by Maggi Myers
Chapter 3
A knock on my door shakes me from my daydreaming and before I can react, the door swings wide and a man sticks in his head. I am treated to the Tommy Cantwell megawatt smile, which instantly brightens my mood. He is working his hands in some mad game of charades. Looking at him quizzically, he finally points to his ears. I laugh and sit up, removing my headphones.
“Hey, baby girl! Where you been? Uncle Rob and I got in about an hour ago...” His words trail off as my attention shifts to the clock on the stereo. Three hours have passed since my mom stormed out and it is now 5:30 P.M., thirty minutes until my hell is unleashed at the dinner table. I look back toward Tommy and find him standing in front of me.
“How long have you been plugged in?” He leans down and places an arm around my shoulders as he sits.
I can’t fake anything around Tommy. He is one of few people I allow close enough to really know me. He scans my face with his warm brown eyes.
“What happened, Beth?” Tommy’s tender concern stokes the smoldering remains of my relationship with my mom. My tired eyes leak a deluge of tears as I throw my arms around Tommy’s neck.
“I got into a really bad fight with Mom and she hates me!”
He places his hand against the back of my head and an arm around my waist to pull me against him in a bear hug.
“Oh, honey, she doesn’t hate you. She could never hate you. Sometimes we fight the hardest with the people we love the most. Your mama and your daddy adore you.” He leans back, placing his hands on my arms and gently turning me to face him, as he looks me in the eye. “No one hates you, Beth. You are loved very much by me, your Uncle Rob and all of us hanyaks back home.”
I laugh at the absurd term he uses. Hanyak, pronounced hawn‐yock. It’s a word assigned by my grandfather to his loved ones. He is old and ornery, so it’s only fitting that he’d label us with an equally ornery title. Only Pops could generate a term of endearment from a phrase with synonyms like hoodlum and hooligan. I am comforted at the thought of my grandparents and my aunt and uncle back home in Iowa. I miss them so much and am so grateful to spend my summers with them. I think I might be the only kid alive who is happy that her parents ship her off to the Midwest every summer.
Tommy laughs with me, his mustache curling up on the ends as his smile widens. He is the definition of a family friend, not Drew. He has been my Uncle Rob’s best friend since grade school. He’s always been around, so he is as much my uncle as Rob. He and Rob attempted to teach me to water ski the first summer I spent in Des Moines. When that effort was proven futile, Tommy bought me a big yellow tube.
“You are not tying that thing to the back of my boat.” Rob stood on the dock of the marina blocking Tommy from his beloved jet boat.
“Man, get over yourself, she is too little to pull herself up on skis yet. She can hang onto this just fine.” Tommy chided.
Rob audibly scoffed and then looked at me. I stuck my tongue out at him for effect, which sent him into full belly guffaws.
“Fine, but teaching this squirrel, I mean girl, is on you, T.”
I spent the rest of the summer on that tube behind Uncle Rob’s boat.
The following summer, Tommy brought his nephew, Ryan, out to his Dad’s farm in Cumming to detassel corn.
“It’s a rite of passage for every child in Iowa!” he said, staring at us in disbelief as we moaned about the heat and time wasted.
“I’m from Miami, Tommy. I should be exempt.” I tried to keep a straight face, but Tommy’s bug-eyed slack-jawed response sent me into fits of giggles.
“Baby girl, you cannot deny your heritage. I was there the day you were born at Iowa Methodist in the fine capital of our state.” He placed his hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “It is inconsequential that your folks lost their collective mind and moved to Florida.” He paused to make sure we were listening, which gave Ryan an opportunity to chime in.
“Inconsequential? When did you learn such big words, T?” Ryan was a smart ass by nature. He was two years older than me and reminded me of it every chance he got.
“Get over here, you hanyak!” Tommy teased, as he grabbed Ryan in a headlock and scrubbed his knuckles across the top of his skull.
“Ow, old man! Knock it off!” Ryan all but squealed, “I’m gonna tell Mom!”
“You’re going to rat on me?” Tommy laughed in disbelief. “I’m not afraid of your mama. She might be my sister, but I can take her on.”
For the rest of the day, random laughter could be heard throughout the rows of corn when one of us would think about Tommy and Ryan trying to best one another.
Recalling those memories makes me smile and immediately I start to count on the calendar in my head—just two more months until I can go home again.
I let go of Tommy, wipe my face on my shirtsleeve and brave a smile. “There are some fights that can’t be fixed, though.”
I try my best to shrug and act nonchalant but I can see my sadness reflecting in Tommy’s expression. He knows me so well and right now, he can see that something is different.
The doorbell rings and I am slammed back into reality. My eyes search the clock on the stereo, 5:55 P.M.
Great, the assholes are punctual.
Though a year has passed since I’ve had to be in the same room with Drew, the same sense of panic mixed with dread spreads inside me, infecting every fiber of self worth and esteem. I can’t see it; I only feel it as the happiness leaves my body in a dizzying rush. It bleeds out of me like I’ve been gutted with a dull knife. My spiral into despair feels like slow motion, but in reality, it’s just a matter of seconds. That is all it takes for Tommy to see past the breach, I don’t know what clued him into my distress, but suddenly Tommy freezes and the air around us grows thick with tension. I try to ignore it. His brow creases and his eyes narrow in suspicion or contemplation—I am too nervous to get a good look at him to know. The sound of his voice makes me jump.
“Is this about Drew and Kristy?” The question hangs in the air, stealing the last of my ability to breathe. In an attempt to deflect the situation, I force a grin-shrug combination, stand and head for the door.
Beth! Could you be more unconvincing?
I glance back when I realize that Tommy is not following, he is looking out the window blankly. He seems lost, the light gone from his eyes, his face stoic. For the first time in my life, I feel uneasiness separating us. He is the glue that holds me together. I can’t stand the thought of anything coming between us. This awkwardness is like the death knell of Drew’s toxic effect on everything in my life. The mere idea that my friendship with Tommy could change turns my blood to ice water.
“Tommy?” My voice breaks the strange spell and he faces me, pinning me with compassionate eyes. I cannot disguise the look of horror that crosses my face, and Tommy’s expression turns soft with sympathy. I must be getting paranoid because there is no way he can possibly know a thing. I don’t know what the hell he thinks he might know. He doesn’t even live here. He’s only here once a year with Uncle Rob for their annual trip to the Daytona 500.
I struggle to retain composure but my head feels faint, my lungs cease to expand and contract. I refuse to look away from his stare, certain that this will prove I am perfectly unaffected by whatever assumptions he has floating around his head. He looks away from me when he stands and says nothing while he moves to joins me in the hallway. As we move forward toward the jubilant reunion in the living room, Tommy’s arm comes to rest across my back in a protective gesture. Sweat starts to collect on my top lip.
Take a deep breath, Beth.
As we reach the living room where the guests await, he finally speaks. “Is it cool if I sit next to you at the table?” his casual question bears no lingering traces from his mood just a moment before.
“Sure,” I say, “but first you have to clear it with Attila the Hun.”
With that, he smiles and I relax.
We step into the fray of meaningless chatter an
d “air kiss” greetings. Tommy’s arm is still draped across my back. His gesture is meant to reassure, but it is skyrocketing my anxiety. I need to find a way to get Tommy off the scent of my blood in the water. I find the one person I want and am instantly at ease.
“Hi, Uncle Rob! I am so glad you’re here.” I embrace Uncle Rob as he wraps me up in his big beefy arms and peppers the top of my head with kisses.
“How’s my squirrel? I mean, girl?” His greeting never gets old. I feel momentarily guilty for the lie I am about to deliver but remind myself of the mess that honesty made earlier with my mom.
Lay it on thick, Beth.
“I’m good!” I cringe, hearing the unconvincing words squeak from my mouth.
“Uh-huh,” Uncle Rob mumbles. “’Never mind if the cart’s on fire, just keep loading the wagon.’” My head bounces lightly against his chest as he starts to laugh. I hear Tommy sniggering behind me and I immediately feel defensive.
“What is that supposed to mean? I don’t speak Rob-Tommy.” I lean back to gauge Rob’s face and frown at him in disapproval.
“Quit lying to me, kid. You’re not fooling me into thinking that everything is fine when I could tell you were about to come out of your skin the second you came through the door.” He sighs heavily, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Did you forget your decoder ring or has it been too long, baby girl? You are the cart. You are on fire but you’re pretending like everything is fine. So you keep loading it up, pretending your shit’s not going up in flames. You feel me, Tommy?”
When Tommy doesn’t answer, I glance over my shoulder at him. He meets my gaze, raising a curious eyebrow. Great, I hate being put on the spot.
“How’s Aunt Melissa?” I attempt to change the subject.
Uncle Rob laughs. “Nice try. She’s good. She sends her love, wishes she could see you—you know, the usual. Now, back to the issue at hand…”
“It’s just been a crappy day, Uncle Rob. Things have been really hard with my mom today. She will flip if I am not welcoming to Drew and Kristy.” I plead, nodding toward the guests of honor.
“Later, then?” Giving me one last squeeze, he lets me go and greets the others. I am so grateful to have dodged the rest of his questions that I forget Tommy is still standing with me.
“Why wouldn’t you be welcoming, Beth?” Tommy’s voice is concerned but far from gentle, “What’s going on with you and them?”
Damn.
“Do I have to like everybody?” I laugh. It’s honest enough.
“Uh-oh, do I have to kick someone’s ass?” Tommy teases. Little does he know how close he is to unraveling all of my dirty little secrets.
“No, Tommy. I can do my own ass kicking when necessary. Thank you.” My smile is genuine because I know the sincerity of his statement.
Before he can argue, I turn to face the rest of the crowd. An instant later I feel Tommy stiffen beside me. I look over my shoulder at him, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at Drew, who is schmoozing Uncle Rob. Tommy replaces his arm across my back as he watches Drew work Uncle Rob over like a used car salesman. So much for relaxing.
When Uncle Rob moves on to speak with my father, Drew turns my way. His eyes are deceptively warm and kind. He grabs hold of Kristy’s hand and heads toward Tommy and me.
“Mouse! I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up!” Kristy squeals, kissing me on the cheek, leaving a smeared orange lip imprint.
I think I’m smiling.
I’m definitely nodding.
This is so messed up.
“Tommy,” Drew says, offering his hand to shake.
“Mouse? How long have you two been gone? No one’s called Beth that since she was knob-kneed and toothless,” Tommy chuckles as he pumps Drew’s hand.
“I guess she’ll always be Mouse to me.” I can hear the subtle chill in Drew’s voice, giving away his irritation. No one else seems to notice, but it sets me on edge.
“Beautiful Mouse,” Drew shifts his attention to me, “you have grown up to be quite a young lady.”
He’s giving an Oscar-worthy performance as the doting family friend when he leans in to kiss my cheek. He gives me a quick wink and a wry smile. I want to scream.
“Okay, everyone!” My mother is raising her wine glass, demanding our attention. “Dinner is ready! Let’s have a seat.
Chapter 4
I eye my plate and wonder how I am ever going to be able to eat beef tenderloin and new potatoes ever again. The thought of taking another bite sends the contents of my stomach surging into my mouth. My fork clangs loudly on the plate as I force the food down my esophagus. I reach for my water. I am about to take a sip when I feel a hand settle on my thigh from under the table. I whip my head to the left while the water in my goblet splashes onto my hand and onto my mother’s perfect table setting.
“Oh, no! Mom, I am so sorry! Let me grab some napkins.”
I jump up from my seat, ready to head for the kitchen. Drew’s hand drops from my lap and I shoot him the nastiest sneer I can muster.
“Sit. Down.”
I turn toward the sound of my mother’s angry voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Beth. It’s only a few drops. Stop making a scene!” she spits.
I slump back down in my seat, trying to rein in tears of rage. Tommy puts his hand on the back of my chair and discreetly leans his head toward mine. Before he has a chance to instigate The Spanish Inquisition, I clear my throat.
“Excuse me, please,” I mumble. Without waiting for a response, I push back from the table, scraping the chair legs across the floor in loud protest.
Run.
Bolting toward the living room, I don’t look at any of the surely shocked faces left in my wake. When I reach the couch, I flop down and place my head between my knees. I am concentrating on breathing in and out with deep, controlled breaths when I feel the cushion next to me dip with the weight of someone’s body.
Tommy.
Of course he would follow me in here and check on me. Now I won’t have to go back into the dining room alone. I lift my head, a smile already playing at my lips to greet my friend, when I realize my error. Shifting so his leg is pressed against the length of mine, Drew is watching me with predatory precision.
No, no, no.
I can hear Tommy’s voice from the next room. “What the hell, Casey? What is going on with you two?” he angrily questions my mother.
My thoughts refocus on Drew as he leans his head in so close to me that his lips brush against my ear.
“Mouse, you have grown up so much. God, you are gorgeous,” he whispers against my ear, kissing it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to shift away from him. He grabs hold of my arms and keeps me still. Slowly moving his hands up and down my arms, he rubs the back of his knuckles against the sides of my breasts.
“You are really starting to fill out.” His voice is breathy with arousal. It is all I can take.
“NO!” I shout into his face. I leap from the couch and am about to run for my room when Drew grabs my wrist, jerking me backwards. I stumble and land in Drew’s lap. His smug, satisfied face enrages me.
“I didn’t think you’d like me rough, Mouse,” he whispers. I yank as hard as I can to get him to release my wrist, but that only shimmies my lower body across his erection.
“You know you like me, Beth. Why fight me?” He moans.
With all the anger and hatred I can muster, I wrench my hand free from Drew’s grasp and tumble to the floor. I scramble backwards on my hands and feet to put as much distance between us as I can.
Drew’s face registers shock. He is used to having the upper hand, and I am not afraid of him anymore. Quickly, his confusion morphs into rage as he dives off the couch after me. I prepare for his impact by curling my body into itself in the smallest ball I can, but the impact never comes. My eyes are squeezed shut, my hands are over my ears but I can still hear the shrill war cry erupt from Tommy’s mouth.
“YOU MOTHERF
UCKER!”
My head pops up from the floor in time to see that Tommy has Drew by the back of his shirt, keeping his body from propelling forward onto mine. I unfold myself, stand and wobble to the corner of the room. I sink slowly along the wall, down to the floor.
“You sick fuck!” Tommy wails as he pushes Drew to the floor and kicks him in his side.
“You bastard!” He kicks him again and again.
“How long, you motherfucker? How long have you been touching her?”
Chapter 5
“Beth?” Uncle Rob urges, “Beth? Baby girl, look at me.”
The words blow through me like a soft breeze, but I am not able to latch on to any of them.
“She is in shock, let the paramedics look at her.” An unfamiliar voice answers Uncle Rob’s plea.
Blue. Red. Blue. Red.
The colors shift and undulate in abstract patterns across the front yard. I am vaguely aware that I am sitting on the front step.
“Excuse me, miss, can you tell me your name?” a piercing light shines in my eyes, making them water. I don’t answer. Unfamiliar hands grip my wrist at its pulse point. I wonder if they can find a pulse. I am positive my heart ceased to beat since the moment the police arrived and took Drew away. “Miss, are you in any pain?”
Everything hurts. Angry purple fingerprints wrap around my arm, my knees are raw and bloody. These physical markers are a poor reflection of the riptide of emotion coursing through me. There is no steel shutter or iron gate to hide behind. I am completely exposed.
How am I going to look anyone in the eye ever again?
The EMT asks me more questions that I don’t answer. I just want to close my eyes and sleep. Exhaustion wraps around me in a vice grip, lulling me away from the fray.
“Her vital signs are good, she’s just suffering a little post-trauma stress,” the EMT encourages.
My humiliation is suffocating me. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my mind to take aim at the one place that will provide refuge.
