by Gia Riley
“Where are they taking her?” Lemon asks the woman who came to sit with us while they took our mom away. She asks a lot of questions and looks around the house—it makes me nervous. I’m old enough to figure out she’s here because she has to be and not because we want her to be. No matter how hard I have to work or who I have to fight, I’ll never let anyone split us up.
“Life went to hell that day, but it was about to get ten times worse than it already was—especially for Lemon.”
I glance at Noelle, afraid to see her reaction. I sigh when she has tears streaming down her cheeks. “Did your dad come home?” she whispers.
“For about a week, until my uncle came to live with us. His life was fishing though, and he couldn’t stay. At the time, I didn’t care if he stayed or left, because he was so quiet it was like he was a different person. I didn’t understand why back then; I was too young. If I knew then what I did now, I would have been nicer to him—maybe even tried to get him to stay with us longer. But once Uncle Tom was settled, Dad went back to fishing like nothing ever happened. I guess you can’t miss someone you never saw in the first place.”
“I’m so sorry, Lane. No child should ever have to experience that.”
I reach my hand to her thigh, squeezing it so she understands that I’m okay. “I had a shitty start in life, baby, but it’s gotten a whole lot better. I have my music, and I have you. That’s all I really need.”
She turns her body toward mine as she adjusts her seatbelt. “You need your sister, too. As much as you think you’re okay with how things turned out, you’re not. I can see it in your eyes.”
“She’s my sister. Of course I want a relationship with her.”
Noelle brushes a few more tears off her cheeks before saying, “I don’t understand how you can love so hard and with so much of your soul when you were never shown that kind of love before. You should be so angry and so hateful, but you’re the exact opposite. You have the kindest heart I’ve ever known.”
“Drugs aren’t human. They take control and they destroy. The only good thing that came from them was I knew early on how I didn’t want to live my life. Some kids have a perfect example of how to mature and grow. I had a shining example of what not to be. My only choice was to try to have a better life than what I was shown. I easily could have fallen into the same path like Lemon did. I was lucky I got out when I did, because all the men who destroyed our mom had kids who were raised by addicts. Those kids are the ones who grew up hateful and angry, and they’re the ones destroying Lemon. She’s following in Mom’s footsteps and probably didn’t realize it until it was too late. Now she’s in the thick of it with no way out because I wasn’t strong enough to pull her away from Trey when I had the chance.”
“Who’s Trey?”
“I can’t right now, Noelle. If I talk about him, I can’t be stuck in a car with no air.”
She unclips her seatbelt and rests her head against my bicep, kissing me through the fabric of my shirt. “I want to know all of it—the whole story. But you don’t have to say another word about it until you’re ready. What you choose to tell me, I’ll cherish. Not because it’s something to celebrate, but because it’s something you trust me to keep safe in our relationship. And that’s exactly what I’ll do with it. You’re my rock, Lane, and I want to be that for you.”
“You are, baby. It’s Lemon I let down. She’s the one I have to make it up to.”
“From what you’ve told me, she’s worn her pain like diamonds around her neck. You can’t deny how strong she is, and if she’s anything like you at all, she’ll come through this stronger than ever.”
“And if she doesn’t, she’ll be dead. I can’t sit around and wonder if she’s alive anymore. She has no idea what it’s like to walk in on someone who overdosed. She doesn’t understand that you can’t ever unsee that shit. I don’t want someone to walk in on her and be stuck with that pain for the rest of their lives.”
With complete and absolute resolve, she says, “Then we’ll do whatever it takes to help Lemon.”
As we pull into the parking garage and into my assigned spot, I turn my head and realize there’s not a single woman on this planet I’d rather walk alongside than her. If I’m doing this, we’re doing it together.
The prayer I silently recite to myself in the elevator does no good. Once Lane unlocks the front door and pushes it open, we’re faced with darkness. Without saying a word, we both know Lemon’s gone.
Lane walks in first, flips the switch, and lights up the living room. He takes one look around and storms into the kitchen. After flipping open a few cabinets and then the fridge, he growls before slamming it shut. I can’t tell what he’s looking for, but before I can get to him to calm him down, he lets loose. Angrier than I’ve ever seen him, his pain goes from his heart all the way to his fist. I gasp when he punches the wall so hard his hand goes through the drywall, leaving a gaping hole behind.
“Lane!” I yell in a mixture of shock and fear. I’m not scared he’ll hurt me; I’m scared he’ll hurt himself even more than he already has.
For the briefest of seconds, I can see him debating whether to do it again. But once he hears my voice, he backs away. With his hands clasped behind his head, he tries to catch his breath. “Check if she took anything of yours.”
“I’m sure she didn’t.”
“She did,” he says, while staring at the mantle.
Even though I want to give Lemon the benefit of the doubt, I check the closet in Lane’s bedroom. The hangers that held my clothes are bare, and when I open my suitcase on the floor, most of what I left in there is gone, too.
It’s the same in the bathroom. Some of my makeup is gone, my shampoo and conditioner aren’t in the shower—even the roll of toilet paper is missing.
My stuff can all be replaced, but what scares me the most is that she needed all those things I take for granted every day of my life. When I get ready, it’s all there waiting for me every single day. To think she doesn’t even have enough money to buy herself shampoo makes me sad.
I sit on the edge of the tub, wishing I could have met her before she left—helped her even.
“It’s all gone, isn’t it?” Lane asks from the doorway.
I nod, wishing I could tell him everything was right where I left it. “She didn’t take it all, but most of it.”
“Motherfucker,” he says as he pinches the bridge of his nose, no doubt trying to figure out what to do next. Even though we’re a few feet apart, I can feel the anger coursing through his veins. While I want to tell him it’s okay, we both know what she did is anything but okay.
“Did she take anything else?”
“Food and water. Some of the pillows off the spare bed.”
“Is she in trouble?” I ask him, not expecting a truthful answer when I still know very little about his sister.
He shrugs, not giving much away either way. “Probably, and that’s what pisses me off the most. I told her she could stay here as long as she needed to. I practically begged her. If she would have stayed here like I asked, we could be on our way to the store to get her all the things she needed. Instead, she stole them and left.”
“Why didn’t she stay?”
“She’s in so deep she doesn’t believe she can get out—or that she deserves better. Kind of hard to want more or believe that a better life exists when you’ve never had one to begin with.”
“Maybe she’ll come back when she’s ready.”
“If I’d had more time, maybe.”
Guilt presses on my shoulders, the weight of the truth yanking me deeper and deeper into its harsh reality. No matter how hard I kick my legs and tell it to leave me alone, that what happened was completely justified, it doesn’t make it consume me any less. Had I not gone back home, forcing Lane to choose one of us over the other, Lemon might be here where she’s safe. Instead, she’s back in the world all alone, doing God knows what with God knows who. I put her in danger this time and, whatever ha
ppens to her, it’ll be my fault.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I leave the bathroom and hurry to the kitchen for some water before it gets any harder to swallow.
“Noelle,” he says as I walk away. “Baby, I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”
I reach into the fridge for a bottle of water, pressing the cool plastic against my forehead. The condensation leaves a cold splotch on my skin, probably taking my makeup off with it, but I don’t care. All I care about is Lemon’s safety—and that Lane forgives me for screwing up his chance to get his sister out of Sea Port.
“Why are you so tense?” he asks, as he wraps his arms around me from behind.
“Because I was selfish and ruined everything for you.”
He spins me around, taking the water out of my hand and setting it on the counter. Before I know what’s happening, he picks me up and places me on the island. “Look at me, Noelle.”
When I raise my head, his eyes are the color of steel, the blues threatening to mix with the greys like a mood ring that can’t make up its mind if it’s angry or satisfied. “Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him.
“Like what? Like you’re loved?”
“And then you say shit like that and make it worse. I feel so guilty.”
“Baby, when given the choice, I’m always going to choose you.”
“I shouldn’t have made you choose in the first place.”
He exhales, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He doesn’t have to say a word though. I see in his eyes how terrified he is of never seeing his sister again.
Lane’s the kind of brother who would do anything to protect his sister. He’d put his own life on the line to keep her safe—and judging from the scar on his chest, he probably has. That’s a story I still have to find answers to. I need to know how bad it’s been if I ever want to try to help make it better.
Stroking my cheek with his thumb, he says, “I don’t want you to worry about Lemon anymore. You’re here to see me. None of this baggage I carry around has anything to do with you. There’s nothing you have to fix to make me love you more. Got it?”
Even though I nod, telling him I understand, it doesn’t do much of anything to take away the doubts swirling around inside me. Because just like Lane would do for Lemon, I’d do the same for him—and so far, I’m failing miserably.
“Do you want to go to the grocery store with me? Since she took what little food I had. ”
Considering we’re in the heart of the city, I could probably find anything I wanted and then some, but the idea of going right out and buying food, let alone picking out clothes and makeup makes me feel selfish—selfish that I have money at my disposal to bail me out of hard times. And my hard times are nothing like Lemon’s. That’s why I tell him, “If it’s okay, I’ll stay here. I haven’t checked on the salon in days. They’re probably wondering what happened to their control-freak boss.”
He must have been expecting me to go with him, because his face falls as he lets go of me. All I get is a simple “Sure” before he turns around and walks away from me. He read that all wrong.
I massage my temples, hating all this guilt. More than anything, I’m hoping Lemon isn’t the one force strong enough to destroy us. If I knew where to look, I’d go find her myself, begging her to come and see Lane so he could stop hurting. She needs to realize he can save her if she’ll let him. Most importantly, they can save each other and put an end to decades of pain. A pain that’s slowly invading my own heart.
Just as I change my mind and realize I’d rather go with him than talk to anyone from back home, the door to the condo opens and closes. He didn’t even bother to say good-bye.
All those months we spent apart never made me feel as lonely as I’ve felt yesterday and today. Apart, we were always laughing and telling each other how much we wanted to be together. Now that we’re finally in the same place at the same time, it’s just not falling into place the way I thought it would. So far, it’s one disappointment after the next. One tear following another.
I said I was going to call the salon, but my finger hovers over Lane’s name. Even though I want him to come back for me, I let him go. Maybe he needs some time to get his head together because I feel like I do. There are a million things I want to say to him, most of which can wait until he gets back except for one.
Noelle: I’m sorry.
I stare at the screen, waiting for him to reply. It takes him six whole minutes to type three little words. But they’re the three that mean the most when they come from him.
Lane: I love you.
I read it twice more, the words so powerful I can still hear the tenderness in his voice when he said them to me for the very first time. It’ll never get old, that’s how much he means to me. Before I can say it back, Lark messages me.
Lark: Where are you? I called your house and you didn’t answer.
Noelle: I’m back in NY.
Lark: You’re upstairs?
Noelle: Yeah, but this shit is hard. I’m fucking it up left and right.
Just as I press Send, there’s a knock at the door. I stare at the wall, wondering how the hell Lark managed to get up here so fast. Only when I open the door, it’s not her on the other side. Actually, I have no idea who’s pushing past me, desperate to get into a place she seems to know so well.
Right away, I panic. My fingers scroll through my contacts for Lane’s number—a number I wish I had memorized and didn’t rely on technology to remember for me.
“Where’s my brother?”
“Lemon?” I question. She’s a much different version than the girl in the pictures on the mantle. If she hadn’t told me she was his sister, I never would have put two and two together. If anything, I’d think she was an ex or a crazed fan.
“He told you about me?” she asks in disbelief, turning to face me as she says the words. When she does, the light hits the other side of her face, revealing a blackened eye with a nasty cut beneath it.
“I’m Noelle, his girlfriend. Are you okay?”
She tucks a strand of her straw hair behind her ear, the ends dead and in desperate need of a trim. “I can’t believe you’d even care after I took all your stuff.”
“You shouldn’t have taken anything from this condo, but right now, I’m more worried about what happened to your face and what you need.”
She dabs her sleeve against the cut, checking to see how much it’s bleeding. “It’s not that bad.”
“Do you want me to call the police?”
At the mention of the cops, she scrambles toward the door, losing her footing on the kitchen tile and falling to her hands and knees. She hangs her head in defeat, and probably a little bit of pain, too.
I move closer, kneeling beside her. I’m hesitant to scare her, because the last thing I want is for her to run out that door again because of me. “Please, don’t,” she begs. “I shouldn’t have come here. Leave the trash in the trailer, right?”
My heart breaks hearing her talk about herself like she’s not worthy of being in Lane’s home. She’s so much more than the address on her mailbox or the people she surrounds herself with. She’s a human being who deserves compassion. I may not know her whole story or any of her truths, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out Lemon has been beat down her whole life and made to believe she’s not worth being loved.
“Whoever did this to you needs to be stopped, Lemon. I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”
“Why would you help me? You don’t even know me.”
“I love your brother. That means I care about you, too.”
“It does?”
“Yes, it does. If you’ll let me, I’d like a chance to get to know you.
“Like a friend? You don’t really look like the Lola’s type.”
“I don’t care where you work or what you do, Lemon. Lola’s doesn’t define you.”
Turning her head, she looks at me to see if I’m telling the truth. I pray she can see the hope in my ey
es. I want nothing more than to help her, but I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Like a scared little girl who needs her big brother, Lemon ignores my offer, only asking, “Where’s Lane?”
“He’s at the grocery store. He’ll be back any minute. Please, stay.”
Again, I don’t get an answer, but she does try to stand up, even letting me help her. Her clothes are dirty and her hair needs washed. The polish on her fingernails has to be a couple weeks old, and she looks like she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months, maybe even years.
Leading her to the living room, I show her how a guest should be treated. She lies down on the couch, her head nestling against the throw pillow at the end. I open a blanket and cover her with it. Her fingers run over the cashmere like she’s never felt something so rich on her body before—and she probably hasn’t.
“Are you warm enough?” I ask her.
“Yes,” she whispers as she fights to keep her eyes from closing. “Do you have something to make my eye hurt a little less?”
“Of course.” I go into the kitchen and bring her a glass of water then grab two headache pills out of my purse, hoping she’s not on anything else that will mix with it.
While she’s taking them, I root around in Lane’s cabinets, searching for something to clean the cut with. Eventually, I find some antiseptic cream and a bandage. It may need a stitch or two, but this is the best I can do right now. I’m lucky she’s staying put, so I’m not about to press my luck with a trip to the hospital.
“Noelle?”
My name, a simple acknowledgement I’ve heard thousands of times, sounds sweeter coming from her. So she doesn’t think I left her, I practically run back into the living room.
This is the first step in changing her life. And the second in easing Lane’s pain.
This time, when I come home, I’m praying Noelle’s still here. When I left, I could tell she was struggling. Just like I didn’t want, she’s been sucked right into the drama I’ve been trying to shield her from.
By never talking about my past, it wasn’t my intention to keep it from her; it was my plan to try to blend in and be like everyone else. Sure, we all have a story, but mine’s been littered with one shit storm after another.
