Happier Without You

by Nicole Thorn

  She blew me a kiss in return.

  The girl bowed, and then glowered at the beeping phone in her hands. “I must take my leave. My friends call for me, and they get bitchy if I don’t show up in time for us to get food first. I shall see you in the morning.”

  We waved her off, and she skipped down the hall without us. That left yet another afternoon open for me and Poe to pretend to do our homework while we actually watched TV or I held his yarn as he knitted.

  “What are we going to waste the day with today?” I asked as we pulled into the neighborhood.

  “We can get something to eat. Maybe go hang out at the playground like creeps.”

  I would have agreed to his plans, but I didn’t have a thing to say when I saw the boy sitting on his porch. That kid from the other day sat with his head in his hands. He twitched, and Poe slowed the car down to a crawl.

  “You should head home,” Poe said as he pulled over.

  I saw how distressed he looked, and how angrily his hands gripped the wheel of the car. His chest pumped too quickly while he watched Brent.

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” I decided.

  “Clover, you need to go.”

  “Not happening. You’re clearly not happy about whoever that is on your porch, and I don’t know anything about him. For all I know, he might try and hurt you.”

  “I can take care of myself,” he stated, but didn’t correct me on the worry.

  “Not. Leaving.”

  Poe took a deep breath, and parked in the driveway. “Don’t say a word,” Poe told me. “No matter what he says, or does, or whatever sob story he gives you, don’t believe it. Don’t give him money, or help. Do you understand?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then you can come.”

  We got out of the car, and Poe pushed me behind him as we walked. I didn’t put up a fight, but I hooked my finger around one of his belt loops. Brent stood up when he saw us, and smiled when his eyes landed on Poe. That look killed me, because his bleary eyes got so bright.

  “Poe,” he said with jittery glee. Rushing over, his lanky body flailed, and he wiped his hands on his sweater. “God, I haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”

  “Why are you here?” Poe asked, no nonsense.

  Brent blinked, and then looked at me. “I met your girlfriend the other day. She’s pretty. You meet in school?”

  Poe pushed me further behind his body. “You know you’re not welcome here. If my parents saw you, they would call the cops. Fuck. I should call the cops.”

  “But you won’t.” Brent took a step forward as Poe moved us a step back. The boy noticed, and sighed. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

  “Well how the hell am I supposed to know?”

  Brent cracked his neck, and glared at Poe. “That was a bad day. I told you that. I didn’t mean to, and I said I was sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t mean shit to me,” Poe snarled. “Get away from my house, my family, and my friend. You’re not welcome here. You know that.”

  The boy hesitated, but pulled the words out. “I need a little money. It’s not that big a deal.”

  Poe rolled his eyes, and then ran a hand through his hair. “Of course. Dumb of me to think for half a second that you could be here to do anything but beg.”

  “It isn’t like that,” Brent promised. “I got kicked out of the place I was staying, and I need a little help is all. I haven’t had anything to eat in three days, and I’ve been sleeping outside. Please.”

  I put my free hand on Poe’s other side, peeking over his shoulder at the begging boy. He said he hadn’t eaten, or had a bed to sleep in. I wanted to go grab him something from my kitchen. It wouldn’t have been that big a deal to make him a few sandwiches, maybe given him a blanket. Something.

  Poe told me not to say a word, so I remained silent as Brent pleaded. Poe wasn’t a cruel person, and that meant he had to have had a good reason to say no to his friend. Or maybe this wasn’t his friend, and only some boy he helped out once or twice. He’d never mentioned him a single time, and clammed up the one time I tried asking about Brent. I wanted the story.

  “I don’t care,” Poe said. “Get out of here.”

  Brent turned to me sharply. “Talk to him, please. Tell him that I won’t do anything bad. I just need a little help. I’m not a bad person.”

  “You are,” Poe said. “And I’ll give you one more chance to leave before I do something you won’t like. I have someone here to protect, Brent, and I’m not going to take another stupid chance on you.”

  He stood there, looking at Poe with pure heartbreak. He sighed, and put a shaking hand in his pocket. Poe flinched, and then settled when he pulled out a cigarette and lighter.

  “Thanks for nothing,” Brent said, and then put the cigarette in his mouth. “You never fail to let me down.”

  When he started walking, Poe pulled me in the other direction, heading to the door. He brought me inside, and locked it twice before peeking out the window. I stayed silent when he brought me upstairs to his room. He opened the curtain, and we sat together on the edge of the bed.

  “So,” I started. “You’re seething.”

  “Thanks,” Poe sighed. “You look pretty too.”

  I put aside his narrowed eyes and irritation, because I didn’t blame him for it. “I’m sure you don’t want to talk about this, but…”

  Poe let out another breath, and groaned into his hands. “You’ll just keep asking, won’t you?”

  “No,” I said honestly. “Not if you don’t want me to. The thing is, it comes up a lot. You get moody, and you’re hurting. If you want someone to talk to, then filling me in would be helpful.”

  He thought about it, staring at the floor as he leaned on his hands, elbows on his knees. I couldn’t say anything of comfort, so I rubbed his back until he was ready to talk to me.

  “Brent is someone I knew when I was younger,” Poe said. “Friends since second grade, blah, blah, blah. We were close. We both had other friends, but it was him and me, ya know?”

  I nodded.

  “Anyway, Brent had a lot of bad habits. He got in trouble all the time, but it was mostly small stuff. Shoplifting, fights at school. Nothing I really worried about. He was a good person, and my best friend. Then we got older. The trouble started escalating, and the dumbass got some equally dumb friends. Again, he started small, pot, pills, whatever they were giving out at parties. I didn’t know about that until a few months in. I remember him asking if I was mad.”

  Poe stopped for a moment, sitting up a little straighter. “You can probably guess the rest. It got worse, and Brent started to lose it. He stole from me, and my family. His family. His other friends. They shut him out, his family didn’t want him in the house anymore, and Brent had nowhere to go. Despite everything, my parents let him stay in the guest room. He told us that he wanted to get better, and we believed him. Hell, maybe he was telling the truth. I really don’t know, and I probably won’t ever know for sure.

  “One day, it got real bad. My sister was playing downstairs, my parents were gone, and I was home with Brent. He said he was hungry, and that was the first time in a while that he had even kind of wanted food. I offered to make him something. He sat at the table, and I worked at the stove. I was a fucking moron for thinking that nothing was wrong. Brent was all twitchy, and he said he needed to get something from upstairs. He went upstairs, and I kept cooking.”

  I knew where the story headed already, but I feared the ending. I reminded myself that Malon was fine for the most part. She seemed sweet, and all right. I hoped, at least.

  “She started screaming,” Poe said quietly. “Malon. I left the kitchen, running into the living room. I found Brent on top of her, a pocket knife in his hand. I don’t know where the hell he got it, or why he had it. My sister kept screaming. Bleeding. He cut her face, and arms, shoulder, neck. It wasn’t until the next time he came around that I found out what his reasoning was.” Poe breathed ou
t, and pressed his fingers to his eyes for a moment. “His yelling didn’t make sense at the time. But he thought she took something from his room. He wanted it back. My sister was eight at the time, and didn’t…she didn’t understand why someone she knew her whole life, could have been hurting her.

  “I went as fast as I could, pulling him off of her. I knocked the knife out of his hands, and beat him until he wasn’t awake anymore. Then I called 911.”

  “Poe,” I breathed. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Not much to say,” Poe remarked. “I’m an idiot, and could have gotten my baby sister killed. My parents… I know that they don’t blame me, but they do, ya know?”

  I nodded.

  “They were kind of worried when you and Cathy showed up. It’s not like they think every friend I have is going to be a junkie, but they’re on guard. Everything is different now.”

  “How’s Malon?”

  “She’s, she’s a strong kid. When she first got hurt, it took us a long time to find a flesh worker. They’re so damn expensive. A grand per inch, and she’s covered in scars. My parents have been saving up since it happened.”

  I cringed. “Fucking cosmetic surgeons. Insurance didn’t cover it?”

  “Not when it’s cosmetic. They don’t care too much that a little girl is scarred all over.”

  I put my head on Poe’s shoulder, unsure of what to say next. Every time he looked at his little sister, he had to think about a mistake he put on himself, as well as the loss of his best friend. At least my loss wasn’t all that bad. How could I have thought so when I heard this story?

  “How often does he come by?” I asked.

  “Every couple of months lately. For a while, it took him a bit to see me again. My sister freaks out when she even hears his name, so you can imagine why I wouldn’t want him waiting for me on the porch.”

  “Of course.”

  “He asks for money, always claiming that he didn’t have anywhere to stay. It’s the same trash over and over again, and Brent refuses to get clean. If I give him money, he goes away for a little longer than normal. When I hold out, he gets angry, and I have to deal with him hanging around.”

  I kept thinking about Malon, and how that must have been for that girl. Her parents as well, and how they had to deal with two horrified children that they couldn’t really help all that much. It showed with Poe, how he would shut down sometimes. I wondered if that would go away eventually.

  “What are you going to do this time?” I asked him. “Do your parents know that this happens?”

  Poe shook his head. “They would only get upset, and scared. I don’t want Malon to catch on. Brent hasn’t showed up at the house for a long time. He must be desperate this time. Especially if he came to talk to you alone.”

  I worried retroactively, knowing now what that boy had been capable of. I had the car right there, and I could have used the glass to defend myself, but that wasn’t the point. Brent might have hurt me to get at Poe, or punish him for not giving him what he wanted. I got out of it last time, but who could say I would be so lucky the next time.

  “I want you safe,” Poe said, turning to look at me. “No matter what happens, I’m going to make sure that he doesn’t get his hands on you.”

  “Do you think he would try?”

  “I really don’t know. I used to know Brent better than anyone alive, and now, he’s someone else. A thief, a druggie, someone who would hurt a little girl and not care. He never even said he was sorry for it. The next time I saw him, he started talking to me like it was any normal day. I wanted to beat him to death right there, but I left instead. Brent said he didn’t understand why, and then I broke his nose.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “This must be hell for you.”

  Poe only shrugged. “It could have been worse. My sister is safe now, and all right. I’m getting to a place where I can move on, and it doesn’t totally suck to think about Brent’s and my good times together anymore. But every time things start to feel better, he comes back around. It’s like he knows or something.”

  “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? I feel kind of useless here.”

  Poe smiled, and rested his cheek on the top of my head. “It’s nice having someone to talk to. I’ve never told anyone that wasn’t directly involved. I’m sure this goes without saying, but can we keep this between us?”

  “I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for being here with me, and not calling me all the names I deserve for potentially getting a little girl killed, and not calling the cops on the bastard who should be in a jail cell.”

  My hand went to Poe’s knee, because I wanted him to feel a little less alone. “I would never do that to you, and I don’t think this is at all your fault. The guy is unstable, and it’s complicated. The cops probably wouldn’t help much anyway.”

  “I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  I looked around the room, searching for an answer. Then I stood up, and sat on what I claimed as my side of the bed. I picked up the two video game controllers on the nightstand, and handed one to Poe. He took it.

  “We play, and avoid worrying for now,” I told him. “Sit with me, and we can pretend the world isn’t cruel to people who don’t deserve it.”

  It took Poe a moment, but he moved to sit beside me. I bumped his hip, and turned the TV on. It wouldn’t make our problems go away, but it would at least distract the two of us. I’d learned that sometimes, it was the best I could do.

  Chapter Eighteen: There Goes My Hope

  I kept assuming something bad would happen. It had been a few days since Peter talked to me, or since I heard anything from Tammy. I’d made it all the way to Friday, and no one had tried to kill me. I’d even gotten home okay.

  My siblings screamed and played out in the living room, making me want to stay in my own room until the sweet, sweet gift of death came to me. Mom had to work, so Dad stayed home and at the moment, he might have been cooking something for the kids. It was hard to tell without going and checking, but I’d heard someone screaming about chicken nuggets.

  As usual when I had nowhere to go, I sat on my bed. I didn’t stare at the ceiling or walls this time, but my eyes stayed on the wooden figures I kept on my shelf. They felt so wrong now. More than they had before, when I couldn’t bear to take them down. I had done that out of pain. This felt like pure stubbornness, me leaving them there. The carvings had been around for so long. What if my room didn’t feel like mine anymore, if I tossed them in the trash? And how horrible would it have been to throw gifts away like that? Was that allowed? I didn’t know the rules for breakups.

  I probably had to start getting rid of things sooner or later. Peter and I ended, and it only made me feel pathetic to have so many things that reminded me of the two of us. It only hurt to see them, and I had more options for entertainment than hurting myself. I pulled the phone from my pocket, and hesitated on opening the pictures folder.

  I didn’t like being in pictures, but Peter wanted to take them. We’d each had about a hundred on our phones at the end of our relationship. Or at least I did. He might have deleted them when he decided to cut me loose. I held onto everything, so of course I had a hundred little reminders of less painful days.

  My eyes closed when my thumb hit the app, because I didn’t want to see the pictures right away. Right then, I was okay. Not any sadder than normal, not on the edge of tears, and not feeling like something crushed my chest. If I opened my eyes and saw those pictures, then I didn’t know what would happen. For all I knew, seeing the pictures would give me a break down. Remembering a time where I felt okay most days, and seeing Peter smiling, because I had been there. Now I knew better. I knew that he’d been missing Kelly, and that I didn’t make him as happy as I’d thought. Those pictures only felt like lies now, and they didn’t need to be on my phone.

  Gathering the courage to do what needed to be done, I opened my eyes. And sa
w Tammy. I didn’t believe it at first, but I stared at the picture that popped up. Of Tammy, sitting somewhere, staring at my camera. Her eyes had no light in them, and her face looked as blank as it did the day she sat on my lap. What the fuck was that picture doing on my phone?

  I hit delete, and then the next picture popped up. Another one of Tammy. She smiled in that one, her eyebrow lifted up as she smirked. I deleted that as well. When another picture came up, I hit the back button. I saw the rows that all matched each other. Dozens and dozens of rows, all with different pictures of Tammy on them, replacing all of the pictures that had been on there before. She’d taken one where she winked, one with her doing a finger gun, blowing the smoke. Over a hundred random poses, all on my phone. When did she get a hold of it? How did she find the time? I kept my phone on me at all times, other than in gym. She would have had to steal it from me then, and somehow take the pictures before I got it back.

  I wanted to know when it happened, but I couldn’t find the timestamp on any of the pictures. No location tracking either. I didn’t even know how the hell you could have gotten rid of that. The pictures could have been on my phone for a week for all I knew. A week of that girl on my phone, while I wandered around like nothing was wrong. If she got to my phone, what else of mine did she, or could she, have gotten to?

  In a blink, I realized I’d gotten to my feet. I had no game plan, so I didn’t know what the fuck I thought I would do. My gaze moved in panic as I searched the room for any sign things had been moved. The kids came in here sometimes, so I couldn’t have known what they did, and what Tammy would have done. But in all reality, I doubt she’d been in there. It would have been hard to find a time where the whole house was empty, and that seemed like a big step from taking some pictures and deleting my old ones. Being paranoid wouldn’t have done anything for me.

  I debated telling my parents what I’d found, because what would they have done? The school outright ignored me when I asked for help, and I had no reason to think my parents would have been much better. This wouldn’t be considered a threat. At most, it was something weird that a girl did to spook me. Mission accomplished. Even knowing she couldn’t have been in my room, I didn’t want to be there. My hands shook, and my breaths came in pants. I might have been having a panic attack.