I promised her forever, and she was fading too fast.
Three loud raps on the door startled me, pulling me back into the present, even further from Taylor. If it were possible, I’d crawl into a dark memory of her and never come back out. But I knew that there was nothing else beyond this world. How could there be? What God would steal away someone who was so loved, in the prime of her life? So I was stuck here, without her, until I wasn’t and we both were no more.
“I’m busy,” I choked out, embarrassed that I’d let myself be overcome with my grief.
“I just want to talk,” Daven spoke quietly as if he could see the cloud of turmoil that engulfed me. The door opened before I could protest further. His eyes had met mine before he looked to the ground between us, offering me a small window of privacy. “I know you don’t want to talk about her. You don’t have to.” He glanced up at me, nodding once to reassure me he would keep his word and not force me to relive the past. “But I think you and I have more in common than you realize. There was a reason ya’ mamma was okay with sending you here. She thought it might be good for you to see...” He cleared his throat, and I could tell it was growing thick with pain. “To see that life goes on and the suffering gets easier. I tried to tell her I wasn’t a role model.” He laughed nervously as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and I could see his internal struggle as he grappled with the thought of opening up to me.
Daven crossed the room, running his fingertip over the top of one of the crib railings before wiping the dust that collected on his fingertip onto his well-worn jeans. Daven was a country boy, not known for their emotional side but looking at him now, I could see he understood everything I’d been feeling.
“His name was Daven Allen Beckett the second,” a ghost of a smile spread on his face before he shook his head and tears sparkled in his eyes. “My p'tit boug.”
“What happened?” My stomach tightened as I awaited his confession.
“His momma, Julia, she... she was smart as a whip. Went to Tulane University majoring in child psychology when she was twenty-six. Met her at the Anba Dlo Festival. She won my heart dressed as maw maw June, ya’ great grandmamma. She’d tell you she was the Bride of Frankenstein, but it was hard to tell the difference.” He laughed, scratching his forehead with the nail of his thumb as he let himself get lost in his memory. “She was somethin’ else.”
Swallowing, he looked down at his palms as if they’d held the answer to his pain as if the wounds of stigmata would appear from all of the sacrifices he’d made. “Never did make it to graduation. When she couldn’t hide her gros ventre any longer, we moved up here to be closer to my family so I could take care of her and ‘da baby. I had no idea what the hell I was doing but she... she seemed so confident. She trusted me with... everything. We got married in Shreveport when she was seven months along. She glowed.” Lines marred his forehead as he rubbed his hand over his chest as if he was physically alleviating the ache in his heart.
I let my eyes close, not wanting to witness this incredibly personal moment, but I felt it deep inside of myself. “I’m sorry.” I opened my eyes to see that he was staring at me now, not ashamed of his grief and allowing it to flow freely down over his cheeks.
“Don’t be sorry. I’ll never be sorry for having the little bit of time we had.” I could hear the regret in his voice and knew that wasn’t entirely accurate. While he wouldn’t have given away those moments together, he wished he could have had more. I knew because I was just as selfish. I had spent countless nights praying Taylor would have more time, even though I knew she would have suffered, just because I wasn’t ready to let go.
“She stopped by Sabine Bank down in Beauregard Parish so she could get groceries for dinner. I had to work late, and she had her heart set on crab cakes with remoulade sauce.” His head shook from side to side, and I could see it, the same look I saw whenever I looked in the mirror. He blamed himself. Her pain still coursed through his veins, decaying, and eating away at his soul. “Some guy decided to rob the bank that day. He tried to take Julia’s purse, and she gave it to him, but he wanted her wedding band, and she refused. It was a mere twenty dollar band. It wouldn’t have meant nothing to nobody else but us. But he wanted it anyway. Man, ‘dat girl was stubborn as a mule. It’s one of the things I love... loved about her.” His eyes met mine as tears fell down his cheeks to the front of his shirt, but he smiled at the memory of her.
“I lost everything that day. They told me I was lucky. Can you imagine? My wife and my son were dead, and they said I was lucky I wasn’t with them. I’d survived. I couldn’t think of anything crueler. She must have been so scared.” His sank down on his haunches and cried unabashedly, his shoulders shaking as he struggled for more breath until his eyes ran dry. He made no effort to hide his sadness. “I may have survived, but this sure as hell ain’t livin’.”
4
EMERY
My eyes drifted from my stepdaddy’s empty chair to my brother, who was pushing a chunk of breaded chicken on his plate as his lip curled up in disgust. Flashes of my father made my heart sting. I could still see him, a silver can of beer in his hand, smirk on his face, as he told us of his latest adventures. By adventures, he meant crimes. But Daddy always said that there was nothing wrong with providing for your family. That was called survival, and it was something different, even if it wasn’t in the eyes of the law.
Once, I told Momma that when we would pray before dinner, I would try to talk to Daddy instead of God. That confession earned me an extra pill to swallow each morning and two weeks in a place that Momma said was like camp. I never told her about talking to Daddy again.
No one spoke after we’d said grace, and when the front door finally opened, I sighed audibly, wishing I’d eaten faster so I could avoid the usual lectures that followed my brother whenever he came home.
Dropping his gun belt by the china hutch and causing the dishes to rattle, Sutton tugged at his collar, yanking it loose from his neck. His dark, peppered hair was disheveled from a long, stressful day. “You didn’t need to wait for me,” he quipped, and my mother snorted, her dinner already half-eaten. Unbuttoning his cuffs, he rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, unveiling a faded tattoo of a Celtic cross hidden under his clothing. He played a clean-cut lawman well, but he had a troubled past, and that was what made him interested in law. It also made him strict when it came to parenting. He knew what young guys thought, he’d say.
“We’d starve if we waited for you every day. You were supposed to be home an hour ago.” Her sarcastic tone wasn’t bitter, but most people around here didn’t seem to understand her humor like they did back East.
“Well, I’d save a lot of money on gym memberships, and maybe I wouldn’t have to work such long hours.” Sutton pressed his lips to the top of my mother’s head as he rounded the table, rolling his eyes at her comment, but he was clearly amused. “One of us has to work, Melony.”
“Putting up with you doesn’t count as work, Sutton?” Her eyebrow rose as her emerald eyes locked onto his, narrowing. Their relationship had become strained over the years, and my brother overdosing on pills only a few months ago had been enough to break them down. Unfortunately for me, I was the one left living at home with them, so they became overbearing and making it nearly impossible to break out of my shell and live a little. I was determined to change that this year. I wanted to make friends. I was sick of feeling so alone.
“They found a body off the highway.”
“Sutton, not in front of the kids.”
“These kids are smart enough to know that if you don’t live a good, clean, Christian life, you could end up dead in a gutter. Just look at their father.”
Momma’s mouth hung open like a fish struggling to breathe out of water.
“They should be thankful you found the lord.”
All Momma found was Sutton’s online dating profile. He was an easy mark. Stealing a heart was just as easy as takin’ money.
I bit back the sting of his words. It didn’t hurt any less from when they’d sat us down a few years ago and told us our daddy had been killed in a robbery gone wrong. They didn’t say whether he was the one being held up, but they didn’t need to. I knew what kind of person my father was. I loved him just the same. They said he was buried under a crooked palm in Midway, overlooking Lake George where we used to swim during the summer when we didn’t want to go all the way to the beach.
“I was wondering if I could go to the mall later with some friends. I need to finish school shopping.” I looked to my brother before glancing back to Sutton who had just settled into his chair at the head of the table.
He groaned, picking up his silverware and eyeing his food as if trying to determine what it was.
“What friends?” My mother swirled the thick, crimson liquid in her glass before tilting it to her lips and draining the contents over her tongue. Sutton cleared his throat loudly, and she gave him a hard glare before setting down her glass.
“I have friends,” I protested but I only really had one, and my momma couldn’t stand her.
“I’ll take her,” Eli spoke up, and I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn’t be forced to lie. I knew I’d owe him later and I really hoped he’d make up with his boyfriend and skip town before that number was called.
“Thanks,” I mouthed in his direction, and he smiled.
“We’ve discussed this.” Sutton shook his head as if trying to erase the doubt from his mind. “Keep an eye on her, Eli. I mean it. I’ve had a long day, and I don’t want to have to deal with any of your shit too. There’s only so much I can do to keep you out of a cell,” Sutton mumbled with a mouth full of cold green beans.
My cheeks flamed when I thought of the possibility of going all the way to the mall with the guy across the street. The drive alone would take about an hour. Maybe with the few days left before school, I could convince him that I wasn’t a loser. It would be nice to go to high school with someone by my side. Bridget Smith was the only friend I had, and her parents had begun to homeschool her after being taunted and teased. I almost didn’t make it through last year on my own, and I didn’t want to be alone again.
Bridget and I have been friends since I’d moved to town when I was nine, but we barely had anything in common besides being social outcasts. Her southern snark kept everyone at arm’s length, and her bombshell looks didn’t help either. The other girls spread rumors like wildfire about her when she’d begun to develop. But worse was the sudden attention she’d received from all the boys. It made her withdrawal even further.
“When do I ever get into trouble?” I shook my head, disappointed that no matter how well I’d always behaved, they still treated me as if I’d rob the gas station the first time I was turned loose on my own.
“I see it every day,” Sutton mumbled, and I wanted to scream. Just because other kids were breaking the law, didn’t mean I would. “Nothing but heathens around this town. You see that boy living across the street with Daven? This neighborhood is going to hell. Just watch. Housing prices are going to drop.”
“Can’t get in trouble if you never let me leave the house.”
“I’d just feel better if you had someone with you that we trust. Maybe Marcus can take you.” My stepfather was staring at me now, and I felt myself sink down in my seat under his glare. I’d have protested, but it wouldn’t have been polite.
“You can trust Eli.”
Marcus Salt had lived three doors down from me since we moved to Louisiana. He’d always been obsessed with science. He would drone on for hours on end about the solar system. He became instant friends with my brother because my stepdaddy worked with his momma, and he was the only one who didn’t fall into a coma when he spoke. But all of that changed Eli’s senior year.
“Besides, Marcus is busy hanging out with older kids,” I groaned.
“More mature,” Sutton countered. “It would do you some good to make friends with those who have a good head on their shoulders. Never too early to prepare for college.”
“I haven’t even started high school yet.”
He grunted, his eyes scrutinizing me. “Wash that dirt off your face before you leave. You look like a harlot.”
“Yes, sir,” I groaned.
“Danny and I broke up,” Eli spoke up, changing the subject once more.
My stepfather groaned but didn’t look up from his plate. “It’s for the best,” he said without looking up.
“Eli’s heart is broken,” I scolded him as I took a sip from my glass of water.
His fork clanged against his plate as he looked at my brother, his eyes darting to me with concern. My mother pushed from her seat, taking her wine bottle with her as she staggered into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he mumbled before taking another bite of his food, his jaw working hard against the tough pork chop. “Maybe now would be a good time for you to focus on college as well.”
If you asked either of them if they cared if we were gay, they would respond with an emphatic no. They would say that our happiness was all that mattered. But ignoring the truth was not the same as accepting it, and that was something neither of them seemed to understand. My brother had been screaming out for help and his calls, ironically, fell on deaf ears.
My stomach was still empty by the time we’d finished dinner and cleared our plates, but I couldn’t take any more time engaging in pointless conversation while we all tried desperately to ignore who each really was. Eli pretended none of it bothered him, but I knew that wasn’t true.
It was heartbreaking to witness, and every day, I watched my brother slip further and further away from himself as he let a myriad of drugs replace his feelings. He was plagued by demons, the kind that disappeared in a clouded breath and created synthetic elation. Eli’s first love was snorting Vicodin – crushed, and crippling. It didn’t take long for him to move on to things I’d only ever seen on television. Everyone around him ignored who he really was no matter how hard he tried to be himself. He was the most courageous person I knew, but also the loneliest. Even more so than me.
My drug of choice was poetry, if you didn’t count the laundry list of prescriptions I was on. I didn’t. I enjoyed telling the lies of love, giving false hope to the hopeless. Drugs and words were one and the same. They could hurt or heal, depending on the dealer.
The sound of a muffled engine from outside pulled me from my self-loathing. I hurried to my window, running my fingertips along the sheer brown curtain as I peered out at Ford, who was slipping out of his oversized black car. His dark hair was short but messy enough to run his fingers through, his back broad and muscular. He had to be at least a few years older than me, but it didn’t stop my eyes from roaming. I bet he was a junior... maybe even a senior.
Grabbing my black-rimmed glasses from my nightstand, I pushed them up the bridge of my nose. They were the kind hipsters wore to be ironic, or whatever it was that they hoped the look achieved. I was nearsighted, and I hated them. I squinted my eyes as I read over the chrome writing on the back of the vehicle that read Impala.
“Impala,” my cherry-stained lips popped as I said the word to myself, my eyes dancing down his fitted black T-shirt and over the back of his dark wash jeans that hung low on his hips. As if he could hear me, he spun around, and I gasped, jumping back from the window as the lacy curtain swayed from my sudden departure. My hand went to my stomach as it flipped, my feet shuffling forward so I could catch another glance at him just to ensure he wasn’t a figment of my overactive imagination. He had something small in his hand as he slammed the door shut and disappearing inside of the Beckett’s ranch style home. I smiled to myself as I fell back onto my bed, relishing in the sudden feeling of euphoria that swam through my veins.
I grabbed Romeo and Juliet and began to flip through the pages, an old sepia photo of my family fluttering to my lap, my eyes skimming over the words as my imagination drifted off into another place.
I wondered how long Ford would be in town. Daven said he didn’t want to take him school shopping so he should be here for a little while.
I chewed on my lip to fight against my smile. This guy may not even want to talk to me, and even if he did, one look at Bridget and I wouldn’t stand a chance. I grabbed my cell phone from my nightstand, tugging on it until the charger cord fell free.
I dialed Bridget and put the call on speakerphone as I sang along with her ringback tone.
“Bridget speaking,” she announced, already sounding bored. I could picture her staring down at her freshly painted neon-colored nails as if it was too much of a bother to speak to me, her only friend.
“Summers over and we wasted it,” I groaned, flipping onto my back as I stared up at the popcorn ceiling covered in little plastic glow stars.
“Speak for yourself. I’ve watched every season of The Office three times. What have you done with your life, loser?”
“Your parents must be so proud. I’ve read twenty-seven books.” Rolling my eyes, I jumped as I heard the distant roar of an engine outside. It sounded ferocious like the growl of a lion, definitely not belonging to any of the old people who lived on our street.
“Gross. This is why you don’t have any friends.”
“I have you.” I slid from my bed and sank to my knees as I pushed my curtain to the side as I let Bridget ramble on, unable to focus on her words. Whenever her voice would pause, I’d fill the space by agreeing until I heard her break out in a fit of laughter.
“What?” I ducked down slightly when Ford rounded the back of his car, digging something out of the trunk before resuming his work under the hood.
“You’re not even listening to me.”
“Yes, I am,” I shot back defensively.
“Really? So you really do enjoy eating dog crap?”
Groaning, I let the curtain swing back in front of my face, but I kept my gaze locked ahead.
“I have this new neighbor, and he’s... weird.”
Something in the Water Page 4