He stills his torture long enough for me to answer. “I’m sorry. I was just playing.” I can’t get my laughing under control even though he has stopped, “Oh, please. Just stop!”
Ryder pulls his hands back to him and shrugs, “Do you give? Because, I can do this all day.”
“I give. I give, damnit!” Finally, my laughing subsides and I am able to take in full breaths. He is sitting, there looking at me, with this thoughtful expression. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
The thoughtfulness turns to confusion, “Huh? What do you mean?”
“You were thinking pretty dern hard there. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.” I explain.
“Oh, funny girl.” He cocks his head to the side, “I was just thinking how much I love this look on you.”
It was my turn to be confused, “Enlighten me. What look would that be? Bed head?”
“I like that look, too. But I was talking about you being happy.” He states as he moves to sit beside me. “When I first saw you, I could tell you were lost, figuratively speaking.”
I sit up and grab both his hands in his lap and hold them in mine. “I have worn my mask for so long. I only allowed people to see me the way I wanted them to see me. Happy and normal. You came along and seen right through my fake reality from the beginning. You make me want to be really happy, and trust me there is a difference.”
He raises our hands and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. “I love you, Kat. I will do my best to make you happy and keep that smile on your face, always. I promise.”
“There you go with those promises again.” I say rolling my eyes at him. “I love you, too.”
“This promise should be easy to keep. Especially, now that I know how ticklish you are.” He replies.
“Oh, no you won’t.”
His cheeks pull back tight with a huge smile, “Yes, I think I will!”
Before long my face and ribs hurt from laughing as long as I do. My breaths are nothing more than short gasp to survive until my next one.
Boom, Boom, Boom.
Boom, Boom, Boom.
“You two are aware that it is Monday, right? Monday! So stop with the giggles and shit so early!” Skeigh screams as she continues to beat on my door.
“Is she always such a ray of sunshine in the morning?” Ryder questions, mockingly.
“Until she has had a cup of coffee.” I laugh. “Or ten.”
We get dressed and leave my room. I grab me a soda from the fridge and point to the cabinet with the cups for Ryder to pour himself some coffee. Passing the kitchen table I see Jamie sitting there eating her cereal. She looks likes she is on auto-pilot. Scoop up cereal with spoon, put spoon in mouth and lower back to bowl. Repeat. She doesn’t raise her gaze from whatever she is staring at to notice me take a seat beside her. I imagine that is what I look like when I space out. Blank. Lost. Vacant.
“Jamie.” Not so much as a blink my way. I wave my hand in her face, “Earth to Jamie.”
“Hmm?” I now have her full attention and a front row view to the proof of abuse. Her eye is still swollen, but it has turned purple overnight. The cut on her lip doesn’t look as bad as it did yesterday. “I just pulled a you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did.” I place my hand on her shoulder and tell her, “You will get through this.”
“What do I do? Do I go to school today? Do I go home?” Jamie questions.
“I think the first step would be for you to go call your mom and have her meet you somewhere so that you two can talk, without your dad.”
“She won’t listen to me about this. I have told her a million times that he shouldn’t treat her the way he does.” She shakes her head.
“That was when it was just her he was hitting on though. You’re her baby. It will be different.” I assure her even though my mother didn’t care. I have seen the love Jamie’s mom has for her, though.
Jamie pushes her half eaten bowl of cereal away, then puts her chin in her hands. “Will you come with me?”
“If you want me there, then I will be there.”
In the living room I find everyone else piled on the couch talking. I let them know what Jamie and I are doing, and that I would let them know what happens. After we have all finished our morning routines and downed an unreasonable amount of caffeine, we all head out the door. Ryder walks us to my car and sweeps Jamie in for a big hug. He whispers in her ear that everything will be fine. Glancing over at me he says, “You are strong like your sister. What you are going through now will only make you stronger. Keep your head up, otherwise your crown will fall.” He kisses the top of her head and strolls over to me.
“Call me when you are done.” He says.
I nod to let him know I will. Placing a swift kiss on his lips, we climb in the car and head to meet Jamie’s mom. When Jamie called her earlier her mom said to just come home, saying not to worry that her father wouldn’t be there. The conversation is going good and she understands that her husband shouldn’t be hitting either of them, but she put up with him doing it to herself because she was scared of being a single mother. Apparently, yesterday was the last straw for her. When Jamie left with me, she made him pack up and ship out.
Jamie is taking everything pretty well considering she is only thirteen. Or basically fourteen, so she keeps telling me. She loves her dad and hates that he is the way he is, but she also understands that you can’t make everyone better.
“I’m going to head on out kiddo. Seems like y’all have everything under control.” Her short arms wrap around me as she thanks me for being there with her. I can’t deny it, a tear escaped as I walked to the door. As I go to turn the knob I hear a car door shut outside. I open the door to find Jamie’s father stomping up the driveway. He isn’t a small man by any means. I am sure that he could pick me up and chunk me a mile down the road without so much as straining. I walk to the bottom of the steps that Jamie has sat and waited on me so many times, “You need to leave.”
There is no pause in his steps, he walks up to me and gets in my face. You can hear the unrestrained hate in his voice, “This is my fucking house,” he stops to wipe the spit from his chin, “if I want to be here, I will!”
Holding my breath so that I don’t have to smell his, I take a step up. “You’re drunk and mad. What will you do to them if you go in now?” I wait to see if he even thinks about it. He doesn’t. “You could put them in the hospital, or worse. I can’t let you through that door.”
“You don’t have to.” He spews in my face with a look of malice.
I see it but I am slow to react and put up any defense. His hand comes across my face so hard that when I hit the railing it goes to the ground with me. I don’t know how long I lay there, but as I come to screaming pierces my ears.
“No! No, Brad. Please, just stop. She’s your daughter.”
Smack.
“I don’t give a shit! She is the reason you made me leave! I will make sure that is never a problem again.”
My vision is limited, my peripheral is nothing but darkness. I want to close in on myself from fear of it closing in on me completely. Just then Jamie’s screams come from the house and I shake off whatever cowardice I have. As I pull myself to stand I get hit with overwhelming dizziness. I right myself and start the accent of the stairs to the front door. When I walk in the house I wasn’t prepared for what I was witnessing.
Jamie’s mom is laying in behind the couch facing me, but not really looking at me. She is bleeding from a deep cut on her head and it has formed a puddle on the floor beneath her. One of her arms is at an awkward angle behind her body, while the other is above her head twitching. I don’t know if she is conscious or even alive, all I know is I have to get to Jamie. I turn and find her huddled in a corner, begging for her dad not to hurt her. I pull out my knife, then in my jean pockets I grab my phone and dial 911.
“Back away from her and leave.” My hand shakes as I hold the knife out. Unlike with Jake this man scares me to a point beyond self-c
ontrol. If he were to come at me, I would freeze just like I did outside. I bring the phone up to my ear and here the operator on the other end asking what the emergency was. “I have the police on the phone. It’s over.”
His nostrils flare and I am sure steam came from them with his exaggerated huff. “You’re lying.”
I pull the phone out in front of me and turn on the speaker. “Ma’am? Ma’am, I need you to tell me what is going on.”
“I will fucking kill you!” He says as he takes one massive step in my direction.
“The police are on their way. We have your location as 556 Cherry Street. Is this correct ma’am?” The operator asks.
“Yes.” I croak.
Jamie’s dad looks behind him at his daughter cowered in that corner, then turns back to see his wife laying a pool of her own blood. He walks around me to her and gets on his knees. “I am so sorry. So very sorry. I turned out to be everything I told you I would never become.” He leans over and places a kiss on her cheek, “I do love you.”
Then he leaves. Doesn’t go and tell his daughter he is sorry for being a piece of shit like he just did his unresponsive wife. Just walks right out the door like neither of us are there.
“Ma’am, what is going on?”
It takes me a minute to remember that I am still standing there holding my phone with 911 on the other side. I take it off speaker and pull it back to my ear. “He, uh, he left.”
“Ok. Did you see which way the man went so that I can tell the officers in route?”
“I…I, uh. No, I can’t tell you which way he went. I…I didn’t pay attention to him once he walked out the door.” I explain.
I hear a sniffle and look up and see Jamie still wrapped around herself and run to her. I pull her into my arms and as soon as I do she releases all the anguish she had been holding onto. The harder she cries, the harder I squeeze her. The operator stays on the phone with me until the police and ambulance arrive at the house. The medics check on Jamie’s mom and confirm that she’s alive, then load her onto a gurney. Jamie jumps up and takes off in her direction as they push her out to the ambulance.
When I get to her she tells me that she is riding with her mom to the hospital. I tell her I will be right behind her and stay until the ambulance drives away. As soon as it is out of sight my phone vibrates in my hand. It’s Ryder. I don’t even wait for him to say hey I tell him the whole thing. He doesn’t interrupt me once.
“Have one of the police officers stay with you until I get there. I am on my way.”
“Ryder, I am fine.”
“Give the phone to the closest officer there.” I don’t bother arguing with him. I stick the phone out in front of me at this pudgy young man in uniform and he takes it from me with a questioning look.
“Go ahead.” The police officer answers.
“No sir, not at all.” Pause. “Ten minutes?” Pause. “We’ll see you then.”
The hefty man hands me my phone back. “What did you just do?” I ask into the phone.
“I asked that man to stay with you since you wouldn’t. Now stay put, I will be there soon. Ok?”
“Ok.”
“Promise?” Ryder ask.
“I promise.”
After we hang up I put my phone back into my pocket. Without the phone in my hand I realize that my knife is still in my hand, but it’s closed. I put it in my other pocket, wondering why I didn’t get tackled for having it in my hand in the first place and when I had closed it.
“I was wondering if you were going to stick me.” The officer says.
“Huh?”
“The knife. You have been holding it since we got here in a death grip.”
“Oh. Um, sorry. I forgot I had it out till I handed over my phone to you.” I explain.
He lets out a laugh, “You realize it wasn’t even open, right?”
“My knife wasn’t open?”
“No.”
Holy shit! That whole time I was holding an un-opened knife towards a drunken man full of rage. As I stand pondering over that piece of information, the police officer walks a few feet away talking on his radio.
He comes back to me with a serious face, “Ma’am, we have apprehended the suspect. Would you be willing to give your statement of the events that happened?”
“Uh, yeah. What do I need to do?”
“What you told us when we arrived is already written down and recorded for our report. I will give you this voluntary statement for you to fill out of all the details you can give.” He explains. In his hand is a metal clipboard and he pulls out a sheet of paper and places it in the clamp, then hands it and a pen to me.
Just as I finish the statement Ryder pulls in behind the two cop cars left. He doesn’t even acknowledge them, instead he comes straight to me in an all-out sprint. He grabs my shoulders and looks me over from top to bottom, then shoves for me to turn. Once I am back to facing him, his hands go to my face. His eyes are full of concern. “You’re ok? You’re sure?”
“Yes, Ryder. I’m fine.”
“Are you absolutely sure? You should’ve had the EMT check you out when they were here. We should take you by the hospital to check.” He rambles out.
I place my hands over his on my face and look him deep in those eyes that have turned into brown, which I’ve come to learn happens when he is uneasy or worried. “I am ok. I promise.”
“You are getting better with this whole promise thing.” Ryder pulls me into his chest and I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around him. His scent, his warmth; they are all I need to calm the rest of my antsy nerves.
Once I can pull myself from Ryder, I give my statement to the officer who stayed with me and we head to the hospital to check on Jamie and her mother.
Chapter 20
It’s been almost a month. A month since everything happened with Jamie and her family. Every day that has passed I realize how strong she is, what an amazing woman she is becoming. Jamie gets her strength from her mom. After a couple of days of observation she was released from the hospital and the next day she was back at work.
I don’t know if he has been doing it purposely or not, but Ryder has either stayed the night at my house or conned me into staying with him each night. I am ok with that, though. Why would I argue with being wrapped safe in his arms every night? He took off early this morning, something about fixing a piece on some car before a show. After he left I fell back asleep. I woke up a little bit ago to find out I’ve slept half the day away.
I lay back on my bed and look around my room. I realize that it is ridiculously bare. There are no pictures on the walls or on top of my dresser. It looks exactly the same as it did when I moved in. I have been living on the thought eventually this fantasy would end. I didn’t want to put roots too deep just in case I had to leave. I thought it would be easier that way, but turns out I was wrong. My gaze travels back to the dresser. The middle drawer mocks me. Well, what is in it does.
A paper that holds words from my mother are in that damned drawer. I haven’t even looked at it since I stuffed it underneath the clothes there. No matter how I try to forget it, it still taunts me. Telling me how much of a coward I still am. Still scared. I pull myself from the security of the covers, walk over and open the drawer. I pull in a long slow breath, then pull back the layers of clothes to reveal the envelope.
Lies. All lies.
The words come to me in my mom’s voice and I am pulled into the memory of our last conversation. Six months before I left.
“Liar. You’re lying. Why would you say something like that about your father, Katrina?” Momma ask.
“He isn’t my dad. He isn’t anything to me.” I yell back.
“How could you say that? He has been a father to you since you were just a baby and your real father abandoned you?”
I don’t know what to say to make her see. I am at the point I don’t know if she knows what he is doing and just refuses to acknowledge it because she don’t want to lose his income,
or if she is really that blind. Anger pushes out my next words, “No, mother. He couldn’t stand the sight of YOU!! Grandma told me how awful you were to him and he left because he couldn’t stand the sight of you.” I tighten my hands into fist at my sides, “And neither can I. Soon, I will walk out of your life too.”
Walking out the front door and slamming it behind me is the most relief I have gotten from my pent up anger, ever. I can’t wait to walk out of it forever.
I smile remembering just how it really felt to close a door on that life for good. Or so I thought, but here I am shaking just thinking about what cruel words she could have said to Victoria. After a few choice words, I yank the letter up and walk over to the bed. I take a few calming breaths and shake off the jitters, then open the envelope and pull out the interview. I lean back against the headboard and begin reading.
Darla Mills was very reluctant to talk about her daughter and the situation. After coming by several times she finally agreed to answer a few of my questions. The poor woman looked older than her mere age of 48. The bags under her eyes are so dark you could only assume she had been up for days. Silver blankets most of the dark hair she has left. Frail. Worn.
The whole time I open my small laptop, she sat restlessly in her chair, constantly fidgeting with something or moving. As soon as I found the questions I already had thought about for her, I ask if she is ready. I get a barely visible nod for an answer. Below is the results of said interview:
Me: Darla, from what I understand you don’t believe what your daughter said all those years ago was true. Why is that?
Darla: He raised her as his own. It just wouldn’t be right, especially him being the man he was.
From Lies to Promises Page 15
