Scozzari: Deviant #3

by Roberts, Jaimie

  Frank smiles, taking my bag. “Thanks. Did a lot of the work myself. It’s been hard, but worth it. A labor of love.”

  “Take a seat,” Cathy says, motioning toward her huge cream couch. “I’ll just get the tea and sandwiches.”

  I take my seat with a smile. “How long have you lived here?”

  Frank tugs on his trouser legs before taking a seat in a nearby chair. “We bought the plot around five years ago and then built it within six months.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive.”

  Rubbing his chin, he looks down a moment, his expression sad. “Unfortunately we may have to sell.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  “It’s a long story, son. We’ll get to that in a bit. First, let’s get you settled and fed. You must be tired after getting up so early this morning to come visit.”

  “I’m not too bad, actually, but thanks.”

  Cathy walks back in with a tray of sandwiches, cookies, and tea. Immediately my mouth salivates at the thought of her famous cookies. Cathy spots me eyeing them and smiles.

  “Did you get the batch I gave to Caitlin?”

  I give her a wink as she sits down. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for those. I had really missed your cookies. I wanted to savor them, but by morning they were all gone.”

  She giggles as she starts pouring the tea. “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Just milk, thanks. I’m sweet enough.”

  I’m surprised when I see Cathy blush. She looks so much like Caitlin in that moment.

  I hear a clearing of Frank’s throat and turn to him. “So, what have you been getting up to since we left?” He takes a sweep of my messy dark hair, 50 Cent T-shirt, and low riding jeans. No doubt he hasn’t missed the multitude of tattoos either. “A lot, I can see.” He smiles, but it doesn’t seem judgmental. I’m glad. Too many people judge me on first impressions. Sometimes they can last. I personally don’t care what people think—as long as it’s not someone I love or care about. The tattoos and way I dress don’t make me a bad person. I have an inner teddy bear inside of me. It just roars from time to time.

  “I think my dad’s rubbed off on me.”

  Frank smiles. “Like father, like son, huh?” I notice the way Frank then looks at Cathy, smiles, but quickly averts his eyes like he’s said something bad. There’s deep sadness in this couple. They seem happy, but again, appearances can be deceptive.

  “Yes, like father, like son. Although my dad never went to college, so the responsibility’s been placed on my shoulders.”

  “What are you studying?” Cathy asks.

  “Criminal Psychology.”

  “The minds of serial killers, huh?”

  I turn to Frank and nod. “It’s just a fascination of mine.”

  I take a sip of my tea and gorge on one of the ham sandwiches Cathy’s kindly left out for me. “I really appreciate you putting me up like this. I could have stayed at a hotel.”

  Cathy places her tea cup down. “Nonsense. We wouldn’t hear of it. I’m sure Caitlin won’t mind you sleeping in her bed.”

  I bet she won’t.

  “How is she?” Frank asks, a worried frown etched in his face.

  I swallow the remaining sandwich before answering. “She’s... different. That’s why I’m here. I’m worried about her.”

  “In what way?” Cathy interrupts, leaning forward.

  “She’s fine. My intention is not to worry you. I just know she’s hiding something and she won’t tell me what it is. I know it’s presumptuous of me to fly all the way here just to ask you what happened to her, but I’m guessing something did.” Cathy and Frank exchange hesitant glances. “I’m not being nosey. I genuinely care for Caitlin and if there is something I should know... maybe something I should know to keep her safe, than I would rather have all the facts laid in front of me so I know how to be prepared.”

  Cathy bites her lip, still looking at Frank. “He’s right, Frank. Wouldn’t you rather Jeremy know so he’s an extra set of eyes on Caitlin?”

  I judge that Stacey is currently the only set. But what is it she’s so afraid of?

  Frank nods and I watch intently as Cathy gets up and moves toward a cabinet. She opens one of the drawers and retrieves a book. She brings it back to the table and sits down before opening a page. Inside are some photographs. She picks up the first one and hands it to me. It’s of Caitlin looking at the camera, laughing as another boy has his arms around her. He’s staring at her intently, a smirk on his face. Instantly, I hate him and I don’t even know anything about him.

  Jealousy can be such a petty monster.

  “That’s Jack. Caitlin’s ex-boyfriend. He’s currently in jail serving time for assault.”

  My eyes snap up from the photo to Cathy. I’m guessing the reason behind it has something to do with Caitlin. My stomach twists at the thought.

  Cathy’s eyes glance over at Frank. He nods, giving her the encouragement she needs to carry on. She takes in a deep breath.

  “She met Jack when she was out bowling with school friends one night. She had recently turned sixteen and her grades at school were excellent, so we decided to loosen the reins a little and let her have some fun. We knew some of her friends and liked them, so were fine about the whole arrangement. While she was bowling, another group came over and introduced themselves. One of them was Jack. Caitlin seemed to instantly be attracted to him. When we met him, we could understand why. He appeared so clean-cut, so polite, and so enamored by our daughter, that we didn’t think anything of it. We didn’t realize that deep down he had a violent streak.”

  Feeling my blood pumping through my veins, I swallow hard. I know this is just the smooth build-up toward the horror I can see coming like a train wreck. Do I really want to know? It’s why I’m here. But it doesn’t stop my already murderous thoughts toward this Jack fucker.

  I watch Cathy take another sip of her tea before replacing it back down on the table. “Everything was great for about six months. Caitlin seemed happy, so we were too. Then, after those six months everything changed. It was little at first. She started dressing differently—more conservative, shall we say. Not that she ever wore anything revealing, but what she did wear you wouldn’t imagine anyone wearing at her age. She started looking like a Stepford child.” She closes her eyes and takes in another breath. “Then came the moment she arrived home one night with a bruise on her cheek. We asked her what it was and she said she fell. Isn’t that always the excuse? I fell?”

  Tears brim in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says, quickly getting up to grab some tissues.

  “Don’t be,” I reply. “This can’t have been easy on you both having to watch this going on from the sidelines.”

  “It wasn’t,” she continues, sitting back down. “Especially when you know something’s happening and every time you question it you get the same response. We had no evidence other than the fact she was extremely accident prone all of a sudden.” She sucks in an angry breath before dabbing her eyes. “This went on for a couple of months. Everything in her life was about Jack. Her whole world evolved around Jack. She thought she couldn’t breathe without him. Her grades began to suffer and when she started skipping school, we tried putting our foot down. We would ground her only to find that she would sneak out of the window at night to be with him. We would wake up the next morning, finding bruises on her that were not there the night before. She started losing weight and would get ill a lot. In a last ditch effort we called the police to try and nip their relationship in the bud before it got too bad, but that only ended up making things worse. We were Caitlin’s enemy, but the real enemy was taking her away from us.”

  She wipes her weeping eyes, looking exhausted already. I can’t imagine what Caitlin’s folks must have gone through all those months watching their only daughter slowly slip away.

  Cathy sniffs, straightening her back to compose herself. “Around two weeks before the night in question, Caitlin started to withdraw from Jack. She would make excuses
that she wasn’t well... stuff like that. Jack would constantly call, constantly want to know where she was, who she was with. Caitlin wouldn’t talk to us, but we knew this was hopefully a turning point. Caitlin broke down one night and told us that she wanted to break things up with him, that she was going to go to him the next night and finally call things off. We were so relieved that this was all going to be over.”

  But I bet it was only the beginning.

  Cathy closes her eyes and swallows a sob. I know she’s getting to the difficult part now. In the corner of my eye Frank maneuvers in his seat, clearing his throat again like he has something stuck there. It’s the hard truth in what’s to come. That must be an extremely bitter pill to swallow.

  “The next night she left stating that she would be back no later than nine o’clock. We knew she was going out to break things off with him and the only reason why we let her is because she insisted she was going to go someplace public. He took her to this café where they ate pie and drank milkshake. She had told him she wanted to call things off, and she said he seemed okay with the idea... that he took it really well. Afterward, he told her he was going to drive her home as he wanted to make sure she got back safely. Instead, he...” A sob catches in her throat. Frank is immediately there to hold her hand.

  “If you want to stop now...”

  Cathy places her other hand up, shaking her head. “No, I’ve come this far. You need to know. You need to know so you can understand... So you can be her friend.”

  I nod, swallowing nervously. I know I need to hear this, but I also know I’m going to feel sick the whole way through it.

  Oh, Caitlin. Why didn’t you reach out to me?

  I could ask that question over and over again in my head, but the answer will still remain the same. We were practically strangers by then. Three years apart from any communication is a long time.

  Cathy wipes her nose again and continues. “Jack didn’t drive her home that night. He took her to a parking lot by some woods. Said he just wanted a chat. Once there he beat her until she was unconscious and dumped her in the woods.”

  Clenching my jaw, I close my eyes. What she must have felt. The pain, the fear.

  “When she didn’t come home at nine, we immediately called the police, explained the situation. At first they were not too responsive, but when they asked Jack what had happened and he acted suspicious saying he dropped her off at home, they started to look into it further. They managed to trace her phone to the woods, and thank God they did as any longer and she would have died from her injuries.”

  She bends forward, retrieving a photograph at the bottom of the pile. “These photographs were evidence. We keep them now to try and warn other girls about domestic abuse.” She flicks the photo over and when she does my heart leaps in my throat. Caitlin is barely recognizable lying in a hospital bed. Her whole face is swollen, beaten to the point that much of it looks purple. Her eyes are closed and a tube is stuck down her throat.

  “She had a collapsed lung from him repeatedly kicking her when she lay on the ground unconscious.” Cathy grips at her chest with her right hand, pain etched into every feature of her face. I can only imagine what hearing this must have been like. Hearing it myself makes me so angry to the point I want to visit that fucker in prison and gladly do time myself for him.

  “She was unconscious for a few days,” she continues. “We were so relieved to hear that she was going to be okay. We didn’t realize that the real battle was about to begin. He made a mockery of the court, smirking and blowing kisses at Caitlin.” She exhales a deep sigh. “Then, when it was all over and he was sentenced, we all breathed in relief, but we didn’t realize it wasn’t over. Caitlin regularly received death threats via text, dead black roses were planted on our doorstep. She had plans to go to Chicago to get her History degree, but all this scared her to the point she needed to distance herself as far away from here as possible. We all collectively agreed that she should go back to Virginia. The college isn’t as good for her field, but at least she’s safer there.”

  I watch as she closes her eyes, her mouth downcast as a tear slips down her face. Cowardly, I look away. I can’t stand to see a woman cry. Women crying scare the fuck out of me.

  I stare at the floor before realizing I’m still clutching onto the photograph. I can’t help but glimpse at it again, and when I do, anger like no other ripples through me.

  “May I be excused for some fresh air?” I ask, looking from Cathy to Frank.

  Frank gives me a knowing small smile. “Of course.” He points toward the hallway and says, “Walk down to the bottom into the kitchen. You can go out through the patio doors there.”

  I get up. “Thank you.”

  My feet quickly find movement toward the kitchen and out through the patio doors. When I realize I’m still clutching onto that damn fucking picture, I go back inside and place it on the counter face down. I can’t look at it again.

  I walk back outside, leaning on the doorframe; I take a deep breath in, relishing in the fresh breeze that brushes past me. I could really do with a smoke right now. I’m so fucking pumped I can’t think straight. The only thing I have on my mind right now is murder. Pure, vengeful, unadulterated murder.

  “Fuck, Caitlin. Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper underneath my breath.

  “I think she’s ashamed.”

  I snap my head around to find Frank standing behind me with a rolling tobacco pouch in his hand.

  “I’m sorry... my language.”

  He holds his hand up to stop me. “Don’t sweat it, son.” He digs into his pouch, pulling out a previously made roll up, handing it to me. “Want one? They’re the special kind,” he says with a wink.

  I smile brightly, straightening myself up a little. My anger immediately calms slightly. “I didn’t know you smoked the stuff.”

  He offers me a light, so I lean forward. I suck in and the relief I get when I exhale is enormous. It’s been too much of a shock for one day.

  Frank lights his own, taking a heavy exhale. “Stage three colon cancer.”

  Fuck me, can this day get any fucking worse?!

  “Shit, man, I’m so sorry. How long have you known?”

  “I found out when Caitlin was going through the court case. She doesn’t know yet, so I would appreciate if you didn’t tell her. I want her to concentrate on her studies. No distractions. She’s had too much shit to deal with already. I know if I told her she would ditch school and be right back here, throwing away her life. That’s the last thing I want. When I go, which will be soon, I want to go knowing I did right by her. I’ll be hanging on until she gets her degree, and then I think my time will come. Hopefully the man upstairs will grant me at least that.”

  I feel the sting of tears. Sniffling, I place my thumb and forefinger on my eyes, wiping away my tears. His hand on my shoulder makes me look up.

  “Don’t cry for me, son. I couldn’t have asked for a better life. I married the woman of my dreams, built a home with her, and raised the best daughter any man can be proud of.”

  Try as I might, I still can’t help the tears that come. This guy right here in front of me. He was the guy who used to invite me around every Sunday for lunch, play soccer with me in the back garden as Caitlin and her mom baked cookies in the kitchen. This is the guy I helped build a tree house with for Caitlin, so she had somewhere to go and study in quiet. This is the guy who sat with me during breaks, telling me stories of all the homes he built and the demanding clients he had who used to drive him crazy. This is the guy who, when I nervously asked if I could take his daughter to a school dance, had patted me on the back, called me the son he never had, and said he would be honored for me to take his daughter. I had been wrecked when Caitlin left, but I was equally upset about her parents too. Frank was like a second father to me. Back then, I was the luckiest punk on earth to be blessed with the home life I had. Hearing this... it’s soul-destroying.

  “How... how long?”

&
nbsp; He takes a drag of his smoke before answering. “Four... maybe five years. I’m aiming for the five.” He brandishes a joking smile before raising his joint. “This helps more than any drugs they can offer. Not only does it help with the discomfort I get on occasions it also stops me from being so sick after the chemo. It’s not legal here in Nebraska yet, but I’m hoping one day it will be. Until then, I have to drive to the local park and exchange money under the cover of darkness.”

  Frank was always someone I looked up to. A big guy, with a big smile and an equally big heart. It makes me angry and bitter. Angry that this has happened to him, and bitter that throughout all the shitty fucking people in the world—Jack included—this card had to be dealt to Frank.

  I take a drag of my joint, savoring the calm it brings, but knowing it will only be a temporary numb.

  “If there’s anything I can do—and I mean anything, please reach out to me.”

  Grabbing my shoulder and squeezing it a little, Frank smiles. “You have a good heart, Jeremy. Always have.” He takes in a breath, looking out toward his garden for a moment. “I only ask one thing from you.”

  “Name it.”

  Taking one heavy drag of his joint, Frank’s eyes well with tears.

  “Look after my Caitlin for me.”

  Apparently rain is forecast today—which will only lighten my mood further, no doubt. Ever since I saw that rose on my doorstep yesterday, I haven’t thought about nothing since. I couldn’t sleep, and when I did, I dreamed that Jack was in my room and it would wake me back up again. I had one close friend who I left behind in Nebraska. Just one out of many who had chosen to distance themselves. The others, they claimed that we were BFFs forever and ever, but it only took what happened that fateful night for them to pretend they never even knew me. All but the one.

  Krissy.

  She had stayed loyal right up to the end and still remains that way. We often message each other, me to tell her how scary and exciting it is to be at home again, and her to keep me up to date with everything that’s going on.