by Lexi Whitlow
“What—what did happen?” Skye pulls the covers tight around her. “You don’t talk about it.”
The weight grows heavier. “She overdosed.” My voice is more clipped than it should be, but that’s how it happens when I talk about Brie’s mother. “And Michael—Tabitha’s brother—he killed himself a long time ago. Before I knew Tabby.”
“And you think it was Marta—”
“She wasn’t the one who killed them. They took care of that part.” My throat threatens to close. I can almost taste the tears coming, but they remain dormant for now. It’s been that way for years—the memory of Tabitha sits knotted inside my body, angry and awful. “But she put them down at every turn. She made sure they feared her, that they feared the world.”
“You were married to her, right? Tabitha?”
“We were. She was pregnant with Brie, and she’d gotten clean for the hundredth time at the beginning of her pregnancy. We thought we’d give it ago, make it happen for the kid. We both wanted her. And she was beautiful from the day she was born. Smart. Smarter than either of us.” I stop. The lump in my throat grows, but I swallow the pain. “We weren’t meant to be a pair. I doubt I was meant to be a pair with anyone.”
I don’t meet Skye’s gaze after this. Instead, I’m silent. I roll away from her, and her arms let me go reflexively. I walk into the bathroom without a pause. I know I should stay, explain myself. But I had to take my four year old girl to her own mother’s funeral, and then I proceeded to fuck up my life for the next two years.
I step into the shower and let the water run over me. I let it get as hot as I can stand, and I just stay there. The steam fills the bathroom. I barely hear her enter, but there’s a slight change in the water pressure when she goes to brush her teeth.
“I wish had all been different, Skye.” I say it halfheartedly, hoping she can’t hear me clearly. I hear the water turn off, and a shadow approaches the clear shower door.
She pulls the door open and steps inside, wrapping her arms around my body. The shirt is gone, and there’s nothing between us. She doesn’t speak, and we stay together, bound by our arms, for a long time. When we get out and dry off, we don’t spend any more words on the past. My brother Finn—he might say that we should. But Skye doesn’t push. I almost wish she would.
Instead, I hear her scrubbing in the kitchen while I put the nightstand together. In Brie’s room, we have a twin bed with some expensive sheets and a quilt my mom ordered from Pottery Barn Kids. There’s a lamp, too, that matches everything else. I get this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach, hoping she’ll like it, hoping it’ll make the kindergarten year from Hell way better than it has been. And hoping that it’ll be in use—washed every two weeks, for years to come.
I smooth out the quilt and look around the room. It’s small, and the walls are bare, but when I turn on the light, it looks warm and pleasant, like it’s a nice room that a little girl could make her own. I sit down on the bed and sigh.
When I look up, Skye is standing in front of me, dressed in a conservative green dress with little sleeves and a full skirt. She absolutely looks like she’s ready to go sort through books at the local library, and I give her a grin.
“Don’t say anything. It’s for show.” She smiles back. “But it is one of my favorite dresses for work.” She’s holding something behind her back.
“What do you have there?”
“It’s nothing much. But she told me she liked fairy tales, like the old fashioned kind. So I got her some stickers for the walls in here.” She shows me the rolled up mailing tube she has behind her back. Damn—she’s even been using the mailing address here. “It’s like beech trees and some fairies and a castle. So it’ll be like a little dream world in here.” She blushes. “It’s what I would have wanted when I was little. But my parents wouldn’t let me put anything on the walls. It always felt kind of bare to me. I thought she might want to put the stickers up with you. You know, something fun to do.”
“Yeah, she’d like that,” I say. Skye is standing in front of me. I’d say it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time, but I think I’ve seen her all along. It’s just that all of the pieces are fitting together now, like a puzzle I’ve only just figured out. The light from the kitchen windows filters in behind her, showing off her silhouette. But she’s more than that. Tabitha was too busy getting high for most of Brie’s life that Brie doesn’t even have a memory of her—I was the parent she knew. And Marta ain’t exactly a mother figure. It might be nice if there was someone real. “You know, Skye. I’ve been thinking—”
“Yeah?”
I swallow hard. “It’s nice—” Nice. That’s not the right word. “It’s good, I think, having you here—”
She puts up a hand. “I got what I came for, right? An adventure and a good fuck. I mean, a really good one. Excellent, even. The best.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“Stop. Don’t get weird about this. I really like your little girl. I know what it is to have a shitty childhood. My parents were fine—but restrictive. I want her here with you. I’m happy to do it. It’s an adventure. And my boss likes the gossip. She might make it into a story. Says there could be an option for a movie. Who do you think would play me?” She flips her hair to one side. “Maybe Jennifer Lawrence. With dark hair.”
“She might be able to pull it off,” I say. “But Skye—”
There’s a knock at the door, and we both look at each other for a second, totally silent. Maybe she’s waiting for me to say something else, but I’m not entirely sure what it is that I want to say.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I walk to the door with a flustered feeling. All the shit that Liam just told me is making my head spin. We'll need to talk about all of that later. It gives me a growing pit of anxiety in my stomach, but I know I need a proper, prim face for Brie. Or at least for Marta.
My hand goes to the knob, and I freeze. Liam comes up behind me and puts his hand on mine. It calms me—and I hate that it does. It means that he’s getting to me, that he’s already in my head. He owns my body—I can’t consider giving him anything else. Not with the way things stand between us.
I force a smile as Liam pulls open the door. Marta is standing there, her hand on Brie’s shoulder. The child’s hair is pulled tight into two dark braids—so tight that it looks like it hurts. And she’s dressed in her Catholic school attire, even though it’s Saturday.
“Brie didn’t do her laundry, so she got to wear her school clothes today.” Marta gives a sly smile. I admit I don’t know the woman well—but I’m guessing she’s trying to get a rise out of Liam. If I looked hard at the cars parked along the sidewalk, I’m sure I’d see someone from the law firm she’s hired or some creepy guy with a camera. Just waiting to watch Liam blow up.
I take his hand in mine. “That’s just fine. As long as we’ve got pajamas for movie time. We do, don’t we?”
Brie gives me a big grin, her face lighting up. “We get to watch a movie?”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate for Brie. She’s not ahead of her grade level in reading, like she ought to be. That’s where Tabitha always excelled, you know.”
Liam grips my hand hard. I can feel that he wants to say something. Instead, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “We’ll make sure she reads with us tonight and tomorrow morning.” He glances over at me. “Skye got her some books from the library. Magic Treehouse and—”
“The Princess in Black,” I say. “It’s about a little girl who fights monsters.” I let go of Liam’s hand and bend down to Brie’s level. “She’s a princess, too. What do you think about that?”
Brie reaches her arms and wraps me in a hug. A tight lump forms in my throat. It might have been my sense of curiosity—or adventure, or pure lust—that drew me into all of this. But when I look up at Marta and see her nasty, hateful expression, I know it’s my sense of justice that’s making me stay.
When we walk inside t
he house and close the door behind us, I wonder if that’s all it is. Brie runs to her room, tugging Liam behind her. When she’s with him, I see his entire body change. Instead of tight and aggressive, he’s open and calm. When he’s with Brie, he’s the type of man a woman might fall in love with.
Another woman. Not me.
I listen to them in the back bedroom—Brie’s room—as they put the vinyl decals up on the wall. When I walk back there to go check on them, the trees are up, and they’re working on the castle sticker, putting it up beside the bed. I watch as Liam smoothes the pieces out, making sure there are no bubbles that might destroy the picture they’re working together to create.
Placing my hand gently against the door frame, I open my mouth to say something, but I think better of it. There’s something sweeter about just watching—seeing Liam in what I imagine is his normal state. With women—grown ones—he’s always on guard, not able to say what’s truly on his mind. Or perhaps he’s just that way with me.
Brie turns back to me and smiles. “Thank you for the stickers, Skye.”
I smile, and my heart beats a little faster. I can’t help but be enchanted by this kid. She talks to adults like they’re her peers, and she’s spent the past two years in such a miserable place. When they’re done with the castle, she clings to her father, not wanting to let him go. Liam turns and looks at me, an unreadable expression on his face. They sit together on the floor, father and daughter, an impenetrable tribe, facing the world together.
I know Brie might welcome someone like me in her life—but would Liam? Would he start over? Where will I be after he decides it’s all over?
“Dad said we can stay up late and watch Moana.” Brie looks over at her dad and puts her arm around his neck. Liam turns his head and gently kisses Brie’s hand. “Is that okay?” Brie asks, looking over at me. “Staying up late?”
“I don’t see why not. I was planning to make popcorn. Did you already have dinner?”
“I had some bread,” Brie says. “That’s all.”
Liam’s face grows slightly red. It’s hard not to read too much into everything she says, but it’s seven in the evening now, and she should have eaten more than that.
“Sweetie,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Is that what you asked for? Or is that what your grandmother gave you?”
“That’s what she gave me. I get bread and water when I’ve asked for snacks too many times that week.” She says it simply like it’s an aspect of her reality that she’s come to expect.
Liam looks like he’s about to explode, but I catch his eye and shake my head. We don’t need a single word coming out about Liam losing his cool. Not that Brie would tattle on us—but six year olds have a way of letting things slip.
“Well, I’m not too great of a cook, but I think we can whip up some tacos from the things we have in the fridge. Do you like tacos?”
Brie nods, and she stands up slowly. When she does, I see that she’s all knees and elbows. Somehow, she seems skinnier and more fragile than I remember her from the wedding. I could just be imagining it.
“Come on,” I say. “We’ll make a big batch of chicken for the tacos. With tomatoes and lettuce and all sorts of healthy stuff. And then we can pig out on popcorn.”
“Yeah,” she says, giggling and taking my hand. “We’ll make like a thousand pounds of popcorn.”
“The most popcorn ever.” I start walking with her to the kitchen, and I can feel Liam’s eyes on my back as we go. “I like to put M&Ms in my popcorn. And put a little extra salt, so it’s super sweet and super salty all at once.”
“Whoa. I’m not allowed to have chocolate,” she says, her voice rising in amazement. I brush aside the feeling of anger that rises up quickly. Mr. Donnelly, Liam’s lawyer, keeps telling us we need to assume goodwill and not put ideas in the kid’s head. After all, lots of parents don’t allow tons of sweets. Maybe it’s normal. But the bread thing—that’s definitely not.
“Well, we will. For tonight. It’ll be a fun secret, right?”
Brie nods, and I pull a stool from a corner of the kitchen, setting it up at the counter so she can help me. She cuts lettuce with a butter knife, and pulls apart cooked chicken while I search the cabinets for tortillas and salsa. When we’ve spread our feast out on the kitchen table, Liam finally joins us. He looks tired, tireder than I’ve seen him.
I remind myself again that I might be in over my head.
But there’s no room for thinking like that when you’re already so far in.
After dinner, we crowd into the living room together and set up in front of the TV. It’s after eight now, and I can see that Brie’s eyes are tired. But she’s so happy, stuffing her hand into the bag of popcorn mixed with M&Ms and shoving fistfuls of it into her mouth.
“I think this is my favorite movie,” she says, snuggling between me and Liam. The three of us are leaning against the couch. He puts his arm around both of us, his hand resting on my shoulder. I almost flinch away, with everything we’ve been talking about. With the uncertainty that rests over us like a dark cloud.
“I thought Tangled was your favorite movie,” Liam says.
“I like this one better,” Brie replies. “The princess gets to live on an island and swim all the time. I’d like that. And she has her mom and dad and grandmother, and they’re all nice to her. Even Maui is her friend.”
I glance at Liam, but he’s watching the movie and eating popcorn.
The movie ends, and Brie is asleep against her father’s broad chest. Her features are so like his. There’s no mistaking them for part of the same family, the same blood running through their veins. I can’t quite define the feeling I have when I see them together because one word doesn’t sum it up. Rhiannon would say—in fact, she has said—that this is all way too heavy for a fake bride. Someone who was supposed to be temporary.
But like she said, too, he never put a time limit on it. The expiration date isn’t set. I’ll just be sitting here in this house, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’ll happen suddenly.
Maybe that’s best, like pulling off a bandaid.
Later, when he carries Brie to bed, I stand back and watch him again. His strong arms lift her like she barely weighs a thing. He’s gone for a while, and I think I hear him singing softly. Something I’ve never heard from him before, even though I’ve known him for the better part of a month.
When he walks back into the living room, his face is heavy again. “I can’t believe she has to leave after lunch tomorrow. She’s going to cry. She hasn’t stayed over at my house since I got out of prison, but she’s kept up this crazy hope that we’d be a family again.”
“You will.” I say it with certainty. “There’s no doubt in my mind that Marta doesn’t take good care of Brie. Someone has to see that.”
Liam runs his fingers through his hair and sits down in the chair. “Yeah, and her family is connected as fuck. That’s how it is with old New York families. Her mother grew up with the family court judge who helped train the judge who’s working there now. And so on. You get the picture.”
“Yeah. That doesn’t mean there’s not evidence that you’re a better parent than that woman.”
“We need solid evidence. None of this bread for dinner stuff. That’s… shitty. But I can’t prove it’s abuse.” He sighs, letting out a quick, harsh breath all at once.
“We’ve got the stable household. You’re the biological parent. You’re gainfully employed. You’ve got a good place for her to live. It’s even closer to school than Marta’s place, right? That stuff is in our corner.”
Liam laughs. “Our corner? You’re invested in this too, huh?” His voice is clipped when he says it, and it stirs up that anxious, helpless feeling inside of me—the one I get when I think about him and Brie.
I don’t know if he’s looking for a response or not, but I don’t give him one.
My heart drops to the pit of my stomach, and I walk back to the bedroom, stripping out of my gr
een dress. Even though it’s made of soft cotton, it feels tight and uncomfortable after all of this.
Liam comes in after me, even though I’m not sure I want him to. I’m turned to the window, and he’s watching me as I undress.
“I thought I was a part of this,” I say. “I’m not just a tourist in Hell’s Kitchen. I’m not one of those women.”
“No, you’re not,” he responds. “You wouldn’t be here if you were. None of them would have agreed to this. None of them would have been like you are with Brie. And none of them could get me to move to fucking Queens.”
“That was sort of a stretch for you.” I can’t help but smile. I turn to him, and I realize he’s lured me in again. “You’ve got to admit that it’s not that bad here.”
“It’s not that bad because you’re here,” he says, stepping closer to me.
I raise my hand, even though I can almost feel the heat of his body against mine. I want him to fill that gap between us. But he needs to hear this first. “I think we might be confusing things for Brie.”
“We’re not,” he says. “You’re my ace in the hole. Two incomes, two parents. Brie will understand when you—when we decide—” He stops.
“When we decide what?” My heart beats faster. “You just asked if I was invested. Like you thought I wasn’t.”
“I can’t tell what you are or not. I’m saying if you want in, it makes our case stronger.”
“I am in, Liam. I’m as far in as I can be. I want that little girl to be with you, but the deal was that we had an end date. And now it doesn’t seem like there is one in sight.”
“What? You want there to be some kind of end?”
“Yes. There should be. For Brie. For you and me—for use to move on after this. I’m not your real wife.”
“Documents are all signed and file. You’re as real as they come.” Liam walks over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “It’s more than most marriages are based on. A lot of them, anyway.”
