by KT Morrison
“Are you okay out here? Are you dizzy?” he asked her, looking around the deck, the lake.
She nodded and gave him a weak smile. She’d been okay but as soon as he mentioned it she became nauseously aware of the shifting horizon as the boat heaved with the waves. They were somewhere out in the middle of Lake Simcoe, she had no idea where, and at times she was surprised how wild the water would get.
“You been using your ice pack?” he asked her, running his big hands through her hair.
“Yeah,” she lied. She’d been using it, just not as much as she was supposed to.
“Good girl,” he said. “You look better.”
He’d been away now for a day and a half, leaving her all alone on the boat. At night she would get scared Maria would come for her. Knew where the boat was and she would climb on board in the dark but this time she had a knife. She had trouble sleeping. Maria had no idea where she was and there was a feeling somewhere down inside her Maria was done with this. She'd proven her point. She’d really shown Nia. Shown her right in front of her family, right in front of her screaming daughter. She started to cry again. Odie’s screams echoing in her head. She sniffed loudly and she laughed, broke from Rocco’s arms and dried her eyes with her fingers.
Rocco watched her, his face troubled. “Hey,” he said, “I brought supplies.”
“Can you stay?” she asked him, taking a swig of Coke and putting the side of the can up on a cheek.
“Yeah, Nia. Yeah, I’m here for days. I got everything tied up. I’m here for you,” he said. He came back and hugged her. “I’m here for you,” he said again.
“Rocco, I can’t stay here for days.”
He turned like he didn't hear her and he hefted the box he'd brought up to his waist. Wooziness set in and her hand went out to support herself on the bright blue slide that ran from the top floor deck above them down into the lake. The kids must have loved this old boat before he bought the family cottage.
“Come on inside, Nia, get you sitting,” he grunted, nodding towards the cabin.
“Yeah,” she agreed and she got in out of the light and the heat and went to the upholstered booth across from the kitchenette and slid in, set her elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her palm, wincing at the sharp pain in her nose. Rocco set the box in front of her.
“Good stuff, Nia.” He pulled out two bottles of Canadian rye, four bottles of wine. “Primitivos,” he said. “Got some groceries...look,” he said and he brought out two thick paper-wrapped satchels tied with twine.
“What’s that?” she said.
“New York strips,” he said. “I’m gonna do em on the grill.” There was a barbecue on the deck, next to the slide. She couldn't help but think of him out there in previous summers, with his young babies, a young Maria, having fun on the lake as a family.
“Okay,” she said.
“Got some blow,” he said, pulling out a cloth bag that sounded like it had plastic in it, “got you painkillers, too. The good stuff.” Setting down three amber prescription bottles with their white safety lock lids.
“Cocaine?” she said, feeling the cloth bag.
“For your nose,” he said and he held the back of her hair and he kissed her forehead. He pushed her farther into the booth and set himself down right next to her. “I can't believe she did that to you.”
“She did.”
He sighed and shook his head. Took one of the bottles of rye and twisted the cap off. He poured a generous amount into the open mouth of her Coke can and he took a big swig for himself from the bottle. “You want me...I can get someone take care of her.”
“Take care of her?”
“No, I mean, get a girl break her nose. You want that?”
“Rocco, that's fuckin ridiculous. What's the matter with you? She's the mother of your children...that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”
His big hand wrapped around her narrow wrist. “I know,” he said. “You want it, I’ll do it. I mean it.”
“Don't you fuckin dare, Rocco. I mean it. That's fuckin stupid. You're talking fuckin retarded...”
He made a tight fist that trembled, said, “I know. I just...I can't believe she did that to you. In your home...”
“I can,” she said. She slumped lower, flashbacks coming to her. On her back, seeing that harrowing face over hers, twisted in sorrow and rage, framed in twisted hair. Her own hands desperately trying to stop the blows from hammering. Odie screaming, frightened face between the bannisters on the stairs. Geoff...
“God,” she sighed, sitting up again and tipping the can back and finishing it, rye and all, in one long chugging pull. Rocco jumped up and crossed the kitchen, opened the fridge and got another can of Coke. He pulled a glass out of the cupboard and mixed her another rye and Coke.
She looked over the pill bottles, found the Percosets, and she popped two of them, choked them dry. She watched the waves for a bit, listened to the machinations of Rocco’s drink mixing, felt something inside her trying to claw at her, rip itself out from her. “Can we go up on the deck, Rocco? Lay in the sun?”
He turned with her drink, said, “Yeah, whatever you want, Nia.”
GEOFF
The Shopper’s Drug on Dundas was modern on the inside but it had been built into an old red-brick factory. He walked Odie down the quiet aisles, his elbows across the handle of the shopping cart, his head dangling between his shoulders.
“What else?” he asked.
“Can I ge-eet...some barrettes?”
“Yes, you can, O.” he said. Today she would get whatever she asked for.
“Makeup?” she said, a hopeful smile twisting her face.
He shrugged and said, “If you like.”
“Really?” she said, her eyes wide and happy. It was the first time he’d seen an honest look like that from her since Nia left. It changed to a moment of self-doubt. Maybe a sense of guilt for taking advantage of dear-old-Dad during his time of crisis.
She said, “I’ll wait for Mom, I think. She can help. She’d want to.”
“She’ll help you. Better than I would.”
She grabbed a multi pack off a hook. Six bright barrettes in candy-coloured plastic. Added it to their cart. Tomorrow was the first day of school and in the sadness and chaos there were things that were forgotten. So the cart was filled with notebooks and pens and pencils and whatever things she said she needed. A leather pencil case, a geometry set, coloured pencils, binders, glue. She was throwing everything into the cart and he was encouraging her. She thought it was funny and he loved to see her smile returned.
They paid and collected their purchases in big white shopping bags and walked back out into the heat. They were north of the village, not far from home but he was completely exhausted. He was running on empty, every bit of him turning dry. Physically, mentally, spiritually. He set the bags down and waved a taxi as it passed. He had this sudden urge that they would return home and Nia would be there. He knew she wouldn’t. Knew she would text, send a message to his phone. But it was a powerful feeling, something definite in him. He hustled Odie into the cab and threw the bags in. Told the driver to take him to Garden, got an eye roll because it was just around the corner.
The driver took them to the front of the house and he wished and hoped and fucking prayed that BMW was around back.
“Get the bags, Odie,” he said, fumbling for his keys and making his way up the concrete walk to their front door.
“What is it, Dad?” she called after him, lifting the heavy bags, giving up and resorting to dragging them while he fumbled with the key in the lock.
“Nothing, O, just want to be home.”
“You have to pee?”
“Ha ha,” he said. Got the door open and barged in, through the hall where he’d seen her last, broken and bleeding, through the kitchen and to the window at their nook. Just the Volvo. No Nia.
“Little help,” O called from the front doorway, dragging their heavy load.
He rushed
back to her, scooped up the bags and carried them against his chest, led her into the kitchen.
“She would have called if we weren’t home when she got here,” Odie said.
“I was hoping,” he said.
“I know, me too.”
NIA
They sat in the blazing hot and dry sun on the wide flat top of the houseboat. The light felt amazing on her. Being outside somehow made it easier for her to breathe and for whatever reason the demons were having a hard time getting their nails on her out here. She was glad she came out.
They were cross-legged, knee to knee facing each other.
“Sun bugging your eyes?”
She shook her head.
He peeled his T-shirt off and balled it up, throwing it on a cushion tossed on the hot deck where he would lay his head. “Come lay with me,” he said, “feel the sun.” He lay back and held his hand out to her. She took his fingers, grabbing two of them, and he pulled her down to lay against him. She curled herself along his big strong body. His other hand hooked into his waistband and he pulled his shorts down, bringing his knees up one by one to get them pushed down and off. She watched his big soft wrinkled thing flop around against his legs and up on his belly. He lay flat on the deck with her pressed against him. She drew her knees up and tucked herself into a tight ball, reached down and took his penis and dropped it down between his legs. It had folded up on his stomach, bent like a ’U’ and it was bugging her seeing it like that.
She would never escape what she’d done. Never escape what had happened to her. The horror that played out in their hall would be with her always. It would be with Geoff always, and her poor little girl too. She was escaping right now, but she couldn't hide forever. She had never felt so alone.
Right now she needed to be away from Geoff. Not him. Away from the way she felt when he looked at her. Away from herself. But she could never escape who she was.
She fell asleep curled up against Rocco like that. He made her feel very safe. He made her feel protected. It was crazy she was with him right now, but there was no one she needed more than her Rocco. She'd called him, distraught to the point of oblivion, almost out of her mind. He’d come to her, rushed to meet her and scooped her up and took her away where she would be safe. Took her to a doctor he knew so there wouldn't be a police report. An old school Italian in Woodbridge who didn't ask any questions. He probably knew. Knew it was Rocco's wife had done it and knew Nia was the little whore sleeping with him. She’d become such a fucking cliché. Such a dyed-in-the-wool slut. Like she was meant to be. Like a lot of people who knew her, even her friends, would have thought she'd be. She made a light fist and bumped her forehead, harder and harder til her nose hurt.
“What are you doing?” he asked her, sitting up. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was,” she said, her ear to his chest and watching the waves.
“Here, sit up with me,” he said. He helped her to sit, putting his hands on her sides. “Look, I know you. I know you're hurting. I love you. I love you and I’m going to make everything better.” He held her head in his palms. “It’s gonna be hard. The next few days...fuck, weeks...they’re going to be so hard, but I’m going to get you through them.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, her mouth pouted by his hands. She looked up into his eyes, held his massive forearms, scratched the chins of his dragons lightly with her nails like she was taming them.
His thumb caressed her chin and her lower lip as he surmised her injuries in the sunlight. She kissed his thumb.
She said, “I’m ready to call him,” her voice a quiet whisper.
“No, you’re not.”
“I feel like I need to.”
“You're not ready for that.”
“Why not?”
“Your head. He hates you, Nia, you want a fight right now? You need to rest.”
“He hates me.” She felt her stomach cramp and tighten in preparation for sobbing. She scrunched her face up tight and hard and she squeezed it all away. The pain in her nose throbbed and it felt like it swelled to twice its size.
“When you're stronger, Nia. When you're stronger,” he said, and he pulled her head to his shoulder, making her bend and put her hands up on his chest.
“I need to let him know I’m okay. My daughter...”
“Yeah.”
“You have my phone.”
“It’s at the office.”
“Rocco...”
“I don't wanna call him, but I will.”
“I should talk to him.”
“No, Nia. Call him tomorrow. Just stay with me for now. I’ll look out for you. I’ll let him know you're okay. I want you to forget about all that...”
“I can’t. The things I said to him...”
“He deserved it, Nia.”
“He’s the greatest guy...”
“You keep saying that. Where was he when you needed him?”
“I know. He...he helped our daughter.”
“He’s a coward.”
“He’s not.”
“He is.”
She said, “He’s got...there’s weakness.”
“Does he have a little dick?”
“No, Rocco. He’s normal. He's a good guy.”
“He’s good, but he’s not...good enough for you.” He held her hand, placed it over the one laid on his chest and he brought it between his legs. She held his cock, hot from the sun, large heavy and hairy. “I’ll give you that every night, Nia. Buy you jewelry, cars, trucks, cottages...whatever you want. Let’s go away somewhere. All winter. Wherever...”
She lay his cock back down on the deck and pet her hand along the top. Climbed up into his lap and she wrapped her legs around his hips and clutched herself to his chest. Her arms wouldn't go around him, her hands clutched to his sweaty muscular shoulder blades. She pressed her cheek to his hot chest. “Buy me a Ferrari?” she said, staring out at the hazy heat-glazed sky.
“I’ll buy you a Ferrari, Nia.”
“I’m kidding, Rocco. I don't want that. I don't want that at all.”
“You're all I want,” he said. “I would give you anything. Do anything.” He held her jaw and tilted it to him, kissed her lips. She kissed him back, let him take her sadness away, fill her with a pale glint of excitement. Help push herself away. He looked in her eyes. “You’re mine. I’m everything you ever wanted. I’ll do anything for you.”
“Oh, Rocco,” she sighed and lay her head against him again.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“You wouldn’t share me.”
Her hair was pulled gently, forcing her to look up at him.
“A man doesn't share his woman.”
“Go on. Call me a whore. You hate me.”
“I don’t. I love you. I don’t get you sometimes.”
“I can see it. Your hate.”
“With who?”
“What do you mean?”
“Share you with who?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging weakly.
“My brother?”
“Rocco. I love my husband. I’m married to the greatest man on earth. You’re amazing. I know you’re amazing. Geoff is my husband and I love him.”
“You want three men? Do you really want that?”
“I want one man. The one I have, Rocco.”
“He can’t protect you. And look where sharing got you. He’s not strong enough for you. You need a strong man.”
“I know I do,” she said.
“If you love him, let him go. Your need for me is going to kill him.”
“Rocco, I love him.”
“I know. That's why you have to let him go. You and I are meant for each other. I can feel it in the way you're clinging to me. Don’t lie to yourself, you can feel it. The longer you drag it out, the harder you're hurting Geoff.”
“I need him in my life.”
“He can be your friend, Nia. He's a good friend.”
“He's my best frien
d, Rocco,” she sobbed. Her face twisted right up, her lips curled in a swollen trembling bow. Tears ran down her sun-hot cheeks and she felt them drip off her chin onto Rocco’s chest. His hands smoothed her back, up and down, so strong, so capable. She felt like a little girl in his lap. She hugged herself tighter to him.
She hurt Geoff. Hurt him deep. She got feelings. Got real feelings for the men that were just supposed to stick their dicks in her. She thought it was just sex, but maybe she was looking for something more the whole time. The way her other men made her feel was so different than what she had with her good friend. Maybe it was never about sex. Maybe it was about the men behind the sex that she craved. The sex was just a fabrication of the truth she was missing in her life. She sobbed fully against him, her back racked with her heavy cries. He held her and he caressed her, his hand squeezing her shoulders through her shirt, rubbing her back, imparting some of his mammoth strength to her.
She’d made Geoff endure the worst with her. That sweet boy, that sweet little artist who’d spend time with her when they were just twenty. Cheer her up and make her cake and sit with her and watch TV and let her cry on his shoulder—he didn't deserve this pain. He’d watched her do the worst things with her body, open herself to other men, take a beating from a jealous woman because of her indiscretion. She’d blamed him, blamed him for not helping her, but he was just Geoff. He loved his Odie. Nia had to take her lumps. She wasn't worth saving. She thought of his kind sweet family, saw her filth through their eyes, how worthless she was for their son and brother. She let it all out on Rocco, cried herself out til her nose throbbed, her head pounded. He held her til she fell asleep, drifted off, and somewhere in that distant space her mind went when it thankfully shut itself off, she found a solace.
Rocco stroked her hair and her eyes fluttered. She sighed against him, felt his thick mass pressed to her. She climbed off his lap and went to her drink and finished it. Her head pounded despite the painkillers. She would try the Oxy next.
Rocco said, “You want some steak?”
She turned and looked at Rocco sitting in the setting sun, his long blue shadow slashing along the white boat top. He had sunglasses on and tattoos and nothing else, sitting with his arms behind him, cross-legged.
