by Amanda Heath
Max nods at me, still seemingly lost in thought. “She asked me if I was and I told her the truth. We had a talk about it before I came down here.”
That takes me by surprise. “Where did she find the place to ask all these questions?” Here I go lying again. I’m not telling my little brother about the letter. That’s between Sarah and Farah. If Farah wants Max to know then she’ll tell him.
Max looks up at me then, his eyes are calculating. “It’s almost as if she talked to Sarah.”
Chills go down my spine thinking about when Farah said Sarah was standing behind me. I really hope Sarah isn’t haunting her sister. That would be seriously fucked up. “You need to tell her you know everything. You need to come clean, if you want anything to happen between y’all.”
Max doesn’t look away but he reaches out and grabs my shoulder. “I don’t think anything will ever happen with her. I don’t think I want anything to happen. It’s all just too fucking weird, if you ask me.”
I shrug. “So what if she fucked me and you fucked Sarah. People would talk regardless of if you were married to her sister or not. Hell, I fucked Sarah once upon a time and you let that go.”
“You weren’t in love with her. She wasn’t your girlfriend for a while.”
I nod. “So? I want you to be happy. I want Farah to be happy. I think you both deserve that. And she needs a good man to take care of her. That good man is you.”
Max and I finish our conversation while he drives me to the airport so I can go back to my wife and my little girl. We might not be at the place we need to be as brothers but I have hope that we’ll get there. The past couple of weeks have opened my fucking eyes. I’ve seen a different side to the situation and I don’t like how I look in it. I don’t like what I’ve done to either of them and now I can only hope that one day I can make it up to them.
Eleven
Farah
A day after Max and I kissed, Pops walks into my depressing room and steals the covers off of me. “Get your ass outta this bed. We got shit to do.”
I groan and squint at the light streaming in through the window. I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in days and I wanted it that way. When the darkness calls, you have no choice but to answer. “Why? What could we possibly have to do today?” I growl at him, giving him my best resting bitch face.
Pops chuckles and I relax my face and roll my eyes. “Get the fuck up and come see.”
He leaves my room then and I grumble as I get out of bed. I pick out a tight-fitting Dirty Deeds shirt and black yoga pants. I quickly get dressed and stumble around as I put on my pink chucks.
I go into the bathroom and do my business. Then I brush my teeth because they feel disgusting and after, I pull my hair up into a tight bun to keep the blonde and black locks off my face.
I race out of the room and head downstairs. Demon Dog is sitting at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me. I squat down and rub him down good in hello. I coo at him a little because I’ve been neglecting my furry baby.
I stand back up and Charlie leads the way out of the house. Pops stands on the ground by the porch putting a dip of tobacco in his mouth. That makes me want a cigarette so before he makes me go feed the chickens or milk the cow, I head over to my car. I find my pack sitting on the passenger seat. I pick it up and pull out a cancer stick. I use the cheapo lighter also in the seat and light up. The first hit makes me feel lightheaded and I smile. There’s nothing like killing yourself slowly.
“I thought you quit. Again,” my grandfather calls out and I turn towards him. “Those things will kill you.”
“Yeah and that shit in your mouth will rot out all your teeth,” I reply, taking another hit.
Pops laughs and I smile. He has one of the best laughs ever. It comes up deep, from his stomach, and makes this joyful sound when it escapes his lips. Gran used to stop talking in the middle of a sentence just to listen to him laugh.
God they were so in love.
“This shit already rotted out my teeth. That’s what they make dentures for.” Then he winks at me and walks towards the barn.
I sigh and follow him while taking a few more hits from my smoke. I watch the white cloud leave my mouth and head towards the sky with a faint smile on my face. I wish I could float to the sky like that.
Pops is coming out of the barn before I even make it to him. He has two shovels in his hands and I raise one eyebrow. “Please tell me we aren’t burying my ex-boyfriend’s dead body.” My statement is serious. Pops can be scary sometimes and I wouldn’t put it past him to have several bodies buried out here on his land.
“No, little bird. We have to dig something up.” He lumbers towards the back of the house, me trailing behind more than curious. Pops and Gran used to tell Sarah and me about all the buried treasure on the property. When I was little I always believed the stories and I would use this little garden shovel Gran bought me to dig around. I never found anything except rusty nails and pieces of copper.
I follow him out into the woods a good hundred yards. Then he stops and throws down the shovels. I watch as he moves around in circles, looking at his surroundings before stopping and nodding his head. “This is the spot.”
He picks the shovels back up and I drop my smoke on the ground and stomp it out. He hands me one shovel before moving to plant his in the ground. “Come on, girl. We got a big hole to make.”
I freeze and stare at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure we aren’t burying a body?”
He laughs again and only shakes his head for my answer. I relax, but only somewhat, and start digging with him. We dig for a good hour before my shovel hits something hard under the dirt. I stop, surprised. “What the hell do you have buried out here?”
“Wait and see, precious girl, wait and see.”
I roll my eyes and keep shoveling out dirt. It’s hot out here and I’m wishing Pops had had the forethought to bring some fucking water with us. My shirt sticks to me with sweat and I have dirt all over me. I’m wishing I had worn flip-flops or an old pair of sneakers instead of one of my prized pair of chucks.
Seriously these shoes aren’t cheap and I don’t have all the money in the world.
“Help me lift it,” Pops says when we have the wooden box completely uncovered. I start thinking about all those stories my grandparents told me about buried treasure and I can’t explain my excitement. I’m twitching with it and my face is in a full-blown smile. This one isn’t deranged like the one I had around Tate yesterday. This is the first real smile I’ve had since my beloved sister died.
It feels amazing.
We lift the box out of the hole and set it on the ground. Pops pulls out a set of keys, one little and gold, and inserts it into the little lock on the latch of the box. I suck in air when he gets the box open after struggling with it. It was kind of rusted where the metal touched around the edges of the box.
It’s not gold, if that’s what you’re thinking. No, it’s stacks and stacks of money. This box has to be three feet wide and two feet high. And it was freaking heavy. “Where the fuck did you get this money?” I blurt out, completely freaked that my grandparents actually had this money buried out here.
Pops sighs and goes to lean against a nearby tree. “Your Gran didn’t trust the banks, didn’t trust lawyers and surely didn’t trust your momma. So she made me put all this money out here in the ground. There are actually ten of them in various places.”
My jaw drops wide open and I just stand there, blinking at him. He chuckles at me but that doesn’t shock me out of my surprise. “Molly’s parents had this huge cattle ranch back in the day. They had millions saved up before they passed, left it all to Molly, seeing as she was their only living child at the time.” He looks off into the distance, probably remembering my Gran and her crazy self. She might have been a sweet old woman, but she was batshit crazy. That’s probably why they loved each other so much. “Molly bought this land and built this house for us with the money. Then she made me bury the rest. We us
ed my paycheck from the paper mill to live. We ain’t ever spent another dime.”
“So it’s just been sitting out here for decades?” I mutter because this house was built before my mother was born.
Pops nods. “She left it all to you and Sarah. She would’ve left some to that kid of ours but Molly didn’t like much how she treated you girls. She was always telling you that you were too fat and then you got real sick. She rode Sarah about her grades since kindergarten, made that poor girl feel stupid her whole life. Molly didn’t want nothing to do with her.”
I nod. My mother is a pretty evil witch. I was overweight as a preteen and she used to make me get up at the crack of dawn to go run five miles before I had to go to school. So I stopped eating because what teenager wants to get up that early and work out? Plus, I started to think of myself as this fat lard and I could understand why she didn’t love me. I just wanted her to see that I could change, that I could be what she wanted. She was still riding me when I was in rehab getting help for my condition. Mind you I weighted sixty pounds at the time and I was thirteen.
“I had the will changed over so Blake will get Sarah’s half of the money when I pass. The will has all the coordinates on them and you should be able to find them all.” Pops walks over to me and wraps his arms around me. Tears stream out of my eyes and for once in my life they are happy tears. I can’t believe this is happening right now. “There’s about a million in each box. We’re only taking about two hundred grand from this one, then we’re gonna bury it back.”
I nod through my tears and pull in a shuddering breath. “I have no idea what to say.” I speak into his chest, my face buried against him. I know what he’s doing and I hate that he had to tell me about the money before he passed away. He would have had one last laugh at my expense then. Though I guess he still gets one over my mother. Money-hungry harpy that she is.
“It’s time you got your life together, little bird. You can’t just keep living in this limbo you’ve crossed over into. You gotta get out there and live. Make something of yourself. Make me proud,” he whispers into my hair and then I feel his lips give my crown a gentle kiss. “Breaks an old man’s heart to see you living like this. I’m gonna get you settled before I have to go meet Molly in heaven.”
I sob then. I sob for all the mistakes that I have made and for the things that have brought me to this point. I cry for my Gran who never got to meet Blake or any kids that I might have. I cry because she didn’t get to meet Max either. She would have loved him like her own. She used to say anyone who loved Sarah or me was right in her book.
She probably would have buried Tate in this hole Pops and I just dug. “I miss her so much,” I tell him. I miss her white hair that came down to her ass. She used to let me braid it because even when I was little I liked working with hair. Her blue eyes that looked so much like mine, like Sarah’s. Her bright smile and crazy looks.
I simply miss all the years we didn’t get to have with her. You never realize being an immature teenager could get anyone killed. Not when you’re an immature teenager. Though when you do screw up, you have to live with those consequences for the rest of your life.
“I miss her too. More than I can ever say. But it was her time to go. We’ll see her again, I promise little bird.”
Twelve
Ten months later…
Max
This house feels so lonely. Even my son doesn’t make enough noise for me to feel like someone else is in the house. I just sit in the living room, staring off into space while he plays very silently on the floor with his cars. He doesn’t even make the vroom vroom noises anymore or the honking noise he’s so fond of. My poor little man.
It’s depressing to be us right now. I don’t know where he got this idea that he needs to be quiet. It’s kind of strange, really. I’ve never once asked him to be quiet. I would never actually. I love to watch him play, he’s got a big imagination and it’s so interesting to see. My son is the best part of me and it’s amazing to me to see what he can come up with.
I get up off the couch and sit on the floor with him. His little brown eyes look up at me. He gives me a tiny little smile and hands me one of his cars. I take it gently and then we silently race them on the floor. I don’t know what to say to him. Maybe he just wants to be quiet.
We play for the longest time, both of us on our stomachs with our right hands stretched out, pushing the cars across the tight knitted carpet. We do this for forever. I let him win every time, even though I shouldn’t because you shouldn’t teach a kid that. He’s not always going to win things in life.
Then he does the most amazing thing ever. “Daddy, where is Farwh. I want to see my Farwh.” His little voice rings out into the silent house and for once I don’t feel like the entire world is on my shoulders. I didn’t know it but I just needed to hear his little voice. I just needed to know he was okay.
“I don’t know, buddy. She’s probably at work.” It’s two in the afternoon, so I assume she’s at the salon her grandfather helped her buy. I’ve driven by several times since she opened, even a few times while she was setting it up, and she looks incredibly happy. It sucks she’s happy without us around but, then again, that’s all I ever wanted for her. Her happiness is so much more than mine. It brings light into my life and that’s what I need in this dark depressing place I call my brain.
“Can we go see her?” he asks with hope filling those little eyes that look so much like mine. Some days I’m glad he looks just like me, then other days it makes me so sad that he has those features from his mother. Like his smile, he has Sarah’s smile and every time I see it I have this pain grip my heart. God I miss my wife.
I never realized how much I would. I knew if she ever left I would feel pain and grief and anger. I knew that but I didn’t realize I would have this black hole inside of me that used to be filled with Sarah. She made my world go round; she put the smile in my eyes and the beats in my heart. It’s so hard to move on from her.
Sarah has been gone for nine months. Nine months of hopelessness and depression. Nine months of my son playing on the floor quietly and my parents watching every move I make. Nine months without seeing much of my other love, Farah. I know she isn’t the cure for what ails me, but she would be a smooth balm for my soul.
She’s pissed though for the things I said and didn’t say. I don’t know if she hates me for loving her or if she knows I can’t help it. When a woman like Farah walks into your life you either hate her or you love her. It’s either/or with that woman. I chose love or maybe love was chosen for me. I can’t say I could really help it, honestly. It was like one day I just knew her and the next I was in so deep I couldn’t see my way out.
I feel guilty for all the things I never said and for the things I felt. I was married to her twin sister for Christ sakes. What kind of man does that make me?
I play our kiss over and over in my head, especially at night, long after Blake has gone to bed. Her softer than silk lips, and her blue-sky eyes filled with passion for all of six seconds. Then I was gone because I couldn’t handle it. I felt like I was cheating on Sarah. I was, actually. My wife hadn’t been dead but a few weeks when that happened.
There’s a knock on the front door and I nod at Blake when he asks if he can answer. I roll over onto my back and watch as he opens the door. My mom comes in first followed by my dad. I sit up and lean back on my hands. “Fancy seeing you here,” I tell my mom, who is looking directly at me.
She rolls her eyes. “You won’t answer your phone. I was worried.”
“I’m depressed, Ma, not suicidal,” I tell her, watching as my dad picks Blake up and shows him a new little car he brought him.
Mom drops onto the floor and pulls me into her arms. I get the familiar whiff of rose perfume that she’s always worn. Every scraped knee and busted elbow is filled with that smell. She’s a hugger and every time I was upset or cried she was there with her wide-open arms. “I know baby, I didn’t think you were dead. I
just thought maybe you weren’t spending time with Blake.”
That’s another thing I love about her. She is always honest. I wonder where I got this trait where I lie to those I love. My dad hardly speaks but even he’s honest. “We’ve been sitting in the living room every day. Unless I go to work and he’s at the babysitter’s.”
Her hands come up to my face and she smoothes her hands over my cheek. “I should have known you were always stronger than the rest of us.”
“Just because I’m still alive doesn’t mean I’m living,” I tell her, being completely honest for once in my life. People ask me daily if I’m okay and I always tell them I’m fine. They either don’t care either way or they really think I’m telling the truth. It’s just one of those questions you ask a person who lost their spouse.
“Well as long as you’re alive,” she murmurs, looking over at Dad and Blake. “That little boy is so worried about you. He told me the other day he couldn’t have this toy from Wal-Mart because it would make too much noise and he didn’t want you to get upset.”
I close my eyes and move to sit Indian style. “That’s really upsetting,” I tell her.
She nods and sits up next to me. Blake gets down from my dad’s arms and runs over to me. He holds the car out to me and I take it from him. “It’s really nice, buddy. I bet you can beat me every time with this one.” Then I wink at him. I’m going to have to start pretending with him. If I want him to get adjusted to life now, I’ll have to pretend. I’ll have to put a smile on my face every day and make noise with him. That’s all I can do.
My cell phone rings from the coffee table and I reach over to pick it up. “Tate calling” flashes across the screen and I nearly groan. He started going to therapy for all the fucked up shit in his head. Now he insists on making amends with me.
