by Stacia Leigh
He looked up as Suzy dropped her gaze to stare at her shoes for an eternity.
“The other night I felt stupid. I looked pathetic,” she whispered down to her toes. A fat tear spilled over her cheek. “You told everyone I was your girl and then at the first sight of Gemma, you took off to be with her.”
J.J. kept his mouth shut but took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. Keep talking, buttercup, then get ready to have every one of those wrong notions batted out of the park.
“Everyone knows you got in a fight with Ron because of Gemma. Now, the whole school thinks I’m single-wide Suzy, chasing you, chasing puppy love. I agreed to be fake,” she said with a nod, finally losing interest in her shoes to search J.J.’s face, “and I don’t even remember why, because that’s not who I am. It’s not who I want to be. I know you’ll end up with her, because you two have a history, and when you do…”
So not true. He couldn’t trust Gemma with his heart, and if Gem had any brains, she wouldn’t trust him with hers. When the going got tough, she played games. They both did, and it made for a long, drawn-out goodbye until there was absolutely nothing left. He’d never go back to her. It was over.
J.J. grunted with frustration and stood, raking his bad hand through his hair, which made his pinky hot and angry. Hell, he was riding the pain train here. Everything above his shoulders ached and his freaking finger—
“You done?” He clipped out and Suzy blinked up at him in surprise. “I don’t want to be a fake either, but I don’t regret for one moment the time I spent with you. I missed you in class today because I wanted to show you this.” J.J. held out his hand with the blue splint. “See what you did? You broke it, and now every time I look at it, I think about you. I’m changed, Suzy. This is all you. You’re a part of me…” He looked into her eyes, but he felt the opposite of lost this time. “There’s no going back, not for me. I went off to talk to her because I wanted to start clean with you. It was a mistake to leave you like I did, and I’m sorry. But there’s no Gemma, only Suzy…right here.” He tapped a fingertip against his chest.
Suzy’s eyes flickered back and forth over his face while her fingers performed a search and destroy mission on her hangnails.
“I saw Gemma yesterday at the Butterhorn, and she said…” Suzy bit the side of her lip. “She said you wouldn’t stick around.”
J.J. reached for her agitated hands and flattened them between his palms.
“Where am I right now? Not with her. I’m with you.” He drew her closer until he could wrap her arms around his waist. He hugged her tightly. “Right now, I really want to kiss you and kill Ron at the same time for giving me a fat lip.”
“J.J., you don’t know me, and when you find out, you’re going to be so…disgusted.” Suzy ended her last word on a hitch and a whisper causing J.J. to shake his head. How could she say that?
He pulled back to study her bluer-than-blue eyes and opened his mouth, but his heart had swelled so much, nothing came out. He stroked his thumb over the tiny freckles on her cheek bone and lowered his mouth to hers. His fat lip burned as it pressed softly against hers, and he stayed there, quiet and still, with his hand cupping her jaw, savoring the touch.
“Do you want to be with me?” He breathed against her skin. “Be my girl, Suzy…” She tightened her arms around him, and his raw heart pounded like it was cocked and loaded in a chicken gun, ready to shoot out of his chest. She eased back to look up at him.
A light knock on the bedroom door snapped the intimate moment into a freeze-fest. Suzy stiffened in his arms.
“Suzy?” Marsha’s voice came muffled from the other side. “May I come in?”
“No! Uh…just a minute, Mom.” Suzy pulled free and flapped her arms frantically toward the open window. “I’m uh…I’m dressing.”
But, J.J. couldn’t leave, not yet. He still had things to say, things he needed to hear, so he turned to her hanging clothes, shoved his way in, and slid the closet door shut quietly on its track.
* * *
Suzy patted her hair and wiped her hands down her denim legs while her mind raced. She glanced at the turquoise fleece she wore and quickly zipped it off. Holding it in her hand, she opened the door.
“What’s up, Mom?” Suzy turned and flung her turquoise jacket back on the bed, as if she were done trying it on.
“Is everything okay? I was in the kitchen, and I thought I heard voices.” Her mom pushed past her to scan the room, and her brows tipped down. “Why is your window open? Where’s the screen?”
“Oh…uh.” Blood gushed loudly through her veins while she searched her brain cells for a plausible excuse, but things were oddly vacant. Nada. Nothing. Only honesty. “The screen’s under my bed.” Suzy turned to face her mom, heat rising under her scalp. High emotions vibrated through her, and her entire body trembled, gearing up for a showdown.
“Why is it under your bed, Suzette? Did you have somebody in here with you?” Her mom had the audacity to look mad. Really? A little late in the game to play the caring card.
“No.” A little white lie. “I climb in and out of the window to get away from the rest of this house…to get away from you.” An absolute fact.
“Away from me?” Marsha’s eyes widened, and she pulled back slightly with her hand resting on her collar bone. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? I’ve gone out of my way to give you space…to make you feel comfortable. Don’t you have this room all to yourself? All clean and pretty, the way you like it?”
“I bet you wish you had it all back, more storage for your stuff.” Suzy’s entire body chilled with guilt as her mom’s eyes roved to the closet door. “Mom,” she said sharply, and Marsha’s eyes snapped back with a frown.
“No,” Mom said. “I want you here, so we can work on our relationship.”
“Oh, please. A relationship? You probably forgot I even lived here. All you care about are those dolls you’re making, your bags of paper. It’s like…” Suzy waved her hands in the air.
“That’s not true, Suzette. Don’t put words in my mouth. I do care.”
“If you care so much, why don’t we ever do anything together?” Suzy dropped her arms and hugged herself; she couldn’t stop shaking. “We used to go to the Platter Cafe for brunch, but since I’ve been here, we never go anywhere. I’ve never met any of your friends, and I’ve never seen the inside of your car. What do we do together? Nothing! I sit in my room—”
“Apparently not, since all this time I thought you were studying, or reading, or working on your art.” Marsha held out her hand, formally presenting the open window. “Instead, you’ve been sneaking out of this house. Put the screen back in and no more nonsense. You use the door like a normal person.”
“I can barely get down the hall. How am I supposed to get to the back door?”
“If I can do it, so can you.”
“But, Mom, what happens when there’s a fire? We’re stuck.” Suzy’s voice cracked, and her eyes burned with dry tears. “It’s not safe here. Didn’t you see the—” Suzy clamped her lips tight against the dreaded word that wanted out. It slammed inside her skull like a pounding hammer. Rats, rats. Rats! She couldn’t say anything out loud because J.J. was in her closet, listening. She couldn’t yell about the dead rodent under the sink or the cardboard boxes that multiplied like rabbits. She couldn’t wail about the burnt-out light bulbs nobody could reach, the darkness, the stringy cobwebs or the thick, smelly air laden with dust. She couldn’t ask why the pots and pans were in the living room. Why socks and books were shoved in between the couch cushions? Didn’t she see the half-eaten food and rat poop on the counter?
“Fire.” Marsha huffed. “You sound like your dad.”
“I smelled smoke the other day. I saw the burnt food on the stove, Mom. Accidents happen.”
A booming sneeze reverberated from inside the closet, which was an instant cure to Suzy’s shivering. Her eyes snapped open, and they freeze dried on the sliding door. Did she hear what sh
e thought she heard? Suzy blinked hard.
“What…” Marsha’s mouth unhinged with shock. “What was that?”
Suzy pressed a fist into her mid-section as her stomach dropped. Male fingers slowly eased out, gripped the closet door, and slid it open. One Mr. Cool stepped out, looking very much like a bad boy…a very bad boy. He lifted his shoulders in a guilty shrug and pressed on an innocent smile, obviously ready to charm his way out of this sweet mess while Suzy’s guts churned with acid.
But before anyone could peep, protest, or scream bloody murder, a knock echoed down the hallway from the opposite end of the house.
Everything stilled except for three sets of eyes shifting back and forth. Suzy exchanged a questioning look with J.J., then one with Marsha as silence bore down like a heavy cloak. Trailer #17 had turned into the eye of the storm with people converging and trouble brewing. Now what? Marsha never had company, so who would come knocking?
The hinges squeaked as the back door opened.
“Hello? Marsha? You here?” A man’s deep voice hollered into the house. “It’s your—” the man muttered something under his breath, followed by a loud scrape, as he shoved his way into the mud room. “Marsha? It’s your neighbor, Gary. Hello? J.J.?”
Chapter 18: The Blue Room
Suzy struggled to swallow past the wad of guilt and embarrassment lodged in her throat as she watched J.J. knead the back of his neck. The usual healthy glow of his cheeks had swirled down the drain, and he looked tired and, of course, worried because his dad was here. Suzy dropped her head and stared at a fraying hole in the toe of her shoe. J.J. and his dad were both here. They were both inside trailer #17.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
“What have you done, Suzette?” Marsha’s voice was unusually harsh before she sailed down the hall. Then, it turned false and bright as she spoke to J.J.’s dad. “Gary! I’m in the middle of organizing things. Please, ignore the mess for now.” She tittered on about sorting, donating, and living with a teen. “You know how it is…”
The excuses never stopped! Suzy clenched her fists until her raw hangnails nearly split open.
“Man, I’m sorry.” J.J. cringed. “I don’t have any allergies, but the dust from those boxes shot straight up my nose.” He held his hand out to her. The taped-up splint stuck out like a bobble-finger.
Dust? Suzy’s eyes flew to J.J.’s face. What boxes? There were no boxes in her closet because she’d never put any there. Everything was in its place, unpacked, put away, settled, just the way her dad liked it, and the way she liked it. Ignoring his outstretched hand, she stepped around him to the gaping closet and shoved at the clothes. The wire hangers scraped along the rod, metal chafing against metal. All went quiet except for the loud thrumming of her heart behind her t-shirt.
Right there in the darkest corner of her closet were indeed a stack of mismatched, dusty boxes, not one of them hers. The top one had been marked, FREE STUFF! and was spilling with calico fabric, sewing supplies, and out-dated patterns. Suzy didn’t have to fold back the cardboard flaps on the others to know it was all her mom’s junk. Marsha had been in here. Her stuff had seeped in.
Suzy sucked in a long breath, like she was breathing through a narrow straw. No tears. It wasn’t time to cry. No, it was time to get pissed off. She stepped away from the closet and turned to face J.J.
“I need a lock cutter, and I need it now,” Suzy said with as much authority as she could muster. “Your dad has one, right?”
“Sure,” J.J. said, “but what do you need it for?”
Gary’s voice rumbled from the other end of the house. “I want to apologize,” he said. “My wife saw our son climb in your window, and I’m afraid he’s here right now.”
“It doesn’t matter. Run,” Suzy pleaded, pushing against J.J.’s arm, trying to herd him toward her window. “You’re going to get in so much trouble being here. It’s not worth it. This place is—”
“Hey, you’re worth it. I can’t leave you here…” He waved his hand in the air. “Whatever this is, you don't have to deal with it alone. Just tell me what’s going on. I can help.”
Great. Then get ready for the horror show.
Suzy glanced quickly at her desk and pushed her collage papers aside. She could have laughed as she held up the claw hammer from her dad. How perfect was that? He hadn’t been able to call. She understood, but still he was here with her. He was this heavy hammer with the rubberized, non-slip grip, telling her to solve her own problems, Blue style and with Blue strength. Could he have known through his years of experience that it would come down to this?
She formed her fingers securely around the handle, spun on her heel, and she stormed the hallway. With the hammer lifted high above her head, she drove it down, striking the padlock on the Blue Room door.
Clang!
“Suzette!” Marsha yelled from somewhere in the cluttered living room.
But Suzy couldn’t stop. The hammer struck again and again.
Clang! Clang!
It tore the safety hasp and screws out of the splintered wood, and the lock’s heavy shackle fell to the carpet with a thud.
No more secrets.
Suzy cranked the knob and flung the door wide. It was cool inside, and a musty cloud of dust drifted out. She panted, trying to suck in enough oxygen before looking into the pit of hell, surely a festering room, pulsing with filth…black mold, rats, decay.
“Suzette, no!” Marsha howled and thrashed through her own maze of books and papers and sacks and all her gimcrack knickknacks. But it was too late, much too late to be stopped.
A hand touched Suzy’s arm, and she turned to see J.J. standing beside her. His beautiful green eyes were wide with horror and bewilderment, but he gave her a nod, letting her know he was here for her. Sweet, but the damage had been done; he’d entered her domain, and it was about to get super ugly.
She stepped into the room, and her eyes skimmed around the clean space. It was familiar; it was the same. The Blue Room plus everything in its place equaled confusion. What did all this mean?
She flicked on the light and the bulb actually worked; it glowed, illuminating the expanse of blue Berber carpet. Her heart squished and squeezed in her chest, and she felt disoriented by all the elbowroom even though J.J.’s warm body stood beside her, not touching, but there.
“Suzette!” her mom shrieked and burst through the doorway. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re destroying my house, invading my privacy—” Marsha suddenly glanced around as if seeing the room for the first time. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, and her frail shoulders trembled under the seams of her yellow, cotton blouse.
Suzy scanned the room again, her mind spinning, teleporting her to an earlier time. Here she was in Dad’s office with the soft blue walls and the cherry-wood shelves, which were now covered with a soft blanket of dust. They still held Dad’s prized possessions: the travel books and the family photos. Included among his treasures sat a woven blue-and-white potholder Suzy had made on her miniature loom. Her first-grade portrait, toothless and smiling, hung on the wall, and below it, a tin can hosting an array of used colored pencils from a long, long time ago.
This was her dad’s private place, and he kept things just so. Back then, her mom was not allowed to put anything in his room, and she hadn’t, even after all these years. In fact, the chunky keyboard and squat monitor still took up half of Dad’s desk. Ancient technology sitting, waiting. But waiting for what? Why didn’t her mom use the room for storage or an art studio?
Instead, Marsha pushed her crap into Suzy’s closet. Why? Why go there? Why invade someone else’s space, break their trust, when all she had to do was unlock this door?
“I don’t understand,” Suzy mumbled, trying to process the lack of chaos. Was her mom trying to hold on to that time before the divorce? She turned to Marsha. “You broke your promise. You snuck your stuff into my room, yet you don’t touch Dad’s old office.”
“I�
�I wanted a second chance. That’s all.” Marsha covered her mouth with her hands. “I only wanted a second chance…a second chance.” She chanted like a crazy person, her face red and blotchy, her blue eyes lost in tears.
“J.J.,” Gary said softly from the doorway. “I think we should go.”
“No, Dad. I can’t leave—”
“Mom. I can’t stay here. Not like this. You need help. This…” Suzy flung her hands out wildly. “This is crazy. Can’t you see that?”
“I only wanted a second chance…” Marsha said softly, “to be better. To know you.” She sniffed wetly and wiped the dark streaks from under her eyes. “To have a normal life…” she whispered and reached out to touch Suzy’s arm.
“That’s a lie.” Suzy pushed her mom’s hand aside. “You say one thing and do another. Your things are not allowed in my room. You said so yourself. You promised. Are those boxes you stored in my closet more important than me and my feelings?”
“What about my feelings? Why can’t I be happy, Suzette?” Marsha clenched her fist and held it over her heart. “Why do I have to keep giving in to you and Nick? Neither of you care about me.”
“Oh, please. You’re my mother, but you’ve never acted like one. All you care about is collecting fabric, old books, and teapots you never use.”
“You’re a selfish—you just want things your way.”
“How can you expect me to live here…in this?” Suzy waved her hand at the hallway. “I worry every day about being trapped in here. Stuck.” Suzy clapped a hand over her mouth to control her runaway emotions. “God, Mom, you don’t get it. You surround yourself with this crap, and it means more to you than living in a clean, safe place. And what about your health? I mean, rats are dirty. They carry diseases.”
“This place may be cluttered, but it’s safe, Suzette.”