Hidden Hearts

by Ann Roberts

  I felt blood running down my cheek behind my ear.

  “No, Billy,” Will said firmly.

  He pulled the stick away and tossed it back in the ditch. Infuriated, Billy gave him a hard shove, but he didn’t pick up the stick again. I guessed there would always be a part of him that was afraid of Will. Instead he hacked a loogie in my face before he stepped away.

  “C’mon, Will,” he said, heading out of the ditch. “Let’s go steal some plum wine in honor of the holiday.”

  Will didn’t move. Billy stopped walking when he realized Will wasn’t following. “Let’s go, Battle! Quit bein’ a pussy!” he shouted before heading for the street.

  Will helped me up and handed me his handkerchief.

  “Why?” I asked.

  It was a question I’d been dying to ask him for months. Where had my brother gone? Why wasn’t he ever there anymore? Why didn’t he love me and Mama? Why had he dropped out of school and become friends with a boy he’d hated?

  The look on his face was the old Will, the one who cared. “Everybody’s talkin’, Vivi. You and Mama, you gotta keep ’em out of the house. Stay away from ’em.”

  “Who’s talking?” I demanded to know.

  “Everybody,” he said again before he ran to catch up to Billy.

  I wiped my face and held the handkerchief over my bloody cheek. The front of my dress was covered in dirt, and I couldn’t imagine how bad the back looked. My head was throbbing and there was blood on my scalp from hitting the drain pipe.

  When I climbed over the retaining wall, Mama was still standing there talking to the ladies, but her smile dropped at the sight of me.

  “Vivian, what happened?”

  I looked into her eyes, hoping she could read my mind like I’d come to read hers. “I fell,” I said.

  My answer sent a titter of chuckles and disapproval through the group, but she saw that I was holding Will’s handkerchief in my hand.

  “Vivian Lucille Battle, I cannot believe you! How can you be so careless on Christmas Day?” She took my arm far less forcefully than she’d ever done. “Excuse us, ladies. My daughter needs to learn some manners.”

  They all waved goodbye recognizing that she had her hands full with such a delinquent as me. When we got out of earshot she whispered, “What happened? Where’s Will?”

  “He’s gone. Billy Smith pushed me down, and Will left with him.”

  She stopped walking and stared at me. “Will didn’t—?”

  I shook my head and she sighed. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d just stood there and let Billy abuse me. She checked me over and determined my injuries could all be handled with some iodine and bandages. We got into the car and waited for Pops while he jawed with his friends.

  He acted like he had all the time in the world. I imagined he hadn’t seen some of them in a long while, and when he glanced toward the car I guessed he was bragging about having a wife and a mistress.

  “Is he home for good?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. I heard her voice catch, and I knew she wanted him gone as much as I did.

  “Will says we need to stay away from them. He says everybody’s talking.”

  She didn’t ask me to explain and she didn’t ask any questions. She pulled out her compact and checked her face. She looked perfect as usual, but it didn’t stop her from powdering her nose.

  He said his goodbyes and shook each man’s hand as if he wouldn’t see them again for a while. I guessed he didn’t go to church with Shirley West.

  As he started toward us she said, “I don’t much care what everybody else gossips about and neither should you, Vivi. It’s just talk. It can’t do any harm. And as for Will, well, I don’t think he’ll ever get over what your father did.”

  What Pops did? If Will was mad at him, why was he taking it out on us? It didn’t make sense. All the way home I thought about Will’s message. I knew he still cared even if he was a loser, and I worried he knew something we didn’t. Pops drove home without a word to either of us, not even commenting on the state of my dress when we got out of the car.

  We spent all afternoon preparing the dinner while he sat in the living room reading or listening to the radio. At one point he went to the icebox and grabbed some beers, and I stiffened in his presence. When I looked at Mama, she’d stopped peeling potatoes until the door shut and he shuffled away. Even though he was in another room it was as if he was next to us, nearly on top of us.

  I imagined Kiah and Mac wouldn’t have much of a celebration at all. I could tell Mama was equally depressed as we dressed the turkey, mashed the potatoes and cleaned the green beans. I doubted Will would return to partake in the feast, not wanting to step in front of Pops if he was drunk.

  “Maybe we could take some of the leftovers to Mac and Kiah,” I suggested quietly.

  She nodded, and I guessed she’d already thought of that.

  Dinner was served at precisely five o’clock without Will. Pops didn’t ask where he was, and it occurred to me that his appearance on Christmas Eve was a command performance. While we were clueless as to his lawlessness and new friends, Pops was probably informed. Maybe Will was living with him and Shirley West.

  I passed the bowls between them so neither had to speak directly to the other. Once our plates were full we ate in silence with only the clank of silverware to keep us company. I’d grown accustomed to the laughter and conversation with Mac and Kiah and the loneliness around the table made me miss them even more.

  Mama finished her third vodka and stood to refill her glass.

  “You’ve had enough,” Pops said sternly.

  It was the first time he’d ever commented on her drinking and it surprised her as much as it surprised me. His face was dark and unforgiving and she glared at him. It was a test of wills.

  She reached for the bottle.

  “Lois, put it away.” He might as well have added or else at the end of the sentence.

  They stared until she finally put the bottle in the cupboard. He returned to his dinner, but she stayed at the counter fingering her empty glass, unwilling to join us again.

  The phone rang and I jumped to get it, grateful for something to do and hoping it was Miss Noyce. She always talked to me as if I had something important to tell her.

  “Hello? Battle residence.”

  “Well, hello there, sweetie. Is your daddy home?”

  I frowned. I didn’t recognize the voice and no one called me sweetie. “Who is this, please?”

  She cackled, and I was pretty sure she’d been drinking. “Oh, honey, this is a friend.”

  I must’ve looked entirely perplexed because Mama yanked the phone from me. “This is Lois Battle. May I help you?” she asked in her usual pleasant tone.

  The woman’s voice carried, and I could hear her through the earpiece. She prattled on for over a minute, and Mama stood very still for a long time. She coiled the phone cord tightly through her fingers and dropped the receiver against her shoulder as if she didn’t care. I’d seen her do it a few times with salespeople, but she’d always looked amused then.

  “Who’s on the phone?” Pops asked.

  She held out the receiver, and we all heard the woman’s jibber-jabber. “It’s Shirley.”

  He dropped his fork in a second and yanked the phone from her hand. He stepped into the living room pulling the phone cord as far as it would extend. I stayed near the doorway determined to learn about his new life.

  “What the hell are you doin’ calling here?” he asked harshly.

  I couldn’t hear Shirley’s part, but he gasped and groaned a few times as she talked. He was pacing, raking his hand through his hair, clearly annoyed.

  “I can’t talk right now,” he said. “I’ll be home soon.”

  I’ll be home soon. He’d told his girlfriend that her house was his home. I supposed I’d known this for a long time, ever since the sewing circle announced it to Mama, but hearing him say it was just like being shoved to the
ground by Billy Smith.

  I looked over at her. She’d wasted no time in retrieving the vodka bottle. If he was going to talk to his girlfriend, she was going to have a drink. He said something else, offered a few grunts and hung up. He sat back down with no intention of explaining himself or apologizing.

  “Sit down, Vivian,” he ordered.

  I stood next to him. “No.”

  He offered a passing glance like I was a fly. “Sit down, young lady. Right now.”

  “No.”

  He reached for me, but I stepped away and all he grabbed was air. I chuckled, and he flew out of his chair and held me in a vise-like grip.

  “You little ungrateful bitch! You will sit down right now, or I’ll tan your fanny until you bleed!”

  Something flew by us, and it wasn’t until the vodka bottle shattered above the stove that we noticed Mama. The sound was deafening as shards of glass rained against the O’Keefe and Merritt stove. She bolted from the counter to the sink and held up the pitcher of hot turkey grease.

  “Get…out…of…my…house.”

  She gulped air between each word, and her eyes were wild. He had let go of me when the bottle shattered, and now he faced her with a crooked smile. She was just a woman. His woman. Kiah had explained to me how it all worked.

  “You mean my house, don’t you darling?” he said, pointing at himself.

  He advanced toward her, but she motioned with the pitcher and a little of the steaming grease sloshed to the floor between them.

  “Oh, ho!” he cried, like a radio character. “My girl’s got some vinegar in her, doesn’t she? If I’d known you were a tomcat, I might’ve stayed home more often.”

  She laughed sharply and her red lips curled into a sick grin. “That’s hysterical! You think that’s supposed to hurt me? The fact that you left me for that slut, Shirley West?” She threw her head back and more of the grease splattered onto the floor. “Do you have any idea how many guys I fucked while we were married?”

  All of his playfulness vanished. He loomed over her like he was ready to strike. “Don’t you talk like that, Lois. Don’t say those things.”

  “Say what? How else was I supposed to keep this house going? Money is a commodity, Chet. Sex is a commodity. For some men, they’re interchangeable. And there are a lot of men in this town who think I’m a commodity.”

  He looked stricken, as if she’d already thrown the grease at him.

  “I know you hate my big fancy words,” she said in a superior tone, “so there’s two you can go look up, commodity and interchangeable.”

  I don’t think she expected him to charge, but he barreled into her and the grease flew everywhere. He screamed, backing up immediately and ripping off his dress shirt in one motion. He grabbed a towel and ran to the laundry room.

  “Turn on the faucet,” she moaned, and I threw on the cold water while she bathed her hand. It had gotten the worst of it, but I noticed her chest was covered as well.

  “Mama, you need to change your blouse,” I said.

  She shook her head, and I saw the tears. “It hurts, but nothing like this. Get some butter.”

  I brought a block of butter from the icebox, and she squeezed it like it was clay in Miss Noyce’s class. I heard her gasp in relief.

  Footsteps charged up the steps and Mac ran to her.

  “Oh, no,” he murmured, taking her hand.

  “He’s still here,” she whispered. “In the laundry room. You need to leave.”

  He shook his head. “Uh-huh. I’m not leaving you with him. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  “Mac, please,” she pleaded. “You’ve got to go.”

  “Well, I ain’t.”

  He appeared in the kitchen doorway without his shirt. His muscles rippled every time he took a breath. He looked strong. I didn’t remember him that way. He was always lanky, but I imagined lifting huge planters and digging tree holes was great exercise. His chest was beet red, and I could see the blisters already forming over the angry skin. It had to hurt like crazy. He held a towel in his hand which at the sight of Mac, he wrapped around his knuckles.

  “Chet, don’t,” she pleaded. “Just let it be.”

  He ambled closer wearing a disgusted expression. “Man can’t leave it alone, Lois. Will says he’s eating at your table and from the looks of it, he aims to take my place.”

  I noticed Mac had his hand over Mama’s, and they looked as if they were together. Pops smacked his wrapped fist against his palm, and I saw him wince. Mac faced him as if he was accepting his fate.

  “You fucking my wife?” Pops asked.

  Mac said nothing while Mama pleaded for him to leave but it was like no one could hear her.

  Pops took the first swing. He brought his arm over in a roundhouse, his favorite punch, but Mac immediately held up his giant hand and stopped his fist. It was like watching a cartoon. The expression on Pops’ face was pure amazement and surprise, his hand suspended in midair, clenched between Mac’s fingers spread like a claw. When he tried to pull back, Mac held it in place.

  He pulled Pops closer until it looked like they were dancing. Mac set his free hand over Pops’ beet-red chest.

  “You need to leave,” he said quietly. When Pops stared at him with sheer hatred, he touched the skin with his flat palm and Pops whimpered. “You need to leave now.” He pressed harder and tears streamed out of Pops’ eyes. He nodded furiously and Mac stepped back.

  He rushed out of the room and up the stairs. Thuds and crashes echoed through the ceiling, and I imagined he was destroying Mama’s things in the process. Eventually it all went quiet, and he trudged down the stairs with his suitcase.

  “You’ll regret this, Lois,” he said as he passed her on the way out the door.

  We heard his truck start followed by a terrible screeching sound. We ran outside to find the mailbox toppled over and a huge tire tread through Mama’s flower bed. Kiah and Mr. Munoz ran out from the cabins, having missed all the excitement.

  “What happened?” she asked me, looking at the mailbox.

  “Pops,” I said. “What do you think he’ll do, Mama?” I asked her.

  She bent down and shook her head at her destroyed red roses. “Nothing, honey. I think the roses got the worst of it. It’s over now.”

  I looked up at Kiah and Mac. Both wore worried expressions. They knew more about hatred than anyone I knew. And if they were worried, I supposed Mama should be too.

  Re: Definitely Friends First! – 27 (Central Phoenix)

  Date: 2010-06-20, 12:15AM MST

  Slut! Whore!

  Posted by: BrooklynBornBaby

  Reply

  Re: Definitely Friends First! – 27 (Central Phoenix)

  Date: 2010-06-20, 9:39AM MST

  We were already friends. Then lovers. Now I want more again. Be with me. Second chances are so wonderful.

  Posted by: LawyerAlicia

  Reply

  PhoenixConnect.Com (Women Seeking Women)

  Re: Definitely Friends First! – 27 (Central Phoenix)

  Date: 2010-06-23, 6:00AM MST

  This is a message from PhoenixConnect.Com regarding your posting Definitely Friends First! Your posting is scheduled to expire in two days. Please reply if you would like to remain active.

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  Chapter Twelve

  June, 2010

  As CC stood pinned against a wall in the foundations department of Nordstrom’s, she concluded that Alicia knew which stores had the best dressing rooms. It was spacious with two mirrors, a chair and several hanging fixtures. She imagined the women in adjoining cubicles were busy admiring the lift a bustier provided or grumbling over their muffin tops. She doubted any of them was holding back an orgasm like she was now.

  Alicia was on her knees with CC’s left leg flung over her shoulder while she dug for treasure. When CC glanced in the mirror across the room at the woman wearing the leopard-skin bra and panties, she hardly recognized herself. She looked good. She looked
sexy. She pushed the image of Penn’s cherubic face out of her mind and allowed herself a small groan when she couldn’t hold back any longer.

  “Don’t they have cameras?” she asked Alicia as she dressed.

  She smiled knowingly. “No, honey. Only rich kleptomaniacs steal and there aren’t that many of them. So they don’t want to know what most people are doing in here.” She wrapped her arms around CC and sighed. “Didn’t that feel good?”

  “Uh, yeah it did.”

  “Well, you can thank Nadia. This is another one of her favorite rendezvous.”

  Her face fell. “Nadia took you here, too? Are we just replaying the great moments of your life with her?”

  “Get over it, CC,” Alicia said. She kissed her softly. “I have.” She stepped back and caressed the panties with her index finger. “All you need now is some fabulous fuck-me pumps to go with this little ensemble.”

  CC frowned. “I can barely afford this. There’s no way I can add shoes.”

  She kissed her sweetly on the shoulder. “That’ll be my second present to you. Daddy sent me a message from the trust.”

  A message from the trust was code for money. The trust was her safety net, and she’d convinced her father to disburse it on a monthly basis since she’d finished law school with straight A’s.

  “Meet me downstairs,” she whispered, closing the door behind her.

  CC collapsed into the overstuffed chair, sexually satisfied and emotionally despondent. She’d replayed the kiss a thousand times—and Penn’s immediate exodus after their lips had parted. CC had enjoyed that delicious moment like the first bite of a great dessert. She’d opened her eyes just in time to see the panic on Penn’s face before she fled, practically running away with the boxes in her arms.

  She’d felt dejected all week, especially when Penn never bothered to call again. She rationalized that it probably wasn’t worth it. She’d dated women like her before, who couldn’t overcome a bad breakup and were a relationship mess. She really didn’t want to deal with that yet. And there was the issue of Alicia…

  She couldn’t decide what to do. They had met during their first year of law school, and she’d been impressed by her worldliness and her ability to command any situation. She was from a wealthy family in Chicago, who’d agreed to let her move away—but not too far. A dozen co-eds had lusted after her, so when she picked CC for a girlfriend, she’d felt honored, as if she’d been claimed like a prize.