Lock & West

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Lock & West Page 11

by Alexander C. Eberhart


  “Where’ve you been?” Claire continues, taking a break from the glitz of celebrity weddings and Photoshopped brides. “You’ve been a literal ghost since Saturday.”

  “I’ve been haunting the attic,” I say, opening the fridge and frowning at the contents. “Didn’t you hear the moaning? Oh, wait. That was coming from your room last night.”

  She doesn’t react, but Blake coughs. I wish he was choking.

  She ignores my inappropriate comment, dragging me by the wrist to the countertop laden with lace and glossy pages. “Come take a look at these. We’re trying to decide between a traditional veil and train or a more modern design for my dress.” She narrows the stack down to two pages, holding them out to me. “Which do you prefer?”

  I stare at the options without absorbing any of the details. I couldn’t care less what she’s going to wear. The marriage won’t last a year. Especially if she finds out her betrothed is a piece of—

  “Neither,” I say, a yawn escaping through the word. I go back to the fridge, rummaging around the drawers until I find Mother’s hidden baggie of peanut butter cups. Hell yesss. She prefers them chilled and only eats them during times of intense stress. She won’t miss a few.

  “You’re no help,” my sister huffs, turning back to Blake. “I’m going to go ask Mother again,” she announces. “You two play nice while I’m gone, please.”

  I almost choke on my chocolaty treat because I’m laughing. Blake shoots me a look, but it just makes it that much funnier.

  Claire leaves the room. I turn to follow, but a strong hand catches my shoulder, digging into my skin before spinning and slamming me against the wall. The bag of candy drops to the floor.

  “Can you at least try to be less obvious?” Blake seethes in my ear, breath hot and moist. My stomach churns, bile rising up my throat. I force it down. There’s no way I’m giving this douchebag the satisfaction of seeing me cower.

  “It’s not really in my nature.” I strain to keep my voice level.

  “Then I’ll just have to shut you up myself.” His forearm presses into my throat, blue eyes narrowed to loathsome slits and his nostrils flaring. “You like that, don’t you, faggot?”

  I claw at him, gasping. His free hand drops to my crotch. I swat it away. Tears form in my eyes. I can’t breathe. Everything blurs at the edges until it’s just Blake. Only him, taking over my senses.

  “Don’t fight me,” he taunts, lips snarling. “You didn’t fight me last time.”

  He kisses me. I gasp for air as he releases the pressure on my throat. He shoves his tongue in my mouth, pressing his body into mine, smothering me. He’s snuffing me out, suffocating me. I push on his chest, but he seizes both of my wrists, pinning them as I struggle.

  I shut my eyes, tears spilling over. My insides burn with hate. Hate for Blake. Hate for my sister for picking such a terrible fiancé. Hate for a life where this is happening right now. But most of all, hate towards myself because I know this is all my fault.

  “Stop,” I mumble against his lips. Guilt and this stupid fucker’s mouth are swallowing the word.

  When he finally breaks away, a cocky grin spreads across his face, and his fingers wrap around my neck once more.

  “Not a fucking word to Claire,” he whispers. “Or you’ll wish you were dead.”

  Too late.

  He shoves me, and my head hits the wall hard enough to see stars. Blake simply brushes the wrinkles from his shirt, returning to the counter littered with stacks of magazines.

  I’m coughing, rubbing my throat to try to ease the pain. Claire comes back in, but I hightail it out of there before she can see the tears or the possible handprint on my flesh. My head is still spinning by the time I make it upstairs.

  I still feel him, squeezing the air from my lungs, except it’s not just him, it’s everything all at once. I’m the world’s biggest fuck up. I’ve ruined my sister’s marriage before it’s even started. I sparked a fight between Lock and his mom that ended with him bleeding all over my backseat. I got him drunk and possibly took his virginity at his first ever party.

  My life is out of control. I’m out of control. And I can’t keep feeling this way or I might do something I regret.

  I make a snap decision.

  I do the one thing that gives me a sense of control. The door to the bathroom slams behind me. I lift the lid of the toilet, sinking to my knees. It doesn’t take much. I’m already nauseated from Blake touching me. With a single jab of a finger, I vomit the sweet burning mix of peanut butter and acid.

  I’m in control.

  I’m in control.

  “Why aren’t we going home?” Jack asks me as we walk hand-in-hand from the bus stop a couple of blocks from Jill’s neighborhood.

  I’ve been anticipating this question all day, but I still haven’t formulated an answer. I don’t want to lie to him—I hate dishonesty. But how do I explain in a way that won’t terrify him?

  Especially when I’m terrified myself.

  “Jill wants us to stay with her for a little while,” I say eventually. It’s the truth, so I don’t feel bad saying it. It’s all the truth that Jack needs to know.

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t really know right now, buddy,” I tell him. “But we’ll have fun, don’t worry.”

  He nods, and we continue in silence.

  “I miss Mommy.”

  His words shove little splinters into my heart.

  “I know, buddy.” I give his tiny hand a squeeze. “Me too.”

  “What am I going to do?” I ask Jill once Jack’s finally crashed. “Mom has been blowing up my phone all day.”

  “That may be my fault,” Jill admits, still at the table, working. She drags her stylus across the screen. I count the strokes to stay calm. Seven. Eight. Nine.

  “What did you do?”

  “She called me today,” she explains, pausing only to sip her sweet tea. “And I may have told her you and Jack were here with me and that—”

  “What?” I cringe at my own volume, hoping it didn’t wake Jack. “Why would you do that? Now she’s going to just show up here any minute!”

  “You didn’t let me finish. Rude. I also told her I was going to sic Atlanta’s finest on her if she so much as thought about bringing her unstable ass around here.”

  I allow myself a second to breathe. Not that I think my mother would heed Jill’s warning. She thinks of Jill as a helpless little mouse. But maybe, just maybe, she’ll listen.

  “This is such a mess.”

  “I know, little Lan. I know.” She sets her tablet down. “Listen, you’ve got to figure out what you wanna do here. If you want me to call the cops right now, I’ll do it. I mean it. I’m not afraid to go full-on COPS and fight my sister in the front yard. I’ll support whatever decision you make, but I can’t do this for you.”

  “Do you hate her that much?” I ask.

  Jill flinches, teeth clicking four times before she responds. “I don’t hate my sister, Lan. Is that what you think?”

  I just shrug. Can I say that I don’t hate her at this point? It wouldn’t exactly be the truth.

  Jill crosses her arms. “Well, you’re a little shit for thinking it. No. I don’t hate Jenny. In fact, it’s because I love her so much that I’m willing to do any of this. I know she doesn’t want to hurt you kids. She loves you so much. After what your dad put her through—”

  Jill stops, hand raising to cover her mouth like she’s just let something horrible escape.

  “He left all of us,” I tell her. “But you don’t see me hurling wine bottles, now do you?”

  She only shakes her head in response, and I know she’s hiding something from me because she won’t look me in the eye.

  “Obviously, there’s more to the story.” I lower myself into the chair across the table. “Something about Dad. Tell me what it is.”

  More teeth clicking proves I’m right. She’s keeping something about my father a secret.

  “
Jill.”

  She flinches again, eyes coming back from a thousand miles away.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking, Lachlan.”

  Oh man, I can’t remember the last time she called me by my real name. It’s foreign on her tongue. But I don’t let it waiver my resolve.

  “Help me understand,” I plead with her. “Mom is killing herself. I need to know why.”

  “There’s nothing to be gained here, Lan.” Jill’s eyes dart from me to her hands. She wrings in her lap. “He’s dead. It’s best to leave him that way.”

  “That’s not fair,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “Life’s not fair.”

  Anger boils in my gut. With a swipe, a stack of magazines scatters to the floor. “Just tell me already! Fuck!”

  My chest heaves as I tug at the end of my shirt. “I don’t have the patience for all this pacifying nonsense. Mom is all Jack and I have left, so if there’s something you know that can help us all get through this alive, I want to hear it. Now.”

  Jill’s eyes are wide, and I’m mortified, but she nods. “All right. Just promise me something first.”

  “What?”

  “That you won’t do anything stupid after I tell you.”

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Okay, sure,” I agree, even though I have no idea what I’m agreeing to.

  “Right.” She nods. Then says it again to herself. “Right. You’re going to want to sit down.”

  I do as she says, but I’m on the edge of my seat. Literally. No amount of counting can distract me from the memories of my father that soon will come seeping in, but I have to do this.

  Jill takes a steadying breath before beginning. “When your father left Seattle for the last time—”

  “You mean when he ran away,” I clarify. “I don’t need you sugar-coating things for my sake. I know the kind of man my father was.”

  Jill’s eyes narrow. “You don’t know shit. Now shut up. I’m talking.”

  I lower my head. “Sorry.”

  “Like I was saying, when he left Seattle to come back here, it wasn’t because he was sick. He—”

  “What are you talking about? He died from a brain tumor.”

  “Yes,” Jill agrees with me. “He did. But it wasn’t until he was back in Atlanta that he found out he had cancer.”

  “Then why—?”

  “Lan, you’re killing me here.”

  I bite down on my tongue.

  “Did your mother ever mention who your father was staying with while he was away?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Jesus, Lan. I’m asking you a question. Talk!”

  “Yes,” I tell her. “She said it was a friend from college. I always figured it was another woman.”

  “Well, the friend part was right,” Jill says. “It was your father’s best friend from school, Jordan Thaxton. The two were thick as thieves back in the day. It nearly killed Jordan when your parents moved away. He and Jim were inseparable, always together, and more times than not, they were getting into trouble.”

  Jill pauses, brushing crimson bangs out of her eyes. “When your mother found out the two of them had been having an affair almost the entirety of their marriage, she told—”

  “I’m sorry, WHAT?”

  “Shh!” Jill urges me. “Do you want Jack running around here, whacking your shins with his pirate sword? I mean, I don’t care if he hits mine. I can’t feel it—”

  I don’t hear the rest of her rambling. My pulse pounds like a snare drum, drowning out her words. Wait, when did I stand up?

  “A-Are you telling me my father had an affair with another man?”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “Just sit back down and I’ll explain it—”

  “Sit down?” I squawk an octave above my normal voice, like a deranged parrot. “Sitting down isn’t going to solve anything, Jill. You of all people should know that!”

  I immediately wish I could take those words back and swallow them down until they dissolve alongside the horrible pit in my stomach.

  “Are you done?” Jill asks, arms folding across her chest.

  My heart twinges. That’s exactly what Mom used to ask me when I would throw a tantrum. She’d just cross her arms and wait for me to finish. Jill reminds me so much of her it hurts.

  “Yes,” I say, sinking into my seat.

  “I’m glad,” she says, reaching for her glass. She drains the rest of her tea before continuing. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you all this, but if you really want to know what’s going on with Jenny—your mom—then I’m going to have to tell you all of it. Can you handle that?”

  I nod, though I’m not sure of the validity of my answer.

  “I told you about when your parents first met and the party at Georgia Tech. But there’s more to that story than I let on. You see, that wasn’t just the night they met. It was also the night you were conceived.”

  I cringe but stay silent. It’s not like I didn’t know Mom was pregnant during her wedding. It was pretty obvious in all the photos. But still, thinking about it makes me queasy.

  “Oh stop it, you baby,” Jill chastises. “They were both pretty fractured by the end of the night, so I’m sure it was quite a surprise to them when they woke up. Neither of them really spoke to each other again, until a couple weeks later when Jenny found out she was pregnant.

  “She was terrified. Your father was even more so. Jenny wanted to get rid of you, but he fought tooth and nail to convince her otherwise. You see, Jim’s family weren’t exactly the most tolerant people back then. Well, I guess they still aren’t.”

  That’s an understatement. Both of my uncles on Dad’s side are pastors at Southern Baptist churches. One’s in Alabama, the other isn’t far from here.

  “Your uncles were just starting their ministries at the time, so you can bet your father wasn’t planning on coming out anytime soon. So, instead, he did what he thought was the right thing and married your mom.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Lan. Jim loved your mother. Loved her more than she deserved sometimes, just not like she wanted him to. And god, did he love you and Jack. There’s nothing he wouldn’t or didn’t sacrifice for you three.

  “But love is tricky, Lan. It sneaks up on you, blindsides you so you never see it coming. That’s exactly what happened to your father. While he was in town for business, he and Jordan met up. The two hadn’t seen each other in five years but picked up like they’d never missed a day. A conversation that lasted until the morning ended with a kiss, and Jim realized that he was in trouble.”

  “How do you know all this?” I ask, my voice barely audible. “How do I know it’s true?”

  “Because he told me,” Jill answers, voice shaking. She clears her throat then continues. “Your mother refused to see him, so he called me. Jenny always holds a grudge to the bitter end. After your father told her about the affair, she told him to leave and never come back.”

  “So, I was right.” I find myself laughing, though there’s no joy in the sound. “He was a coward. He just left Jack and me.”

  “I’d hoped you’d be more understanding, given the circumstances.”

  “I’m nothing like him,” I correct her.

  “You’re alike in more ways than one.” The statement crushes me with honesty. “Jim told me it was leaving you two that really killed him. That his body refused to live in a world where he couldn’t be with his kids.

  “They were so bittersweet, his last few weeks. Him and Jordan tried to make up for a lifetime of missed opportunities, but every day Jim was away from you and Jack, the harder it got for him to go on.”

  Jill pauses to blot her face, and my own eyes are stinging. I don’t picture him, no matter how much I want to. It’s too painful.

  “He was a good man.” She sniffles. “He was your mother’s favorite person, Lan. And she loved him too fiercely. That’s wh
y she’s in such pain. Why she can’t talk about him. It just hurts too much.”

  My arm throbs as if on cue. For a moment, I can see Mom’s motives, laid in front of me all clean and neat. She’s grieving so much more than a husband—she’s grieving their love itself and a lifetime of heartache.

  A thought springs to life, spreading across my consciousness like a brushfire. It’s all-consuming.

  “What happened with Dad… That’s why you said I shouldn’t tell her about me and West.”

  She clicks her teeth. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

  Suddenly, it’s all starting to make sense. Mom sees him every time she looks at me, sees the man she loved for sixteen years who could never return her feelings. Who left his family because, with us, he could never be himself.

  No wonder we’re not on the best terms. I’m ruining her life, just like he did.

  “This is so messed up.”

  “Life’s messy, kiddo.” Jill reaches for me, but I shy from her touch. “And it only gets messier. The important question is what you do with the mess. Do you wallow in it? Or do you scrub your way out?”

  “She’s already so far gone.” My chest hurts just saying the words. “What can I do?”

  “I wish I could answer your question, Lan.” Jill’s voice cracks, and I can’t bring myself to look at her. “I wish I could answer all of them.”

  I can’t believe I did that. I haven’t had a relapse since my birthday when I ate three slices of that amazingly gooey chocolate cake. Now all those months are down the toilet. Alongside three peanut butter cups.

  But it’s fine. It was just a one-time thing. It’s not like I’m going to go off the deep end again. This isn’t eighth grade, and I’m not a gross, chubby fourteen-year-old anymore. I’m hot. I don’t need to keep doing it.

  I keep telling myself that, but it doesn’t seem to help the ridiculously strong urge to run to the bathroom right now.

 

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