by Nicky Shanks
Oliver shakes his head. “No way, we have to go.”
“It will just take a few minutes. You can go stand guard at the front door and make sure we are clear to leave, okay?” I kiss his cheek. I’m trying to calm him down so he can at least focus to drive, but in this moment he looks like a zombie. “Just go downstairs, okay? I will be right behind you.”
“Two minutes.” He holds up two fingers. He leads me into the hallway and we part ways at the closed door of the library. My hand is so shaky that it takes a few tries to open the door; the darkness of the room spooks me so badly that I have to force myself to go inside. I turn the lights on and rush toward the bookshelf that had the orange book on it. I take it off the shelf and notice several books that look similar to it, in different colors. I grab two more of them and bolt from the room, not bothering to shut the door behind me. Oliver’s eyes relax when he sees me; he has already checked outside and we are clear to rush toward the Jeep.
I put my head into my hands once we are safely on the road. “I am so sorry.” I start to sob and rub the salty tears from my eyes. “This is all my fault.”
“How?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road. “How can this possibly be your fault?”
“Brandon kept trying to contact me when I got back from the cabin the first time,” I blurt. I never thought I would tell Oliver. “He tried to see me but Randy and his cop buddies ran him off every time. He even told Randy that he would get me back no matter what it took. I should have known he would take it to this extreme, he never was one for small gestures.”
Oliver growls. “He isn’t getting you back, you’re not his property. He isn’t going to take you from me.”
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Maybe I should just call him and see if we can meet—”
I feel the Jeep swerve onto the side of the road and he angrily puts it into park. “I need you to listen to me carefully because I am only going to say this once more to you, okay?” He doesn’t wait for me to say anything. I am able to nod in agreement as he places his hands on my shoulders, turning on the overhead light so he can see my eyes. “You have done nothing wrong here. This isn’t your fault; Brandon is messed up in the head. I will never, ever let anyone hurt you or do anything bad to you as long as I live, do you understand me?”
I nod, locking our eyes together. I could get lost in these Hershey bar colored eyes of his; I could forget about the world and gaze at him all day.
“Say you understand me, Julie.”
The air that I have captured coming from my lungs makes me sick a little. I push it back down underneath his glare. “I understand.”
“Good.” He wipes away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Now come over here.” He motions for me to slide over toward him on the long seat; he cradles my body beneath his muscular arm. “You should try and sleep, okay? You know it’s a long drive.” I rest my head on his shoulder and watch the darkness go by us.
“Actually, do you mind if I read a little?” I ask, taking out my phone for light and waving it toward him. “It won’t bother you, will it?”
He gives me a weak smile. The car turns back onto the road, putting us back on our journey. “No, sunshine, you go ahead. What are you reading?”
“A journal.” I test the waters a little to see if he knows anything about them. He is just as puzzled as I was when I found them. I think quickly about lying, but being vague seems like a better route. “Someone’s personal journal.”
“Oh, yeah? Any juicy gossip in it?”
“A little. I’ll let you know when I finish it.” I hope that he leaves it at that. I can tell he wants to concentrate on the road so I take the orange book from the floorboard and tilt it on my lap. I position the phone at a different angle to shine light on Colin’s words. I want Oliver to have a hard time seeing what it says. I want this to be my little secret for now; I promised myself I would fill Oliver in later. It makes me a little sick to think that I have any claim over these journals at all; I think that Colin would like me if he were still alive.
I find the place where I stopped reading, sifting through a few more entries before looking over to make sure Oliver isn’t reading it too. When I feel safe again, I glue my eyes to the journal. I scan the pages, trying to read the scratchy handwriting.
February 4th, 1992
I let Veronica come and go as she pleases. All I ask her for is that she doesn’t shoot up or snort anything while Oliver is still growing inside of her. I ask that she comes home often so I can check up on him and make sure he is still healthy.
My father hired a private doctor for her visits, he is a very discreet man.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to decorate the spare room on the third floor into a nursery. Partially because I am too busy with chasing after Veronica and partially because I am scared that Oliver won’t make it out alive. When she returned home last night—the fourth night in a row that I begged her to come home—her hair was a matted mess and she looked like she had been sleeping in a trash bin for a week.
I know she is scared about the baby. I am scared too. I am scared that she will leave us and he will never know his mother. He will never see her smile or see her freckles. He will not experience how kind and generous she can be or how smart she really is. She doesn’t believe it about herself. I know she hates herself but I thought that the amount of love I have for her would conquer that.
I was wrong.
I know that now.
So I decided that I will now completely let it go. We have three months until Oliver is here. Three short—or long—months, however you choose to look at it.
I just need to remember to breathe sometimes.
I do worry about my son.
If he ever reads this I hope he realizes just one thing.
I will never, ever let anyone hurt you or do anything bad to you as long as I live.
I would kill them first.
I gasp.
Oliver glances over at me. Maybe he just thinks that I am really involved in this book.
I am totally involved in this book.
I turn a few more pages and stop.
March 16th, 1992
Veronica actually attended a scheduled ultrasound this morning! Then she disappeared and I was served with papers at my father’s doorstep from the sheriff. I am being summoned to court so that she can hand the baby off to me when he is born.
Oliver.
I am so sorry, son.
March 31st, 1992
Just a few more weeks, son.
Veronica is finding it hard to move now so she is staying in more frequently. Her entire body is apparently on fire, or so she claims.
I believe it’s called a withdrawal.
The police requested that we keep her indoors; she was just caught with an unsettling amount of cocaine in her pocket a few days ago. Not to mention the prostitution, which I don’t quite understand. I give her more than enough money to do anything she wants with.
My father swears that is the issue: He says I enable her to do these things.
He doesn’t understand that I just want my son to be born so we can run away from all of this.
Oliver, I will shield you from this world.
I promise you.
I want to cry. I know Oliver will ask me what’s wrong, so I stop my tears. I glance over at him again—his eyes are tired but still focused. “Do you want me to drive for a while?” I ask and he smiles sweetly and finds my hand on my lap, squeezing it. “No thanks, you go ahead and get some rest, okay? That book must be good—you’ve been reading the entire drive home.”
We’re almost in Rockford and I have been reading his father’s private thoughts the whole time with him sitting inches away.
“You should call your brother and let him know you’re okay. I’m taking you home with me where I can keep you safe.” I don’t argue with him. I put the journal away and dial Randy’s number, letting it go to voicemail. I leave him a brief message with the in
formation that Oliver just told me. I didn’t want to upset him any more than he possibly could be—
Ring.
“It’s Casey,” Oliver says and answers the phone.
“Yeah?…Okay. No, no, okay, I get it…Can we see her?…Okay, man, we’ll come straight there.” He hands me his phone to keep. I make a point to brush hands with him so he will smile. “Nora is awake…we can see her. Do you want to stop by the hospital on our way home?”
I nod. I know he can hear my thoughts loud and clear. “Okay, but only for a few minutes, okay? Brandon is still out there.” He knows that I’ll do what he asks of me—I know he doesn’t want to control me. He just wants to keep me safe.
I feel the Jeep lurch toward the freeway and we get off on the first exit. I start seeing signs for Rockford Memorial Hospital on the side of the road. They get bigger as we approach the enormous buildings, a set of three high-rises as tall as the clouds. I think about Nora inside of there, somewhere, hurting because of me.
Oliver’s eyes are tired and heavy. He helps me out of the Jeep and takes my hand. We walk into the hospital lobby and he smiles for a moment. “What is it with us and hospitals?” he whispers and winks, which makes me feel a little better; I don’t dare laugh at his joke. “She’s in room 314. That’s on the third floor of the hospital, so let’s find an elevator.” Once he says this, we hear an elevator ding to our left. Casey pops out, his gaze darkens, and his skin is seeping sadness.
“Oh, hey guys,” he says softly. “She’s awake if you want to see her.”
“Aren’t you staying?” I ask, but he can’t look either one of us in the eye. Oliver turns to me and motions to get onto the elevator. “You go ahead, I’ll be right up, okay? I’ll talk to him.” I rise up on my tiptoes and kiss his warm lips. I look into his eyes as I lower myself back down and step into the elevator. The doors close and I am alone. Even though it’s only for a few minutes, I can feel the silence in my veins. I’m not sure what I will be walking into when I see Nora. I definitely still believe that it’s my fault what happened to her. No amount of angry eyes from Mr. Jackson can relieve that.
The doors open and I stand in the elevator, my legs planted firmly on the floor. “Come on, Julie, get out,” I whisper to myself. “You have to get out.”
I step out so the elevator can go back down to Oliver, but I don’t move.
“Can I help you?” a young blonde nurse asks me as she passes.
I shake my head. “I’m going to room 314.”
“Oh.” Her eyes sadden. “Are you family?”
I clear my throat. “She’s my sister.”
The young nurse nods toward me. The elevators ding and when Oliver steps out, her eyes glow and suddenly I am invisible to her. “And is this your…husband?” She does everything but lick her lips at him. Oliver notices, so he places his arm around my waist and tugs me close to him. He looks down at the girl with dark eyes. “Yes, I’m her husband. Where is room 314?” She huffs and points down the hallway in front of us. Oliver pushes me toward Nora’s room. The door is shut but I can see her inside, bandaged up and wounded.
“I’m right here behind you, okay?” Oliver says and squeezes my sides. “I’m not going anywhere…you can just go in and see her and come right back out if you want.”
I nod. “Let’s do it.”
The door creaks so loud when it opens that Nora looks over at it slowly from her gaze at the window. She looks so miserable and her face crinkles in anger when she sees me. “Get out.” Her voice is slow and drugged up; she’s having trouble focusing her eyes.
“Nora—” Oliver starts to say, but she cuts him off.
“Your deranged ex-boyfriend pushed me down the stairs. I have a broken leg, all because of you!” Her screams get louder as I back up into Oliver’s body. “Get the hell out of here! I don’t ever want to see you again! I wish I had never met you—this would never have happened to me!”
He whisks me out of the room. We back down the hallway to the elevator. I let him hold me up until we get to the Jeep. He places me inside and buckles me in. I can feel his remorse for making me do that.
“I am so sorry,” he whispers as he gets in and looks over at me. “I had no idea—”
I hold up my hand to shut him up. “Let’s go home.”
I want to go home.
Together.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Casey
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.
I like Nora a lot.
I mean, I really, really like her.
That’s why I chose to answer Heather’s text earlier—she said she wanted to talk about Oliver. She wants to come to some kind of agreement. I just want to put her whole dramatic self behind me so I can focus on Nora, someone who is normal and not full of hot air and lipstick.
So now here I am. Standing outside room 1409 at The Ritz-Carlton, waiting for Heather to open her door.
“Hey, sexy.” She peeks from behind the white steel door frame. Her black hair flows around her pale, almost translucent skin. “Come in, I’ve been waiting for you to get here.”
I scoff as I enter the suite. “That’s funny, I only got the text fifteen minutes ago and I wasn’t even sure I was going to show up.”
She slides her arms around me from behind; it makes me jump. “Oh, I knew you would show up. Do you want to have some fun?” She walks around my body, her dangerous eyes fixed on mine.
I shake my head. “I came here to tell you to leave me the hell alone.”
Heather rolls her eyes, but her fake eyelashes hardly move. “Leave you alone? But you promised to help me get Ollie back.” Her smile turns devilish. “Or did you want me to just tell him about our little affair way back when? I’m sure he would hate you for a very long time.”
“You guys had just met each other, you were hardly in love,” I growl at her. “You were drunk, I was drunk, and Ollie was drunk, okay? You guys were dating for like two weeks, give me a break. Why do you think he will even care? He can’t even stand to look at you after what you’ve done.”
“Do you think he will give you a break?” She laughs. “He will hate you and Julie will rip him into a whole new world of soccer mom minivans and school plays with little half-mutant children running around.”
I shrug her panicked voice off; I hardly feel sorry for her. “Then so be it. He actually deserves a better person like Julie to be with.” Heather’s eyes widen in anger. She almost tackles me to the ground. “And maybe he also deserves better friends that won’t betray him.”
“You don’t mean that.” She sounds worried. Her fit body stands in between me and the door. “He’s been your best friend since grade school. You two have been inseparable…trust me, I have tried to get rid of you.”
I shake my head. She has a point; I don’t want Oliver to hate me. If he finds out I had sex with Heather when they were together, he will definitely hate me. I hardly care about what happens to her, though. “I will tell him myself.” I watch annoyance grow on her face. “Yeah, I think I’ll just do that.”
Heather takes out her phone. “I’m going to do it right now.”
I snatch her phone and corner her against the wall. “He’s moving on with his life after you fucking destroyed it—don’t you think you owe it to him to just disappear?”
She gulps. “Disappear?”
I let go of her. “Not like that. I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Her body stops shaking as she fakes a laugh. “I know that.” She puts her long arms around my neck and tugs a little at my hair, making me excited.
“What are you doing, Heather?” I ask but I don’t push her off of me. Instead, I let her press her lips onto mine and slash her tongue around my mouth. I have to get her undressed enough to take her to the bedroom in the suite. It feels good to be wanted; Nora has been shafting me for a few days. I am just pissed off enough to not think about what I am doing, letting her grab at my body parts like a hungry animal.
In the suite tha
t Oliver has paid for.
That doesn’t stop me as I let her unbuckle my pants. She pulls them down and off of me, and I step out of them and throw her onto the sofa in the small living space. Her eyes are like fire, she wants me so badly, and I’m not sure why the hell I want her. I let her slide a condom—that I swear is scented like banana—onto my hard flesh. I don’t know where she got it.
I’m halfway into her when my phone starts ringing and I ignore it. I fully push into her flesh and listen to her horrible moans. I try to drown them out but they just sound so much like a chicken being beheaded that I welcome the ringing phone for the third time.
“I got to get that,” I say, out of breath. I pull away from her and listen to her agitated scoffs. I jump up and sift through my pile of clothes for my phone. She is already behind me, plucking the phone from my hands and knocking me to the ground. She places her body on top of mine and continues what we started. Before I even know what’s happening, it’s over.
What the hell did I just do?
No, what the hell did I just do—again?
“You should probably get this.” She hands me the phone.
“Nora?” I clear my throat as Heather slaps my ass and licks her lips.
“Casey? Casey—I need help.” Her voice is weak. “I already called the cops; they are on their way over here.”
“Nora? What the hell happened?” I say loudly and Heather’s interest is piqued. She raises her eyebrows over the glass of red wine she had just poured herself. “Are you okay? Why are you calling the cops?” There is some commotion and I hear police sirens. Nora calls them over to her and then the phone goes silent. I turn to Heather and notice that she doesn’t even care. “Nora is in trouble—are you coming?”
She shakes her head. “Um, no. I have better things to do.”
“Are you serious?” I yell. “Look, what just happened, didn’t happen. Do you understand me?” She scoffs. I’m not playing with her right now, and I need her to know that. I run over to her and grab her arms, but this time she squeals with delight. Like I’m about to take her on the floor again. “Don’t play with me. I will tell Ollie about us, but right now you need to disappear. Don’t let me see your face around here for a long time.”
