Advice from a Sunflower

by Jen Stevens

  I know it's time to put her into a facility that can properly care for her around the clock. With my work schedule and the time I've been spending with Lyla, I can't be there for her the way she needs me to be. I still feel like a failure admitting that. It's part of the reason I resent Lyla so much. Every time I think about sending Ma away, I feel like a jackass for wasting the small amount of spare time I have on a woman who would leave me behind in an instant, instead of the one who dedicated her life to me. Ma has always been there to take care of me; most of the time on her own. She dedicated every waking second to making sure my needs were met and later, my family's needs, and I can barely handle a few bad months without her getting hurt.

  The fucked up part is that even though I know Lyla will eventually walk away again, I still want my shot with her. I tell myself it's because I want her to pay for what she's done to me. To have my chance to destroy even the tiniest bit of her life. But even that excuse is growing paper thin. Each time I hear her sigh in response to my lips on her skin, or the sexy moans she releases whenever I bring her to the brink of finishing, I fall deeper into the black hole that I was in all those years ago.

  I loved her. I tried denying it, knowing she was born with one foot on the outside of the town and hating the idea of being the thing that held her back. I distracted myself with sports and honors classes, taking every avenue I could imagine to grant me a shot at a scholarship for whatever school she chose to go to. If I couldn't have her in The Hollow, I was going to follow her around until she thought I was good enough.

  But the sports lead to empty friendships that distracted me from my goal. I ended up having a few random hook-ups before I decided to settle with Emma, pushing Lyla further in the opposite direction and taking our fragile friendship along the way. By the time she was accepted into Cornell, my head was too far up my ass to realize I hadn't even applied anywhere out of state. I thought I'd lost my shot with her, but Marnie convinced me to try one last time.

  She was the only one who knew about my feelings for her sister. I still don't know how she figured it out, but in true Marnie fashion, she called me out during our freshman year and never let it go. The night before Lyla was set to leave, Emma and I had gotten into another nasty fight and broke up. Marnie showed up at my house to tell me Lyla was leaving earlier than we thought.

  "I know you don't think you deserve her, but she's leaving tomorrow. Once she's gone, I'm not sure we'll ever get her to come back," she explained through tears. Pregnancy was making her an emotional mess, constantly crying about her mother's reaction and losing Lyla.

  It took me an hour to get the courage to go find her. She was lying in the middle of her yard, staring up at the sky without a care in the world. The moment I saw her and realized how close I was to having her slip through my fingers, I was reminded why I put all the effort into following her all those years ago and I hated myself for losing sight of it. She welcomed me easily, the way she always did. Even after years of betraying her, she was nothing but kind.

  So, I gave myself over to her that night. Not in the way I wish I could have, or the way she had to me—that ship had sailed years before. But I poured out every part of my being and handed it over to her that night. Nothing had ever felt so right, and I stupidly hoped she felt it too.

  Spoiler alert: she didn't.

  She left the next morning without bothering to say goodbye. Not to me, not to Marnie. Hell, not even to Denise. And though she'd managed to be the perfect sister to Marnie, she strategically refused to step foot into The Hollow for the next seven years.

  After a summer of pure depression and constant nagging from Emma, we got back together, and Sadie came along two years later. The moment Lyla left, I went on autopilot. I stopped experiencing my life. Instead, I'd allowed life to just happen to me. Then, after Sadie passed, I did the same thing.

  I told Mouse about what happened that day. I haven't talked about my daughter in years, but I felt like I owed it to her after taking my frustration out on her. Of course, she took all my abuse in stride, too prideful to tell me that I was being an asshole. When we finished, it just fell from my mouth. The whole story. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

  I was driving home from work when it happened. There was a feeling all day, deep inside my chest that nagged its way into my head, convincing me to finish up my work twenty minutes early.

  To take the long way home instead of my usual shortcut.

  To pull over on the side of the bridge and look over the side, discovering the familiar red, two-door sports car my wife had insisted I buy her as a "push present". No one else in town drove that car. No one in their right mind would want to strap a toddler into the backseat of that thing.

  No one but Emma.

  My feet carried me down the hill, somehow avoiding every rock and hole the entire way down. Sometimes, I think back and convince myself I floated my way down. As if my body disconnected from the earth's gravitational pull long enough to get me to them.

  Emma's panicked face appeared in the driver's side window immediately, her fists pounding on the glass in an attempt to break it. But the water was rising around the car, applying a pressure on the doors and windows that made it impossible to open them. Yet somehow, I'd managed to do it.

  My hand was on my pocketknife and cutting through Emma's seat belt before my mind registered I would need it. I knew I had to get her out of the way to see into the back seat.

  Please don't be there. Please don't fucking be in the car.

  Once I yanked her body out of the way and threw the seat forward, everything stopped.

  The car was sinking from back to front. I'd barely gotten Emma out before the water had reached the roof of the tiny sedan. She was sputtering behind me, barely able to catch her breath before the scene before us registered in her mind.

  "SADIE!" I heard my wife shriek from behind me, fighting against the current that was carrying her away.

  Once again, my mind was three steps behind my hands. The knife was slicing through the car seat harness and yanking the limp little body out before I realized I'd made it into the backseat.

  My body was cutting through the harsh, cold water like hot butter and dropping her onto the ground while my mind was still stuck at the image of her lying lifeless in the back seat, surrounded by murky, green water.

  A paramedic I'd gone to high school with dropped down beside me and began compressions on her chest, working out the water that had made its way into her immature lungs. He continued for what felt like hours, a crowd of firemen and police officers from different towns gathering around us. Emma was screaming from somewhere on my left side as someone attempted to clean up her bloody face.

  I knew what was coming when he hung his head, giving her body—the one that I helped create—one last set of compressions, before giving up.

  I honestly can't say what happened next. My mind has blocked out the rest of that night and the entire week after, only allowing small glimpses to come through when I fight to remember.

  It doesn't matter. After that day, the single most important person in my life ceased to exist. The pitter-patter of her tiny feet no longer filled the silence in my home. Her beautiful, round eyes and chubby cheeks no longer graced us outside of pictures, and I began sinking deeper into my own despair.

  People in town immediately blamed Emma, with my mother leading the pack. They didn't give us a single second to mourn our loss without drawing a line between us and taking sides. They did everything but burn her at the stake, grinding her already fragile mind into dust.

  She went through postpartum depression when Sadie was born, struggling to connect with the beautiful soul we'd created and come to grips with her new role. In the beginning, everyone told me to just try to support her through it. To ride it out and offer every option out there to guide her out of the darkness.

  So, I did.

  I bought the car she insisted on having, trading mine in for an SUV that would be safer f
or family trips. I made dinner for us most nights. I pampered her every chance I got. I took over the moment I walked through the door so she could have time to herself.

  I did it all without complaint because my wife needed me to, and my daughter deserved the best from me.

  When the accident happened, the town lost all sympathy for her. They saw her depression as murder intent. It was everything I could do to keep her from hearing the horrible things that were being muttered about her from people who once claimed to support us. But no matter how hard I tried to shield her, it still got to her. She had those thoughts about herself.

  I've never blamed Emma for Sadie's death. The thought has never once infiltrated my mind the way it has for everyone else, marring her once-perfect reputation. I know she had her struggles in the beginning, but there's no doubt in my mind that she loved that little girl any less than I did. In fact, her depression stemmed from her own feelings of inferiority. Her mind convinced her that she didn't deserve Sadie. It made her lose all confidence in her motherhood.

  What happened on that bridge was a freak accident. I know that. But it still brought our marriage to an end. Our love couldn't sustain without the glue that held it together. Neither of us felt human after she was gone, so we agreed to merely exist separately.

  This time, I'm hell bent on not going through that. I've been given a second chance with Mouse—something I'll never get with Sadie—and I owe it to myself to take full advantage. I'm not getting fucked over again before I've had my share of fun. I'm just not sure how I'm going to manage ignoring the feelings I'm having for the dangerous siren before she lures me in again and history repeats itself.

  The real problem is Emma.

  She still thinks she has some sort of claim on me, despite it being years since the divorce was finalized. As shameful as it is to admit, we've still been hooking up on and off between her constant flow of boyfriends and mood swings.

  I know it's stupid. I've just been too lazy to bother with finding someone else. Emma's always there, readily available and already used to my cold attitude. I've barely given her the time of day since Mouse has been back in town, though. I can tell she hates it, but she knows she can't say anything without the risk of being cut off. She sees a future where we're back together and everything is sunshine and rainbows again. It's insane if you ask me, but so is fucking your ex-wife on a regular basis, so who am I to judge?

  Either way, I know that Mouse’s presence has increased her paranoia and I'm almost afraid to see what happens when she finds out that I've been secretly hooking up with her self-appointed rival. I know it won't be good for anyone involved, which is why I've avoided her and her annoying little spies at all costs. That’s never been easy to do in our small town.

  ***

  "How long did you think you could hook up with my sister before I found out?"

  I drop the trimmers from my hands, abandoning the bushes I've been grooming all morning as Marnie's steps grow closer.

  "Not sure what you're talking about."

  "Bullshit." She stops next to me and places her hand on her hip. I've seen her do that when she's reprimanding the girls and I hate that the move works to intimidate me a little. "Why else would she be sneaking into my house at the ass crack of dawn?"

  I fight the smirk that wants to come out, remembering the state Lyla left my bed in this morning. I didn't let her sleep all night and by the time we were done, she was looking rough—though extremely satisfied.

  "Exactly."

  "I didn't say anything," I argue feebly.

  "Why are you doing this again? You know how she feels about this place." Her eyes soften the smallest amount and it's finally clear that she isn't here to berate me for her sister's sake. She's worried about how I was going to come out of this.

  "You don't have to worry about me, Mar."

  "Yes, I do. She's dying to get out of here. She brings it up every day, begging me to come with her."

  I roll my eyes at that. It's unsurprising that she hates it here so much, she's willing to yank Marnie and the girls from everything they've ever known to stay away for good. I can't tell if that means my plan is working or not.

  "Come on, Eli. You know I'd never leave you. But she will. I remember what happened last time you two were under each other’s spells..."

  "I'm not under anyone's spell. I know exactly how Mouse feels about me and this place and I have zero intention of making her stay. But why shouldn't I get to have my fun while she's here? To get my payback?"

  Marnie's eyes darken as her brows pull together, casting an even bigger shadow over her face from the unforgiving sun. "You better not hurt her," she flip-flops, digging her finger deep into my chest.

  "Now it's her feelings you care about?" I ridicule. I hope she realizes how insane she sounds.

  "I don't know whose side I'm on. You're both playing a dangerous game and I don't want either of you getting hurt or putting me in the middle. You better know exactly what you're doing."

  "We're both consenting adults. Trust me, I'm not doing anything to her that she isn't already begging for," I tease, finally allowing that smirk to pull through as Marnie squirms in discomfort.

  "Just keep me out of it."

  She turns to walk away, throwing a middle finger behind her back when I mumble, "I thought I was," and then obnoxiously laugh just because I know she hates it.

  Chapter 24

  Lyla

  Denise is back from her Honeymoon. She’s wasted no time giving me the cold shoulder while openly showering Marnie and the girls with gifts from the many places her cruise took her. I usually stay away while she visits, both to avoid any confrontation in front of the girls and to protect myself from any more of the hurtful behavior Denise seems to save specifically for me.

  This time, her new husband has joined her. I want to get to know him before I leave, so I hang around while she chases the girls around the house. I know it sounds masochistic to go through her abuse just to ensure she's chosen a life partner who won't do the same thing she's always done to me, but I can't help it. No matter how much venom she throws my way, she's still my mother and I still love her. I'm not sure what kind of lies she’s told him about me though, so I don't know if he really wants me around any more than she does.

  "Mouse, your sister tells us you got a movie deal." Tim speaks conversationally, his tone light and friendly.

  I nod, sneaking a look at Marnie who is pretending to be distracted by whatever's happening in the kitchen. "I did. It's still in the early stages so a lot can go wrong, but it's really nice to have my story recognized as something worth producing."

  "That's definitely huge. Denise almost fell out of her chair when she heard." He glances behind him in the direction of his bride, ensuring she's too busy to hear his next words. "She couldn't stop talking about it on the cruise. Told just about anyone who would listen to her."

  Marnie and I share a look. "Really?" I can’t hide my shock. I’ll never get used to hearing that Denise is proud of me in any way, even if she only shows it in small gestures.

  “Of course. Look Kid, I know things have been rocky with you and your mom for a long time. I just hope there’s still some space in your heart to forgive her for the past and start looking forward into the future.”

  “That’s sweet, but I don’t think Denise wants anything to do with that,” I say with a laugh. Of course, Denise picks that moment to walk into the living room. Marnie and the girls hesitantly trail in behind her.

  “With what?” she asks, already adopting a defensive stance.

  “I was telling Mouse how excited you were to hear about the book deal,” Tim explains casually. I can tell he’s able to handle her unpredictable mood swings easily. That’ll be good for him in the future. Maybe it's not her I should be worried about being abused.

  Denise pretends to pick at her nails. “Yeah, well, I figured that’ll be good once you start getting some real money coming in for your stories. You can finally help u
s out here.”

  I shoot an accusatory look in Marnie’s direction. She’s clearly kept all the financial help I’ve been offering her a secret from our mother. “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “It means you went away to college and we were left high and dry to pay the bills,” Denise explains with malice biting at every word. “We were barely staying afloat until Tim came along and helped me out of the financial rut I’d been forced to dig us into after losing your wages from the diner.”

  “Are we really doing this again?” Marnie complains as she ushers the girls up the stairs.

  “I think we ought to,” Denise says indignantly. “Tim owns a medical marijuana business, did you hear? We’re living comfortably now, no thanks to you.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve been sending Marnie money every week since I left.”

  “Bullshit. Marnie would have told me. There’s no way in hell you’d share some of your precious royalties with the people who made you who you are today. That might take away from your pretty mansion and expensive hairdos.”

  My mind is spinning with the amount of inaccuracies she’s spewing. “You mean my one- bedroom apartment and the haircut I spring for once a year? I have no idea where any of this is coming from. I’ve been transferring almost any spare cent I’ve had into Marnie’s account since she was pregnant with Gabby. Whatever grudge you’ve been holding against me all these years obviously stems from Marnie’s lies.”

  All eyes lock onto the person in question. She looks like she wants to shrink into a ball and disappear. I almost feel guilty for throwing her into the spotlight the way I have. Almost.

  Is it possible that my relationship with my mother could have been mended years ago if it weren’t for Marnie’s lying?

  “Yeah, she sent money a few times here and there, but nothing significant. It was only enough to cover whatever the girls needed at the time.”