by Allen, Dylan
“Hey Siri, read me the text,” I say.
“You’ll need to unlock your iPhone, first,” comes the useless robot’s response. I groan and kick my sheets off before I sit up. My room is dark, and my alarm clock blinks a neon 3:30 a.m. at me. I turn on the light by my bed and see my phone down by where my feet were. I snatch it up, and even though I already know it’s from Carter, when I see his name on my screen, my heart does a little leap.
“The sun is just rising and everyone else is still asleep. I hope you are, too. I’m up because I’m sleeping outside and I’m terrified that a bear is going to eat me. This is the worst idea my father has ever had. If I’m never heard from again, here’s a final picture.” And there’s a selfie. He’s got a weeks worth of beard and his eyes are half shut against the glare of the flash he used to take it.
I close the text and call him.
He answers immediately. “Hold on,” he whispers and I hear rustling and muffled curses. I curse my lack of forethought.
“Ooh, I’m sorry. You did say everyone is still asleep. Don’t get up. We can talk—”
“Hello?” he says suddenly. He sounds out of breath.
“Hi. I’m sorry I made you get up.”
“I need to take a piss. I was too afraid to go by myself, but now that we’re on the phone, at least if something happens to me, you can call for help.”
I laugh. I’ve learned over the last couple of weeks that Carter is very dramatic.
“Well, then, I’m glad I called. It’s not good to hold your pee.”
“It’s not good to sleep outside. This is going to be hell. My father and his damn bucket list.”
The crunch and rustle of him walking stops suddenly.
“Did you find a place?”
“It’s bad enough that I have to pee outside; I don’t want to discuss it,” he snaps.
And I bite back my laughter again.
“Is that bad?”
“Yes. And worse. I’ve taken four showers in fourteen days, and we’re just getting to the hard part.”
“I’m sorry you’re not enjoying yourself.”
“I regret terribly the decision not to fuck you before I left. I miss you.” He sounds so vexed that I know my laughter wouldn’t be well received.
“It’s flattering to be missed.”
“Don’t let it get to your head. I miss my fucking piano teacher right now.”
I laugh out loud.
“Why are you awake?” he demands, but he sounds a little less irritable.
“Your text woke me. I’m a light sleeper.”
“I’m sorry, but not, either.”
“Yeah, I saved you from a bladder infection.”
“Well, that and because this afternoon, we’re hitting a hundred mile stretch that’s got spotty service at best. We’re setting a pace of about eight miles a day, so it might be a while before I can call again.”
My heart sinks, but I keep my voice cheerful.
“It’s going to be wonderful. I’m sure you’ll look back on it and cherish the memories you’re going to make. The good and the bad ones.”
He yawns. “You’re right. I know it. But I’d never do this again or recommend it to anyone.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“Send me a picture of your tits.”
“No.” I balk.
“I’ll send you a picture of my dick.”
“Make it a video and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“I’ll do you even better and let you listen to the dress rehearsal,” he says and his voice is gruff.
“Oh… that’s very generous of you.” I sigh at the way my body clenches in response to his provocative offer.
“What are you wearing?” He says quietly.
“Shorts, a t-shirt.”
“Panties?” His breathing is shallow.
“No, no panties.” I slide my shorts off and kick them away. I put my hand between my legs and rub my clit in soft circles.
“My dick is so hard thinking about your naked pussy. Touch it,” he says.
“I am.” I sigh and slip one finger inside myself.
“Good girl. Are you wet for me?”
“Very.”
“Unh…” he moans softly and it I press another finger inside myself.
We’re both quiet, except for our soft moans and pants.
“Shit, uh fuck…all it takes is to remember how you taste and I’m so close.” He says.
“Are you coming?” I pant, expectantly, greedy to hear him.
“Uh-huh.” His words are strangled by a groan and I imagine his face taught, his neck straining, his big beautiful body rigid with his climax and it sends me over the edge. I cry out and grunt in a way that would have made me feel self-conscious a few weeks ago. But we’ve done this a few times since he’s been gone, and I know how much he loves the sound of it.
“I’ll be dreaming of the way you sound until I get to hear it again,” he says when I he says right before we hang up.
And even though he doesn’t say it, I know he’s making me a promise that he’s going to keep.
14
A RECKONING
ELISABETH
The sun makes a valiant effort to cut through the leafy green canopy of the live oak tree I’ve made my retreat for the last few days.
A soul deep satisfaction fills every cell in my body as I think about the last few days. Immediately, Carter’s face flashes in my memory. I roll over and grab my phone and look at the selfie he took. He’s smiling a goofy, gummy smile that flares his nostrils and makes it hard to imagine him as anything other than happy. He wears it like a second skin.
“Hello gorgeous.” I lift up onto my elbows and smile when I see Carter bounding across the yard at me.
“Well, speak of the devil.” I turn my phone to face him and give him a beaming smile. His smile drops away and I come to full sitting.
“What’s wrong?”
“Who is that?”
I look at the phone and Carter’s picture is gone, and in its place, is a man I don’t recognize.
“I don’t know.” I come up on my knees now and he backs away.
“Don’t lie!” he snarls.
“Why would I lie? I don’t know what happened to my phone.”
“It’s in your hand,” he snaps and I look down at it.
“But it’s not mine. It was dead,” I protest.
“I hate liars.” He turns and heads back to the house.
I run after him, but the faster I run, the farther away he seems to be.
“I’m not lying.” I yell.
He stops and turns around. Then he starts shouting.
“Wake up. Wake up, Liz.”
“I’m awake!” I call, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. His face grows darker every time he yells.
“Elisabeth, wake up!” My father’s hand wraps around my bicep and yanks me out of my nightmare.
The flash of relief I feel at the reprieve evaporates when his hand moves to grab the front of my T-shirt. The collar of my shirt cuts into the back of my neck as I’m dragged out of bed and onto my feet.
My heart explodes into a wild thumping as my sleep-bleared vision clears, and I find myself looking up into my father’s murderously angry face.
The last time I saw him, he’d been in his study conferring with his priest and advisor. He hadn’t spared me a glance then, and I’d been glad. Every time he looked at me these days, I saw nothing but his pain.
I know he misses his golden child, James. I haven’t let his indifference bother me. I’ve been focusing on getting up to speed on things at Wolfe so that when he needed me, I’d be ready.
But, something has clearly gone very wrong since I went to sleep last night.
There’s real loathing in his expression. A pin prick of ice-cold dread stabs at the very center of me and widens a crevice that's been forming for years.
I’ve seen him like this before, the night he put my mother out. That I’m the one facing tha
t level of wrath, immobilizes me.
“Daddy…” I implore with a whimper, even though I know it’s futile to try and reason with him when he’s like this.
His hand flies out, the back of it catching me under my jaw and sending me flying into my headboard. Pain explodes in my shoulder and my head starts to pound, but adrenaline sends me scrambling to find my feet.
He grabs my shirt again, but this time his hand moves down with a swift, sharp tug and rips the front of my shirt clean away.
“What are you doing? What’s happened?” A thousand emotions crash around inside me like storm waves. It’s discombobulating and terrifying. I grasp desperately at my shirt again, trying to shield my naked body underneath.
“Why are you feigning modesty now?” He scowls at me in disgust.
“Wha-What do you mean?” I ask bewildered by his expression and his anger.
“Who is this?”
“Who is who?”
He holds up his phone and presses play on a video. I take the phone from him and hold it closer to my face so I can see. My whole world comes to a screeching halt.
I cover my mouth to stop the loud gasp of shock that I feel.
It’s Carter and me outside the church. Him helping me into the car. Kissing me…
It blurs under the tears that fill my eyes.
What in the world is going on?
I look up at my father, my eyes wild with pleading for him to listen. He’s looking at me like I’m a piece of rotten fruit he found in the back of the fridge. Like he’s about to throw me away. My heart feels like it’s too big for my chest and might burst.
“Where did you get that?”
He slips the phone back into his pocket and sits down on my bed.
He pats the spot next to him and when I don’t move he reaches out, grabs me by the wrist, and pulls me down next to him.
He smooths his hair and takes a deep breath. I’m shaking, and the tears are falling even though I’m not crying.
“Right before the funeral, Will Oh came to see me. He was the last person to speak with James and he wanted to pay his respects. Imagine my shock when he told me that James was on the phone with him on Friday night when a call interrupted theirs.”
He sniffs loudly and clears his throat. The cold I had worked its way through the house over the last month and everyone has had it.
“Who called?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.
His eyes are full of animus when he looks at me and I shrink away from him.
“According to Will, James clicked back over to say that his little sister was in trouble at some party and he was going to get her.”
The blood drains from my face and my blood rushes so fast and loud in my ears I’m sure they’ll burst.
“What? No.” I shake my head. I didn’t call James.
“I told James that was impossible. My daughter wouldn’t dare go to a party. And then he informed that it was common knowledge that when my police escorts came to the house to bring you to the hospital, you were straddling a boy in his car and kissing him.”
I groan and cover my face. It’s as hot as it was when I had that fever, but this is all mortification and panic. My blood is boiling; I’m hot and I’m trapped.
“Did you have me followed?”
“Of course, I did. And thank God, because now I know that I must take a firmer hand with you.”
He yanks the phone from me and starts to pace.
It’s only then that I notice my stepmother is in my room, too. She’s in the corner, her eyes are pressed tightly shut and her lips moving in what I know are her fake prayers.
“Who is that boy?” he roars and I jump and look back at him.
“I don’t know—” I’m confused. How does he have this?
“His name. Now,” my father roars and I know I’ve got to give him something. But not Carter’s name.
“I went to the lake with Duke,” I blurt.
“Duke Tremaine?” he looks at me disbelieving.
“Yes, he took me home after your party—”
“Why would Duke take you home?” he asks and scoffs out a laugh.
Irritation at his dismissal pricks, but I push it and my pride aside.
“I don’t know,” I quietly admit.
“But who is this?” He asks the questions in a rapid fire, angry voice, and I’m trembling as I try to think. James was coming to get me? Why would he do that? I called him and told him I was fine hours before he would have started to worry.
“Well, who is it?” He shakes me.
“No one from East Winsome. It doesn’t matter, he’s gone.”
I’m on sensory overload, and I can’t think straight. But I do know that I don’t want him to know Carter even exists. I force my mind to be still and suck in a couple quick breaths.
“You are out of control.”
“I’m not. It was just once,” I say, desperate for him to believe me.
Instead, his face reddens and he explodes.
He slaps me again, and I jump off the bed. He stands and stalks me across the room. My back hits a wall, and he stops a few feet from me.
“You are your mother’s daughter. And I can tell you that she bewitched me and I didn’t see her true nature until it was too late. But I see it in you. And it is foul.” His voice is hushed with righteous indignation.
Normally, when he says thing like this, they’re about as painful as shallow pricks with a dull knife. The slight sting of them usually fades quickly. But now, with both of my brothers gone, with this tape in front of me, with my world tilting perilously, I feel each one of those pricks keenly.
It’s death by a thousand heartbreaks and there’s not a single part of me that’s not bleeding.
I am stuffed to the gills with guilt and fear and loathing. But, if James died because he was trying to help me, then it’s no less than I deserve. My ears are ringing.
“Sit up.” He snaps and drags me to the chair. I don’t resist. I’m numb with the aftershocks of the bomb he just detonated.
“I’ve made a decision.” The calm, cool tone of his voice sends a shiver up my spine. I know that there will be no mercy from him. Not today. Maybe not ever again.
“Wh--what decision?” I ask.
“You are not fit to step into your brother’s shoes. I will find you a suitable husband, and he will become my heir.”
My jaw drops.
“A husband?” I gasp. It was the very last thing I expected to hear.
“I was hoping to convince Duke Tremaine, but he won’t have you.” His voice is full of scorn.
“What do you mean?” I ask, truly confused by what he’s saying.
“You can come home once I’ve found someone I approve of.”
I stare dumbly at him. “Come home? From where?”
“Your grandmother. She’s coming to take you tomorrow.”
My eyes fly to his and look at him in confusion.
“Take me where?” I ask even though I already know.
“To live her with her,” he says gravely.
I recoil. My father’s mother scares me more than anyone else I know.
“You can’t send me there. You can’t. I’m an adult.”
He straightens, squares his shoulders and looks down his nose at me. His expression is full of contempt and disgust.
“I’m Andrew Wolfe, Elisabeth. I can do whatever I want. Even if you managed to find a lawyer suicidal enough to help you, there’s not a judge in this state who’ll hear you. But you’re not going to do any of that. If you do, I will find out who this boy is, and I will ruin whatever happiness his life holds.” His spittle lands in tiny beads on my lips and cheeks, but it only barely registers because his eyes are full of so much venom, it shakes me to my core.
He hates me.
“You will not speak to him again. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I’m numb to everything but my worry about Carter.
“I made a mistake. I thought because you’re so
hard to look at, I wouldn’t have to worry about this sort of thing. Now, you’ve cost me my son. I wish I’d let your mother keep you.”
I’m sick at the mention of James. He was out driving that night because of me. He was hurt because of me. He is dead because of me.
“I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Start packing. Fiona will stay while you do. And she’ll be taking your phone with her when she leaves. When you’ve proven yourself trustworthy again, you can have it back.”
I jump up and start after. “What? Now?”
“You’re leaving tonight,” he says without turning around.
My head starts to spin again. So soon? After everything else I’ve lost?
“No…please,” I cry and lunge at his back.
He grunts in revulsion and throws me off. I scramble after him, I start begging for my life.
“I know I’m not good. I’ll do whatever you say. I promise. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay home all the time. Just please, let me stay here. I just need to be near you. You’re all I have left—” I choke on the words.
“I don’t want you here.” He sounds tired and I can feel him standing over me, but I don’t look up. I can’t. The heel on my neck won’t let me.
“You’re my daughter; there’s no cutting you loose. No matter how badly I want to. But it’s time you started earning your keep.”
And then, like I’m nothing, he shakes me off and walks away.
My stepmother glides out of her corner. In fact, I don’t hear her until she’s standing in front of me. Her eyes shine bright with fervor as she stares down at me. An odd smile plays on her lips.
“Pain is an excellent teacher, Lizzy. Be a good student,” And then, she turns to leave.
I sit there for a long while. I take myself through countless scenarios. Maybe I should open my window and jump. I should go downstairs and try begging. Or maybe I refuse to go and fight. I picture myself being dragged out kicking and screaming.
But, after what I did to James, how can I ask for anything more than his scorn? I can’t stand myself either. Disgust and shame move my stomach like a tsunami, and it heaves. I barely make it to the bathroom before I throw up.
15
DISASTER
CARTER
