by Bijou Hunter
Dove, though, just creeps me out. I keep catching her peeking in my direction. Did she overhear Pixie and me fucking this morning? Is she acting like a curious kid? Or does she get starry-eyed with every guy she meets?
After Dove rushes to the fridge to get me a beer after I mention I’m thirsty, I realize I need space. Oblivious to what’s happening, Pixie crawls around after Future. The boy really wants to go upstairs and has been dicking around by the staircase for the last hour. When the chair was blocking the way, Future didn’t seem to understand there was access to “Up.” Now with the safety gates in front of the stairs, he’s very fucking aware of how to access his goal.
So his sister distracts him with toys like a loud popping lawnmower and a loud xylophone and a loud baby’s first drumming set. I have never hated the people in the Woodlands before. However, after they dropped off these annoying toys, I might want them dead.
But the loud shit doesn’t interest Future. He only wants “Up.” He asks me ninety times if I will help him. I suspect the kid figures “Up” will be easier for me since I’m already halfway there. Every time I look to Pixie for help, she crawls around to distract her brother. The kid is never impressed.
Only when Future starts screaming do I realize Fairuza isn’t around. I assume she’s taking a shit. Or having a lady problem. Holy hell, what will it be like to have three menstruating women in one house? Is that why Bronco often seems exhausted?
I sneak outside to get away from Dove’s glances and Future’s screaming. That’s when I notice Fairuza sitting in the grass near the back fence. Her back faces me, and I consider leaving her alone. But then, I imagine her talking herself into leaving my house. The possibility of losing Pixie pushes me to get my ass across the lawn.
Good thing too, since Fairuza’s crying. I hear her sniffling and notice her wiping her eyes once she senses me behind her.
“Do you not like it here?” I ask, squatting down to make us eye to eye.
“My children are all I have left,” she says and stares with eyes still bruised from the beating she took from the Volkshalberd. “But they were dying, and I didn’t know how to save them.”
“You did your best. It’s not as if you could stop Marks by yourself.”
“Others want what he offers. I might have been able to kill him, but his sheep could have killed me. Then my children would have no protection. We could have run away, but I don’t know how to live in this world.”
I’m unsure what to say. I consider getting Pixie to comfort her mother. Except Fairuza is crying out here alone on purpose. She doesn’t want her children to know she feels like a failure.
“What happens if you lose interest in Pixie?” Fairuza asks, watching me warily. “That’s how people in this world behave. I remember a woman at the apartment with her fourth husband. None of the other men had died. She just got bored and moved on. What happens if you do that with Pixie? We can’t go back to the Village. They called us quislings. We’re traitors to them. They’ll never let us return.”
Sighing, I have to sit down. My knees don’t normally bother me despite them both getting shattered in my youth. Yet, sitting on the fucking concrete last night left my body aching today.
“I will never give up Pixie,” I say, glancing back at the house. “If she wants to leave me, you’ll need to hide. I won’t let her go.”
Fairuza’s horrified eyes stare at me. “Your words are madness.”
Shrugging, I explain, “If she leaves me, I’ll go insane. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved. I can’t survive if she doesn’t love me back.”
“Why are you like that?”
“People don’t like me,” I say, shrugging again. “They’ll use me for my size, but they don’t let me close. Never have. My grandparents raised me. Put me in fights when I was eleven because I was big and ate too much. They claimed I needed to help pay for my food. That was bullshit. They never saw me as a real person. I was an evil thing in need of punishment. That’s how it’s always been. People don’t care about me, and I don’t care about them. Well, until Bronco.”
“Lana’s husband?”
“Yeah. I’ll die to protect him. But he’s not my friend, really. I’m a weapon he uses, and he’s more of an idea than a person to me. I thought Bronco was a sign that I could be something more. The night I met him might have just been a fluke, but I wanted to believe in him. He’s a good president, too. Smarter on his worst day than my old president was on his best. It feels nice to be part of something real here. But I don’t feel accepted with them. Not like I do with Pixie. She’s the only person to love me, and I know she really does. Pixie doesn’t lie like other people.”
Fairuza sighs heavily. “She wanted to leave the Village, but we had nowhere to go. Zest was gone, and we couldn’t go home. When Daniel from the Village offered us sanctuary, I never imagined watching my children starve,” Fairuza says and runs her fingers over the grass. “I tried to be what the Volkshalberd wanted, but I couldn’t lie well enough. Now, I’m afraid I’ll fail again with all the rules and expectations here.”
“Let me tell you a secret about the people in the Woodlands,” I say, and she leans closer. “Don’t let the big houses and shiny cars fool you. We’re outlaws. Their rules can mostly be ignored. You can be yourself here. If they don’t like something you do, they can talk to me. Not that I’ll care. I don’t want Pixie to change. If she was a normal woman, she wouldn’t love me like she does.”
Fairuza rests her chin on her knees. “I miss Zest. I know he’s already living his next story, and I should let him go. I still miss how much his big heart lit up a room.”
I pat her back as gently as my big fingers can. “I’m sorry those assholes killed him.”
Her blue eyes find me. “I’m sorry no one ever loved you before.”
Smiling, I look over the backyard. “Everything must feel overwhelming, and you probably want to be left alone to adjust. In a few days or weeks, though, we could do many things in the backyard to make you feel more at home. The atrium idea sounds interesting. Growing plants in cold weather or whatever. I don’t really know how that shit works.”
“But your yard will be filled with new things. An atrium and a playset. Will you miss the way things were?”
“I don’t care.”
“You say that because you want to please Pixie. But you care.”
“I’m like you. Changes put me on edge, but I’m also excited about how life can be with the five of us. The Village wasn’t right for your family. You have too much strength and spirit to be in a place where they reward submission and sacrifice. My house probably feels like more than you need, but it’s full of possibilities.”
Fairuza turns slightly to see me better. “Do we have to visit the people today?”
“You don’t have to, but Pixie does. If not, my people will keep coming here and wanting to meet her. After today’s party, they might leave us alone. Then, you’ll only see people when you choose to.”
“I want carrots to make juice with,” Fairuza says, standing up. “I don’t know why I need that one thing. Except it’s all my brain focuses on whenever I’m worried. I feel that if I could make my juice, I’d be more me than I am without making it.”
“Then I’ll run to the store and pick up whatever vegetables you want,” I explain while getting to my feet. “After the situation with John Marks and these other jackasses dies down, you’ll go to the store any time you want.”
“I don’t know how to drive well.”
“That’s okay. I can pay someone to drive you around.”
Fairuza begins walking toward the house. “You have all this money, huh?”
“I make money every day, but I never had anyone to spend it on.”
“Pixie doesn’t want your money.”
“No, but she can still have it.”
Blocking my entry into the house, Fairuza studies me. “I want to see you like Pixie does, but I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake. I don’t trust
myself any longer.”
“In a month, your children will be stronger, and this house will make sense. Then, you’ll know whether you should like me. Until then, why worry?”
Fairuza offers me a smile she often gives her kids. There’s warmth and pride in her eyes that I could get real used to seeing.
PART 5: AIN’T NO PARTY LIKE A WOODLANDS PARTY
PIXIE
Anders nearly breaks his SUV, trying to get the baby seat to fit. I’ve never heard him cuss so much, even when the Volkshalberd shot at him. I finally insist we put the seat in the trunk area, and Mama will hold Future during the short drive.
“You’re wasting minutes of your life on an uninteresting problem,” I say, hugging him and gesturing for Dove to steal away the troublesome seat.
His hand strokes the back of my head. Each caress frees him of more tension. Eventually, we pile into the black SUV and back out of its special room. The drive to Bronco’s house takes less than two minutes. I think to ask why Anders worried so much over the seat, but upsetting him again isn’t an option. We need to survive today with all his people. Then, we can enjoy tomorrow with only our people.
The front of Bronco’s brick house looks very similar to Anders’s. I remember Lana saying the two homes were like twins. Inside is even more identical with the overhead walkway and two-story family room. Almost everything is placed in the same way. I notice how Bronco hung up pictures of his family. I like that more than Anders’s blank walls.
Lana introduces Dove to Bronco’s teenage daughter, Summer, along with his two younger girls, Sidonie and Desi. I’m a little confused about which ones are Bronco’s, which belong to Lana, and which they had together. I decide blood doesn’t matter. Future doesn’t warm my heart any differently than Dove, despite them having different papas.
“Want to go to my room and talk?” Summer awkwardly asks Dove.
My sister doesn’t want to go to Summer’s room and talk. She’s very nervous about making a bad impression with these people and getting sent back to the Village. I keep promising that won’t happen, yet my words fall on deaf ears.
Dove agrees after she glances at Anders. She wants to please him so he’ll keep us as his house. Though he’s frowning now, I suspect he’s mostly still irritated about the car seat.
“Can the baby play?” Desi asks, kneeling down and smiling at Future.
My brother stares at the walkway after noticing the lack of a gate to keep him from climbing the stairs.
“Up?” he asks her.
“I thought outside on the playset,” Desi says and then asks Lana, “Can we go upstairs?”
“No,” Mama says instantly. “He’ll just run back and forth and then fall down the stairs. Let’s do the playset thing.”
Future stares longingly at the walkway, much like Dove does with the pool. Once Mama follows Desi and Sidonie outside with Future on her hip, I notice Topanga watching me. She smiles with her big lips. Lana stands nearby with her baby. I don’t know where Anders, Bronco, and Lowell went.
“Don’t take this wrong,” Topanga says, “but you dress all wrong. It’s not your fault. The donated clothes don’t fit your body or suit your coloring.”
“There’s nothing wrong with them,” I mutter and tug at the baggy shorts. “They cover the important parts.”
“Clothes are meant to emphasize your best features and hide your less flattering ones.”
“Are you saying I have to change before that dumb party?”
“Our parties aren’t dumb,” Topanga explains. “They’re inconvenient and, at times, boring, but never dumb. See the difference, Pixie?”
I haven’t figured out yet if I like Topanga. She’s nice, but I also sense she’s making fun of me. Mainly because she speaks as if I’m Dove’s age when I’m an adult like her. I don’t want these people thinking Anders is having sexual intercourse with a little kid.
“Will those women from yesterday be at the party?” I ask, frowning at her and then Lana.
“Yes.”
“Will they dress better than they did at Anders’s house?”
Making a pig-snorting noise, Topanga smiles at a grinning Lana. “No, they’ll probably look just awful, but you’re not them. They chose those clothes because they’re low class. You’ve had no choice in what clothes to wear.”
“I would rather go shopping for vegetables than clothes.”
“Poor thing is always hungry,” Topanga says to Lana while hugging me. “Unfortunately, we have no time to shop before the party. Lana and I thought you could wear something of ours.”
“Why?”
“So, the women in the Woodlands won’t think poorly of you.”
“I am poor.”
Topanga smiles wider. “No, you’re Anders’s honey, and he is not poor. You just haven’t gotten a chance to enjoy his money yet.”
“He bought us food.”
Topanga looks at Lana and makes the sad face again. I realize she does that any time I talk about food. Yes, my family was starving. We’re skinny. I still sense they’re making fun of us.
Like the time at the government-assigned apartment when the other people laughed at my family. A boy shoved Dove, and a girl laughed at my bare feet. Mama slapped the girl and kicked the boy in the penis. People left us alone afterward. They claimed Mama was crazy from living like a dirty hippie.
Once again, I feel agitated. I’d rather play outside with Future, Mama, and the girls than have Topanga “fix me up.” But Anders needs us to get along with his people. So, I agree to go with Topanga and Lana to Bronco’s bathroom, where I try on clothes.
A few minutes later, I slide on a third dress while Topanga judges me. She says I’m too skinny for their jeans. She claims shorts aren’t appropriate for the party. Dresses are my only option without shopping.
I’m so relieved when they decide on a long, flowered one. Clothes don’t need to be as complicated as they make them. Caring so much about a dress is another rule from this world that I must learn.
But I’ll smile and wear whatever they want. For my family and Anders, I’ll be on my best behavior.
ANDERS
Bronco and Lowell suggest we head outside and keep an eye on the kids while the women prep for the party. I get the feeling my president doesn’t trust Fairuza enough to leave her unsupervised with his two girls.
Bronco feeling protective about his family is one reason I respect him. His sisters are bitches, and one of them might be crazy. Sidonie freaks out occasionally. Like a full meltdown where she screams and throws herself on the ground like a baby. His teenager sometimes acts as if she can’t stand to be in the same room as her old man. Both of his nephews want his job, and one of them is willing to fuck him over to get it.
Despite his family’s bullshit, Bronco keeps them all safe. The way he loves his girls is how I wish I’d been loved growing up. I never planned on having kids of my own. Now that I have Pixie, though, I think we might try. And if I’m a dad, I want to be a good one.
I suspect some men figure since they ended up with a shitty family, their own kids shouldn’t have it better. That’s what my grandfather believed. He wasn’t “babied,” so he wasn’t babying anyone else. That’s why his daughter killed herself, and his grandson walked away without saying goodbye.
Bronco’s daughters won’t ditch him. Not even Summer with her teenage bullshit. They love him deeply because he taught them to. My grandfather wanted love and respect without giving any in return. I’m not the brightest man, but keeping my kids from hating me doesn’t seem like a particularly difficult task.
Future’s squeals nearby make me smile. Desi holds the boy between her legs as they go down the playset’s long slide. He was scared until she wrapped him in her arms. Feeling safe with Desi like he does with his sisters, the boy laughs wildly once they reach the bottom.
Lowell eyes Future before saying, “Good thing you already have the security gate around the pool. Kids are always looking for ways to kill themselves.
Dunning didn’t grow out of his suicidal nature until he was seven. Suddenly, running in the street no longer seemed like a smart move.”
“He really wants to go on the stairs,” I say, and the men nod in unison. “I see him falling, though.”
“Sidonie would go halfway up the stairs and then just sit there, daring the universe to knock her down,” Bronco says, watching his daughter help Future climb up the ladder to the top of the playset. “Summer jumped headfirst into the pool more than once. She was fearless.”
Lowell grins. “I remember when Topanga was safety-proofing the house. She would crawl around on the floor to see what things looked like from a baby’s height. I’m surprised she didn’t bubble wrap everything.”
“Be faster to just bubble wrap the kid,” I mutter.
Bronco and Lowell nod in unison again. I’ve seen them talk like this before. They’re in their dad mode. In the past, I kept my mouth shut as they shot the shit about how tricky raising kids can be. They also like to talk about wives now that Bronco has one. I wonder if I’ll one day have something to share about that topic.
After Future squeals on his way down again, I find myself smiling like a loon. The little man barely knows me, and I don’t understand shit about kids. Still, he’s my person now. His laughter makes me feel good. It’s so easy, really.
“Why do you think the Killing Joes didn’t show last night?” Bronco asks as the kids now run around the grassy area while Fairuza chases them.
Shrugging, Lowell finishes his beer. “Might have figured it was an ambush.”
“I don’t think they care,” I say, and both men frown at me. “I bet they came here for easy money and a chance at revenge. Then they saw the setup in Elko and here in the Woodlands. They realized they were outgunned. Roadrunner isn’t a complete idiot. He likely knew Marks wasn’t good for the money long term. Elko was a dead end.”
