Sidewalk Flower

by Carlene Love Flores

  That would have been cruel.

  She wasn’t ready to get out of the Jeep yet. Wasn’t ready to be here, period. So, she signaled left and pulled back out onto the main road and drove a few more miles to where she would turn to head to her old street.

  The library was new. There hadn’t been one when she was growing up. Many business fronts looked abandoned but the harsh weather in this area tended to give that appearance to the buildings. A small four-sided house with a tree smashed through the roof stood alone near the roadway.

  Things hadn’t changed all that much. The most familiar objects to pinch her nerves were the churches and the creeks. There was one located just about every mile or so as she continued her slow drive.

  With a hitch in her heartbeat, she made the turn that would lead her down the road to her old house. It hadn’t been part of her plan.

  For good reason.

  She was here to visit momma’s side of the grave, curse his side, and get the closure she needed—and that was it. All she could handle. Coming back to the house was dangerous.

  But she made her way cautiously down the road, trepid curiosity stringing her along. The tall, white steeple of the church came into view as a warning that she was almost there. A couple hundred feet further down the road, she slowed. The sight of it made her stomach curdle so forcefully that she had to pull over. She sat in her Jeep, the sun having just risen, and stared through bleary eyes at the rundown wooden house. Its front porch sank in places and a wash of dirt and climbing plants covered what had been a plain but proper white painting. The screens were torn if not missing.

  This worn down structure looking like it would cave in soon if left to withstand the elements alone, mirrored her feelings. No one should be living here. She guessed that in the four months since her stepfather’s death, no one had.

  Lily and Jack had left it to itself. While estranged, she didn’t blame them.

  With slow and deliberate moves, she breathed in deeply and got out of the Jeep, walked over to the porch, passed it by and found the window frame of her old bedroom. She closed her eyes tightly and sank to the leafy ground beneath her.

  What in the hell am I doing here?

  The town would awake soon and she’d have to hide from their prying eyes. A stranger didn’t pass through here without being noticed.

  But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t stop the reel of memories playing out in her head. Her nights of muffled crying. Of trying not to scare her little sister and brother. Of not wanting them to know what a monster their father was and the only reason she wouldn’t runaway, for their protection. Why he had chosen her in the way he had, she didn’t know. Perhaps in his twisted mind, the lack of blood relation was enough. Maybe he saw too much of her mother in her and he needed that, no matter the blackness it would leave within her young soul.

  She saw herself closing the door to her siblings’ room and following him to his and her mother’s old room. She could hear his voice, telling her it was because he loved her that he needed her like this. And that if she really loved her momma, she would be kind to him and obey. That she would keep this secret because to let it out would mean taking him away from his two real children. The two he seemed to be a good father to. She was only ten when the abuse had started, but she had enough sense, even at that young age, to know how important it was that she stayed and did as she was told.

  For two years, she complied obediently. For two years, she looked out the front window, to the pristine white steeple across the street and wondered how she could be so near but so far from its protective reach. At one point, she had twisted the thought around so much that she figured what was happening must not have been wrong for it to have been taking place so close to the church. But even that sick reasoning eventually caved.

  The day he came home and during their nightly talk told her he was pulling her out of public school for homeschooling, she knew her chances of escaping this wretched life had ended. He became so angry with her for not touching him as he had always asked her to before they had intercourse. The successive slaps that bullied her cheeks and the tears that burned down them came without a sound. She remained silent until he finished. And then after being sent off to her room, one that he had moved her younger sister out of, she waited. Once all traces of light disappeared from under her doorway, she dressed and carefully snuck out the window.

  Not caring about the dark or the country’s nighttime creatures, she found her way to the creek. The only thing she was sure of was that she had mistakenly been given to the devil and now she was getting away. It didn’t help that her swollen eyes made it hard to see but worse was how numb her other senses had become. Not paying particular attention to her path, she slipped on a crag of sharp, wet rocks. Fresh gashes along her bare legs made her almost cry out. But she held it in.

  She sat herself upright, her bottom soaking in the creek’s few inches of icy running water. She ran her fingers over the tops of the sharp rocks. Never having fallen on them before, she was amazed at how easily they had cut through the skin of her calf.

  It became clear then that she’d found a way out of her life.

  Jaggedly and bravely, she rubbed her wrist, back and forth, pushing the skin down so that with each pass, more and more of her flesh ripped away. The blood flowed immediately, mixing in to her dress that was already soiled and stained from the soggy red clay all around her. She started on the left one but the pain from the right demanded her attention. She wanted so badly to cry…Silent little one, stay quiet now, silent, silent, silent; you don’t want him to come. Momma was right; she didn’t want him to come.

  * * * *

  Lucky was seated and drinking his coffee in a booth at the diner adjacent to their hotel when his phone rang. He hoped it was Trista calling to check in as she had mentioned in her note. It was already ten-thirty and he was just about at his limit of the amount of caffeine a person should consume before becoming a jittery mess. He hoped she had been able to take care of her business with the early start she’d gotten. The area code of the incoming call was the same as hers but the numbers that followed did not match. He answered after a couple rings.

  “Lucky? Is that you?” Before Lucky could say hello, Jaxon’s voice punched across the line, heated, his accent heavy.

  “Yeah. Hey Jaxon, what’s up?” He lifted a bite of biscuit to his mouth.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Um, finishing up breakfast, why?” He didn’t appreciate Jaxon’s swift and accusing tone.

  “Is Trissy there? Let me speak with her,” he barked.

  “Jaxon, I know we’re family, but I’m about two seconds away from hanging up.”

  “Lucky, I’m sorry man. Please let me speak to her.”

  It was obvious Jaxon was in some kind of mood, but his apology had been sincere enough. “Yeah, well I would but she isn’t here.”

  “What do you mean she isn’t there? Where is she?” The edge came back to Jaxon’s voice.

  “Jaxon…” He forked his last remaining bite bitterly, about to warn his cousin to lay off.

  The amount of time it took him to chew and swallow had inflamed Jaxon’s response. “Lucky, I’m not fucking around. Where is Trissy?”

  Trying very hard not to be petty, he blew off the attitude of his older cousin and shot back, “She took off before I woke up. Left me a note saying she was going to take care of some things and that she’d check in later. I don’t know where though. Why the hell are you so jacked over it?”

  Jaxon paused and then tore into him on another front. “Before you woke up—are you fucking sleeping with her?”

  “What the hell, man? That’s none of your fucking business. Why don’t you call her if you’re so concerned?” He’d never speak that way to a lady but when a guy dished it out, he could give it right back.

  He hit the End Call button and tossed the cell phone onto the table, muttering what an asshole Jaxon was. A young couple, the female in pajama bottoms and slip
pers, looked up at him with wide eyes and then returned to their meal. The ice in his untouched glass of water swished around when his hands thudded down on the table.

  That had been a shitty phone call from his cousin. He looked over his check and left a ten dollar bill on the table. It was plenty to cover the coffee, biscuits and gravy he’d eaten. After stuffing his wallet in his back pocket, he left the diner to head back over to their room.

  His phone rang again. It was Jaxon. Still pissed from their first go round, he answered with a less pleasant greeting.

  “What the fuck do you want, Jaxon?”

  “Listen to me, Lucky.”

  He wasn’t in the mood nor was he amused but he didn’t hang up as he slid the key card and then opened the door. He tossed his wallet on the table and then plopped down on the bed.

  “What? I’m listening.”

  “Good. If you care about Trissy—and you better if you know what’s good for you—you will hear me out. Do. Not. Hang. Up. On me again. Okay?”

  Jaxon was either a jealous maniac who couldn’t stand the thought of sharing Trista with his cousin, even after he’d been the one to bring them together—or he was really concerned about her. He’d grown to care so much for Trista these past couple days and so he tried to ignore Jaxon’s rant, for her sake.

  “All right, man, I won’t. What’s going on?”

  “What has Trissy told you about where she’s going today?”

  “Not much more than you did. Just that she needed to go alone and didn’t want me to take it personally.”

  “Fuck. I knew I should have fucking gone on this trip. Damn that fucking bitch.”

  Was he out of his mind?

  “Jaxon, where do you get off talking about Trista like that? You’re the asshole who blew her off.” He clenched his free hand into a fist that begged to put his cousin in his place.

  “I know. I wasn’t referring to Trissy, it’s Vangie—Look, I really don’t have the time or patience right now to get into that,” Jaxon said, then paused.

  “I get it that you’re angry but I’m the one who is here so tell me what is going on already. Is Trista in trouble?” he asked with a new urgency.

  “Shit, she’s gonna hate me for telling you this.” Another pause on Jaxon’s end.

  “Jaxon, if something bad is happening or gonna happen, you need to tell me right now!” He stood up rigid and protectively angry at what he didn’t know.

  “You’re right. She should be relatively safe, but it’s some very fucked up shit, Lucky…”

  Jaxon finally took a minute to explain the purpose of this part of the trip. He told him about Trista’s abuse at the hands of her stepfather after her mother had died of cancer, although not in depth, which made his assumptions even worse. And about the night Trista had fallen in the creek and then tried to slit her wrists on the rocks. Only to be found by her little sister a few minutes later. That Trista had begged Lily not to tell her father, but instead to call Gramma Grace. And then how the next day, Trista’s grandma had shown up, trailer hitched to her fifth wheel, and took her away for good. Grace had repeatedly called the cops on the bastard but he’d never seen a day in jail.

  And since Grace had no legal right to Lily and Jack, she couldn’t take them as she’d wanted to. Trista was her son’s biological daughter. But, if she should ever hear anything about Lily and Jack suffering at his hands or being yanked out of school as he had done to Trista, she’d come back and shoot him herself.

  “How do you know all this?” he asked.

  “Trissy’s gramma and I are close. The same as me and Trissy. She’s my best friend, Lucky. That’s why I needed you to be there for her, mate. And now she’s found out about that bastard’s death and she’s gone there to finally pay proper respects to her mum but who knows where the hell she is or what fucked up shit is going on in her head.”

  “Okay, I understand. But physically, she’s safe, right?”

  “Technically, yes. But she’s tried to plan trips to her mother’s gravesite in the past and what it does to her mind, it’s not good. A few years ago, I had to be the one to cancel the trip because she just slipped completely from reality the night before.”

  “But this guy is dead, right?”

  “Yeah Lucky, but the son of a bitch is buried right next to her mum.”

  And Jaxon was to have gone with her. But he explained briefly how Vangie was dangling custody of his daughter as a means of keeping him away from Trista, someone she was jealous of beyond reason.

  “I don’t like the fact that she’s gone out there alone and I can’t get her to answer the phone,” Jaxon warbled out.

  “I don’t like it either, man.”

  She had been gone for a good six hours now, at least, could have been more since he didn’t know exactly how early she’d left their room.

  “You’ve got to go after her, Lucky.”

  He would arrange for a taxi. He just needed to know where he was going.

  “Do you have an address to the cemetery? I’ll find a way to get there.”

  “Okay, are you in Shawnee?”

  “Yeah, our hotel is right next to the I-40.”

  “Okay, let me pull something up here, just a second…” Jaxon gave him basic directions to the cemetery. “Mate, I’ll never forgive myself for letting her down like this.”

  “Jaxon, what if she’s not there?” he asked reluctantly.

  “Well, the only other place I can think of might be her old house, in Duketown. It’s easy to get to. You just stay on the 18 and then go west on 62. Her house was on the right hand side I think, across from an old church, white with a steeple.”

  “All right, man, I’m leaving the room now. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Lucky, thank you. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. But please understand, she’s like a baby sister to me.”

  “All right.”

  They hung up and he dialed from the in-room phone for the front desk and asked if they could arrange a cab for him as soon as possible. He hoped he wasn’t jumping the gun on this but if he believed Jaxon, then he was doing the right thing. Trista had asked him to be understanding of her need to go alone. He wanted to trust her more but it was impossible to sit in the room and do nothing after hearing Jaxon’s case. Hopefully he’d find her and she wouldn’t be too miffed that he’d trounced on her planned day of solitude. He understood the need for those days as well as anyone else. The taxi arrived about ten minutes later and he gave the driver his destination.

  The cemetery gates were open but he asked the driver if he wouldn’t mind waiting on the shoulder of the road.

  It was a good thing because there was no parking lot inside. Just the land and those who rested in it. Lucky passed through the iron gates on foot. The place wasn’t huge. If Trista had been here, he’d have seen her. He wanted to pay his respects but couldn’t.

  Guilt kicked his tail. How could I have laid with her last night and not bothered to find out something as simple as her mother’s name?

  He walked back quietly but with large, determined strides to the awaiting taxi.

  “Where to now?” The driver dropped his head back over his shoulder with little animation, his right arm hung over the adjoining front seat.

  “Duketown.”

  “All righty.”

  The backseat upholstery of the old, white Lincoln Continental had seen better days. He fidgeted with the tears and the foam that peaked out until the driver eyeballed him in the rear view mirror. He made conversation to divert the attention.

  “So how far is Duketown from here?”

  “Oh, it’s only about ten miles at the most. Not too many folks wanting rides out that way, gotta tell ya. What brings you here?”

  “Family friend.”

  “Hmm, where you from? You got a little twang in there,” the driver asked in his own drawl.

  “Yeah, I guess I do. Tennessee.”

  “Oh yeah, what part? Nashville?”

  He didn�
�t want to be rude, but he really needed to be on the lookout for Trista or her Jeep, whichever came first. So far, there had only been a couple old warehouse buildings, some older homes and then mostly pastures, some with cows, some with horses.

  He answered while keeping his eyes glued to the passing scenery. “Oh, um, south of Nashville, down off the Duck.”

  “Hmm, never heard of it.”

  They came to the crossroads of the 18 and the 62. The driver signaled left and then made the turn to head west. “So where exactly do you want me to drop you off? The town’s only a few miles long, really.”

  “My friend said to look for her house across from a church with a steeple.”

  The driver chuckled and then explained why. “Oh boy, I’m glad you said steeple ‘cause there’s a church ‘bout every mile or so out in these parts. Lucky for you, they don’t all have them steeples.”

  He hoped there would be only the one. As their pace slowed, he did his best to search out both sides of the windows of the moving car.

  “Well, here’s the only one I see so far with a steeple,” the driver said then pointed to his left.

  Sure enough, Lucky saw the church and then scooted over to his right to look out the passenger side of the car. Her silver Jeep Wrangler was parked right there on the side of the road. There were a load of other cars parked along the road in her company. It looked like a Sunday service had yet to let out. He wondered if maybe she had decided to attend. Jaxon could have been way off in his assessment of her emotional well-being. Lucky thanked the driver and paid his fare.

  “Will you be needin’ a ride back?” The driver tugged at his worn, red Sooners hat.

  “No sir, thank you. I’m good from here.”

  “All righty then, enjoy your time in good ole Duketown.” The driver seemed amused that this truly was his destination.

  Lucky walked up to the Jeep and peered inside. Trista hadn’t rolled her windows up. And there on the floorboard were her keys and phone. He opened the unlocked door, and felt around under the seat. Her small purse was just a couple inches back but there was nothing to say where she’d gone. Without being able to call her, he was at a loss. An old house just a stone’s throw from where he stood caught his attention. Battered and unkempt, it looked abandoned for all intents and purposes. If he understood correctly, this would have been her childhood home. Quickly, he took to checking its perimeter.