“So… did he beat Dexter too?” I asked tentatively – my voice shaking.
“From what he’s told me just a slap here and there. Nothing like what he put my sister through. But the threat was always there. Dexter knew what he was capable of and being a child, he was naturally too afraid to go against him.”
Another silence followed and I could no longer feel my heart beating. I was sure I was only one more revelation away from passing out.
“My sister – Dexter’s mom… her name is Deborah. Like any mom she idolised her son. Whenever Martin was away she would do everything in her power to make Dexter happy. Day trips, baking cookies, playing soccer in the park… all the usual things loving parents do with their kids only more of it. She felt responsible. She confessed it all to me the day I found her changing. She said she was too afraid to leave – for her and Dex, and that made her weak. She said she knew Dex deserved better and that she wished every single day he could’ve been born to a mother that was strong enough to protect him. Can you believe that? Can you believe she blamed herself the entire time for what that monster put her through?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Goosebumps mottled my skin even though I wasn’t cold anymore and my stomach felt like it was being constricted by knots of barbed wire.
“You may’ve noticed Deb isn’t quite… herself, when you were upstairs,” Sarah continued.
“Um, yeah,” I agreed uneasily.
“She’s brain damaged. Deb was… shot… almost ten years ago.”
Fuck. No other word would suffice right now.
“The bullet shattered her spleen and she lost so much blood her heart stopped beating. It took almost fifteen minutes to revive her – they were just about to give up. We were told there was a high chance of complications because of the amount of time her brain was starved of oxygen. Though I don’t think any of us were prepared for just how complicated.” I noticed Sarah blinking repeatedly, as if she were trying to stem the tears before they fell. I wasn’t so good at it though – I was wiping them from my cheeks with the hem of Dexter’s t-shirt before she’d even finished talking.
“Was it him?” The word ‘him’ burnt my tongue like acid. “Dexter’s dad?”
“No, honey. It wasn’t.” Sarah’s eyes fell to the floor and she drew in a few short, stuttering breaths, and in that moment I knew who’d done it. An argument ensued in my head. I felt like I should be afraid – want to run… leave him. Yet in reality, I had never wanted to cradle him in my arms so badly.
“Dexter shot his mom,” she confirmed. “Though the bullet was meant for his father.” Another pause followed. There’d been a lot of them and to be honest they were a relief. I needed those moments to learn how to breathe again – to try and absorb the unbelievable information trying to force its way into my brain.
“Dexter came home from school one day and found Deb on the floor being kicked repeatedly by his father. He said he’d never known it to be so bad before. She was screaming apparently, but the louder she screamed the harder he kicked.”
Giving in to the desolate tears, Sarah plucked a tissue from the box behind her and dabbed under her eyes.
“Martin always kept a handgun in that drawer over there.” She pointed towards an oak cabinet in the far corner of the room. “God knows why – probably to frighten people. He was good at that. Dex said he pleaded with him to stop but he lunged at him and told him he was next. So without thinking, when his father carried on beating the life out of Deb, he grabbed the gun. But… he missed.” Tears were flowing freely from both our eyes now. Please come home, Dexter. “He was only fourteen – still just a boy. And he was terrified.”
Sarah looked at me like she was waiting for me to say something. But my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I was breathing too rapidly to form coherent words.
“He’s never been able to forgive himself. When we brought Deb home he became so distant… withdrawn. He isolated himself from us completely. He stopped talking, stopped eating… Then he started coming home later and later until eventually he stopped coming home altogether. I knew he was suffering, blaming himself… but I didn’t realise just how bad things had gotten till the day I caught him stealing from my purse.
“He was so thin… and jumpy. And I’ll never forget his eyes when he noticed me watching him. They were so dark and sunken. He was seventeen by this point but he looked eighty years old. He was on edge all the time and if I dared question him he’d either yell and smash things or shut down completely – he’d leave and not come back for up to weeks at a time. And… well you know the rest from that point.”
“And he thinks I’ll give up on him if I know this? That’s why he didn’t tell me?” I asked Sarah but I was really just straightening things out in my head.
“He still feels it, honey. The guilt. He’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve happiness because he took it away from his mom. But it wasn’t Dexter who stole Deb’s life… it was his father. The day she was shot was nothing more than a terrible accident - one which was brought on as a consequence of that piece of shit who tortured my sister and nephew for so long. So yes, he thinks he doesn’t deserve you, and he has this warped idea that if he ever lets himself love again he will end up hurting them too. And I’m sure in that misguided head of his he thinks if you were to find out, you’d think exactly the same. He’s never said all of this of course but I know him. I love that boy like my own.”
“I couldn’t give up on him even if I wanted to,” I admitted. “I love him.”
“And that, honey, is why you are already a member of this family to me. I wondered the first time I heard him describe you if you were that special someone who could save him. Then second time I was pretty sure, and each and every time after that I was downright certain.”
“So… you knew about me?” I asked curiously.
“Did I ever,” she said, playfully rolling her eyes. “I had to coax it out of him initially. I knew something had changed because I could almost hear him smiling on the phone. And when a man smiles like that, you can bet your bottom dollar it’s down to a girl.” Sarah smiled warmly at me – maybe even gratefully. “After enough pestering he finally gave in and told me all about you. Then he told me all about you again and again every time we spoke since.” She leaned in close then, wrinkling her nose and squinting her eyes as she scrutinised my face. “Oh yeah, you do have a cute freckle just below your eye,” she teased, making me blush like an idiot. I almost smiled, but then the image of Dexter’s haunted eyes invaded my mind and I started crying again.
“But I haven’t saved him. He’s gone. What if he runs straight down the same path as before? What if he doesn’t come back for weeks? I can’t wait for him here. I’ve got no money… I have family… and friends… and-”
“It’ll be okay, honey,” Sarah interrupted my panic. “You’re thinking too far ahead. He’s mad with himself, not with you. He loves you and he feels like he’s let you down. He’s scared that’s all, and when Dexter’s scared… he runs. But the important thing to remember is that he always comes back.”
“But when? What if he goes on one of his week long benders?” I pressed, flustered. It would kill me to leave without him but regardless of the fact I had people, and studies, and work, and a whole life waiting for me at home – I didn’t have enough money.
“He won’t. Deb hasn’t got that long left. He won’t let her go without saying goodbye, no matter what’s going on in that head of his.”
“She’s dying?” I knew we were coming here because someone was dying but when I found him with his mum earlier, that memory kind of escaped me. “I mean I know she has brain damage, but that doesn’t kill you does it?”
“No it doesn’t. Like I said earlier, the bullet Deb took shattered her spleen so it had to be removed. That’s made her susceptible to all kinds of illnesses and infections even with the meds she has to take. A few weeks ago what started as flu developed into pneumonia. The doctors thought they
were on top of it but then a couple of days ago she deteriorated rapidly. She’s just too weak to keep fighting. So… they sent her home.”
To die…
**********
Sarah and I chatted into the small hours. I tried calling Dexter several times but was sent straight to voicemail. I ached to see him – to hold him, to cry with him… I didn’t know where he was, when he was coming back or what state he’d be in if he did come back. My thoughts flitted back and forth between wanting to slap him and wanting to squeeze him so tightly he wouldn’t be able to breathe.
The jury was still out on that one, when he staggered through the front door at 3:30 AM.
“Dexter!” I intended to yell but it came as a hoarse whimper as I rushed over to him with my arms open. But then he stumbled and fell into the little brown table by the front door, laughing as he hit the ground with an almighty thud.
His hair was a tangled mess – his clothes damp with sweat and what looked like spilled alcohol stains. His eyes were half-closed and the little you could see of them were red and swollen. And he stank. Even from across the room the stench of vomit and stale whiskey burnt my sinuses.
He was drunk. Actually sod drunk… he was utterly obliterated – even more so than the night of his little ‘party for four’ the day before I opened up to him about my sister. At least I hoped he was drunk. Would I know if he’d taken anything? Probably not.
“You stupid boy,” Sarah blasted, brushing past me to get to Dexter who was now lay flat on his back and smiling at the ceiling. She was admonishing him, yet at the same time her voice was saturated with concern. “Come on. Up,” she ordered, bending down and tugging at his arm.
“Make me,” he spat like a twelve year old. I was both heartbroken and disgusted at the same time. I knew this wasn’t the real Dexter, but the lack of respect he was showing this amazing woman bending down to help him made me so angry.
“Dexter, come on. Stand up… please.” I practically begged, keeping my distance across the room. His eyes glossed over me briefly, and then returned to the ceiling.
“You still here?” he muttered, sounding amused. “Glutton for um… whatsitmicalled… punished… punishment that’s it,” he rambled.
“Suit yourself,” Sarah breathed in defeat. Turning to me, she added, “You can’t help him when he’s like this. He needs to sober up first.” I nodded feebly, feeling out of my depth. Then Sarah strode past me and towards the armchair, grabbing the fleecy throw from the back of it and draping it over Dexter’s fully clothed body. “When this wears off,” she scolded in Dexter’s direction, “remember you’ve got a mom and a good woman right here who need you,” she said, pointing to me. “And whether that dumb head of yours wants to admit it or not, you need them too. So get your shit together, ‘cause we’ve got a lotta crap coming our way in the next few days and I don’t need you adding to it.”
Was this what they called ‘tough love’? I wondered idly. Drunk or not, I still longed to wrap myself around him and never let him go… but Sarah was the one who’d dealt with him in this state God knows how many times before, so for tonight, I followed her judgement and left Dexter alone to sleep it off.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dexter
Ah fuck.
The second I pried my swollen eyes open and noticed that I was lying on the living room floor I was forced to remember what happened last night. Emily. She was still here. I remembered crawling in the house at God knows what hour and mocking her like she meant nothing to me.
She means everything to me.
“DAMMIT!” I yelled out loud, punching the wall beside me after scrambling into a sitting position. Why can’t I stop hurting the people I love? Why am I too fucking weak to protect them?
“Ah, you’re awake then?” Aunt Sarah said chirpily as if nothing had happened when she strolled into the living with two steaming mugs.
“Is she still here?” was the most pressing thought on my mind. I rose gingerly to my feet and made my way over to the couch, eagerly taking hold of the strong black coffee.
“She’s getting dressed upstairs.”
“Does she know?”
“Yes. She knows everything. And just as I suspected – she’s got no plans to run away. I like her, Dex. She’s an incredible young woman.” She didn’t need to tell me that.
“I know,” I agreed regretfully. “But I’m already hurting her. What chance of a future do we have if I can’t stop letting her down?”
“Dexter, I love you,” Aunt Sarah began, “which is why I can be honest with you when I say you behaved like a completely insensitive moron last night.”
“Jeez, don’t hold back, sweet cheeks.”
“I don’t intend to,” she replied firmly. I could always count on Aunt Sarah to be honest with me, and most of the time that’s exactly what I need. “As for drinking yourself into a stupor… you know you can’t do that anymore, Dex. You can’t use alcohol as an outlet for your frustrations like others might. Do you want to be back there? Do you want it to own you again?”
“No,” I stated solemnly. “I don’t even know why I did it. I’m sorry.”
“You did it because you’re hurting. You did it because you didn’t want to face what was happening. But you have to face this, honey. You have to accept what’s happening to your mom and you have to accept that Emily loves you with all her heart. She adores you, Dexter - whether you think you deserve that from her or not. You said you don’t want to hurt her? Then stop pushing her away.”
“I’ll try,” I said, nodding slowly.
“Dexter?” Emily’s timid voice danced into my ears before making its way to my chest and shoving my heart down into the pit of my stomach. She walked towards me slowly, cautiously. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously.
“Emily I’m so fucking sorry,” I mumbled guiltily, tucking my hands into my pockets after standing up to meet her – unsure whether she would allow me to touch her or not. But that decision was immediately taken out of my hands when she threw herself on to me, hooking her legs around my hips and her arms around my neck. “I’m so sorry,” I reiterated, catching her with one hand under her thighs and one caressing the soft red hair flowing down her back.
“How could you just leave me here like that?” She forced my arms off her while she jumped down and yelled at me. I deserved her anger, so I let her continue. “I was so bloody scared. I didn’t know what was happening or who the people were you left me with. I’m so mad with you!” I parted my lips to speak but it soon became clear she hadn’t finished so after taking in a sharp breath, I closed them again. “And why would you go out drinking when you know the crap it’s caused you in the past? You can’t do this, Dexter! When you go off like that it’s not just yourself you’re hurting, it’s everyone you leave behind too.”
“I’m sorry.” What else could I say? No amount of words would undo last night’s behavior.
“I think you two need some time alone,” Aunt Sarah interjected. “Why don’t you take Emily out somewhere, Dex?” How come Aunt Sarah always seems to know what’s best for me? I swear it’s like she’s got magical powers of something.
“Will you go with me?” I asked Emily – half expecting her to say no.
“Of course I will,” she snapped, appearing offended.
“What about Mom? How is she today?” I needed to know before I left. I needed to know I had time to leave. Just then I imagined how I would’ve felt if she’d passed away while I was gone last night. I’ve been such a selfish bastard.
“She’s the same. Don’t worry, I’ll sit in with her and call you if anything changes. I’ll go and fill her in on what an idiot you’ve been.” Her tone was light and teasing, but still I knew damn well she had every intention of doing just that. She tells my mom everything. Some days she sits up there for hours talking away and getting no response.
I never know what to say so I tend to just sing or read to her. I know she can hear me though, because when anyone el
se is near she gets agitated – she mumbles and fidgets and her breathing accelerates. But when it’s just me or Aunt Sarah, she calms down instantly. Her breathing slows, her body relaxes… and sometimes she closes her eyes like she’s concentrating on enjoying the sound of our voice. It makes me wonder if she can still think even though she can’t articulate those thoughts. It scares the shit out of me. What does she think of me? Has she forgiven me? Not just for that day but everything I’ve put people through since.
“I’ll um… just go get changed,” I said uncertainly, feeling nervous as fuck about the conversation I would soon be having with the latest person I’d let down. Emily nodded and Aunt Sarah flashed her a knowing smile. They’d clearly bonded in my absence, and as I made my way upstairs to change, I strove to work out how the hell I still had these two amazing women in my life.
**********
There’s a park not far from the house. The green landscape stretches for what looks like miles when you’re standing at one end of it. I used to go here a lot as a kid – when I was running away from the screams that petrified the shit out of me. I would sit beneath the circle of trees overlooking the duck pond where nobody could find me – not that they ever looked.
This is where I brought Emily.
“Emily I don’t know why you’re still here… but I’m glad your are,” was my opening line when we sat down on the familiar patch of grass. I lay my jacket out for her to sit on, protecting her jeans from the damp morning frost.
“I’m here because I love you, you idiot.”
“I love you too. You know that right? I just… don’t always know how to handle that fact.”
“It’s easy. All you have to do is talk to me. Start believing that I’m staying put, and trust me enough to be honest. That’s all I want from you, Dex. I don’t need anything else.”
Take My Hand Page 23
