Beyond Resistance (The Ransom Series)

by A. T. Douglas

  Lily hesitates a moment before extending her hand to my mom. “It’s great to meet you.”

  Mom smiles and takes her hand but pulls her into a hug instead. “And you as well.”

  When they pull back from each other, my dad steps in with his hand extended and no intention of anything more, which doesn’t surprise me given he’s never been much of a hugger. Lily glances from his hand all the way up his tattooed arm before finding his face and greeting him in the handshake.

  “I don’t know how you’ve kept Dante to one tattoo given how many you have,” she says in disbelief.

  “He has the only one that’s important.” My dad maintains his smile, though his expression falters enough for me to notice. If I had even a few minutes to prep Lily for this conversation, I would have warned her that my dad’s tattoos are a bit of a sore subject for him. They’re more than just ink on his skin. They’re the marks of his past, the visual reminders he carries of the pain he went through and the people he lost. I wonder if in her assessment of his arm she noticed the marks he didn’t put there himself, the scars that mark him from his years of growing up with a monster for a father figure.

  With the introductions complete, my mind quickly works to figure out what happens next. The rock only has enough space for two people, so I grab the folded blanket Lily and I were sitting on and spread it out over a nearby widening in the path.

  “Let’s have a seat,” I offer, though my suggestion is as much for my own benefit as everyone else’s. I feel like I need to sit down right now to get me through this conversation.

  We settle onto the blanket, Lily sitting next to me with my parents together across from us. After a few moments of awkward silence, I’m about to speak up to save this meeting from turning into a disaster, but Lily beats me to it.

  “I want to thank you for trusting me,” she says quietly as she looks between each of my parents. “I can’t imagine not having Dante in my life. I would never do something to put him or any of you in danger.”

  “We’ve been distrustful of the world for too long,” Mom admits. “We need to open up more. We’re trying to find a better balance of being careful and letting ourselves and Dante truly live.”

  Lily nods her understanding. “I’m sorry about my little tirade on the phone the other day. I get a little defensive of your son.”

  “He needs a woman like that in his life,” my dad replies with a knowing smile toward my mom. From almost the beginning of the ordeal my parents went through when they first met, my mom was protecting my dad almost as much as he was trying to protect her. It’s part of what made them fall so hard for each other.

  Lily turns to me with a playful grin before surprising me with a soft kiss to my cheek. “I enjoy being that woman in his life.”

  I can feel my cheeks flaring with the heat of my embarrassment as I look from Lily to my parents. They’re both smiling wildly as Dad holds Mom’s hand in his lap.

  “I see it now,” Lily says with astonishment, and I immediately turn to see what she’s looking at. Her eyes are trained on my parents’ hands, or more specifically, their wrists. “That’s where the symbol comes from.”

  In recognition of what Lily’s trying to say, Mom moves her wrist directly next to Dad’s so that their symmetrical black tattoos of an almost completely enclosed circle meet up at the missing parts of the lines to form the symbol of infinity. Mom smiles down at it and says, “There’s a long story behind these tattoos.” She sighs deeply before lifting her head to look at Lily. “Do you want to hear it?”

  The world seems to stop around us at my mom’s suggestion. Is she insane? Who is this woman sitting before me? Why isn’t my dad freaking out at the very thought of talking about our family’s past?

  I look back and forth between them, expecting at any moment I’m going to wake up on the couch at Lily’s house having just dreamed this conversation and encounter in my head completely, but I’m really here. My mom really did just make that suggestion, and my dad isn’t fighting it.

  Lily seems almost as taken aback as I am at the offer on the table. She looks to me for guidance. “I’ve always said this was your story to tell. I don’t want this to make you uncomfortable, but I want to understand. I want to know all parts of you and your family.”

  I’m immediately brought back to the moment on the bench at the hospital a few nights ago when I admitted to Lily that she was right about who I am. Just speaking my real last name to her was an incredibly liberating feeling. It’s difficult to imagine the weight that would be lifted from my shoulders if she knew our whole story.

  The world will never know my family’s story or understand the painful truths behind it, but it doesn’t matter. Lily is my world, and I want her to understand. I want her to know me for who I truly am, straight down to the basic clay I was carved from.

  I take her hand in mine, ignoring any thoughts of embarrassment as I kiss her lips softly but with every bit of love I have for her. When I pull back, I see she is the one with the reddened cheeks now, and she’s absolutely beautiful.

  “Yes,” I reply with conviction before turning to my parents. “It’s time for someone to hear our story.”

  25

  “Damn it. Where’s that screwdriver?” I mumble to myself as my eyes scan our bedroom. Lily’s shift ends in less than an hour. There’s no time to waste looking for tools.

  I finally spot the screwdriver on the dresser, it somehow blending in with the containers of makeup Lily has strewn across the wooden surface. After snagging the tool, I jump back up to standing on the bed to finish attaching the new light fixture to the ceiling. It’s the final touch on this room I’ve spent the entire day remodeling, from a fresh coat of vibrant but not too bright yellow paint on the walls to the colorful abstract art on the walls. I even had a local consignment shop deliver a modern chaise lounge with a small side table to give Lily the retreat she was looking for in this bedroom.

  When the light fixture is secured in place, I hop down from the bed and stand by the door to inspect my handiwork. The room could still use some more decorating, but it’s come miles from its white empty walls that were so wrong for this room given Lily’s lively personality.

  After a quick shower and getting dressed in a new gray button-up shirt and jeans that Lily helped me pick out recently, I rush to get dinner started, hoping I can at least get the lasagna in the oven before Lily gets home from work. I take care to set the table even though we never do any other day, even setting up candles I found buried in one of the drawers in the kitchen.

  Even though I know Lily’s shift is just about to end, I breathe a little easier knowing I already have the lasagna cooking. The salad is chopped and on the table, and my fresh Italian bread is sliced and ready to go. I look at the clock and get a little nervous as I realize Lily could be walking in the door any minute now.

  I pace around the dining room, glancing at the front door every so often expecting it to open. When the buzzer on the oven goes off for the lasagna, I start to get worried. Lily’s shift has been over for a half-hour. She should be home by now.

  After taking the lasagna out of the oven, I find that I have to sit down to calm my nerves or I’m going to run ruts into this Pergo flooring with all my pacing back and forth. I give it another ten minutes before I can’t take it any longer and I try calling her.

  It goes straight to voicemail.

  I run my hands through my hair anxiously as an internal debate plays out in my mind. Do I give her more time? Do I go look for her? Is she just working late or could something be wrong?

  An idea hits me to call the tavern to see if she’s still there. Just as I’m about to grab my phone from the table, the front door opens.

  “Thank God,” I say with relief as I stand up to meet Lily at the door. She steps in and closes the door behind her before turning around to look at me.

  Her eyes look empty.

  Her expression is somber.

  She is nothing but a shell standin
g before me.

  “What’s wrong?” I implore, grabbing her shoulders and searching her brown eyes for any sign of what could be causing this catatonic state she’s in. I glance at her neck and notice it’s bare even though it wasn’t this morning. The infinity necklace I gave her that she wears every day is missing.

  “I need to talk to you,” she replies with a noticeable thickness to her voice. She sounds on the verge of tears.

  “Okay,” I respond cautiously as I encircle her waist with my arm and motion her toward the dining room table. She takes a seat as I pull up a chair next to her and take her hands in mine between us.

  She glances up at the lit candles and the full dinner I’ve set up on the table before squinting her eyes closed, forcing silent tears to fall down her cheeks.

  “Lily, talk to me,” I beg, reinforcing my grip on her hands. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t be with you anymore,” she blurts out, and my heart stops beating inside my chest.

  It takes me a moment to find my voice again. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re over,” she cries out before breaking into a sob. “We can’t be together. I need you to move out. Now.”

  I’m speechless. I don’t know who this woman is in front of me. She’s not my Lily. She can’t be. Something is off with her. I just need to find out what it is.

  “Lily,” I plead, my voice shaking. “Please tell me this is some kind of joke.”

  “It’s no joke!” she screams. “This is serious, Dante. I need you out of here tonight, and I never want to see your face again.”

  Her words pierce into my heart with striking pain unlike I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s devastating. She’s absolutely destroying me. “Why? I don’t understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand!” She rips her hands away from mine and stands up from her chair to back away from me. “You just need to leave. It’s over, Dante. Do you hear me? It’s over!” I stand up and take a step toward her, but she holds her hand out to stop me. “Don’t,” she warns carefully, and it’s the final straw. That one word and the look of hatred and disgust on her face successfully shatter the remainder of my heart within my chest.

  Silent tears fall freely from my eyes, my body’s expression of the confusion and devastation and grief that are consuming me from within. “I’ll do as you ask,” I concede, “I just want to know why.”

  “You really want to know why?” She takes two forceful steps toward me and looks me directly in the eyes. “Because I can’t date a fugitive from the law. I’ll never mix my DNA with the criminal scum of this Earth.”

  Whatever bits and pieces of my heart were left in my chest disappear into nothing. I feel completely hollow. I feel worthless. She used her knowledge of my family’s story to deliver the lowest possible blow she could, and she succeeded.

  I give in.

  I can’t fucking handle this anymore.

  Without another word, I turn and walk up the stairs to our bedroom–Lily’s bedroom–and empty my drawer in her dresser into my duffel bag from her closet. I’m barely keeping myself together as I move on to the bathroom and dump my toiletries into the bag.

  The constant shaking of my hands makes it difficult to zip up the bag as I walk back downstairs, my walk of shame or misery or whatever the fuck this nightmare is. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lily standing between the dining room and living room with her hands crossed over her chest, but I can’t look at her. I can’t do any more to acknowledge that the woman I love just turned on a dime out of nowhere and threw me out of her life forever.

  I grab my phone from the dining room table and my keys from the kitchen counter. My hand barely touches the doorknob of the front door when I hear Lily say behind me in a low voice, “Your key.”

  The pain in my chest hits its peak as I drop my bag and struggle to work Lily’s house key off my key ring. I set it on the dining room table without looking anywhere else in the room. I don’t want to remember my last moments with Lily like this. I can’t bear to see her face as I walk out that door and out of her life.

  I feel numb as I open the door to the darkness outside and close it behind me. I’m not two steps down the path to the driveway when I hear Lily start wailing from inside the house, her devastation in what just happened apparently hitting her just as hard as it hit me.

  By the time I’m seated in my car with the key in the ignition, I feel hopelessly lost. I spent the last few months of my life in a relationship that just crumbled away before my eyes. I trusted Lily with my heart, my past, and my future, and she just threw it all away like it meant absolutely nothing.

  When I turn on the car and the classic rock station starts blaring, I scramble to turn off the music that I know to be Lily’s favorite. It becomes quickly apparent that I can’t stand to be in this driveway a moment longer. The tires screech repeatedly as I back out the car to an abrupt halt and floor the gas to propel me forward. I’m desperate to get far away from here as fast as possible.

  I can’t go home. I can’t face my parents like this. With nowhere else to go, I make my way to the highway and start driving west, making it all the way past Augusta before I realize the futility of this effort.

  Pulling off the highway into a service area, I park in a far corner of the lot to put as much space as possible between me and the other travelers at the rest area, though I can’t stop looking at them. My eyes remain fixed on the constant coming and going of families and couples and people with lives and happiness that I had a taste of but will never know again. I won’t deny the gut-wrenching feeling that festers within me at reverting back to being an observer to the rest of the world, destined to watch from the outside and only ever dream of the lives these people are living that they constantly take for granted.

  At some point the flow of cars and people slows considerably, and I realize it must be the middle of the night. I also realize I haven’t had anything to eat or drink in hours, so I get out of the car and drag myself into the service station. I stop at the restroom but don’t dare look at myself in the mirror while I’m in there. I don’t want to see my crumbled appearance or hollow eyes. I’ve felt enough of my devastation already. I don’t need to see it plastered across my face.

  I pick up a hot dog and bottle of water at the twenty-four-hour gas station before heading back outside into the cool night air. As I reenter my car, I’m painfully reminded of what I left behind: the homemade dinner I made for Lily and the bed I should be sleeping in with her right now. Instead I’m over seventy miles away about to eat gas station food and sleep in my car.

  The pain in my chest is too overwhelming. I abruptly step out of the car and launch the hot dog as far as I can throw it across the almost empty parking lot. Sobs rack my chest as I sit back down and slam the door shut. My fingers press painfully into my forehead as I try to calm myself down.

  My mind and body are spent. I need a break from the real world. I need to sleep, even if it means I’ll relive portions of this awful evening as nightmares.

  I gulp down as much of the water bottle as I can before reclining my seat and turning on my side. It’s impossible to look at the passenger seat and not imagine Lily sitting there bobbing her head to classic rock with the window down and her brown hair dancing wildly around her face. I quickly shut my eyes but find it takes a long time to enter the dark depths of sleep. I let it take me away from my reality, though it feels like the darkness has already consumed me.

  After a fitful night’s sleep in my car at the rest area, I wake up to feeling completely exhausted. With a quick stop inside at the service station, I get back on the road and head east to the only place I have left to go.

  It’s late morning by the time I make it to my parents’ house. When I park the car and kill the engine, absolute stillness surrounds me, a terrifying reminder that this is the life I’m back to, one of silence, solitude, and emptiness.

  It’s a life I can’t live any longer.

&nb
sp; I’ve managed to remain calm this morning and for the entire drive back home, but now that I’m here and facing the life I never wanted to go back to, I can feel my emotions rising uncontrollably within me. My anguish builds to raging anger as I slam my hand against the steering wheel repeatedly, letting it share in the full extent of my pain.

  Then I stop, the memory hitting me like a cold bucket of water to the face. This is what brought me to Lily so many months ago. This is what started it all. I was in this car, frustrated and angry with the course of my life and how helpless I felt to direct its path. After all these months, I’m right back here again, alone and helpless with no direction, no purpose.

  All my family’s suffering and sacrifices were for nothing, because in the end, I am nothing.

  There’s a knock at my window, scaring the hell out of me. Dad gives me a little wave before stepping back so I can open the door.

  As I step out of the car, I immediately notice his face is covered in sweat despite the fall chill in the air. By the looks of his dirty hands and arms, he’s likely spent the entire morning chopping wood in the backyard to prepare for the impending winter months.

  Months I will spend alone, locked away in this house like I have been for almost my entire life.

  “What are you doing here?” Dad asks curiously. When I don’t immediately respond, he glances into my car, his eyes widening at the duffel bag on the back seat. “Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”

  I don’t laugh at his joke. It only fuels the anger swirling inside me, but it makes me think for a moment. My eyes narrow toward my father as something occurs to me. “Did you threaten her?” I ask in a low voice that sounds nothing like me. The events of last night have turned me into someone I don’t recognize, and I hate this person who clearly exists within me.

  Dad grabs my shoulder and meets me at eye level. “What are you talking about?”

  “Lily.” That word that has represented all the joy and vitality and meaning in my life suddenly feels wrong rolling off my tongue. “Did you try to push her away from me? Did you threaten her somehow?”