Copyright © 2016 Abby McCarthy
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in the book review.
Cover design by Hang Le
http://www.byhangle.com
Formatting by Indie Pixel Studio
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Inspired by true events
This one’s for me.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Thank You
Sausage and Biscuits
Apple Pie
Apple Cider Vinegar
Apple Crisp
About the Author
I sat against the doorframe listening to loud moans. Molly, my doll that was ripped at the waist and missing an arm, was clutched against my chest. I’d close the door to my bedroom, but I didn't have a door. My room was more like a closet with a mattress from an old crib shoved inside. My feet dangled over the edge when I laid on it.
Tonight, Momma was louder than usual. I prayed that it would end soon. I was tired and couldn't sleep. I was starting first grade tomorrow and was nervous about it. Last year, the kids made fun of my dirty clothes. I didn't want them to laugh at me again. I was tired. So very tired.
A few minutes more of moaning passed and then the hallway was filled with light. A man stepped out of my Momma’s room. He was shirtless and fixing his buckle.
“That’s it! You’re just gonna leave?” Momma shouted from her doorway. She was naked and her hair was a tangled mess.
“I got what I came for. Ain’t no reason in me sticking around,” the man said throwing his shirt over his head.
I was either invisible, or they didn't notice me.
“You bastard,” Momma yelled.
“You gonna spread your legs like a whore; I’m gonna treat you like a whore.”
Momma picked up a shoe and threw it at the man. “Get out!” she screamed as the shoe hit the man against his chest.
“Gladly, you crazy bitch!” he shouted and walked out the door.
Momma slumped to the ground. “I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.” She rocked back and forth. She wasn’t crying, but her face had a certain emptiness to it that I’d started to notice. She began to rake her nails up and down her arms. Her skin grew red and trickles of blood appeared.
“Momma,” I cried rushing to her. She didn't notice me and for a second, I really thought I was invisible. “Momma,” I cried again, this time throwing my arms around her naked frame. “Momma, it’s okay. Momma, I love you,” I pleaded with her to see me. Then she blinked and finally did.
“Maple, honey. What are you doing here?” She didn't seem to realize she had blood on her arms or that she was naked. It was like she just blinked me into sight.
“Momma, your arms,” I said as tears streamed down my face. I hated to see my Momma hurting.
She looked down and held me tighter. “Honey, I got you. All I need is you. You make it all go away. Don’t ever leave me, baby. You hear me. All I need is you.” She rocked me for a while, and eventually I felt my heavy eyelids close.
“Promise you’ll use that heating pad I sent you and you’ll stay off your feet for the rest of the day?”
“I promise . Now if you don’t let me go, you’re going to miss cards.”
“Fine, fine. Love you, sweet girl.”
“Love you too, Grams.”
I hit end on the phone and tossed it into the center console, then manually rolled down the window of my far too ancient hunk of junk. She was all rust and little paint. I sighed, thinking one day I’d have a car where I could hit the button for the window to go down. I pulled out of Willow Hill Nursing Home, hating to leave work early, but knowing I needed to get off my feet. Grams was right. A heating pad was exactly what I needed to get over the pull I felt when I lifted Mr. Martinez and was left with a crazy ache in my lower back.
I made the fifteen-minute drive home and was surprised to see Bradley’s beat up old Bronco in the driveway. He needed a new car too, but at least his never broke down. I wasn't sure why he was home. He should be at work too. What in the world was he doing here?
I parked and was instantly on alert. The shades were drawn and I always left them open in the living room. I liked the light to shine in on my houseplants. It was the sunniest room in the house and I didn’t see much purpose in keeping them closed. Something felt very off.
Leaning against the house was my black softball bag that I’d left outside after last night's practice. Our neighborhood had good neighbors, somewhat nosey, but aside from the occasional neighborhood drama (the Wisteria Lane kind if Wisteria Lane houses rented for about seven hundred dollars a month), it was safe. Leaving my bag out was second nature, still despite never having had an issue, something told me to open my bag. I unzipped the large black bag. The noise of the zipper echoed making me feel like it was the middle of the night and I was all alone even though it was the middle of the afternoon. I grabbed a bat, the one that never let me down when our team was in desperate need of a hit, then tried the knob. It was locked. Even stranger. Bradley never locked the door after himself once he was inside.
I crept around the back of the house, deciding that slipping in through the sliding glass doors would be quieter. I was not sure what was driving me to do this. I could have unlocked the front door but my gut said no, and my gut was rarely wrong.
I slid into the house. My dining room was empty; the stack of mail sat in the middle exactly where I left it. My coffee cup from this morning sat on the kitchen counter. The living room was still. That all seemed normal, but what did not seem normal was the soft music coming from down the hall.
My feet moved on their own accord towards the soft hum of music that was summoning me. I gripped the baseball bat firmly in my hand. I wasn’t sure what I would find, but I knew I should have it ready. I grabbed the doorknob to my bedroom door and slowly turned it. What I would see when I opened the door would forever change my life.
There, in the middle of my room, smack in the middle of my bed was Bradley. He was naked and had my good friend, Annette Goldstein, perched on all fours. His hand reached up to whack her behind. She groaned out and he lifted his hand again. Only this time, he turned his head and saw me standing in the doorway. The color drained from his face and that was when I heard Annette moan, “Harder baby, faster. Bet she doesn’t fuck you like this, does she? Give it to me hard.”
Bradley grabbed her hips, stilling her. Panic flashed across his face followed by guilt. Annette looked back at him to see why the sudden change in movement. That was when I lost it.
“You two timing, no good, tiny, good for nothing son of a�
�!”
My rage stopped me from continuing. I took the bat and hit the mirror over the dresser. I struck it hard enough to crack it. There were small fissures spread across it, but it wasn’t completely shattered. In the cracked shards, dozens of Bradley’s behind mirrored back at me as he pulled free from Annette and scurried to throw on a pair of boxers. Annette hopped off of the bed; her large plastic breasts looked heavy and stretched out.
“Maple, it’s not what you think,” she lied in self-preservation.
“Oh, it’s exactly like I think. Now, you have two seconds to get some clothes on, or I’m kicking your scrawny naked butt,” I yelled.
“Bradley, are you going to let her talk to me like that?” Annette whined, still standing there naked.
I was fuming.
He looked at me as if to say something, something I didn't want to hear. I lifted the bat in my hands. All I wanted to do was to hit his cheating behind with it. I’d been through this before and Bradley knew this. He knew it. He swore to me he wouldn't be the same, and yet here we were.
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. I’m going to kick your two timing butt, Bradley.” I aimed the bat toward him. He jumped around to the other side of the bed.
“Calm down, Maple. It was a mistake,” he pleaded.
“A mistake!” a half-dressed Annette shrieked. “You said you loved me. He’s going to ask you to move out soon, you know?” she continued on.
I’d enough. I stopped my bat chase with Bradley. “I told you to get dressed,” I screamed at Annette, cocked my fist back and punched her in the nose. Not my finest hour, but come on. These people were supposed to love me.
“My nose, you crazy bitch! I think you broke my nose. I’m calling the cops.” She grabbed her purse off the floor cradling her face with her other hand.
“Maple, just calm down. It didn't mean anything,” Bradley begged.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” I barely heard the operator coming from Annette’s speaker-phone because Bradley dropped to his knees and started crying. That’s right! Crying. “I’m sorry Maple. She came onto me.”
“You lying son of a bitch.” Annette rushed over to Bradley on the ground and reared her fist back, punching him in the eye. If I didn't want to do the same thing, and I didn't hate Annette right now, I’d be giving her a high-five for a good punch.
“You bitch,” he screamed at her.
The two began screaming at each other. I watched them, both half-dressed, both injured, and both very much what my Grams would consider not worth my energy. Why are these people even in my life?
The loud banging on the door didn't stop Bradley and Annette. They screamed, and then screamed some more. I moved out of the room to get the door, and Bradley began begging me not to leave him. How could he do this to me? The anger inside of me felt so fierce.
I walked away, and threw open the door to two uniformed police officers, “Miss, we received a call about a disturbance.”
“You lying piece of crap,” Annette shouted.
“I love Maple. I never meant for her to find out,” Bradley screamed back and I lost it. Police or not, what did he think, that it was okay as long as I didn’t know? Did he think that was what love was? How could he even say that he loved me when he was boinking my best friend?
Twenty minutes later, after Officer Driggs peeled the bat from my hand, the three of us found ourselves on the way to the station. All of us were cited for Domestic Disturbance.
Three hours after that, I packed my bags, called my Grams and was checked into a motel close to the airport. I was going home. A place I hadn't visited, but knew I needed to be.
“Grams!” I shrieked, “Slow down.”
“I know what Bob and Janet are up to! Summer said she saw them. I didn’t believe her, but I’m going to bust that old fart. This is the second week he canceled on Bingo, and if he is getting the early bird special at the China Buffet, I’m going to string him up by his old wrinkly balls!”
“Grams,” I scolded at the same time I watched my fingers turn white from gripping the armrest so tightly.
“I am not putting up with his crapola. You might enjoy a heavy dose of bullshit, but I won’t put up with it. Nope, not me. Not another moment longer,” she said squaring her shoulders, but not taking her eyes off of the road. Gosh, that stung. Did she really think I enjoyed it?
“Will you at least slow down, then?”
“If I miss catching his cheating behind.”
“Then I’ll help you catch him, I promise, but you know I’m not good with speeding,” I offered up hoping she’d finally slow down.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” she slowed down and her long white hair lost the momentum from the wind that the open convertible top offered.
“Thank you,” I said, but my voice was barely heard over the wind.
The last thirty-five minutes had been a whirlwind. It started with Grams picking me up from the airport. She double-parked outside of baggage claim, and pretended she was too deaf to hear when they asked her to move her car. This was typical Grams behavior.
It had been five years since I had seen her and that was because she took a bus to see me. She didn't like to travel anymore and I wasn't coming home. I had considered it, but Bradley never had time. So, for five, very long, wasted years with Bradley Barnes I'd gone without seeing her.
Grams was not wrong when she said I put up with bullshit, but she was very wrong if she thought I enjoyed it. I didn’t. Frankly, I was sick and tired of it.
As soon as my luggage was secured in Grams’ trunk, she began barking orders, “Get in. Fasten your seat belt! We’re going to catch him,” she yelled and then started to tell me all about Bob.
Grams was a force. She was eighty-four, but behaved as though she was fifty-four. She looked like she could be in her early seventies and had a spirit that gave my thirty-one-year-old self a run for my money. She liked fast cars and younger men. Grams was, well, Grams. There was no one else like her and hearing her go on and on about Bob cemented how much I had missed her.
We pulled up in front of the China Buffet. One of the bulbs was out on the sign, so it looked more like China Buf et. Grams didn’t park. Not really anyways. She pulled up to the curb where several other elderly people were milling about in the front of the restaurant, threw the car in park, and was out the door before I even got my seatbelt off. How does she move so fast?
I didn’t think that leaving her car here was a good idea. Grams was going to do whatever Grams was going to do. So, I climbed out of the low sitting convertible and rushed around to the driver’s side, hopped in and pulled into a real spot. I hustled out of the car and into the restaurant only to find my once ticked off Grams with her head thrown back laughing. This was not what I was expecting when I walked inside. I expected to find Grams giving Bob the what for, not her standing around a few old men who had stopped in front of the crab legs stalling the buffet line.
“Maple, honey! Come over here,” Grams waved animatedly as a few people left the line with their trays and walked around the mass of senior citizens.
There were four old men milling about Grams. One gentleman, in particular, stood out. He was nearly bald except fro the white hair that was cut close to his head. I could only imagine that he sat in a barber chair, the kind of barber with a red, white and blue pole out front, and had them crew cut it. For an old man, he was tall. He had a decent frame on him along with a faded black Marine Corp tattoo on his forearm. Not bad, Grams.
“Maple, well, aren’t you as sweet as molasses,” another man said as I approached. I rolled my eyes, as that wasn't the first time I had heard that.
“Not bad on the eyes at all. You into older men, sweet cakes?” a short fat man holding a tray mostly filled with unidentified fried food asked.
I gave Grams a look that said, who are all these old men, when she snapped, “You leave my Maple alone. She’s off limits, you old perv. Honey, I want you to meet Bob,” she moti
oned to the tall man I assumed was Bob. “Jerry,” her head tilted to the molasses guy. “Merv,” the fat one, and lastly to a quiet man sitting in a wheelchair, “and Frank.”
“Hi guys, I’m Maple.”
Bob stretched out his callused hand and encompassed my own hand in a firm handshake.
“Alice,” Bob said to my Grams, “You never said what you’re doing here?” His tone was gentle, but curious.
“Well, Summer said…,” she started and was cut off by Jerry.
“Summer is starting trouble for you again, Bob. You better check her.” Jesus, these old men sure had a lot of drama.
“Now Alice you know you need to ignore that trouble starter. Why don’t you and Maple grab a tray? Lunch is on me.”
“Oh, I’m sure Maple wants to get settled. I came straight here from picking her up at the airport.”
A low chuckle emitted from Merv, “Alice was going to string your old wrinkly balls up.”
“Alice,” Bob said as his voice got all soft and rumbly, and I watched Grams soften in a way I hadn’t quite seen before.
“I’ll call you later. After I get Maple settled,” she said and grabbed my hand leading me out of the restaurant.
“I take it, there is no Janet and Bob?” I asked as I slid back into the passenger seat of her sporty convertible.
“Nope. I should’ve known. That Summer is a shit starter.”
“Grams!” I scolded her for her language, surprised that Bob caused this much of a reaction from her.
“Oh, you young people are so uptight nowadays.”
I thought about her calling me uptight and what just went on in the restaurant, and I started to giggle.
“What is it? Spit it out,” she commanded cocking an eyebrow up at me from her oversized sunglasses.
“Seriously, Merv the Perv?” I sputtered and continued to giggle and she joined me in my laughter. We pulled up in front of the house where I spent a good part of my youth. I was completely confused.
“Grams?” I questioned. I thought I was staying with her at the senior community until I got my feet on the ground.
Tainted by Crazy Page 1