by A. C. Bextor
Maybe, though, I didn’t know him as I thought I did. After mom left, my dad led a life of unashamed solitude. Growing up, I don’t remember meeting a girlfriend or female acquaintance of any kind. He and I had that in common. He was as content as I was in being alone. Things have changed for me, though.
09:41 a.m. Just said that I was running errands. Take a shower if you haven’t already. Lacey will be by to get you in twenty minutes.
Sarah 09:42 a.m. Bossy.
Putting my phone back in my pocket, I stare down and read the dates on my father’s stone. Five years doesn’t seem so long ago in life terms, but the ache in my chest feels as if it’s been there for decades.
“I know I’ve got no business being here, Dad. I’m a shit son for not coming sooner,” I tell his grave. “I wasn’t sure what I’d say when I got here anyway. I’m still not.”
I didn’t bring him any flowers and I should’ve.
“If you’re watching what I’m up to today, I know you’re probably pissed. It’s good I can’t see or hear you rippin’ my ass for this,” I pause, unsure how much he can see from wherever he is. “I have a sister. Her name is Lacey. You’d fuckin’ love her, Pop. She’s a lot like me, but not as moody. Hayden married her, if you can believe that shit.”
Dad used to tell me I was irritable all the time. I hated when he’d say that because it was true. Bean would back him up and it would further piss me off.
“Mom’s coming in to town today. She wouldn’t have to, but apparently you swore Bean to silence. She died last year. You probably know that too, don’t you?”
Looking up, I watch a woman loom uncomfortably above a grave not far from where I sit. I wonder whom she’s here to see and if she’s talking to them as though they can hear her, too.
“I need answers, Dad. I can’t be anything more than what I am without them. The nightmares won’t stop. I don’t know if they’re real.”
God, I hope they aren’t.
“Lacey will be crushed. This will devastate her. She doesn’t have to know anything, but fuck I think she deserves the truth if that’s what this turns out to be.”
No one answers and I hadn’t expected it.
“The guys and I still play set sometimes. Everyone’s grown now with kids and whatever so there’s not been a lot of time to play, but we still make time when we can.”
My throat seizes for a few seconds, straining at the thought of Bean looking down and hoping she’d be proud of me even as I defy her wishes in talking to my mom about what happened.
“I gotta go. I wanted to stop in and tell you I’m sorry I’ve not been around and I’ll do better. If you happen to see Bean somewhere playing cards or bingo, can you tell her I’ve got Sarah and she’s good. Tell her Sarah and I are going to be fine.”
The lady I had watched moments ago bends down and arranges the flowers next to the large grave marker. I notice the grave is new; the grass has yet to fill in on top of it. I look away to give her privacy. She can’t see me, but it’s what I’d want someone to do for me.
“I love you, Dad. I still miss you every fuckin’ day.”
Clearing his stone of dirt and debris, I leave my hand there for a moment and hope somehow he feels my presence.
“I’ll bring Sarah around so you can see her. You probably wouldn’t recognize her anymore. She’s just as impossible to reason with so she’s still the Sarah you’d remember. Anyway, I gotta go but I’ll be around soon,” I finish, before turning around and heading back to my still damaged Jeep.
I keep the visit with my dad short for a purpose. If I stay too long my strength for what’s coming later today will lessen and I need it now more than probably ever before. My mom, who I’ve not seen in almost twenty-four years, will be in town in a little over an hour. I don’t know if I’ll get all of what I need from her, but anything she’s willing to confess, I need to hear.
* * *
Walking in the front door of my apartment, I’m met with Sarah, who’s sitting on the couch putting on her shoes. I had hoped she’d already be gone.
“Lacey’s late,” she tells me, explaining why she hasn’t left.
Putting my keys on the dining room table, I ask, “She on her way?”
“Not sure. Liv’s sick. Hayden needs to get home from work so she can pick me up. I told her it wasn’t a big deal, but she insisted.”
She insisted because when I called Lacey this morning and told her I needed “space” from Sarah, I was the one who was insistent. I lied to her, but it’s important I talk to my mother alone. Lacey’s reaction to seeing our mother again is unknown. Sarah’s isn’t.
Sarah understands what it’s like to have shit for parents, since her own were forced out of her life, per Bean’s demand, because they weren’t good people. My mom isn’t a good person. Sarah would shred her to pieces.
“Text her. Tell her to get her ass here. With or without Liv, doesn’t matter.”
Sarah’s eyebrows rise with question, surprised to hear my tone. “I’m not telling her that. What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I answer. “I’m tired.”
Standing up and walking to me, I notice Sarah’s dressed for a day at the spa. She’s wearing sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. She isn’t wearing makeup and her hair is thrown up in a loose knot on top of her head.
Her arms come around my waist, pulling me to her. I try to keep my distance to keep my head straight, but it’s tough. She relaxes me. As I lean down to kiss Sarah’s head, I hear the knock at the door before it opens.
“Knock, knock,” Lacey says as she steps inside.
“You’re late,” I clip, looking at the clock on my phone.
Mom will be here in less than ten minutes. You need to be gone.
“Liv’s running a small fever. I had to drop her with Cathy since Hayden can’t seem to answer his damn cell.”
“All right,” I push. “Take Sarah and get out of here.”
Lacey’s eyes narrow and her hands go to her hips. “I’m thirsty and I’m going to grab a bottle of water. Anything for you, Sarah?”
Jesus Christ.
Sarah moves to sit at the dining room table and stares up at me with wondering eyes. “Sure,” she says, smiling. “I’ll have mine in a glass with ice.”
“What the fuck?” I return; growing more irritated with each second that passes.
“Why are you pushing us out the door, Travis?” Lacey asks, coming back from the kitchen.
“I’m not.”
Her prying continues. “You have plans, don’t you?”
Losing patience, and time, I move to Sarah to get her up from the table. “No. No plans, but you two are going to be late.”
Sarah’s body stiffens, making it tough to maneuver her around the table, but she gives in and starts to move on her own.
“God, you’re cranky,” she tells me when we finally reach the front door. “Let me get my purse, for fuck’s sake.”
Lacey stands at the front door, waiting for Sarah to gather her shit. Just as she turns around to open it, there’s another knock.
Fuck!
* * *
Sarah
Before I can turn around to tell Travis I’ll see him later, Lacey opens the front door. I’m standing on the other side of it so I can’t see who’s there, but I watch Lacey’s reaction. Her face pales and her mouth drops open. She looks like she’s about to be sick.
“What are you . . .” she starts to speak to the person standing in front of her, but can’t finish.
I look at Travis, whose face is set hard, but he says nothing. Whoever’s at the door doesn’t say anything either.
Moving to Lacey’s side, I see a woman I’ve never met. She’s got Trav and Lacey’s eyes, though. Her hair color matches theirs as well, except for some grey growing in around her temples. Her face isn’t as lively either. She looks old, worn down, and tired.
“Mom?” Lacey says. “What are you doing here?”
I can’t h
elp it. I snap. “Mom? This is your mom?”
Fuck, I was hoping for an aunt or cousin. Not mom. Travis, always thinking quickly, grabs me tightly around the waist and pulls me back into him before I can say anything else.
Lacey’s color is slowly returning as she continues to stare at the woman I now know as her mother.
“I asked what you were doing here,” she repeats.
“Yeah,” I add with a harsher tone. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Travis arms tighten around me, so tight I nearly lose air.
“Lacey,” she greets first. Her eyes move to Travis and Lacey’s head turns to follow.
“Travis, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”
“Well, of course not. You left him when he was three!” I explain this loudly as though she doesn’t remember and if I enunciate each word the truth will penetrate.
“Sarah,” Travis hisses in my ear. “Stop.”
I have a notion as long as I have to stand here and look at this woman, he’ll be saying my name a lot.
“You can go. If you’ve come to get me and bring me back with you I’m not leaving,” Lacey explains confidently.
“No, Lacey. I didn’t think you would. Travis called me.”
In disbelief and in unison, Lacey and I turn to Travis and bellow, “What?”
“Travis, should you tell them?”
“No,” he states plainly then gives direction. “You guys go do what you were going to do. I need a few minutes alone with Cheryl.”
Cheryl, not Mom. And a few minutes, my ass. Not happening.
“I’m staying,” I inform him, struggling to break free of Travis’s hold on me.
“I’m not leaving either, Travis,” Lacey tells him just as certainly.
Closing the door in Cheryl’s face without warning, Trav lets me go and turns to Lacey and me both and tells us how he thinks this will go. “You’re leaving. This isn’t about either of you and you’ve got no business being a part of it.”
Lacey and I look at each other. She nods, so I start. “You’re fucking crazy in your God damn head if you think I’m leaving you alone with her.” I walk off and settle myself on the couch, crossing my arms and refusing to budge.
Lacey’s staring at me with a shy, scared smile. I hate that she looks nervous. That’s her mom and Trav called her. She deserves to know why.
“I want to know why she’s here,” she whispers to Travis.
The faint knock at the door doesn’t offer him a chance to answer. Looking at the ceiling, he turns the knob and moves to the side so Cheryl can enter.
She looks around the apartment with an unnamed expression. I can tell by looking at her she wants to say something, but she’s holding back and she feels out of place. Too bad she’s not as clueless as I’d hoped. I was set to unleash.
“Lacey,” Trav says, causing Cheryl to turn around. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not leaving you, Travis,” Lacey whispers again.
“Okay.” He leans in and kisses the crown of her head.
He rarely does that with so much gentleness, making this situation more suspicious.
“You want to sit down or talk standin’?” he asks his bitch of a mother.
“I’ll sit. I’m not sure what you all need from me, Travis. I’m not sure . . .”
“You should be sure we don’t want you hanging around longer than needed,” I let slip. Travis sends me a glare in warning, which I return with one of my own.
Travis walks over to the couch, Lacey and Cheryl following him. Trav taps my leg to get me to move over as he sits in the middle and signals Lacey to sit on the other side of him. Cheryl, by deduction, takes a seat in the chair across from us. She’s sitting alone, as she should be.
Dear God, I want to punch her.
“Why are you here?” Lacey starts. I watch Trav brace his hand on her thigh and grip it quickly. With the force he seems to have used, that had to hurt.
“Travis called.”
“For what?” Lacey looks to Travis with the question.
Cheryl shifts in her seat and looks to Trav for a reassurance he doesn’t offer. “Who is this young woman, Travis?” Cheryl asks, ignoring me and keeping her eyes on Trav.
I help her out. “I’m Sarah. My family took him in ’cause his mother left and his dad died.”
“I see,” she answers.
“Doubt that,” I return.
Cheryl finally looks at me and I see her attitude, much the same as my own, wanting to take flight.
Instead, she releases me and looks back at Travis.
“You want to know why I left your father,” she starts, her eyes only on Travis.
“Yes, and I need it to be the truth.”
“The truth is ugly,” she says, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her purse.
“You can’t fucking smoke in here,” I happily inform her.
Her hand slowly returns to the pack and she puts it away, sighing heavily. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Nope. We’re all out,” I return.
Travis turns to me and I expect to be told to calm down or be quiet, but instead he’s wearing a small smirk. I can’t help but return it, and thankfully, just as I know he’d hoped, it calms me. I still want to rip her face off, though.
“Where do you want me to start?” Cheryl asks.
“The part why you left Travis,” Lacey returns.
“Your dad was gone that weekend,” she starts and looks down at the floor. “You and I were home. We lived in that trailer park off Kennedy Avenue. I doubt you remember it.”
Travis stiffens. He must remember something.
Cheryl already looks exasperated. Her hands fold nervously in front of her as she stares at them. “I had gotten us into some financial trouble and I had borrowed money.”
“The man,” Trav interrupts. “The one that came looking for you, did you know him?”
“Yes. He worked for who I borrowed the money from.”
“Swell,” I mumble sarcastically and roll my eyes in Lacey’s direction. She returns it with one of her own and we press forward.
Travis turns again and wraps his arm around my shoulders, bringing me firmly against his side.
“What happened when the man came inside?” Travis prods.
“I don’t remember all of it,” she starts. “That morning I had taken something for my headache—”
Travis laughs sardonically. I hear it bellow in my ear held against his chest. “Something for your headache,” he jests. “You don’t take something that knocks you completely unconscious, leaving your three-year-old kid to sit alone in a cold house thinkin’ his mother is dead.”
I watch as Cheryl swallows hard. The silence is deafening.
I hear Lacey sniff and move my head up from Trav’s chest and find her wiping a tear from her eye. Lacey Flynn does not cry. In all the time I’ve known her, she’s been solid. This does something to my insides. I don’t like it.
Cheryl catches it and her once-nervous eyes grow soft. “You’re right, Travis,” she whispers. “There’s no sense in lying. I had taken pills to keep me from thinking about what I was sure would come.”
“And what was that?” Trav asks.
“The worst possible thing a woman could imagine,” she answers.
“What happened after you woke up?” Travis demands. “I want to know.”
“If you remember what I already know you do, there’s no point in telling you.”
“The fuck there isn’t. I still have fucking nightmares about those men.”
The nightmares I’ve witnessed. I swallow hard.
Cheryl fidgets in her seat. Her hand makes its way to her cheek and she checks her body’s temperature before she regains her composure. “Perhaps you tell me what you remember and I’ll confirm what you know.”
“You were raped,” Trav states. I gasp in surprise and watch Lacey’s eyes widen as she clutches Trav’s thigh. “You were beaten, then you were raped
again.” My hand darts to Lacey’s and I watch as her eyes squeeze shut. “You woke up bloody. They were still there.”
My heart beats against my chest, the blood in my ears causing me to feel light-headed. Taking my eyes off Lacey momentarily, I look at Cheryl. Her face is pale. She’s looking at the ground.
“Yes,” she utters, ashamed.
“After that,” Travis continues bluntly, stating fact after graphic fact. “They sat me on that fucking couch and made me watch them mess with you again.”
“Yes. Oh God, Darren . . .” Cheryl weeps uncontrollably, calling for Trav’s dad.
“Don’t you say his name,” Travis bellows. “My dad is dead and hearing you say his name makes me sick.”
She stares at Travis with a blank expression. Each in a mental tug of war with a past neither of them wants to remember.
“They didn’t let me move from the couch,” Travis continues. “They made me watch them touch you.”
“Stop,” she pleads.
My hand holding Lacey’s continues to squeeze tightly. I can’t let her go. We’re keeping each other grounded. Trav’s breathing is ragged. His voice starts to shake. “I watched my mother being raped by two men and she was so fucking out of it I had to do it alone.”
“Stop,” she pleads, this time louder.
Travis moves his arm around Lacey’s back, bringing her nearly face to face with me as we both settle our heads against his chest. I hear Lacey whisper something, but can’t make out her words.
“Lacey’s father,” Travis says. “Who is he?”
The moment Lacey hears his question, her eyes look directly into mine and I can’t do anything but watch furious pain pass over her face. Instantly, I no longer recognize her.
Cheryl says nothing.
“I asked who Lacey’s father is.”
Lacey, putting the pieces together quickly, looks at Cheryl. “Mom?”
“Stop,” Cheryl begs, this time through her own tears.
“My dad’s name is Barry,” Lacey explains to Travis. “I haven’t seen him in . . .”
“Your father’s name was Manny.”
The air in the room evaporates. I suck in a breath and Travis pushes me away so he can grab Lacey with both arms. He positions himself in front of her, kneeling.
