Dark Time

by Summer Cooper

  This time, he leaned over to the nightstand and took a drink from the glass of water there. “It’s coming out all messy. I’m sorry about that, but I haven’t talked about this since I was a teenager. It’s all jumbled around in my head. The main point is my dad tried so hard to make her happy, he did everything he could have possibly done, but he wouldn’t demand she be committed, even when he should have. He couldn’t let her go to one of those places, especially when he saw documentaries about how terrible those places had been.”

  I made a noise, not a word, just a noise, and moved so that I could look up at him, but my hand was still on his stomach. I felt like that hand was an anchor between us. It kept us both calm, and I didn’t want to move it.

  “For years, he dealt with the scenes she’d cause. He’d hold her when she wanted to run, he’d lock himself in their bedroom with her when she wanted to slice her wrists, or swallow a bunch of aspirin. He’d chase her down when she wandered out into the woods with nothing on in the middle of winter. He’d talk to her so softly, and he’d tell her he loved her, over and over, that it didn’t matter, that nothing mattered but her and me.”

  What it must have been like for him, as he witnessed all this, squeezed my heart so hard I felt as if I’d forgotten how to breathe. A kid, with those big gray eyes of his and that mop of dark hair, just sitting there watching his mother go more and more mad, as his father did what he thought was best to protect her.

  I couldn’t hold the image because I’d start to cry, and he didn’t need that right now. How different our childhoods had been. Mine had been cold, maybe full of burdens, but nothing like … his. Fuck.

  “In between all of that, my father took care of me. He fed me, washed my clothes, and made sure I was clean before I went to school. He made me birthday cakes and bought me Christmas presents. He mended my clothes when I’d mess them up. He took me to the doctor and on school trips. At the same time, he kept working, providing, and he must have been one very tired man, but he never complained. He just kept on loving us.”

  He looked down at me, and for a moment he smiled. “You’re so pretty, Emily, do you know that?”

  I could see that tender Dylan again, the one from the cabin, and my heart fluttered. I smiled back at him, and he repositioned his head on the arms he’d placed behind his head.

  “She’d often try to take out her rages on me, but Dad would always keep her away from me. She’d become obsessed with this idea that she’d ruined my father’s life and that I had ruined hers. She’d done everything on purpose, but somehow it was my fault that her life had changed. I hadn’t asked her to birth me, and I certainly didn’t have a say in the matter, but that’s how she thought. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that if she killed me, my father would be free of both of us. That’s when Dad really should have had her put away.”

  Fucking hell, I thought, surely his Dad hadn’t made him live with her then?

  “I’d wake up at night and hear her raving at the walls.”

  Fuck, his dad had made him live through that then. Dammit, man, what were you thinking? I didn’t say it. I just kept quiet. He started to stroke my hand that had gone still on his stomach, and I started to stroke him again.

  “I like that, keep doing it.”

  I kissed his shoulder and stroked away.

  “So yeah, she started really going bonkers about the time I turned thirteen. She’d always had this thing where she’d break every dish in the house and scream the night away, but it turned into her trying to bang her way through the walls so she could get at me. Dad would hold her down on their bed, just to keep her from destroying the house. He’d force a sleeping pill down her mouth, and the house would go quiet, but I always wondered if she’d ever wake up without him knowing. I doubt he actually slept at all that last year.”

  Another shaky breath and Dylan carried on.

  “She’d been so bad about breaking dishes that we only had plastic bowls, cups, and plates in the house. Even the cutlery was plastic after a while. She’d destroyed every picture frame, statue, and house plant he’d ever put into the house. Paintings would be ripped to shreds, and vases would just become projectiles. He brought her home flowers often, but when he caught her using the damn things to beat me, he stopped buying them for her.”

  “Jesus, Dylan!” I couldn’t help that, but thankfully he didn’t stop. He needed to tell me this, and so much of his life now make sense, but I’d think about all of that later. For now, I listened.

  “She wasn’t always bad, though. Sometimes she’d smile at me, make me a sandwich, or cut my hair. Sometimes she’d tell him how much she loved him, and how he was the only thing that mattered to her. She really did love him. Me? I still don’t know. Her actions said otherwise, but then, she wasn’t sane, was she?” He swiped at his face, then put his hand back behind his head.

  “She’d have these phases where she’d look okay for a few days, maybe even weeks sometimes, and then, it would be screaming fits every night, rage that would make her break things during the day, and then more screaming at night. We lived out in the country, and Dad had learned being anywhere near neighbors was a bad idea, although we had a few about half a mile up the road. They came that night…”

  His entire body shivered, and I just held him close.

  “She’d been really bad, worse than normal, and Dad had sent me to bed to try to deal with her. Seeing me made it worse, and I’d learned to hide in my room to keep her calm. I’d even climb into my bedroom window sometimes, so she wouldn’t see me come home from school. Dad never said anything about it, but he somehow knew when I was home. He probably heard the school bus drop me off, now that I think about it.” He kind of laughed a little, but there was still a dark note to it.

  “That last night she’d been raging, accusing him of cheating, even though he didn’t have time for an affair. The furthest Dad had ever gone out of the house at night was to his shed, where he fooled around with HAM radio stuff. Everything went quiet suddenly, and I’d started to think it was over, but I should have known better.”

  He breathed in and out for a few minutes, before he could go on.

  “Dad got her calm, somehow, and I peeked out of the bedroom door. They were on the couch. She turned her head just as I stuck my head out, and I could see that evil in her face. She was calm, but she had something up her sleeve. I decided to read, to try to stay awake, but when she came in my room, I pretended I was asleep.”

  This time the pause was much longer, and I thought that maybe he wouldn’t go on. That he’d come to a point where he couldn’t say anything else. I bit my lip, pulled it in between my teeth to keep from saying anything, to stop my impulse to prod him, and stroked his stomach instead.

  I started to wonder if he’d fallen asleep and jumped when he started to speak.

  “Hours passed, and everything was quiet. I’d seen that threat in her face, that look that always said she was up to something, but Dad must have missed it. And somehow, he’d gone to sleep, but Mom was still awake, but I didn’t know that yet. I thought he must have been out in his shed when I realized she was still up. That never happened, Dad going to sleep before her. Dad always made sure she took her pills, because eventually one stopped working and she had to take more, different ones, to get to sleep. But Dad always made sure she was asleep before he went to bed. He must have gotten too complacent, because she was awake that night, and he wasn’t.”

  Another sip of water and he carried on.

  “When she came in to my room, I pretended I’d fallen asleep with the light on. I didn’t want her to see my eyes. Something scared me about her that night, and I just wanted her to go away. She didn’t leave, though. She came up to me and stroked my hair until I opened my eyes. I didn’t say anything, I just watched her. She started to speak.”

  His voice shook, but he managed to keep going.

  “‘I’ve always loved you, baby boy. You gave me your father, but it’s time now. It’s time to end his i
nfidelity, and to make sure you never leave me either. Sleep well, my boy. Mommy loves you.’ That’s what she said to me just before she started to pour a gallon of gasoline on the walls of my room and on the floor.”

  “Fuck … Dylan, stop…” I’d heard the terror in his voice, and I wanted it to stop.

  “No, let me go on, Emily. I have to tell you this now, or I may never tell you.”

  I settled down onto his chest, my hand at his stomach.

  “She left the room, and as soon as I heard her go down the hall, I climbed out of my window. The fumes were gagging me, and I was terrified. If she lit that gasoline or if a spark popped off of something, I was dead, so I climbed out and headed for my father’s shed. Like I said, he never went to sleep before her, so I thought he was out there. I heard a loud noise, and then the house lit up. I ran to the shed, but Dad wasn’t in there, and I knew he must have been in the house. I tried to run back inside, but she must have poured a few dozen gallons of gasoline over the place, because every room was on fire.”

  He shifted a little, but I had a feeling it was more to do with his story than with how comfortable he was.

  “By the time the neighbors came, I was just a puddle on the ground, watching the house burn. I’d run around the house dozens of times, trying to find a way in. I’d screamed until I couldn’t scream anymore, and then, I collapsed. I was exhausted, in shock, and totally out of it by the time emergency services arrived. And they were all there: the fire department, an ambulance, and the police. I thought I’d be taken off in the ambulance, because I couldn’t speak to anyone, I could only stare. Somehow, insanely, I was put into the back of the policeman’s car.”

  “Why?” I knew why, but I still asked.

  “Because I was the loner, the kid who never spoke to anyone, the kid who always wore black. I never caused trouble, but somehow that was ignored. I was weird and quiet, so I must have killed my parents, or so they thought.”

  “It’s all so terrible, Dylan.”

  “I know, and I know it’s not easy to hear. I’m sorry, but I wanted you to know.”

  “I know the rest. You don’t have to tell me anymore, if you don’t want to.”

  “About the trial and my adoptive parents, you mean?” He looked down at me, surprised.

  “Yeah, I looked you up when I figured out who you were and after…” I was about to say after Trent called him a murderer but stopped myself.

  “You’ve known all this time?” He looked stunned but pleased.

  “Yeah, I did. The past doesn’t have to define who you are now, you know, Dylan? I never thought you were bad, or that you must be sick if your mom was, if that’s what you’re thinking. Other people might be that stupid, but I’m not. You’re a man who comes from a shattered past. That might affect who you are now, but it doesn’t define you.”

  “Thank you.” He looked at me with wonder in his eyes, and I kissed his jaw.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you, Dylan, I really am. Your mother’s mother was murdered you said?” I paused to let him nod. “Then she must have had her own demons before your father and her trap ever happened. I think there wasn’t anything more you could do, and none of it was your fault.”

  “Thank you, Emily. Thank you for listening, and still being here.”

  “Like I said, Dylan, the past doesn’t have to define you.” I thought about my own past and knew I had my own foibles and problems, but it didn’t have to define who I was now. “You’re a wonderful person to me, and that’s all that matters to me. You are Dylan, and that’s all I want you to be.”

  We settled down together, and the room went dark. I hoped he’d exorcised that demon, or as much as he could from one so old. He had a new life, and he didn’t have to let the past change who he was now. He had a new life and a much happier one ahead of him, if he chose to take it.

  He’d given me trust beyond anything he ever had before. I had to be very careful not to break it.

  Dylan

  The next day, I found myself at a restaurant waiting for a designer that I was supposed to have a lunch meeting with. Emily had stayed home, and I was thinking about what had happened the night before. I hadn’t exactly planned to dump my trauma on her the way I had, but it had felt like the right time to give her my version of it.

  I’d gathered that she’d read about me long before she admitted that she had, and I knew the kind of things she was likely to have read. The gruesome newspaper stories, the flashy websites that promised lurid details not revealed elsewhere, pictures of me and the family for the really curious. It was all available online, and anyone who typed my name into a search engine would find it.

  I felt as if I’d lost real weight now, as if telling her my story had released the burden I’d carried around for so long. And maybe it had, I didn’t know yet, but today, there was little that could wipe the smile off of my face.

  I looked around the room. The room was simple but elegant. The walls were covered in a dark blue damask pattern, and the tables were covered in white cloths. The chairs were a pretty pine, and the room was pleasing in a non-descript sort of way. It was one of the best restaurants in town, but you’d never guess from the décor.

  The designer I wanted to hire for the hotel came to the table, and I stood to greet her. “Hello, Miss Mills.”

  The woman was in her fifties, but she’d never been married and made no bones about it. She was Miss and nothing more.

  “Oh, please call me Erica. I’m not late, am I? I’m new to the area, you know, and get turned around so easily.” She settled down and placed a bag in the empty chair at our table.

  “No, you aren’t late, Erica. What would you like to drink?” I tipped my head to a waiter, and he came to take our orders for drinks.

  “I’m happy to be of any help I can be to you, Dylan, but, I’ve never worked on a hotel before.” Erica looked at me, her face unlined and her blonde hair perfectly in place. She was a beautiful, elegant woman, but I didn’t notice her in any other way but as the designer I’d wanted to hire.

  “That’s it, though. You design homes, and I want my hotel here to feel like home. I want people to already have plans for their next visit in place from the moment they arrive. I want them to miss my hotel.”

  “Ah, intriguing,” she said over her glass of white wine. “What colors do you have in mind?”

  “Something like this, elegant but muted. Yet, still, somehow exceptional. I don’t want neon greens and oranges, or the tired out blue and white, or even that awful khaki color and green that some are using now. I want stylish, but timeless. Classic and beautiful.” Like my Emily, the thought ran through my head, and I smiled.

  “I see. How many rooms are there?” She leaned in to ask, and we talked for a few minutes.

  The waiter came and took our order for lunch, and the conversation carried on. She hadn’t been overly confident that she could help me when she first arrived, but I think by the time she stood to leave that she was as convinced as I was. She’d won countless awards for her design skills, and I thought she might just win another for what she would do with my hotel.

  I stood when she got ready to leave, or I wouldn’t have seen the man from where I sat at the table. He must have been in another room of the restaurant, because if I’d seen him before I’d have arranged to eat somewhere else. Trent Thompson.

  Emily’s brother.

  I bid farewell to Erica and sat back down. I’d have to pay the bill, so I waited and watched Trent. The man didn’t look like a demon, just a bastard, but what kind of man would disown his sister as Trent had? Sure, he thought he’d done it for good reasons, but even I knew the man hated me for no other reason than he thought I’d be competition for him. He didn’t give two fucks about my past, he just didn’t want the competition he knew I’d give him.

  The really stupid part was, there was enough people coming to the place to keep us both in business. So, in essence, he’d lost his sister for nothing. He’d thrown her out in th
e cold and left her with no way to interact with the rest of her family because of a stupid case of instant dislike. He didn’t look like a stupid man, but obviously he was, to treat his sister so callously.

  From what Emily said, her entire lifetime had been blemished by this man. He’d been a petulant child who didn’t want his daddy to have more children, and when his temper tantrums hadn’t sent the horrible new siblings away, he’d just been atrocious to them. Or, at least, to Emily. He’d called some kind of truce with his brothers, but she’d just been a servant. How could he treat somebody as sweet as Emily as he had?

  Something kind of went clunk inside of me as I looked the man over. He was talking to another man in a black suit like his own, and he wore a cocksure grin. He hadn’t noticed me or I was sure he’d have walked out of the place. This was the man who had made Emily’s life so incredibly unbearable that she’d run away from her own family. Well, one of them. From what she’d said, they’d all played a part in her departure.

  Trent had been the oldest. He should have looked out for his little sister, protected her, and loved her. Instead, she’d grown up not knowing what real love was until the babies had come along from her brothers. Trent should have been a sensible kid and been a protective brother to the younger siblings.

  The whole family was fairly messed up, even I could see that. I decided to keep my mouth shut for now and wait. Emily obviously wanted to make amends with some of her family, and she missed the children. I could tell that from the way her face would change when there were children around us. It wasn’t necessarily a need to be a mother; it was memories of her nieces and nephews that turned her face sad and made her go quiet.

  I wanted to punch the man for a thousand reasons, but I would let it go for now. Emily deserved a chance to get her family back together. That was something I’d never have the chance to do.