Lucky 13

by Rachael Brownell

  “What was Libby’s then?” This should be interesting.

  Grant thinks about it for a second before answering. “Conversation?” It’s more of a suggestion than anything.

  He helps me off the couch, pulling me directly into his arms. Stealing my breath, he kisses me softly on the lips. It’s a feeling I’ll never get used to. His kisses are all-consuming.

  “See you in the morning,” I say as I pull away. If he keeps kissing me, I won’t let him leave. That’s a conversation we still haven’t had.

  Crawling into bed, my thoughts drift back to my conversation with my father. I’m certain things are going to go bad. I can’t see him taking my decision well. He’s always been in control of everything: his life, my life, and until my mother took her own, her life as well. There’s only one other time I remember him losing control of himself and that was the night he found her.

  “Madison!” I hear my father yell for me over the music in my ears. I didn’t even know he was home yet. I look at the clock on my nightstand and realize that it’s later than I thought. My mother never came to get me for dinner. “Madison! Call 9-1-1!”

  I pull the ear buds from my ears, leaving my music playing as I rush into the hall. I see the door to the bathroom is open, my father’s jacket lying on the floor outside. “Dad?”

  “Don’t come in here! Call 9-1-1!”

  “What’s going on?” I take a step toward the bathroom and my father appears in the doorway, covered in blood from the waist up. “Oh my God!”

  “I need you to call 9-1-1. Please. Go!”

  I rush back to my room and make the call. I tell the operator what I know. My dad is covered in blood. He told me to call. She asks me to stay on the phone with her until the ambulance arrives. I agree, but I don’t speak. I hear her telling me to stay calm, to take deep breaths, that everything is going to be okay, the ambulance is on its way. Afraid to go back in the hall, I sit on my bed and watch out the window for the ambulance. As soon as I see the flashing lights, I tell the operator and I hang up.

  They rush in, running past the door to my room. I hear them talking to my father, telling him to get out of the way. He’s yelling at them to save her. Her. I know he’s talking about my mother. I should have seen this coming. She was acting off when I got home from school. She was quiet at first, sad. About an hour ago she came into my room, told me how much she loved me and hugged me. Just before she left the room, she took off her necklace, the one my father gave her when they found out she was pregnant with me, and gave it to me.

  These are all things my father told me to pay attention to. He told me to call him if she was acting unlike herself. He said that he would need to know right away, that he would come home to check on her and make sure that she was okay.

  None of it seemed that weird when it was happening. Looking back on it now, I see the signs he wanted to me watch for. I see now she was saying goodbye. I can see the sorrow in her eyes, and feel the goodbye in her embrace. I see it now, all of it. It’s perfectly clear. An hour ago, I thought she was just doing it to bother me.

  With tears in his eyes, my father appears in my doorway. It only takes one look at him to know what he’s about to say. He’s broken. His shoulders sag forward and his head drops to his chest as he mumbles two words that will haunt me for the rest of my life. “She’s gone.”

  Bolting upright, I scream. My sheets are thrown off me, but I’m drenched in sweat. My dream is still fresh in my mind and tears are streaming down my face. I could have helped her. I should have been able to save her. If only I had paid more attention to what was going on. She might still be here with us if I had.

  My alarm clock says that it’s just after four. I crawl out of bed and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Sipping the water slowly, I make my way back to my room and change into fresh clothes. I strip my bed and replace the sheets, hoping that I’ll be able to fall back asleep when I crawl under the covers.

  Imagines of my mother’s blood covering my father’s hands and shirt make it impossible to close my eyes. Every time I try, the images come rushing back and my chest contracts, making it hard for me to breathe. I haven’t had this dream in years, not since the one-year anniversary of her death. I had forgotten how much it affected me until now.

  ***

  Dragging my feet as I make my way to class, I zone out and focus on putting one foot in front of the other. My body is screaming at me to stop torturing it, to go back to bed. I tried, multiple times to fall back asleep last night to no avail. This morning I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. A very large truck. I’m hoping to make it through class without falling asleep. I’m scared I’ll dream about my mother again and wake up screaming.

  Grant’s smile falters the moment he sees me. He rushes to my side, taking in my appearance. I’m wearing running pants and a sweatshirt, something I normally wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside my house. I have no make-up on I didn’t bother to dry my hair. I pulled it up on my head in a messy bun and pinned my bangs back. It’s the first time in years that I can remember not covering my scar.

  “Are you okay?” Not answering Grant, I take a sip of the double shot of espresso I picked up on the way here and cringe at its bitter taste. “Madison. Talk to me.”

  “I’m okay, just a rough night.”

  “What does that mean? I left you just before midnight. What happened after that?”

  “My past came back to haunt me in my dreams. I didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

  I know I’m being vague and dismissive. I’m not trying to hurt his feelings, but I really don’t want to rehash the last few hours of my life. I’m not sure I would be able to handle going through it again without breaking down completely.

  “You need to go home and get some sleep.”

  “I can’t. I tried.”

  “Can’t what? Sleep?”

  “Yeah.”

  When he doesn’t respond right away, I look up to find Grant deep in thought with a worried expression on his face. I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns me around and guides me away from our classroom, back to the parking lot.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you home.”

  “I told you I can’t sleep, so what’s the point?”

  “Just trust me,” he pleads with me. I do. I trust him. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, I’ll go along with it. I don’t have the energy to fight him.

  Leaving my car, Grant drives me back to my apartment. Once we’re inside, he makes me a bed on the couch. I take the hint and lie down. A few minutes later, Grant slides in behind me. Closing my eyes, I allow his warm embrace to lull me to sleep.

  When I wake up, the sun is shining brightly through the front windows, momentarily blinding me. Grant’s snoring lightly behind me. The clock on the cable box tells me that it’s after two. My phone on the table is blinking, alerting me to a message. I reach for it, trying not to wake Grant in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t stir.

  I have two missed calls. One from the school and one from my father. I also have two voice messages. I dial in and listen. Mrs. Schroder left me a message, wondering where I am since I didn’t call to let them know that I was going to be absent. No big deal, I think to myself. I’ll give them a call right now and let them know. That’s when I hear her say that she’s going to be calling my father to see if he’s heard from me because she worried.

  Shit!

  Her message ends and I cringe knowing that my father’s voice is going to be on the next message.

  Madison, the school just called me wondering where you are this afternoon. They said that you never showed up for your afternoon classes. I expect for you to call me and let me know of your whereabouts.

  He sounds pissed, not concerned. That was about an hour ago. The sooner I call him back, the better this might turn out. Or not. It depends what else Mrs. Schroder mentioned to him while on the phone.

  I slide off th
e couch and into the bathroom so that I don’t disturb Grant. Deep breath in and then out. Dialing my father’s number, I realize that there is no way this is going to turn out well for me. None.

  “Madison,” he says as he answers. His voice is firm. He’s trying to hide is anger, but I can hear it loud and clear in the way he says my name. I imagine the vein in his forehead is throbbing right now.

  “Sir,” I reply, clearing my throat.

  “Where are you? Why are you not at school?”

  “I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to go back to bed after my morning class.” I avoid answering his question as to my whereabouts and pray that he doesn’t ask me again.

  “I just got home and you’re not here.” Shit! He’s home. That means that we are going to have this conversation right now. When I don’t reply right away, he continues. “Where are you, Madison?”

  His anger is rising and so is his voice. I should just tell him, get it over with. I need to face this, head on. I made this decision and I knew I would have to deal with the consequences when he returned. He’s back now and it’s time.

  “Madison? Are you in there?” Grant knocks on the door, his voice loud enough to be heard through the door.

  “Who was that? Are you at someone’s house? Was that a boy? You better tell me where you are this instant, young lady. I’m coming to pick you up.” The vein is definitely throbbing now if it wasn’t already, and I’m testing his patience the longer I stall.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” I holler to Grant before turning my attention back to my father. “I’m at home. My home. Where I live now. You don’t need to come pick me up. In fact, the school didn’t need to call you. I’m no longer your responsibility.”

  “The hell you aren’t!” He’s close to losing control. It could be the fact that I’ve never spoken to him like this before. I don’t normally challenge him or his authority. Today that changes.

  “I’m sorry Father, but you’re wrong. While you were away I filed for emancipation and a judge granted it. I moved out. I’m no longer your responsibility.” My hands and knees are shaking. I reach for the counter and lower myself to the toilet before my legs give out on me.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this will never stand. You’re still in high school. You don’t have the means to support yourself.” I expect him to sound confused or even hurt, but he doesn’t. The only emotion present in his tone right now is anger and it’s boiling over.

  I hang up on him. I have nothing else to say to him right now, and I’m not going to listen to him belittle me anymore. He doesn’t have a say in my life. This is why I emancipated myself, and with each word he spoke, he confirmed my faith in my decision, putting the final nail in his own coffin.

  Chapter 15

  After taking a moment to calm down and compose myself, I open the bathroom door to find Grant standing on the other side, concern etched on his face. I force myself to smile at him, but his stare doesn’t change. He’s not buying it.

  “What happened?”

  “I just told my father that I emancipated myself.” I attempt to leave all emotion out of my voice.

  “And …” Grant’s voice trails off. I know he wants more of an explanation.

  “He reacted like I expected he would. He got angry.”

  “I thought you were going to wait to tell him until he was home.”

  “He just got home. The school called him looking for me and he called me wondering where I was. Then, he heard your voice and started freaking out on me, so I told him.”

  Facts. Only facts right now so I don’t break.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were on the phone. I never would have—”

  “I know. It’s not a big deal. My decisions are my own; he doesn’t get a say anymore. He can be pissed off all he wants right now.”

  “Yeah, but I just made it worse.”

  “I don’t think anything could make it worse. He’s probably out looking for me right now. He implied that he was going to fight my emancipation, but by the time he tries, it won’t matter anyway.”

  My phone rings in my hand, startling me, and I drop it to the floor. The ringing stops for a moment before it starts again. I stare at my phone, willing the ringing to end, but make no move to bend over and pick it up. It’s facing down so I have no idea who’s calling, but my gut tells me that it’s my father.

  “Want me to answer it?” When I look up and my eyes meet Grant’s, I see that he’s serious.

  “No. I’ll just let it go to voicemail, but he’ll probably keep calling until I answer.”

  “What makes you think it’s him?” I raise my eyebrow and Grant smiles at me for the first time since waking up. “Okay, fine. It’s probably him.”

  Grant’s cell starts ringing in his pocket shortly after mine stops. He pulls it out, quickly sliding his finger across the screen to answer the call. “She’s right here. Hold on.”

  I give Grant a curious look as he hands his phone to me. “Hello?”

  “Madison! Why weren’t you answering your phone? I was worried about you.”

  Libby is screaming into the phone at me. Now I know why Grant didn’t bother saying hello.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were my father calling. I’m fine, Libby. I promise,” I say, attempting to calm her down.

  “What the hell happened? Grant said you were tired and that’s it.”

  “Because that’s it. I didn’t sleep well last night and almost fell asleep on my way to class this morning, so he brought me home and I took a nap on the couch.”

  It takes me another five minutes to calm Libby down, apologizing over and over for causing her to worry. As I’m trying to get her off the phone, she announces that she’s coming over after work and that she needs to talk to me about something. I don’t get a chance to object before she hangs up on me. I don’t want company tonight, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.

  After handing Grant his phone back, we curl back up on the couch, turn on the television, and avoid the elephant in the room. I don’t want to talk about my father anymore, I don’t want to tell Grant the details of my dream, and I don’t want to explain to Libby the entire reason why I wasn’t at school today. All I want is to go back to sleep and ignore the world around me for the rest of the day.

  “We should go get your car,” Grant whispers in my ear, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “I know. Can we wait until after dark, though? If he’s out looking for me, then he’s probably looking for my car. With my luck, I would drive right past him and lead him here.”

  “I can get Chester to help me if you want,” Grant suggests.

  Thinking it over, it’s the best plan. Plus, I don’t have to leave the apartment that way. Grant leaves a few minutes later, my keys in his hand. He promises to be back with my car in a few hours. He has to go to practice or else his coach will bench him tomorrow. The plan is to pick up Chester after practice and bring my car back here. Since Libby invited herself over, we are going to do dinner again.

  After finding a movie to watch on television, I curl up on the couch, immediately aware of Grant’s absence. I felt safe when he was here. Now I feel cold and alone. Closing my eyes, I replay my conversation with my father, imagining the look on his face when I told him the truth. Anger, hatred, and surprise. His face is flush and I can see the vein in his forehead throbbing. The vein in his neck looks like it’s about to burst, too. With no one else around to see him lose control, I can only imagine what happened after I hung up on him.

  The sound of knocking on the door wakes me. I must have fallen back asleep, but not for long. Judging by the time, Grant has only been gone for an hour. I can’t imagine he’s back already.

  I tiptoe toward the door and look out through the peephole. I don’t see anyone. I wait a few beats, expecting someone to appear but they don’t. Wanting to open the door to find out who was there, I have to talk myself out of it. I know better. My father taught me better. It
could be a trap. In fact, it could be him and I’m not going to fall for it.

  A quick shower and a fresh change of clothes make a big difference. Libby should be here any minute and Chester and Grant should be shortly behind her. Grant offered to pick up a pizza on the way back, and my stomach growled at the mention of food. There’s nothing in my system right now, except that double shot of espresso from this morning and even that has to be gone by now.

  A knock sounds followed by the jiggle of the handle. “Madison. Let me in!”

  I open the door to find Libby impatiently waiting on the other side. Her hand is on her hip and she’s giving me a look of irritation.

  “What? I live alone. My door should always be locked,” I explain without apologizing for making her wait.

  “Whatevs. I need food.” Libby pushes past me and I close and lock the door behind her. “How long before the guys get here?”

  “They should be here any time. Grant stopped for pizza.”

  “Yum.”

  Libby tells me all about what I missed at school, which amounts to nothing, while we wait for the guys. I was prepared for an interrogation about my absence, but it doesn’t come. At least, not before the food arrives.

  Chester has to eat and run. He has a test to study for apparently and Grant had to practically beg him to help get my car. Grant’s out the door shortly after him. Only Libby and I are left, and as we start to pick up after dinner, she starts digging deeper into my absence.

  “It’s really not a big deal, Libby. I had a nightmare last night and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

  “What was it about?”

  “I don’t remember.” I can’t look at her as I lie. I know she’s not going to buy it, but I can’t lie directly to her face, so I turn and start washing plates.

  “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why are you lying to me right now? Don’t you trust me?”

  “I do, but it’s something that’s really hard for me to talk about.”