by Amber Garza
Satisfied, I went into the kitchen and grabbed the broom from where it was propped against the wall next to the fridge. Lennie sat on the couch and turned on the TV as I made my way back into the bathroom. As I swept the floor, images from the night flooded my mind, and I groaned inwardly. I made such a fool of myself. Not to mention that I pushed Lennie away. A girl I’ve fantasized about being with my whole life practically threw herself at me, and I had a psychotic meltdown. Sighing, I mentally slapped my forehead. What a bonehead move.
Not that I did it on purpose.
It was like I lost myself. Like I had an out-of-body experience or something. And it wasn’t the first time. I had done the same thing that night in that man’s truck. When he’d touched me and forced me to do unspeakable things, I had closed my eyes and imagined myself in the pages of my book.
I traveled into my favorite stories.
I walked in the woods, leaving bread crumbs in my wake like Hansel and Gretel. I skipped through the forest wearing a red cape and holding a basket like Little Red Riding Hood. Only I wasn’t scared of the big bad wolf or the old woman who would try to shove me inside her oven. In fact, I wished for them. I silently called out for the monsters in my fairytales because I was convinced if they showed up they would save me from the man who cradled me in his arms.
For it was then that I knew what real monsters were. They were people, just like you and me.
24
“What the hell did you do to your hair?” Ray asked when I showed up for dinner a couple of nights after Lennie gave me a haircut.
Lifting my arm, my fingers ran through the greasy strands. “I got it cut.”
“I think it looks nice.” Mom patted my shoulder, wearing her usual wide-mouthed grin. “Now sit down. I made your favorite.”
I groaned inwardly when she brought out a platter of chicken. It was the same damn dinner again. Did she think it was the only thing I liked? She’d made it the last like five times I’d been here. But I forced a smile and reached for the chicken. Ray had already piled his plate high with food. Apparently he didn’t mind having the same dinner repeated over and over again.
“Well, I think his hair looks ridiculous. Like it was cut by a little kid,” Ray said. Mom frowned. “You should go see Bob, my barber. He’ll fix that hack job up in no time,” Ray offered as if he was trying to be helpful. But I saw it for what it was – a slam.
“No, thanks. I’m good,” I said dryly, forcing a bite of the rubbery chicken.
The grandfather clock dinged, causing me to flinch. When I glanced up at it I saw the scratch on the side from when I tried to carve my initials into it. I never even got the first letter done before Ray caught me. That earned me a spanking. As my gaze swept the room, ghosts of my former selves whisked over me. Sometimes it was creepy how nothing had changed here. As if time had actually stopped the minute you walked in this house. Even Mom and Ray were exactly the same. It made my stomach hurt, my teeth ache. It made me sad.
I ate faster, suddenly desperate to get out of here.
“So how is the book coming along?” Mom’s voice held its normal cheeriness, but I heard the hard edge to it below the surface.
My gaze flickered toward Ray’s side of the table, and I caught the subtle nod he threw her. Truth was, I hadn’t been writing as much as I should have been. I’d been spending all my free time with Lennie, and my book had taken a back seat. And that meant that I had to take more money from Mom and Ray. Clearly, Ray wasn’t happy about it. However, Mom would never tell me no. She’d always been my biggest advocate. Sometimes I thought that she knew about what happened to me that night.
I’d changed after that, and she noticed. She used to pester me about it a lot. And she never left me alone again. In fact, she became like my shadow, my silent protector. Drove Ray nuts, but it didn’t stop her. Everywhere I looked I saw her, looming over me while I played with my toys, hovering in the doorway when I read in my room. Sometimes I even caught glimpses of her near the fence, watching me during recess at school. When I was in the backyard, I could always count on her face filling the back window as she peered out.
Sometimes it bothered me, but mostly I was grateful.
I’d heard of guardian angels that were sent from heaven to watch over us. And for much of my childhood I believed in them. I used to squint, hoping to somehow break through the supernatural barrier and see mine. I imagined an angel trailing me, white wings and a halo around her head. But after the night Ray left me, I stopped believing in angels. If they were real, where was mine that night? Why didn’t she protect me? It became easier to not believe at all than to believe that my angel had turned a blind eye. Had chosen not to assist me when I needed her most.
So I started to think of Mom as my guardian angel. One that was real. One that I could count on.
But I knew Mom’s protection and support of me didn’t go unpunished. Ray wasn’t abusive toward her. He didn’t hit her or anything. But his disapproval was obvious. And for that I felt bad. She paid for it in his snide comments, his little jabs, his narrowed eyes and pursed lips, his neglect.
As much as I cared about Lennie, I couldn’t continue to let my mom suffer. She was my biggest cheerleader, the only person who offered me unconditional love and support. And I couldn’t let her down.
“It’s going well.” I washed down the lie with a gulp of milk. It was a little sour, and I gagged. “I should have it done really soon.”
“Great.” Mom threw Ray a triumphant look. “I knew it.”
Ray grunted, frowned, took another bite.
Bending over my plate, I swallowed down some more chicken, a few bites of potatoes. The lights above the table flickered a few times, making a buzzing noise. One of them went out. When I looked up, I saw that two of them were dark, leaving only one glowing. It was typical. Ray never changed the lights until all of them went out.
Ray’s fork scraped his plate. Mom’s musky perfume overwhelmed my senses. When I glanced up at her, I was struck with how old she appeared, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed how much she’d aged. Maybe it was the dim lighting. Mom had always seemed younger than her years to me. In my mind she was vibrant, and still looked like she had when I was a kid. Ray, on the other hand, always seemed old to me. Always seemed decrepit and wrinkled.
There was a story I read once where the person’s inner beauty was reflected outwardly. I suspected that was why I saw Ray like that. It was because I saw who he really was. Saw what was in his heart.
“Amelia told me that she finally got a hold of you, Colin.” Mom broke into the silence.
I nodded, since my mouth was full of food.
“Exciting about her having another baby, huh?”
Still chewing, I nodded again.
It seemed that Mom liked Amelia better now that she was an adult. They used to fight all the time when Amelia was a teenager. Mom would yell, Amelia would scream and slam doors. I’d always expect Ray to intervene, to put Amelia in her place the way he did with me. But he simply shook his head, muttering something about girls. And it baffled me.
“I know she’s hoping for a girl,” Mom continued.
I swallowed down my bite. “Yeah, she mentioned that.”
“No. She’ll have another boy,” Ray announced as if he had psychic powers. “Another strong boy like that other one of hers.”
A sour look passed over Mom’s features, but she quickly replaced it with a smile. I often wondered if Mom’s face hurt when she went to bed at night. It must be tough to keep that perpetual smile pasted on. I didn’t bother trying to mask my distaste for Ray’s comment. Why bother? His comment was clearly meant toward me. For much of my life, I tried to deny what I knew deep down was the truth. I used to tell myself that Ray meant nothing by his offhand comments and that he wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt me. But my years of denial were over. We all knew he meant every jab.
But it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t waste my breath. I wouldn’t acknowledge Ray’s comment
at all. Rational conversation didn’t work with him anyway. Amelia’s son was a toddler. There was no guarantee he’d grow up to make my stepdad proud. Very few people did.
So I went back to eating. I picked up the pace, almost choking. But it was worth it because dinner was over in minutes. After offering up a flimsy excuse, I said my goodbyes and took off. As I stepped outside, I was grateful to be out of the house with the dim lighting, the woman with the fake smile and the man who wore his blackened heart on his face.
25
The next week Lennie spent almost all of her time at my apartment. She rarely left, and when she did, it was to pick up clothes and stuff from home. Her parents didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they never even called to check on her. Since she’d been here, her phone hadn’t rung one time. Not that I was judging her. The only people who ever called me were my mom and Amelia. I didn’t have any good friends. None that called anyway.
But Lennie wasn’t like me. She’d always been popular. Always had lots of friends.
Then again, that was the old Lennie. The girl she’d been back in high school. The current Lennie was much different. And she had mentioned once that many of her friends had jumped ship when she was diagnosed with cancer.
However, that didn’t explain the radio silence from her parents. My mom worried about me constantly. Weren’t Lennie’s parents concerned about her?
Every time I asked her about them she changed the subject or eluded the question. I’d offered to meet her parents, to make sure they felt comfortable with her being here, but she’d declined.
“They’re fine with me being here,” she said flippantly. “They trust me.” When she smiled, I wanted to believe her words, but there was something in her eyes and demeanor that told me differently.
And that’s why I went to her house. It was early one morning when Lennie had a doctor’s appointment. I knew my window of time was limited. She was planning to come back to my apartment afterward. I told her I had errands to run, so I figured that bought me some time. If she showed up and I wasn’t home, she’d suspect I was at the grocery store or post office or something. Still, I couldn’t be gone too long.
Luckily, Lennie never asked me to go with her to the doctor. I told myself it was because she liked going alone, but sometimes I wondered if it was because she sensed my hesitation, my fear. Either way, I was relieved. Therefore, I didn’t spend too much time analyzing it.
The minute Lennie left, I headed to her house. She’d told me the barest of details about her parents. I didn’t know if they still worked or if they were retired. And I only had vague memories of them picking her up for school or taking her to back to school night when we were younger. But I was sure they looked much different now.
It was around ten in the morning when I pulled up to the curb across the street from Lennie’s childhood home. The curtains were open, a Honda civic sat in the driveway, and a truck was parked along the curb. Slumping down in my seat, I stared into the windows, but from this vantage point I couldn’t see anything more than blurry movement. Clearly someone was home, but I couldn’t see who it was.
Irritation welled inside of me. Why were her parents home instead of accompanying her to the doctor? I knew I was being a hypocrite, since I wasn’t with her either. But I wasn’t her parents. I hadn’t raised her from birth. Hell, sometimes I wasn’t sure what I was. I liked to think that I was her boyfriend, but Lennie had never confirmed that.
My mom had never missed any of my doctor’s appointments. She stood by my side at every single one.
What was the deal with Lennie’s parents that they didn’t do the same for her? That they didn’t even call her or worry about her?
Realizing that I’d never get the answers from here, I emerged from my vehicle, and softly closed the door. Turning my head in both directions, I scanned the neighbors’ houses. No one was outside. I wasn’t surprised. It was a dreary day. Dark clouds lined the sky making it appear that it was night time instead of morning. Besides, the houses over here were nice, so most people were probably working to pay their mortgages. Or they were old and retired, sitting inside watching television or reading the paper.
While it was quiet, I hurried across the street, my feet pounding on the pavement. When I reached the grass, I crouched down, careful not to be seen by the person or people inside. Hunched over, I scurried across the wet grass. Green blades stuck to my shoes, and the bottom of my pants dampened. By the time I reached the house I was winded. But I breathed softly, keeping as silent as possible. After regaining my bearings, I lifted up a tiny bit until I could see inside the window above my head. The house looked much different than my parents’. Clearly they’d updated their furniture sometime in the last twenty years. Everything was crisp, clean, modern.
Detecting movement out of the corner of my eye, I ducked back down. But then I saw that it was a woman and she wasn’t looking in this direction. She was holding a cup of coffee and making her way to the dining table. When she sat down, she lowered her head, reading something. On further inspection, I realized it was a newspaper. I couldn’t get a clear glimpse of her face, but I could see Lennie in her mannerisms, in the color of her hair. Clearly this was her mom.
She appeared calm, content. It was as if she hadn’t had a moment of worry in her life. That didn’t seem right, and it caused doubt to creep into my stomach. If her daughter was dying of cancer, wouldn’t she seem more agitated? More concerned? Not sitting at home reading the paper like she hadn’t a care in the world.
Something wasn’t right.
Everything about this felt wrong.
Hearing the rumble of tires and the roar of an engine, I sank to the ground, hiding behind a nearby bush. The car drove past, vanishing down the street. I started to stand up when I heard voices to my right. So I slid back down. The sharp edge of a twig scratched my arm, piercing the flesh. Crimson blood trickled down my skin. With my other hand, I wiped the sticky blood off. It coated the pads of my fingers and wouldn’t come off even when I swiped it on the calf of my pants. Through the leaves of the bush, I stared in the direction of the voices. A man and woman stood in the next door neighbor’s lawn chatting.
Sighing, I stayed still, my back plastered to the side of Lennie’s house as I waited for them to stop talking and go inside. After several minutes, I blew out an annoyed breath. Desperation bloomed inside of my chest. I needed to get out of her before Lennie finished her appointment. Closing my eyes, I pictured her in that hospital surrounded by white lab coats and nurses, sick people and imposing doctors. My stomach knotted, and familiar shame filled me. I should be with her.
She shouldn’t be alone.
Silence surrounded me, and my gaze darted next door. The couple was gone. Scanning the street, I waited until I was sure no one was around. Then I precariously hoisted myself up to peek into the window again. The woman was still seated at the table. A man rounded the corner. I only saw the back of his head at first, but surmised it was her dad. He walked with an easy gait, his shoulders relaxed. He leaned over and kissed the woman on the forehead. Warmth spread through me at the gesture, some of my earlier anger waning. I was glad that Lennie grew up in a home with parents who loved each other. Ray was never that tender with my mom.
My lips twitched at the corners when the man turned around, his face in full view. I inhaled sharply, my entire body going hot. No. It can’t be.
Backing away from the window, the world spun around me. I almost fell over, but managed to stay upright. Struggling to breathe, I reached up and clawed at my face, my fingernails raking down my skin. I felt the flesh embed under my fingernails. I wanted to dig them into my eyes, physically remove them. But I knew that wouldn’t take away what I’d seen.
Gasping for air, I stumbled across the front lawn and staggered to my car. Once inside, I exhaled, trying to process what I saw.
She lied. This wasn’t her home.
Those weren’t her parents.
What was happening?
I squinted toward the numbers outside the house making sure that it was the right address. Then I stared at the front door, at the mat on the front porch, remembering all the books I left. That was here, right?
None of it made any sense.
My face was so hot, I feared I had a fever. That I was going to pass out at any minute. I wiped sweat from my brow. Then with shaking fingers, I turned on the engine. It took multiple tries, but I finally got it. Dark red blood painted the steering wheel, my pants, my face, my fingernails, the seat. It looked like a murder had gone down in here. As I turned around and drove to my apartment, confusion filled me.
What kind of game was Lennie playing? And what part did I play in it?
26
“How’d your appointment go?” I asked Lennie when she showed up at my apartment. It was only a few minutes after I returned, and I’d been sitting in front of the laptop at my kitchen table pretending to work.
“It went well.” She lost her jacket, unwrapped the scarf around her neck. Tossed them both on a nearby chair. Then she stood behind me, kneading my shoulders with her hands. “How did it go here? Did you get a lot of work done?”
With her hands on me, it was impossible to think clearly. I wondered if that was one of her tactics. Lifting my arms, I placed my hands over hers, stopping her impromptu massage. Then I turned around, my eyes meeting hers. I studied what was inside, hoping to find the answer I needed.
She smiled, her brows furrowing. “Colin? What’s going on? Do I have a booger hanging out of my nose or something?” Wiping under her nostril, she let out a nervous laugh.
“No. You look fine. Well, more than fine. You look beautiful like always,” I said honestly. It didn’t matter how suspicious I was, she still captured my heart. I was convinced she always would. I had already let so many things slide with her. I’d overlooked things and forgiven her. And I was sure I would do it again…and again. I simply wanted to know the truth.
