Anchor

by M. Mabie

  A heart under glass with a hand touching the clear plate on the other side.

  It wasn’t my typical venture. Most of my pieces were paintings or photographs I’d manipulated to show one underlying theme. One idea. One emotion.

  This was going to be different, because it was so many emotions I’d lost count.

  My hands lay where they had for hours, side by side on the wooden table top. Patiently waiting for direction. But I didn’t have any.

  I knew the vision. I could see it clearly, but something was stopping me from creating it.

  A lot like his presence, his words always had a way of making me second-guess myself. My feelings. What I wanted.

  You’re a brat, Audrey. You’re a kid, Audrey. You’re their sister, Audrey.

  I didn’t care.

  You’re not that much older. I’m going away to school. It’s none of their business.

  I knew it was a dangerous path to let my mind walk, reliving those conversations. Because soon the words always led back to one memory. One night. One encounter where we didn’t have ages and nothing else mattered.

  I let him pull my hair as he took what he’d sworn all along he was protecting. My innocence. Only I‘d lied that night and said I didn’t have any. That it’d been taken long before then.

  It was the only memory I have of us where he didn’t hold back.

  At the time, I didn’t have anything to compare it to. I didn’t know what was normal or how I should feel.

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him come in until he said, “Wow, kid. Look at all of these. You’re getting really good. Far better than the stick figure pictures you used to draw for me.”

  For as far back as I could remember I hung on his every word. Now his words hung themselves in me like priceless paintings on the inside of my chest.

  “Don’t you know how to knock?”

  “Don’t you know how to lock your door?” he retorted lightheartedly.

  His hair was a little shorter in the back, but still long enough on top to fall perfectly around his face as he looked down at his boots, grinning like the devil. He loved playing with me.

  “Is that what you came over here to tell me?”

  “No. I came over here to tell you I’m moving to town.”

  “This town is pretty big. I’m sure we can find our own space.” I considered throwing some of the sharp words he’d wounded me with time after time, but I didn’t have it in me. He’d know I was just being a bitch. Or childish. Or delusional. Because they’d never be true out of my mouth.

  He cocked his head to the side and gave me a look that begged for me to drop the act.

  So I mocked him and gave it back.

  The distance between us closed; my turncoat body reacted to him.

  “Cut the shit, kid. You know why I moved here.”

  Did I?

  Casey told me he was getting a job at the brewery, and Troy probably needed a new crop of women to fuck. My best estimates were that he’d been with most of the available ladies in San Francisco, and probably a few more who weren’t.

  “Troy, I’m here going to school. I’m in college. I’m experimenting and living my life. Just like you told me to do.” Some of that was true. I’d been with a few guys, but no one who made any lasting impressions. “Welcome to Seattle. But I’m not the little sweet, forbidden kid-sister anymore. Not here.”

  “That’s what I was counting on.”

  Then his brazen hand was in the nape of my hair, my pounding chest was crushed against his and our lips went to war.

  Monday, June 14, 2010

  CASEY TASTED LIKE THE only thing that would ever satisfy me completely. I savored everything about that kiss.

  Earlier I’d spoken to Dr. Rex, and told her pretty much everything over the phone in a rush to confide in someone, in the event that the police were faster than Reggie thought they’d be. She’d know the story. She’d know the truth before I had a real reason to lie about it. Not that I was lying anymore, but if Grant tried to twist it around, I’d have someone on our side. Someone credible.

  She’d said, just like I thought she would, “Tell Casey. Blake, you’ll feel better. Tell him everything. There’s no need to worry, sweetheart.” I agreed. What Reggie told me knocked me off balance a little. I’d figured Grant would try something, do something, continue to cause trouble. But did he really have a leg to stand on?

  The thought of the attack going to trial made my stomach queasy as I cooked that afternoon. But that’s one of the things I loved most about cooking. I could do it while my mind was somewhere else. I could cut and chop my frustrations out. So I did.

  We’d have a nice dinner. Spend time with Troy and Audrey, if she wasn’t too busy. Then when everything settled down for the night, I’d talk to him.

  Even though we weren’t miles apart anymore, and we could call or text at any time of the day we pleased, I noticed it was at night when we still communicated best. When everything was quiet. When everything was set-aside until the next day. The same as we’d done by phone—where we talked about things we’d done when we were young, or what we’d done that day—those precious minutes were ours alone.

  That’s when I’d tell him about that night.

  As he kissed me, both of us barefoot in the grass, I knew it was time to do it. I wasn’t going to let Grant, or my own fear, ruin anything I was blessed enough to have now. And if I’d learned anything, it was that the truth hurt, but it healed you faster.

  “I love you back, honeybee. So you’re feeling worn out?” he asked as he moved my hair behind my ears.

  “A little.”

  His eyebrows rose, challenging me to tell the whole truth. When he made that face, and his forehead wrinkled, he wasn’t one to toy with. The look said both: out with it, and I’ll get it out of you anyway.

  “Okay, I’m beat. My back hurts. My ribs hurt. And my scalp is itching like crazy. I can’t wait to get these stitches out tomorrow.” It had been longer than the suggested ten days, but I’d been feeling so tired last week that I’d made the appointment for after the weekend.

  “That’s better. I’ll get the plates and stuff while you take a seat.”

  Audrey came through the wooden door that adjoined our two small yards just then. She looked almost angry, but when she saw Casey and me, she softened. She was working really hard on that project and Troy, just showing up, probably pissed her off. She was always particular about her art. There’d been times when she hadn’t let me see something she was working on until it was completely finished, so having it right there in the open for everyone must have been like having your guts spilled out for the public’s appraisal.

  “You look like you mean business,” Casey noted as he passed her on his way in to get plates and silverware.

  “Don’t forget paper towels. Just bring the roll,” I shouted behind him.

  “This smells really good, Blake. I’m starving.” I doubted she’d eaten all day.

  “Thanks. So how’s it going over there? Getting close?” I took a seat at the table and she followed bringing the trays from the grill.

  “I just smashed it,” she said in a huff. Then she picked a spare rib off the platter and began eating it. She tore into it like she was inflicting pain on the poor piece of barbecue.

  “Smashed it?” I asked in shock. The heart she’d molded looked like it was all but finished when I’d seen it earlier. How could she just destroy it?

  “Yep. It wasn’t working. Some hearts just don’t work the way they should,” she scoffed between hungry bites. I wondered if she was talking about more than just the clay heart.

  Casey and Troy came out with what we needed and everyone dug in, so I didn’t get to ask any more about the piece. I could always ask her tomorrow when it was a little quieter.

  We ate the meat like savages. I don’t mean to sound like a braggart, but it was perfect. Listening to their moans of appreciation proved it. Or else they were just doing that to make me feel go
od. Didn’t matter, because as banged up and bruised and nervous as I was about the conversation we’d be having—I did feel good. Better than I’d felt in a very, very long time.

  “Anyone need another beer while I’m up?” Troy asked when we were piling up the remnants of the meal.

  “I’m good,” Casey chimed.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” I said.

  Then Audrey said confidently, without hesitation, “I’ll take one.” The look on Casey’s face was priceless. He was both shocked and torn. I could imagine the idea of his little sister drinking, bouncing around in his sexy mind. She hadn’t asked for his permission, and I wasn’t sure if he’d give it. He just shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. Hell, he probably drank at a much younger age than she was.

  “Audrey, I’m so proud that your first beer will be one of mine, because I’m sure my sweet, innocent little sister doesn’t drink.” Big brother sarcasm at its finest.

  “Right,” she said with all of the ambivalence of a nineteen-year-old. “I hope I like it.”

  “For the first time in my life, I hope someone doesn’t love my beer,” Casey muttered under his breath as he snatched up the last few dirty paper towels on the table.

  The warm sun sinking out of sight told me it was only late in the evening, but I knew I wouldn’t last long. I didn’t want to tear Casey away from his friend or his sister, but what I needed to do was weighing heavily on my mind and it couldn’t wait much longer.

  He must have sensed my energy running low, because before I could say anything, he announced, “I hate to cut the evening short, but I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and I think this one needs to get some rest.” He walked around the table to his sister and kissed her on the top of the head. “Don’t drink too much and don’t let this one get you into trouble.”

  Casey wasn’t looking at Troy, but I was, and when he said that, Troy nodded and took a drink.

  “I won’t. I’m going to drink this and head back over. I need to start over on my project,” she said solemnly.

  “Good night, guys.” I yawned as I turned toward the house.

  “Thanks for dinner. Your ribs were killer,” Troy added rubbing his belly, stretching out and propping his feet up on my empty chair.

  “Night, Blake. Thanks,” Audrey added.

  Casey’s and my evening ritual was becoming routine. I loved it. We’d brush our teeth. I tried not to be crazy creepy, but he sort of had a way of doing things. He’d take off his clothes and put on a pair of shorts to sleep in. He’d stretch his neck while he pulled back the blankets. After I climbed into my pajamas, I’d claim the remote. He always waited for me to get into bed before he climbed in. We went in together.

  We were quiet, but when we’d catch the other looking, we’d smile at one another. The smiles were new too. Not we’re about to have reckless sex smiles—although I think we both still enjoyed those. They weren’t friendly smiles. These were smiles earned, fought for, and appreciated. We’d worked hard for these little moments and when our eyes met like that, for a split second we’d both acknowledge how far we’d come.

  Unlike in my former life, where the old me and the other man in my life would find our sides of the bed and stay in them, Casey and I rolled into each other. My sheets were starting to smell like something new. Mixed chemistries. His and mine meshing on the fabric. He had a favorite pillow in my bed. My favorite pillow was the crook of his arm.

  As we found our places, the spots where our bodies aligned, he sighed.

  “So are you going to tell me what’s up?”

  It was now or never. Even though he knew the results of what happened, he didn’t know exactly how. And with Grant playing even more games, Casey needed to be armed. I wouldn’t let anything happen to the man holding me in his arms. He was full of good and love, and even when I’d damn near ruined us both by not accepting everything he wanted to give me, he never held that against me. He deserved my best. My very best. That included my honesty and trust.

  “I talked to Reggie this morning,” I began. My finger traced the words inked on his chest as I prepared myself for everything I was about to say. My foot linked around his leg and I was centered.

  I drew another breath, and since he was waiting for me to continue, I let it all out.

  “He said that there’s a guy he knows at the station—I think he said his name was Paul. Anyway, this guy called him and said he’d heard that he may be changing his story. Apparently, it was suggested that pulling the gun was self-defense and maybe you were the one who hurt me.”

  He stiffened. Breathed. Then, held me tighter.

  “The cop said that everyone pretty much knows that’s bullshit, but if it went down like that, there would definitely be a trial and Reggie thinks you’d be called in. Maybe arrested if he goes through with saying you did it all.”

  I kissed his shoulder and sorted through my thoughts. He moved me on top of him, and I folded my arms under my chin on his chest so I could look at his face. A storm brewed there, but he was doing a damn fine job of staying calm.

  “I called Dr. Rex and told her everything. I told her what I remember.”

  His eyes looked a little relieved, but still turbulent weather swirled in them.

  “I wanted her to have record of me telling what happened before it all got messed up. And I want to tell you too. I’m sorry that I’ve been saying I can’t remember what happened. I was lying. Wasn’t going to keep it to myself forever, just until I processed it. You know?”

  He nodded and leaned up to kiss my arm. It was about the only part he would reach with me lounging on him like I was.

  “I understand that. Believe it or not, I knew that’s what you were doing.”

  “Plus, I knew it was going to hurt you and my family. It was awful, Casey. I wish I couldn’t remember,” I whispered, because my voice began to cut out.

  I exhaled my hesitations and inhaled all the strength I could take in. His hands rubbed long, slow passes over my back to soothe me. His touch had magic in it and, in that moment, I needed his strength. I needed him.

  “So you knew he told me he was signing the papers, and that’s why I went that night. When I got there, he’d been drinking, and I should have just turned around. I was being stubborn. I just wanted it all over with. I’d been so looking forward to introducing you to my parents and my family that I was feeling a little high from it, I think. I thought if I could just get this done, it would be one less thing to worry about, and then we were going to celebrate.

  “He’d put glasses out on the table like I was going to stay, but that was never my intention. He asked if I could at least have a drink with him, but I said I needed to go. When he started getting angry, I decided to leave, then he grabbed my arm and pulled me up the stairs. He said that’s where the papers were, and that I wasn’t leaving until I got my precious papers.

  “I knew it was only going to get worse though. Something told me that if I got to the top of the stairs something really bad was going to happen. He just kept yanking me.”

  I didn’t have enough energy left to tell the story and keep my emotions at bay. My voice sounded shrill and high, and by that time, my face was hot with spilled tears. Casey never looked away. Caring and strong, he silently gave me support. I didn’t want him to visualize it. To see any of it. Because the thought of him being in pain was unbearable to me. I could only imagine the hell that was seething inside him.

  “He started pulling my hair and it hurt so badly, Casey. It felt like he ripped my scalp off. I just wanted to leave. I was scared you were going to leave thinking I’d fucked it all up again. So many things kept running through my head. I tried to hit him. I fought back, but it wasn’t enough. Then he hit me in the face, and I thought I was going to pass out.

  “So I did the only thing I could think of and bit him. I bit hard until I tasted blood. I think he swung at me again, but when I didn’t let up, he let go and I fell backward. The expression on his face, when I was falling, w
asn’t even concerned. It wasn’t anything. It was just blank. Like he didn’t even care.” As I fell I only thought of Casey.

  I sniffled and Casey reached over to the nightstand to get me a tissue.

  “Here you go,” he said with such compassion. When I thought he was going to be enraged, and I’m positive he was on the inside, he was gentle and he cared for me.

  I sat up and blew my nose. He didn’t leave my side, sitting up with me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  It had only been the second time I’d told the story and by no stretch of the imagination had it been any easier than the first. Watching Casey’s anguished face, as I revealed step after step, had been agonizing. My heart was beating frantically, and my skin itched with each memory. I knew this was hurting him, and yet he asked me if I was okay. His quiet strength gave me the strength to answer him truthfully.

  “Yes. I just want it to be over. I just want him to go away,” I replied, finding some composure. Then I faced him. “But if he thinks he’s going to hurt you, or cause you trouble, he has another thing coming. I won’t allow it.”

  That was that.

  Be a dick to me. Harass me. Beat me and knock me down. But it would be over my dead body before he did anything to Casey. That included trying to put blame on him where it most certainly did not belong.

  “I don’t want to go through a trial. I want to move on, but so help me God, I will. I’m thinking about going to the police and just telling them everything,” I confessed.

  He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just sat next to me, probably wanting to kill him. The silence was too much to bear.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked as we settled back down into the bed. I was exhausted from the day. From telling him what happened. From thinking about what I should do. So curling up into his side, I patiently waited for the soothing rumble of his voice.