That's Angelica.
I'd probably miss my dog more if she passed away. Which she's going to if she can't stop licking my fucking feet. I block bitch-Angelica's tongue with my hand and listen intently to what Beth is saying about the psychologist that Darla went to see.
“She says she's as confident as she can be that nothing happened while Hannah had Darla. Apparently they camped out a few nights at the park and roasted marshmallows or something.” Beth sighs and tucks some hair behind her ears. “Anyway, she said that these sorts of situations are never black and white, cut and dry, but that she'd bet her career on her observations. Darla is okay,” Beth says this last part with a sudden smile. “I trust her, too. I mean, you should see the big fancy office she has in Jackson. It's a part of her house, but it's still nicer than anything around here.” My sister gets out one of her nasty ass menthol cigarettes and rises to her feet.
Ty is sitting next to me, but he's barely there, one booted foot tapping out a rhythm on the floor.
Today he has his appointment with the detective. I'm both scared and strangely excited. Scared because I don't know what could happen and excited because I know what will. No matter what the outcome, Ty will have this bit of his past shoved off his shoulders and into somebody else's hands. He can finally make things right, turn that guilt into something better.
I reach down and squeeze his hand and he starts like I've just splashed his face with cold water.
“That's fucking fantastic, Beth,” he says and I know he means it. I think Ty loves my sisters as much as I do. And I love him for that.
“You'll do great, Ty,” she says, coming over to pet his hair with a motherly sort of affection. “And when you get back, I'll have dinner waiting on the table. Who wants pot roast?” Beth raises the hand with the cigarette in it and smiles, but I'm already gagging. Hello morning sickness, thanks for coming back to punch me in the gut. Maybe I should get my tubes tied when I have this kid? I don't think Ty and I will ever fully accept condoms. There's just something so stimulating about having his bare flesh inside of mine. Of course, there's always the pill and whatnot, but those aren't a hundred percent effective and Ty is so fertile that I need as close to that as I can get. “I'm going outside for a smoke,” Beth tells us and disappears through the screen door.
Ty and I sit in silence for a while, just holding hands, absorbing each other. I have a colored napkin tucked in my back pocket and some of my mother's bracelets on my arm. I feel so much better now than I have in weeks, since her death, since Darla's disappearance. Grief still nibbles at my guilty soul, but that's okay. I can deal with this.
“Whatever happens today, I love you more than I could ever say in words.” Ty turns to look at me, fully and completely serious. His piercings are absent, leaving little holes where they're supposed to go. I know he's trying to look professional for the meeting, but I hope he puts them back in as soon as he's done. I like Ty just the way he is. “And I'm sorry,” he whispers again.
I shake my head.
“Stop doing that. Stop apologizing for everything. None of this is your fault.” He still blames himself for the pregnancy, for my almost dying, for Darla's kidnapping. I can't bear it.
“I'm going to make things right. I don't care what rules I break or who I piss off. I have to tell the truth now. I'm going to rat out every person I ever met when I was involved in all of that shit, every client, every dirty deed. If one boy, just one, gets spared what I went through because I speak up, then it'll all be worth it.”
I lean in and kiss Ty's lips softly, just enough for him to taste my feelings on the breath that passes between us.
“You're going to do fine, Ty. You always do.”
He nods and stands up, drawing me with him.
“Think I should wear slacks and loafers?” he asks as the front door opens up and Beth reappears, her face flustered and her mouth quivering. Ten seconds after, there he is, Danny the Asshat Delphino.
“Fuuuuck,” Ty drawls, sagging just a bit. “We're due for a day without douche bags, aren't we?”
Danny pauses and glances over at Ty with disdain dripping from the sharp frown that's cut into his face like a scar. He is wearing slacks and loafers.
“No slacks and loafers,” I tell Ty, giving Danny a look. “I've suddenly developed a bad taste in my mouth for them.”
“I have parental rights,” he tells Beth, deciding to ignore me and Ty. Smart move on his part. “You've kept my daughters from me for weeks, and now that your little crisis is over, I want them back.”
“You can't just drop in here unannounced whenever you damn well feel like it, Danny.” Beth turns around, rubbing at her nose with the back of one hand. I hate how undone she becomes in this man's presence. Truly, it scares the crap out of me. “We're a whole family again. I need this now. My mother just passed away, and I want my girls by my side. By Darla's side.” I don't miss the whole family comment, how my mother really was never a part of it.
“And I have some functions in Jackson that I'd like to take my daughters to.”
“Autumn is an infant and Maple is three. What sort of functions could you possibly be taking them to?”
“My fiancée is in town and she'd like to meet the kids,” Danny says and I can visibly see Beth sway from the news. Fuck. Did he come over here just to hurt her like that? Drive the nail of grief a little deeper? I clench my fists at my sides and do my best not to get involved.
“What if I just say no?” Beth says, standing up tall and getting in Danny's face. She plays with his tie for a moment before letting go and putting some space between them.
“Then I'll just have to call the police and let them know my parental rights are being obstructed.” Beth turns away, the white and pink dress she's wearing swaying with the motion. She tilts her chin down like she's thinking really, really hard about something. I guess that whatever it is, it's not worth the fight. She breathes in deep and then looks back at Danny.
“Fine.”
That's it, just that one word so heavy with defeat that I feel like I'm drowning, even though I'm not directly involved.
“Fine?” Ty asks, drawing Danny's sharp gaze over to him. Now that we're living here, I know we're going to see a whole lot more of these visits. Each and every time I'm going to get angry, going to wonder why a father who uses his kids as little more than accessories to please his new fiancée, should get to pull them away from their mother when she needs them the most.
Thing is, the world isn't fair, won't ever be fair. I'm wholly and completely aware of that. Doesn't make it any easier to watch. I curl my hand around Ty's bicep as a warning. He's on edge because of the meeting; I get that. But I won't let him jeopardize himself for something that isn't worth it – just like he did for me. Danny hardly has a passing interest in his daughters. These little visits are all part of some freak power struggle that he thinks he needs to have with Beth. I can see from his beady little stare that he can't stand the idea that she turned him down.
“Let it go,” I tell Ty and he nods like he's actually going to listen to me.
“I'll get their things,” Beth says, moving up the stairs like a zombie, hand curled so tightly around the bannister that her skin looks paper thin, like her bones could pop out at any moment. As soon as she's out of sight, Ty steps close to Danny.
“Honestly, I'm kind of glad you're taking them.” He clears his throat. “Maple has these little red dots all over her arm. I'm thinking chicken pox. Autumn'll probably catch 'em, too.”
Danny bristles, but he doesn't bat an eyelash.
“Do you think I'm stupid?” he asks instead, and Ty pauses like he's thinking really hard about that question.
“Not if you're vaccinated,” is all he decides to say and then moves back over to me, taking my hand and pulling me into the kitchen for a moment. We busy ourselves pretending to make toast and then exchange a look when we hear the sound of the screen door slamming shut.
When Beth comes back downstair
s, she finds me sitting as close as I can get to my dark soul mate, munching peanut butter toast from our spot on the window seat. She raises a brow at us.
“Where the fuck did Danny go?”
29
I wait outside the police station in Beth's minivan, engine still running, heater blasting my face as I play with my new eReader and try to decide what to read. After fucking around with it for a good thirty minutes, I shove it back in my purse with a scowl.
It's always a bad sign when reading, the most entrancing of all escapes, isn't enough. I am so desperate to not be here right now, that I can't get away. My anxiety levels are off the charts and my stomach is turning somersaults. Now I can see why Ty wanted me to wait at home. With all of this stress, I'm liable to open the damn door and vomit all over the police parking lot. Bet they'd like that, wouldn't they?
I take a deep breath and lean my head back against the seat. This is not their fault. The cops are the good guys here. I just have to keep telling myself that. No matter what they do to Ty, they're the good guys. What happened to Marin Rice was horrible beyond belief, raped and murdered, dumped, no sign of justice anywhere. If Ty can simultaneously implicate Hannah and the rest of her fucked up gang of sex trade buddies, then the world will be all the better for it. Even if Ty suffers, too.
I moan because the pain is so raw, so emotional that it's become physical. I don't want Ty to suffer. I lied. I'm a selfish person. I'd rather he was at home safe with me than here doing the right thing. I know that's a terrible thing to think, but I don't give a shit.
I turn off the engine because the heat feels suddenly stifling and force myself to move from the passenger seat into the back row. The center row is literally filled with carseats, so this is the only place I can go to lay down and not be seen; the windows are tinted back here thankfully.
I lay on my side for a while, a long time. I have no idea how long because I'm hurting so bad and worrying so hard, and then eventually I just fall into a fitful slumber.
I dream of my mother, and my father's death, of myself dancing on a stage with only the two of them in the audience. As I'm spinning and twirling, swaying with the music, I hear a sound, like the jangling of bells. It draws my attention like no other, wakes me up inside in the most brilliant sort of way.
“Baby, you awake?”
It's Ty, shaking my shoulder gently, turning me to face him. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is how red rimmed and sad his are. I can't take it, so I sit up suddenly and throw my arms around his neck, holding him, just holding him as tight as I possibly can. Outside the sky is starting to get dark, so I know we've been here for quite some time.
“I came out a few hours ago to see you, but you were already fast asleep. I thought about calling Beth to come and get you, but I'm a selfish man, Nev. I wanted you here with me, even though I wished you weren't, when you should've been at home relaxing and drinking hot chocolate. I'm sorry, baby. So sorry.”
He's crying, but not for me, for himself. For the boy he was. For the cousin he lost. For the mother who should've protected and loved him as fiercely as I do, as fiercely as I'll protect and love our own son.
“It's okay, it's okay,” I whisper, letting him bury his face in my shoulder and squeeze me tight.
“Sorry to be such a wuss,” he whispers with a small chuckle, trying to play off his emotions as nothing. But see, even if he was crying over a stubbed toe (not that he would because even though he's a sweetie, let's be honest, he's still a tough as nails, melt the panties badass), I would care. I would care because he's everything to me, so all that he feels, I feel. I feel it times ten, and I'd do anything to absorb it and take it away from him, cure him with my love. It's okay because I know I could do that, because Ty is right. Love is not a pie to be sliced and handed out until it's gone; love is an endless well. Even if you think it's run dry, if you search long and hard enough, you'll always find another cool drink. “Told you guys were pussies.”
“If you're trying to say men are weak, then I'd use the term balls. Balls are weak. Pussies can expand and shove out squalling babies.” Ty snorts, and I know I've made the right choice. Joke, laugh, smile. I used to think those were just cover-ups for bad feelings, that if you did that, they'd come and resurface at the most inopportune moments possible. While I think that might be true in some cases, I now know that it's okay to grin and giggle in a tough situation. Life is short. That grin or giggle could be your very last, and I don't know about you, but I'd rather go out in a burst of laughter than a spray of tears.
“True that. Trust me, I've seen it,” he says with a pretend shudder.
“Well, I've lived it,” I say, leaning back to press a kiss to Ty's forehead. He can act like he was all grossed out and whatever at Noah's birth, but I saw the slight sheen of tears in his eyes then, just like I do now. “What happened in there?”
Ty takes a deep breath and sits back, wedging his body into that awkward space between the center seat and the sliding door. He folds his hands around his knees and looks straight at me.
“I relived it all. From start to finish, I told the whole story. Everything. And it hurt like hell, Never. It fucking burned,” Ty touches a hand to his chest and the bracelets on his arms jingle, “but it also felt good. Now they know everything I know, and I feel like some of the burden is off of me.” Ty licks his lips and glances to the side as I crawl off the seat and come over to him, nestling myself between his legs and letting him cradle my head on his lap. I close my eyes and listen to his voice, knowing that sound could lull me to sleep any day, could lull me to sleep for forever. “They want me to testify. Against Hannah. Against … they've got two people in custody for the murder of Marin Rice, Never. They fit my description, and they want me to testify.” He goes quiet for a moment and I don't say anything because I know he needs to puzzle through this on his own first. “I told them I wouldn't do anything that might put my family in danger. Hannah might be a punk and a freak, but she's telling the truth. Prostitution isn't all Pretty Woman and shit. There are gangs … fuck, there are mafia groups, cartels that deal in this shit, in sex trafficking.” Ty pauses and strokes his fingers through my hair. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing I am: he's lucky. Ty is so lucky. He escaped, he survived, he has a chance to thrive. Not everyone gets that chance. “I was never high enough up in the ranking to know anything about anything, so this could be nothing … but it could be everything, too.”
“I'm not afraid,” I tell Ty because I'm not. To me, his sanity is worth everything, his conscious, his heart. Plus, I've seen him punch out a dude with a fistful of rings. Ty is outwardly calm, and he loves like a fucking beast, but I know this darkness we both have, it knows how to fight back, how to protect itself. I don't think there's much this world could throw at us that we couldn't take – especially together.
There's a long pause, and I decide to sit up, looking at Ty to find his eyes closed and his breathing even. He's making a conscious effort to control his emotions. I reach out and run my fingers down his cheek, enjoying the smoothness of his freshly shaved skin. He shudders, and I smile softly.
“Are you … ” I have to clear my throat to keep speaking, and watch as Ty opens his eyes to look at me. “Did they charge you with anything?”
A small smile curves Ty's beautiful mouth.
“No,” he says, his voice just that much lighter, that much closer to that strange ideal we all hold in such high regard: normal. For once, I'd like to just be normal. I want to bitch about dirty dishes in the sink, get annoyed with my sisters for screaming, feel nauseous from morning sickness, toss my Kindle across the room when I read a really bad cliff-hanger. And then I want to pause and think for a minute, realize how goddamn lucky I am to be bothered by any of these things, realize what a luxury it is to have so few big problems that the little things seem huge. I want to close my eyes every night and know that I'm lucky to have a place to live, a family, a baby on the way, free time enough to even read a book. Lucky enoug
h to have Tyson Monroe McCabe.
“No,” Ty repeats again, leaning forward to press his mouth to mine. “They said I was a free man, and for once in my life, I think I might actually be starting to believe that.”
30
My mother's death has turned Jade's world upside down. She's so devastated that she hardly ever leaves her room, and when she does, she usually only leaves long enough to buy alcohol. When she gets back, she trudges outside, slumps down next to our mother's grave and drinks it all, until she can barely stand, until she can barely even turn herself over to vomit.
Two weeks she's been doing this, and I don't know how to help her. Talking doesn't seem to work as everything I say falls on deaf ears. I even tried organizing some activities: baking cookies, family movie nights, walks to the park. None of it worked. If Jade participates – and that's a big if – then she generally just sits there in silence, staring off into the distance.
That isn't to say her reaction is wholly unique. I've caught Beth crying more times than I can count, and even though Ty and I are mostly finished emptying my mother's room, nobody will move in there. It's the biggest room in the house, and it even has an en suite bathroom. If anyone deserves it, it's Beth.
“You take it,” she tells me when we have this conversation for the seventh, maybe the eighth time. Actually, she more shouts this at me. She's so paranoid about secondhand smoke that she literally counts out twenty steps between us if I'm outside when she wants a cigarette. It's stupid as hell, but I appreciate the concern.
We both glance over at Ty who's taking advantage of this one, single pseudo-sunny day in a string of grayness to bathe the dog. He's cleverly hooked up a hose to the water heater in the laundry room and run it out here, so he can bathe bitch-Angelica in luxury.
Never Did Say Page 12
