right path, the way he always went to the tree house. Finally, when he was panting and out of breath and even his glasses were steamed up, he made it.

  He felt sort of proud as he started climbing the steps. He was really scared, but he’d done it anyway, and Daddy said that was the meaning of brave.

  When he got to the top, he felt a little bad, thinking he’d never be in a cool tree house like this again. But it was still too dark and spooky to rest, so he rushed to the corner and moved all the boards from the place he’d hidden the gun.

  It took him a long time to accept that it wasn’t there. He got a zillion splinters, feeling all around the corner and the whole tree house floor. While he was doing this, he was talking to himself about how dumb it was to put the gun here, where anybody could find it. Maybe some person who didn’t understand, like he did, that shooting a person wasn’t like in cartoons. Shooting a person was the worst thing in the whole world, ‘cause then their family would cry and miss them and worry all the time that they might forget what their daddy was like.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lila wished she could get closer to her niece, but Pearl had already told her not to move. They were still in the room with the wall of books; she was sitting on the same beige love seat where she’d held William in her lap, and her mother was sitting in the leather wing chair. At least her mother had sat down when Pearl had walked in threatening to kill herself if they didn’t tell her the truth. She’d made some cruel quip about her granddaughter having a flair for drama, but she hadn’t walked away and for that Lila was grateful. Because Pearl was serious, Lila had no doubt. Her niece sounded utterly despondent, as if she’d already made up her mind how this would end. And even if she wouldn’t feel this way tomorrow or an hour from now, it didn’t matter. The gun she was holding against her temple meant a decision of the moment could never be erased.