by Tiffany King
I turned my attention back to our table, finding Mom watching me adoringly. I had already come to recognize the misty look in her eyes. She took a sip from her drink before speaking. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for the last ten years,” she said. “I missed you terribly, Mia. I’m so sorry I missed so much of your life. It breaks my heart that I wasn’t there to soothe you when you needed me most.”
I looked down, rubbing my finger over the wood grain pattern on the table. “I thought you guys didn’t love me anymore. Judy told me you gave me away because I was sick.”
She released a half-sob and reached for my hand. “Sweetie, the only sick one was her. I’m sorry she made you believe that. I could kill her for what she did to you.”
I jerked my head up, horrified by the thought. Surely she didn’t mean that. My teeth bit down on the soft flesh inside my mouth until I could taste blood. It was soothing.
Mom misread my reaction and squeezed my hand tightly. “I’m sorry, honey. I know you don’t like to talk about her. I just want you to know that monster will pay for what she did to you.”
Monster? I shook my head. Judy wasn’t a monster. The monster lurked inside her. It wasn’t Judy’s fault that my actions had provoked the monster time and time again. I opened my mouth to defend her but abruptly slammed it shut. I didn’t want Mom to know about all the bad things I had done. I wasn’t ready for her to look at me with disgust or hate like Judy had. I was determined to be the good daughter this time. To step into the role my Mia had created. I could be perfect.
After lunch, Mom’s last surprise was to drag me into a bookstore where she insisted that I pick out anything I wanted. I stood in the middle of the store, completely overwhelmed. I had read hundreds and hundreds of books in my life, but that number seemed insignificant while standing in a bookstore boasting a selection of millions of titles. It took a while to find the section of books I preferred and even longer to choose anything. Truthfully, I wanted everything I laid my hands on, but disciplined myself to only a few until, at Mom’s urging, my stack had grown to twenty titles. I spent over an hour mulling over my stack, adding a few titles, only to put them back again when I would stumble upon another title I thought I wanted more. Mom sat patiently, never once rushing me along. Finally, I managed to whittle my stack down to the books I wanted most. Mom followed behind me to the register, but I didn’t notice until she plunked down her own stack on the counter that she had grabbed all the books I showed interest in, but had discarded to keep my stack under control. I tried to protest again, but she only smiled as she handed over her credit card that had to be worn out from use.
25
IT TOOK six trips to carry in all my new belongings. The only thing that stopped Mom from continuing to shop was that we had run out of room in her car. As it was, some of what we purchased still had to be delivered, like the matching bookshelves and an oversize chair I had picked out that would be perfect for reading. Two of the bags in the car held all the brand-new books that would soon fill my shelves.
Jacob grunted, carrying the heavier bags up to my room. “Did you guys leave anything in the store?” he teased, placing the bags on my dresser.
I grinned sheepishly. “I tried to say no but—”
Jacob held up his hands to interrupt me. “Believe me, I understand. If you remember, I tried to warn you. I used to hate going back-to-school shopping with her. She’d drag me to one department store after another and make me try on hundreds of shirts and jeans, but only actually pick out a couple before dragging me to the next store to start the process all over again.” He sank down on the foot of my bed, shaking his head. “And don’t even get me started on the horror of shoe shopping.” He shuddered dramatically for effect.
I laughed at his description, but truthfully I had enjoyed shoe shopping almost as much as I had book shopping. The pair of shoes Mom brought to the hospital for me was the first pair I had ever owned that weren’t slippers. Since I never left my basement room, Judy never provided anything more. I accidentally let that fact slip to Mom who then took the revelation as a challenge. I now had eight pair of shoes that were all mine. When I would ever wear them all was of no concern to Mom. She assured me that a wide selection of shoes was essential.
“Let’s go get the rest of your bags and then I thought later I’d take you out with some of my friends, if you’re not too tired,” Jacob said, pulling me up from the bed.
I gaped at him. “You want me to meet your friends tonight?”
“Sure. You start classes on Monday, so Mom and I thought it might be easier to meet a few people beforehand. Don’t worry, they’re all cool. They just want to meet you. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
I twisted my hands nervously. Reluctantly, I agreed although I had serious anxiety about embarrassing Jacob in front of his friends.
He ruffled my hair. “Trust me. I got your back.”
His words meant a lot, but I was still nervous about starting school on Monday. It made sense that meeting some people ahead of time would make it easier. I was just terrified that no one would like me.
I was able to forget my apprehensions when Mom and I began setting up my room. She let me dictate everything, saying it was my room after all. We hung up some of my new clothes in my closet and neatly folded the rest before storing them in my dresser drawers. My books were stacked on my dresser until my bookshelves arrived, but I already had them in the order I wanted to read them.
Mom helped me dress out my bed in a new deep purple comforter with matching skirt, sheets, and pillowcases. I picked it because of how soft it was to the touch. The lamps added to my side tables and throw pillows in accenting lighter shades of purple tossed at the head of the bed completed the look. We took a step back, admiring our work. With those small touches, the room was transformed.
Originally I had balked when Mom insisted on buying the half-dozen throw pillows that graced the top of my bed. Just like the shoes, I thought she was being overly extravagant. The twin bed I slept on for the last ten years had exactly one thin pillow with a white case that always smelled harshly of bleach. Judy was methodical about washing my bedding once a week.
Mom left my room once everything was put away. She claimed she was in dire need of a soak in the tub, but I had the impression she was giving me a little space to absorb my new surroundings. I didn’t realize how much I needed the privacy until I was left alone. I sagged onto my bed, running my hands over my soft comforter. It felt surreal. Less than a month ago I had been chained to my bed, convinced I was going to die. Now I was here. It could have been a dream. I dug my fingernails into my palm, wondering if I would suddenly wake up at the sound of Judy’s footsteps coming down the stairs.
When that didn’t work I scanned my room, looking for something else I could use to test my theory. My eyes paused at the pair of scissors sitting on my nightstand table. We had used them to cut all the tags off my stuff. Reaching across my bed, I grabbed the scissors and pushed the tip into my palm. The metal dug into my hand with delicious pain. It felt good. They were too dull to draw blood. Opening the blades, I ran the sharpened edge along my palm, pressing hard until a line of blood appeared. I swiped at the thin trail of blood with my thumb. As I lay back against my mountain of pillows, I smiled, accepting that it was real. I thought the confirmation would provide some sort of comfort, but truthfully, I still had a feeling of dread in my stomach, longing for the simple life I’d lost.
I grabbed my new cell phone off my bedside table. I had no idea how to work the hundreds of different things it could supposedly do. I tried to talk Mom into returning the phone when she showed up at the hospital with it, but she was adamant about me having one. “I need to know that you’re safe,” she had implored. Then once I met Gunner, I was glad to have the phone because at least we had exchanged numbers before I left the hospital.
The other thing I had come to appreciate was the countless amount of music I had at my disposal. I stuck my earbuds in and clicked on
one of the songs Gunner preferred. Peace settled through me as the music throbbed into my eardrums. It almost felt like he was with me.
I’d been gone from the hospital for only one day, but I already missed Gunner. I felt a bit needy, but I couldn’t resist typing out a simple text to him. My finger hovered over the send button for a minute before I abruptly deleted the text. He told me he would call me.
The sounds of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen grabbed my attention so I headed downstairs where Mom roped me into giving her a hand. Helping to prepare dinner was another first for me. Gunner would have been proud. The way Mom bustled around the kitchen was awkward initially. I stood near the counter, unsure of what I should be doing. Mom must have sensed how I was feeling. She slowed down and showed me around the kitchen before setting me at the counter to make a salad.
It took her a few minutes to show me how to cut the vegetables, but I quickly got the hang of it. She buzzed around the kitchen, preparing spaghetti and meatballs, keeping up a steady stream of conversation at the same time. She asked me questions I could answer without venturing into the bad zone. I took my time, keeping my answers neutral.
Jacob hung around in the kitchen sampling everything Mom and I were making. I laughed when she chastised him for stealing another meatball. I had missed this kind of interaction while hidden away in my basement. This was what being a family felt like. It was so perfect that my chest actually ached. How could I not feel comfortable here? Everything was going to be okay. The only thing missing was Dad. I wanted to ask about him, to get some kind of idea why he left, but it would have ruined the moment. That was a subject that could be visited at a later time. For now, this was all I could ever think to ask for.
“Jacob, carry the dishes to the table, and if you steal another meatball on your way, I’m going to whack you,” Mom threatened, brandishing a wooden spoon.
A grin spread across my face until I spotted Mom looking horrified. All the activity in the kitchen seemed to stop. Jacob was suddenly too busy studying the floor to make eye contact, and Mom acted as if she had committed a crime. At first I wondered what I had missed, but then I could feel a rush of warmth creeping up my neck, making its way to my cheeks. I could feel it coating my skin like an extra layer of clothing. The mood in the room instantly became somber. I swallowed hard, wanting to tell them it was okay. I wasn’t made of glass. I would not shatter from mere words. I guess I hadn’t proven that I was stronger than that.
This was my fault. It always came back to me and what happened. I was beginning to think we would never be able to get past it. For the briefest of moments I missed my basement room so acutely I could barely breathe. Life was easier there, more compartmentalized. At least there I was only disappointing Judy. Here I was disappointing Mom and Jacob. The thought gutted me. I didn’t want to disappoint them.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Jacob tried several times to recapture the levity from earlier, but an ominous atmosphere cloaked the room. Mom kept her eyes on her plate, picking at her food. A rock settled in the pit of my stomach. I should apologize.
After finally making it through the charade of dinner, Jacob and I began clearing the dishes, but Mom shooed us from the table. “You two go have fun.” She gave Jacob a quick hug before turning to me with outstretched arms. I didn’t mean to flinch. Really, I didn’t. I knew she wasn’t going to hit me, but instinctively, I jumped. I could see the hurt radiating in her eyes. “Be careful,” she choked out. I leaned in to allow her to hug me, but it was awkward. I had managed to keep myself as fragile as glass in their eyes.
Jacob and I remained quiet as we piled into his car. He turned up the radio and backed out of the driveway in one motion. “Well, that was awkward,” he chuckled.
I was too busy gnawing on the side of my nail to answer.
“You know none of this is your fault, right? We—well, more accurately, Mom, is having a hard time adjusting. She doesn’t want to hurt you any more than you already have been. It’s not always going to be this awkward.” He patted my knee. “So stop trying to chew your thumb off. It’s going to be cool.”
I pulled my thumb from my mouth self-consciously and stuck it under my leg to resist the temptation. “I’m not going to break,” I muttered.
“I know. If you were that fragile you wouldn’t be here. I’ve seen the pictures.”
I blanched, remembering the humiliating experience of being photographed in front of a room of people. After an extensive interview with Detective Newton at the hospital, a female police officer with a kind face and gentle demeanor arrived, stating that she needed to document my injuries. Mom remained on the side of the room, watching stoically as a nurse helped lift my clothing to reveal ten years of bumps, bruises, and scars. Mom and I never talked about my injuries after that day. Knowing that Jacob had seen the pictures made the spaghetti dinner we had eaten churn painfully in my stomach. Those pictures would last forever as proof of every bad thing I had ever done.
I couldn’t look at him. As much as I tried to resist, my hand refused to stay under my leg. By the time Jacob pulled up in front of an unfamiliar two-story brick house, I had drawn blood from my tender thumb.
“You ready?” he asked.
I shrugged. I had no clue if I was ready. I wasn’t sure I even knew what ready meant anymore. One thing seemed certain, it couldn’t be much worse than our disastrous family dinner or the car ride over.
How wrong I was, like times a million.
Jacob strolled in through the door without even knocking and led me toward the back of the house where I could hear a steady drone of voices. The closer we got, the louder it became. The noise was comforting. I hoped maybe no one would notice our arrival. It was a nice thought, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The moment we stepped out the back door to the patio, the drone of voices switched off as abruptly as a light switch. The patio was easily as big as the inside of the house, with a pool and outdoor eating area. It was dark outside so the outdoor lighting strung around the perimeter was turned on. Thirty-plus pairs of eyes pivoted toward us, all dead set on me. I shot Jacob a look of panic and scooted behind his shoulder.
“Guys, this is my sister, Mia. I’m sure some of you remember her,” Jacob introduced me. He nudged me out in the middle of a large cluster of unfamiliar faces. I hated the feeling of being on display.
A few people smiled tentatively, but the majority of them stared at me in morbid curiosity. I’d seen the same look my first few days at the hospital. I was more of a story than a person, something fascinating to gawk at. Then Gunner took me under his wing. I’d give anything to have him with me at the party.
“How about a drink?” Jacob asked, leading me toward a cooler that sat near the edge of the pool. With that everyone returned to their conversations and virtually ignored me. I sagged with relief.
Jacob handed me an ice-cold Coke. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of my friends.”
I cradled the soda, thankful to have something to occupy my hands. “Can we wait awhile?” I asked, popping the tab on the can.
Concern colored Jacob’s face.
I smiled meekly to show him that everything was okay.
My smile must have been convincing enough because he hesitantly agreed. “Sure. I guess it’s a little overwhelming.”
I nodded, grateful that he understood.
Jacob leaned in, whispering names into my ear so I would know who everyone was from a distance. I would never remember all of their names but I appreciated the effort. Finally, a group of guys standing at the opposite corner of the patio called him over.
“Go. I’ll be fine,” I said, encouraging him with a shove of my shoulder. I was eager to have a moment to myself.
He looked torn. “Seriously, it’s okay, Jacob. I’ll just stay here and observe everything.”
“I didn’t bring you here to abandon you. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
I shook my head. “I’d rather stay here.”
“Mia, if you’re uncomfortable I can take you home.”
“No, I’m fine,” I lied, trying to appease him.
I could tell he still had his doubts so I gave him another little shove toward his friends.
“All right,” he grudgingly agreed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I nodded, taking a sip of my Coke. With Jacob gone, I scooted away from our spot in the open, moving toward the shadows on the other side of a small changing room. I felt instant relief under the camouflage of darkness. Observing everyone would be much easier without worrying whether they could see me.
A few minutes passed and Jacob hadn’t returned like he promised, but I couldn’t blame him. From my vantage point, I could see him laughing and talking animatedly with a group of five guys. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I envied the ease of their interaction.
Several minutes later, I was still standing in the shadows with my soda finished. I twirled the empty can in my hand, wishing I was brave enough to get another. A couple of girls stopped along the wall adjacent to where I stood. They began a conversation, unaware of my close proximity. They spoke with such confidence and self-assurance. I felt slightly intimidated so I backed farther into the shadows to make sure they wouldn’t see me. Both girls were dressed nearly identically in long, bright, strapless dresses that flowed around their ankles. Their hair was shiny light blond with streaks of vibrant purple at the temples. I wondered if they dressed alike on purpose. They could have been related. It made me think of Mia. If she were real, I think we would have dressed alike.
I debated stepping forward to join their conversation. After all, the whole reason Jacob had brought me to the party was to meet people before I started school on Monday.
I took a half step forward, pausing when I caught their hushed conversation.