Chris,
I’m sorry about last night. I wish I’d been able to take advantage of having you in my bed. Thanks for folding all my panties. Next time I promise I’ll model them for you. I need to do groceries, but there’s cereal in the bottom cupboard.
XO
Sarah
I opened the fridge. Aside from condiments and some bruised apples, the contents were pretty dismal. I checked her cupboards. They weren’t much better. It was only ten; I had plenty of time to remedy her grocery situation. Pocketing the key she’d left on the counter, I took the stairs to street level and hit the closest market. It was only a five-minute walk, but Sarah’s hours made it a challenge for her to make use of its convenience.
I stocked her up with fresh fruit and vegetables and picked up some of her favorite snack foods. I could only cover the essentials since I’d walked, but she wouldn’t come home to bare cupboards tonight. It was nice to do something for her, even if it was insignificant, much like the laundry folding.
That afternoon she stopped by between school and work to thank me, but I was busy with a client, so I couldn’t fully appreciate her gratitude.
* * *
The next week held more busy-ness for both of us. Xander seemed to be piling on the extra shifts, despite Sarah’s internship. I had begun to worry about how little sleep she had to function on. I avoided offering sleepovers or taking her up on her requests during the week, knowing full well it would mean she’d get only two or three hours of sleep before she had to be up for work again.
Her ability to handle the internship wasn’t a question—she’d been offered the placement, working at one of the major marketing firms downtown, on the spot. She’d been handed some pretty detailed marketing plans to implement already, and she spent a lot of time outside of the office reviewing paperwork and spreadsheets.
If she didn’t have shifts at The Sanctuary to manage, it probably would’ve been a lot easier to get it all done, but she had to squeeze it in between coming home from one job and going to another. Exhausted as she was, it would be much easier for Xander to persuade her to do things she normally wouldn’t.
We tried to make time to see each other, but it was tough with our conflicting schedules. She came in looking for a key on Thursday afternoon while I was working on a partial sleeve.
With the weekend on the way, I caved, especially since her request had been preceded by texts citing exactly how she still wanted to make up for last week—not that she needed to, we’d seen each other on the weekend. But my dick would happily take contact from something other than my hand, especially if it was Sarah.
Despite the plan, I woke up at four in the morning to an empty bed. Disappointed by the lack of a warm, soft body, I got up to take a leak and latch the chain lock.
I found Sarah passed out on the couch with a half-eaten sandwich in her lap and the TV on mute. I hated seeing her like that. I carried her to bed and made sure her alarm was set. All she left behind in the morning was the key she’d borrowed, a note, and a lip gloss mark on my cheek.
Though I saw less of Sarah than I liked, I’d heard a little more from Ivy since our breakfast. The antibiotics seemed to have had a positive effect on my mom’s cough. Ivy reported that she was only using her puffer, and the horrible rattle was better. I’d also managed to pay down the cell phone bill and added a month buffer so they didn’t have to worry about it for a while.
I would’ve bought her an entirely new phone if she’d let me. But Mom didn’t want to make John angry, and of course she figured it was her fault they’d gotten so behind on the payments, like every other bill. I didn’t give a shit if I pissed him off, but I didn’t have to live with the asshole, so I didn’t push.
I mostly kept my thoughts about John to myself and continued to check in with Ivy, making sure I was a consistent, reliable presence in her life. If I wanted to get her out of that house, I needed to earn her trust and give her a way to make it happen.
Now that we were talking about hiring someone to help take the pressure off Lisa I’d started considering whether Ivy might be a good fit. She’d only been in the shop once before, but despite the brief visit, everyone had been taken with her, particularly Lisa. I’d also taken her by the café to meet Cassie, who instantly fell in love.
If Ivy was willing, there might be an opportunity for her. She was definitely organized and far more capable of managing money than anyone else in her house, and the pay would be steady. If it worked out, my sister would be safe, and I could do what I hadn’t been able to before now: take care of her.
The next day I got confirmation that I was earning a place of trust in Ivy’s life when she called me at ass o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t that early, but eight-thirty wasn’t a time I usually rolled out of bed feeling chipper. She started with small talk, but I cut her off.
“Ivy, what’s going on? You’re not calling me this early to chat.”
She was silent for a few seconds before she heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Chris. I know you had to pay a lot for the prescription and the phone bill—”
I sat up, suddenly way more alert. “Is Mom sick again?”
That cough could easily have turned into pneumonia, even with the antibiotics. We might not have been close, but that didn’t mean I wanted anything bad to happen to her—or anything worse than what already had.
“No. No. She’s fine. That cough has cleared up really well. It’s just... I think there’s something wrong with the hot water. All I got was cold when I tried to shower this morning. It’ll cost a couple hundred to have someone come out to look at it. I thought maybe you could check before I go forking over money for no reason.”
“I can stop by in twenty, if that works for you.”
“Thanks, Chris. You’re an awesome brother.”
“Thanks. See you in a bit.”
I didn’t know shit about hot water tanks. But if I couldn’t figure it out, I could easily call Hayden. He’d reno-ed the house he and Tenley lived in, so he had a much better idea about home maintenance than I did. The only downside would be him seeing the shithole my family lived in.
As close as we were, Hayden hadn’t been inside my family home. I’d been exiled for a long time when he and I started hanging out. On the one or two occasions that we’d driven by my mom’s back in the day, Hayden had been just as fucked up as me on a steady stream of booze and drugs, so I doubted he would remember much about it.
I hadn’t been invited to a holiday function since I was eighteen. The last time I’d spent Christmas with my mom, John and I got into a fistfight, and I broke the dining room table with his body. It ruined dinner. I also broke his nose. Ivy was ten at the time. That had been the last time I saw her prior to the past few months.
The rig wasn’t around when I got there, and Ivy met me at the door. “Thanks for coming.”
“No worries. I’m glad you called.” I nodded at the empty street. “John out?”
“He left real early this morning, before Mom or I woke up.” She stood in front of the mostly closed door looking embarrassed. “Dad had some friends over last night, and I haven’t had a chance to clean up.”
“It’s cool. You don’t have to apologize.”
She opened the door and ushered me in. I stopped just beyond the threshold, gaping at the mess. The house was a sty, worse than it had been the last time I was here by far.
“I should’ve tidied up.”
“You’re not the fucking house maid.”
I could see she’d tried to clean the worst of it before I arrived, but didn’t have time to make it happen. Magazines and newspapers littered the coffee table beside the lounger. Two ashtrays, overflowing with butts, sat on top of the mess. Half-empty beer bottles lined the perimeter of the chair and most of the space on the table. There were even a few bottles on top of the TV, still half-full with butts floating in the murky liquid.
I wanted to pour them all together and force that asshole to drink it.
“Where’s Mom?”
“Still in bed,” she whispered as we passed her room. “She worked both jobs yesterday, and Dad was up real late with the guys. You know how she doesn’t sleep well. I have to get her up soon, but I thought I’d let her sleep as long as I could.”
“Is he gone for a while again?”
Ivy shrugged. “He didn’t say.”
It was a damn good thing John wasn’t here, because I probably would’ve wiped the floor with his ass. But I didn’t want to make Ivy feel worse, so I didn’t comment. Her memory of my departure would always include busted drywall and stitches in her dad’s face. And she’d had ten years of hearing what a loser I was from him. We were making progress now. I didn’t want to mess that up.
The house didn’t have a full basement, just a four-foot crawl space accessible through a hatch in the floor of Ivy’s closet. There was another hatch in the ceiling for the attic, and the furnace had been partitioned off with some cheap divider. It was amazing she could fit any clothes in there at all. Her room in no way reflected the shabby disorder of the living room and kitchen. The twin bed against the far wall was made neatly, its threadbare comforter folded back to reveal faded pale blue sheets with a flower print. A few library books were neatly stacked on her desk in the corner, along with an ancient-looking computer I wasn’t sure could still work. Beside that sat a small dresser with mismatched knobs on the second and third drawers. The white paint on the walls was now nicotine yellow, the result of John’s years of smoking in the house.
Ivy had already taken care of clearing out her closet so I could get to the hatch. A small plastic laundry hamper, both handles broken, was pushed against the wall beside it. Her closet was pitifully bare. Three pairs of black pants and four pairs of jeans hung from cheap metal hangers. One pair stood out from the rest, maybe a splurge on her part. They boasted jeweled back pockets. A few shirts hung on the opposite side, as well as several hoodies. Nothing seemed very new.
I could always ask Lisa about getting her some clothes, since they were close to the same size, or even Tee maybe. If Sarah had the time I was sure she’d help me shop for Ivy, but she already had enough going on, and I didn’t want to put this on her, too. I wasn’t too keen on sharing this part of my life with her. It was a little too much reality.
I dropped down into the space below Ivy’s closet, then reached up for the flashlight as she handed it over. Flicking it on, I looked around. A couple of old cardboard boxes were tucked away in the corner. The water heater was on the other side, covered in dust and cobwebs. It didn’t look broken, but then I had no idea what I should be checking for. The tank was cool to the touch, which for sure wasn’t right.
“You got water pressure?”
“Yup. It’s just not hot. I can handle the cold water, but it could make Mom sick again.”
That going without hot water was an option she’d considered made me ragey. Sinking into a crouch, I crab-walked around the perimeter, looking for obvious issues. When I found none, I checked out the pipes above. They were covered in cobwebs, fat spiders clinging to them.
I should’ve brought Hayden with me in the first place, though I wasn’t sure he could manage his OCD self in this level of disorder or filth without saying something that might hurt Ivy’s feelings. The sorry state of the house was an embarrassment, as well as a testament to the poverty I’d grown up in and couldn’t seem to help my mom find a way out of.
Instead of admitting I didn’t know the first thing about water heaters, I hoisted myself out of the hole. “Where’s the water meter at?”
“Out back.” She gestured for me to follow.
I felt bad about trekking my dirt-covered shoes through her bedroom, so I took them off and carried them to the hall.
“It’s usually not like this. I try to clean the floors once a week, just last night... ”
I braced myself against the door frame, slipping my boots back on in the hall. “You don’t need to explain. You’re not the only one who lives here.” A hole marred the drywall next to her door. I stopped, sweeping my finger around the perimeter, it came away powdery. “What happened here?”
She looked away as she spoke. “I knocked into the wall.”
“With what? Your fist?”
“I had a friend over. We were fooling around. My elbow hit the drywall.”
“Were you doing the Chicken Dance? ’Cause it sure looks like those knobby elbows of yours were up by your ears.”
She shoved my shoulder, but when she spoke, she didn’t look at me. “My elbows aren’t knobby! It was an accident.”
Ivy walked down the hall to the back door. There was a small, shittily built porch tacked onto the main house that was relatively new. It was filled with all sorts of random crap, probably belonging to John. The rickety steps groaned as I descended. The backyard was in a worse state than the front. It had developed a serious case of alopecia. Patches of green dotted the mucky sludge from a recent rainstorm, weeds having choked out the grass. The lawnmower sat on its side, parts strewn over the cracked patio stones. Dog shit bombs littered the yard, even though there were no pets in the house, some of them white from having been there so long.
“I’m working on fixing the lawnmower.” She was already defensive without me saying a word.
I didn’t comment. What the fuck could I reasonably say that didn’t include some sort of asshole remark about how the nineteen year old in the house had to take care of everything? I waded through the grass to get to the gas meter. The bright red lock attached to it explained the problem.
“This is why you don’t have hot water.” I tapped the lock. I’d gone to all the trouble to have a new furnace put in, and the gas had been cut off.
“But I gave Mom the money to pay the bill last week.”
“You gave it to her in cash?”
“From my tips.”
I sighed, not wanting to make her feel bad. “You can’t do that, Ivy. You gotta know that by now. Why’d you have to use your tips?” I’d direct-deposited funds into Ivy’s account the same day I took her for breakfast.
“She said she was going to take it right to the bank.”
“I’m sure she was. Except I can bet that isn’t what happened. How much did you give her?”
“Two hundred.”
“Shit.”
Ivy’s eyes went glassy, but she blinked back the tears, clearing her throat. “I was going to use it for this course I wanted to take this summer, but then she needed it—”
“What happened to the money I gave you?”
“It’s a joint account.”
I closed my eyes, tamping down on the sudden spike of rage. “Aw, Ivy.”
“I’m so sorry. That was so stupid of me.” Her chin lifted skyward. The tears she’d been holding back ran down her temples.
I held my arms open. “C’mere, little sis.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be all strong around me. I get that it sucks.”
I felt sick that she’d had to learn these kinds of lessons from her family. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She shouldn’t have to worry about paying bills or not having hot water. She should earn money for new jeans and frivolous things, like nail polish and nights out with friends, not have it stolen out of her account by her dick of a dad. I wished I could’ve saved her this kind of pain, taken her out of this place long ago and given her something better.
Her thin arms wound around my waist, holding on tight as her body shook with silent sobs. She pushed away just as quickly, swiping under her eyes to hide the evidence of her emotions.
“Let’s see if we can find the bill somewhere. Then we’re going to the bank to set you up with your own account.”
“I don’t think Dad will like that.”
“I don’t give a fuck what John does or doesn’t like. He’s not taking care of you, so he doesn’t get a fucking say.”
“He’s just bad with money.”
The door to mom’s bedroom opened as we came back inside. She blinked blearily, eyes widening when she saw me. “Chris? What’re you doing here? John isn’t home, is he?”
No welcoming hug, no, “It’s good to see you.” Just panic. The lines around her mouth deepened as she glanced toward the living room. Her fingers tightened on the lapels of her rob, holding it closed.
“Dad’s not here,” Ivy said, stepping out from behind me.
“Oh. Well, of course not. He’s probably got a job to take care of.”
My mom sure knew how to pick ’em. That she pretended he had a legitimate job was another reason I didn’t stop by the house very often. I couldn’t stand listening to her lie her way around another missing chunk of cash.
Her limp hair, peppered with gray, barely brushed her shoulders. The soft waves were matted, like someone’s hands had been in them. Maybe her own. I didn’t want to look too closely, afraid I’d see things that would make the guilt I carried heavier.
“When’d they turn the hot water off?” No point in beating around the bush.
“I got the notice last week. Ivy gave me money, but then John—”
I cut her off, uninterested in the excuses. “Can you get me the bill?”
Shame dragged her eyes to the floor and hunched her shoulders. She shuffled down the hall, pale pink slippers turned mucky gray from having trekked through the filth John constantly left behind.
In the corner of the living room was a roll-top desk. She fought with the latch and the rolling mechanism, struggling to pull it up. I stepped in, putting a gentle hand on her arm. She jumped.
“Sorry, Moms, didn’t mean to scare you. Let me get it.”
Once I had the roll top open, she sifted around through a file folder. Most of the notices in there had red stamps, indicating they were long overdue. When she finally found the one she was looking for, she passed it over with trembling fingers.
Fractures in Ink Page 11
