Finding Purgatory

by Kristina M Sanchez

  “I had to find out on the fucking Internet your husband, your kid, and some stupid prick murderer died in this house? In this house. Where I live. That’s sick, Ani. That’s so sick. How could you not—” She clapped her hand over her mouth and bolted for the bathroom.

  Ani waited until she heard the toilet flush before she knocked on the door. Tori didn’t answer. At the sound of her quiet weeping, Ani pushed the door open.

  “I thought this shit was supposed to stop after the first trimester,” Tori said with a rasp. She looked terrible. Her head rested on her arm on the lip of the commode, and Ani could see the way she trembled.

  “Well, sometimes you get very lucky and it lasts longer.” Ani stooped, wrapped her arms around her sister, and pulled her up. “Come on, honey. I’ve got you.”

  It was a testament to how sick Tori felt that she didn’t pull away. She got up on shaky legs, leaning against Ani. “Seriously. Why the hell didn’t you tell me they were murdered? Murdered. In this house?”

  “Have you eaten anything all day?”

  Her sister groaned. “Every time I try, I . . .” She waved vaguely in the direction of the toilet. “I can’t be here,” she said as Ani led her out of the bathroom and up the stairs. “It’s too messed up. It’s disgusting. Where did they die? Where?”

  “Not in your room,” Ani said as she pulled her along. “Come on. You look like you’re about to fall over. Just lie down.” She pulled back the blankets on Tori’s bed. “A little sleep will help, and I’ll see if I can find something easy to eat.”

  Tori lay down, but she grabbed at Ani’s arm before she could leave. “Seriously. Where?”

  “What does it—”

  “Where? It matters to me.”

  Ani looked away. It felt like her ribs were contracting, squeezing the hell out of her lungs. “The entryway. And h-he killed himself on the stairs.”

  “Christ.” Tori covered her face with her hands and groaned.

  “Get some sleep.” To her own ears, Ani’s voice sounded dead. “We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling better.”

  Chapter 11: What You Want and What You Need

  It had taken Ani days to convince Tori she needed to call her doctor in the first place.

  “That’s what the doctor is there for,” she had said. “This is your first baby. She’s expecting you to call over things like heartburn. This is a big concern, Tori. If you’re so sick, you and the baby aren’t getting enough nourishment.”

  “I know how this works. Pregnancy is supposed to be miserable. There’s supposed to be a lot of barf involved. This is the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘If you didn’t want to barf a lot, you shouldn’t have let that boy get anywhere near you.’ ”

  The fact that she’d gotten sick with the flu at the same time her morning sickness came back didn’t help, but puking was par for the course for both conditions. No. Tori had refused. No, no, no. But then anything she ate and drank came right back up until she was dry heaving. She’d missed a week of school, and when her weight loss had become visible, Ani put her foot down.

  “If you make me, I will carry you out of here. Don’t think I can’t. You’re as weak as a kitten right now.”

  More than a little scared at that point, Tori had agreed.

  Severe hyperemesis and dehydration—that was the diagnosis. The doctor told her to come in, took one look at her, and had her on an IV in minutes. The next couple of days passed in a medicated blur as Tori slept off the remainder of the flu and recuperated from the aftereffects of dehydration.

  It wasn’t easy to discern dreams from reality, so when she woke up after yet another nap, it took her some time to realize someone was holding her hand. Whoever it was ran a thumb over across her knuckles, and Tori, overemotional as she’d been the last few days, wanted to weep at the soft, affectionate gesture.

  “Tor?”

  She sucked in a breath, startled into full consciousness at the sound of his voice. Opening her eyes, she found Raphe by her bedside. It was his hand around hers. “What are you doing here?” He couldn’t be here. Everything hinged on this one point. She yanked away from his grip.

  “Where else would I be? Especially now that I know.”

  She turned her head away from him. “Know what?”

  “I don’t understand how you could keep this from me.” His tone was even, but she could hear the hurt in his voice, the anger under the surface.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play stupid.” There was never any bullshitting Raphe. “This is why you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “No it isn’t. This isn’t any of your business.”

  “How can you say that?” He put his hand on her arm again.

  “Don’t touch me.” Tori pulled back with a glare. “I didn’t tell you about it because it isn’t yours, okay?”

  The wide-eyed, stricken look on his handsome face made her look away again. “You’re lying.” He didn’t sound as sure of that as he might have wanted.

  “You’re upsetting me. I’m sitting here in a hospital bed, and you’re upsetting me. Do the words delicate condition mean nothing to you?”

  To her surprise, one corner of his mouth lifted at her words. “I don’t think anything about you could be delicate.”

  Tori’s lips turned up and down as she fought a smile. Damn him. He’d always had the ability to make her smile when she was at her lowest or angriest. Right then, she resented it.

  And adored it.

  “But you’re right,” he said, his tone a bit lighter. “I shouldn’t be antagonizing you.” He paused. “If not me, whose is it?”

  The hurt in his voice almost broke her. The truth was right on the tip of her tongue. Of course it was his baby. But then she was angry all over again. Angry at him for his soft, tender words in her ear. Angry because he made her stupid, too stupid. He was a charmer, and she didn’t want to believe him again. “You don’t know him. What does it matter?”

  “Well, is he treating you right? He should be here.”

  “Ha. Look, we were dumb kids who did a dumb thing.” This, at least, was the truth. “I’m taking care of it. My sister is going to take the baby, and that’s good.”

  “Is that what you really want?”

  Tori chuffed. She rubbed her fingers against her blanket. It was a stupid question. What she really wanted was for this not to have happened. There was no good option. She hated being pregnant, but she didn’t regret not going through with an abortion. She wasn’t at all sure about trusting Ani, but she wouldn’t consider letting a complete stranger adopt the baby. Ani owed her, and she knew it. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was more assurance than she’d have with a stranger.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked again instead of answering.

  His features lightened, his lips tugging up at the corners. “You asked for me. I was glad.”

  Tori’s head snapped up. “What? What are you talking about?”

  “You asked for me. That was what your sister said. She said you even gave her my number.”

  With a groan, Tori banged her head back against the pillow. “It was the drugs. I don’t want you here.”

  He paused, his smile falling. “Why are you doing this, Tor? The least you could do is tell me what happened. At Christmas—”

  “Christmas was a mistake.” Christmas was the last thing she wanted to talk about.

  “So you keep saying. But I don’t believe you.”

  “What a typical guy response. Like you’re God’s gift to women.”

  “Cut it out.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his words were final. His tone gentled, and when he spoke again, there was a note of pleading to it. “Tell me what this is about.”

  Tori looked away, biting the inside of her cheek.

  He sighed. “If you tell me you don’t feel about me the way I feel about you, then I might recover one day.” He was joking again, but there w
as a hint of seriousness to his tone that killed her. “If you tell me you’re so mad at me, you’ll never speak to me again, then I will call you a liar to your face Victoria Eleanor Kane.”

  She tried to hide a smile as she turned back to him. “I don’t hate you.”

  Raphe grinned. “I know.”

  Putting on a more serious face, he reached for her, resting his hand over hers. “Would things be better between us if we pretend Christmas didn’t happen? Go back to the way things were before? I just want to be your friend.”

  Tori hesitated, torn. Her first instinct was to argue. Being friends with Raphe was what had gotten her here in the first place. He’d gotten too close, become too important.

  And please. After what he’d pulled, he couldn’t expect her to believe the “just friends” line. Raphe might have been her friend, but he was also a guy. What he really wanted was another chance to get back in her pants. She wasn’t going to be naive about it.

  Yes, they could talk. More than talk. Tori enjoyed conversations with him, and Raphe was one of very few people on the planet who could make her laugh. They’d met when she was fifteen. He was nineteen, and he hadn’t tried anything for years, but he’d always had this way of touching her. Little brushes of his fingers against her arm to get her attention. His hand on the small of her back. When he thought she was being silly and he teased her, he would rap his knuckles against her forehead.

  After years of innocent friendship, shortly before Christmas, he’d told her he loved her. He was the first person since that other boy who’d said those words to her.

  She should have known better. Of all people, Tori shouldn’t have let herself believe.

  Just when she’d gotten herself good and indignant again, Raphe jutted out his lower lip. His eyes were wide, innocent, and pleading. He looked like a little boy when he did that. An adorable little boy.

  Tori shoved him with exasperated playfulness. “Jesus, put that away.” She crossed her arms. “Why are you trying so hard just to be friends?”

  His eyes glinted. “Because I love you. Not like that,” he said quickly when Tori started to protest. He ducked his head. “Well, not only like that. We’ve been friends for a while now, Tor. Friendship is just another form of love. You don’t let yourself lose the people you love.”

  Tori bit the inside of her cheek.

  “Come on. Let me be here for you. You need someone. Especially for this.” He moved his hand to rest over her stomach.

  Her throat went dry. It should have been a no-brainer. Some logical part of her was smacking her upside the head. He could mess up the precarious solution she’d found for the parasite. The last thing she needed was for him to spin his beautiful fantasies, get her caught up in a future she couldn’t believe existed. What she should have been doing was demanding he get the hell out of her sight, out of her room, away from her and the baby.

  But . . .

  “Fine. But you can’t give me shit about this.” She gestured at her stomach. “I don’t want to hear your opinions.”

  Raphe had always been an opinionated bastard.

  It was obvious he wasn’t pleased about having to make that promise, but he nodded. “I can try to keep it under control, but you know me. Asking me not to have opinions is about as useful as asking the ocean not to be wet. And polluted. And full of fish. It’s a tall order.”

  “Not kidding, Raphe.”

  “I heard you.” His fingers tapped against her stomach over the blankets. “Your baby, your choices. I can respect that.”

  “Ugh. Would you stop touching it?” She squirmed. “It’s creepy.”

  “It’s beautiful.” His sentiment was sincere. “Maybe the circumstances weren’t great, but you’re creating life.”

  Tori shook her head. “Lucky me.” She was way too tired to have this argument. Her eyelids were already drooping.

  “You should rest, chiquita,” Raphe said, tucking the blankets up under her chin.

  “Sure. Okay.” Just before she fell asleep, Tori reached for his hand.

  Ani sequestered herself in the waiting room around the corner from Tori’s room, giving Raphe some time alone with her sister. She had her e-reader with her, but she wasn’t looking at it so much as holding it while she stared vacantly forward.

  She wasn’t in a good mood. It had been a hellish week that had started with Tori screaming at her about Mara and Jett, and it had only gotten worse from there.

  Despite the fact she kept telling herself it was rude to be short with someone who was lying in a hospital bed half out of her mind with drugs and lethargy, she’d snapped at Tori several times. She hadn’t meant to lose her patience, but any time Tori got the strength to speak more than two sentences, she talked about how freaked out she was that three people had died in the house.

  And she kept saying Jett and Mara’s names.

  Ever since reading his full name in whatever article she’d found, Tori kept on referring to him as Jethro. Ani had to bite her tongue. It wasn’t as though her husband were around anymore to wrinkle his nose in patient distaste.

  It was more than that, though.

  Ani couldn’t find the words to say how much it disturbed her to hear her own husband’s and daughter’s names. More than that, she was being asked to relive the most horrible moments of her life over and over. Tori insisted on knowing the details. Where? Exactly where had they died? How had it happened?

  After they died, Ani had gotten new carpet on the stairs and replaced the wood floors of the entryway with tile so she wouldn’t have to remember what they looked like smeared with blood. Now Tori was forcing her to remember. Those memories were vivid, seared forever in perfect clarity right behind her eyelids.

  In the months that had passed since their deaths, excluding the period right after, when it had been impossible to think about anything else, that week was the longest amount of time she’d been forced to dwell on what she’d lost. It was a threat to her whole method of coping. For these long months, she’d been able to ignore the crushing grief that hung like an anvil overhead, waiting for its moment to squash her flat. With the flurry of activity Tori had presented, Ani had almost forgotten it was there.

  The result was an endless loop of memories. She pushed them away, tried to think about anything else, but one came on the heels of the other until it took all her concentration to change the subject in her head.

  She jumped about a mile high when someone put a hand on her shoulder. Her heart was pounding fast, her throat closed. She was still caught in her memories, reliving the moment she heard the gun, and her mind started racing in terror. She looked around, expecting danger.

  But it was only Shane who stood in front of her, his expression concerned.

  Closing her eyes, Ani counted to ten and swallowed, breathed, calmed. “Hi.” Her voice was a mere whisper.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Um.” Ani had to struggle to remember where she was, let alone what she’d been doing. The last few days, her thoughts had felt hazy—not quite concrete, not quite stable. “Oh. She has a visitor. A boy. Raphe.” She crinkled her nose.

  “Raphael Diego?” Shane only seemed mildly surprised.

  Ani sat up straighter. Curiosity made it easier to focus. “You know him?”

  “I know of him,” Shane said as he sat down beside her. “Tori worked a couple of summer and holiday seasons at the mall. He was working at the store across from hers. His name came up a few times.”

  “In what context?” Shane gave her a look, and she backtracked. “Sorry. Of course you can’t say.” She rubbed her tired eyes. “I just wonder if this is the mysterious father.”

  “What makes you think he might be?”

  “Well, he’s the only one she’s asked for.” The day before, in the hospital, Tori had only been half-awake, stirring from a nightmare, when she begged—begged—Ani to call Raphe. She’d sounded so different—frightened and increasing
ly desperate until Ani had coaxed the number out of her. “The little girl from her old home . . .”

  “Brooklyn,” Shane said.

  “Yes. She visited the house a few days ago. And Tori talks to another girl on the phone from her support group, but she’s never so much as mentioned this boy before.”

  Shane hummed. “Well, your guess is as good as mine. Maybe she’ll be in a better mood when she gets discharged, and you might be able to get a straight answer from her.

  “Ha.” Ani snorted. “I’m not sure she’ll be happier to come back to the house.”

  “I heard about that.”

  Ani’s back stiffened and her breath caught. She waited for the inevitable.

  “I’m so sorry about your loss.”

  And there it was. Ani blew out a slow breath, staring forward. “Tori wants me to do an exorcism on the house before she gets home tomorrow.”

  Shane’s loud guffaw startled her. She wasn’t trying to be funny. It had been a preemptive bid to distract Shane from whatever he was about to follow up with. Ani wasn’t interested in his pity, his sympathy, or the questions she had no doubt were on the tip of his tongue.

  “I think I’m going to find someone to . . .” She searched for the word. “I don’t know what you would say. Read the house?”

  “Do you believe in that kind of thing?” Shane asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “I don’t disbelieve. I don’t think my house is haunted, if that’s what you’re asking. But there’s no harm in having someone do something if it will make Tori more comfortable.” Whatever it took to get her sister to drop the subject would be worth the price paid.

  “On that note, I have something for you. I’m not sure it’ll be a comfort, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” His smile was genuine as he proffered her a small cardboard container.

  “What is it?” Ani asked. It looked like a food container, and she wasn’t hungry.

  “A gift from West.”

  Ani had to smile. “Cheesecake?”

  “Not this time.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “He thought maybe you’d appreciate a nice piece of chocolate cake instead.”