Say When

by Tara West

  “That gaudy nightmare?” A shrill burst of laugher escapes my throat. “I don’t even like that bed.”

  “Liar,” she snaps. “You begged me to buy it.”

  Rage overpowers me. I’m so beyond angry, I finally snap. “That’s because I couldn’t stand sleeping in a rape bed!” I scream.

  I’ve kept my father’s molestation a secret for so long because I didn’t want to hurt my mother. I always thought there was no sense in ruining both of our lives, but the woman has obviously never given a damn about me. Telling her about it will do no good because my abuser is dead now, but I’m not trying to do good. I’m trying to hurt her like she’s always hurt me.

  When she just stands there, this vacant stare in her eyes, I can’t tell if she’s in shock, or just doesn’t care. I tell myself it has to be shock. No mother would be that cruel. I should have kept that secret locked away. I curse myself for deliberately hurting my mother. Sure, she’s an evil, sadistic bitch, but that doesn’t mean I need to be one, too.

  But there’s nothing I can do about it now. I walk past my mother, who’s turned to stone.

  When I walk outside, nearly blinded by the hot, Texas sun, I notice Karri’s mom’s car parked in the driveway. I lift open the hatch on my vehicle and place my bag of clothes inside.

  To my surprise, Karri walks up to me. She’s got this sheepish look on her face, like a kid who was caught with her hand in the candy jar.

  “Hey.” She nods toward my open trunk. “You moving out?”

  “Yeah.” I push my bag to the back and make room for my art supplies. “I got an apartment.”

  I turn to her; she’s rocking on her heels. She’s not wearing any makeup. Her skin is a ghostly pallor. Her eyes are framed by dark circles and heavy lines. I realize she looks far older than me, even though we’re only separated by a few months. That’s what heavy drugs will do to a person.

  “My mom told me you got a job.” She smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. “Awesome.” She’s really not happy for me. Or maybe she’s just not happy in general.

  “So your mom bailed you out?” I lean against my trunk and fold my arms over my chest. My gaze shoots to my upstairs bedroom window. I don’t see my mother, which could be a good sign. Still, I need to finish it up with Karri fast. I don’t trust that woman alone with my paints.

  Karri shrugs, averting her gaze. “No. Someone else did.”

  I arch a brow but don’t say anything. Who is this “someone else?” I’m afraid she probably owes a favor to one of her druggie boyfriends.

  Karri chews on her lower lip, her gaze darting to me before she looks away again. “I’m going away to rehab. Maybe for several months.”

  I gasp. Rehab is expensive. I fear Karri’s mom and dad will go broke, but I’m also hopefu Karri will finally straighten out. And then I worry about Tyler.

  “Your mom’s going to take care of Tyler all that time?”

  She shakes her head, keeping her gaze downcast. “No, that’s what I came over to tell you.” When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are glossy and red-rimmed. “I’ve been a bad friend, Christina. A really bad friend.” She sniffles and lets out a mournful sob. “I’m sorry.”

  I grab Karri and pull her to me, wrapping her in a tight hug. I’m hoping to soothe her, but this makes her bawl even more. “It’s okay.” I pat her on the back like I do to Tyler whenever he’s upset. “The important thing is you are going to get professional help.”

  She jerks out of my embrace. The feral look in her eyes reminds me of a wounded animal. “No! That’s not what I’m talking about.” She drags the back of her hand across her watery eyes. “Jackson’s parents bailed me out. They’re paying for my rehab.” She ends on another sob and hugs herself.

  “Jackson’s parents?” I ask, feeling momentarily confused, but when the realization hits me like a brick to the head, I want so much to deny the truth. “Why them?” I rasp.

  More tears flow down her face. “I just told them about Ty yesterday. They’re doing it for him. They don’t give a shit about me, but it’s free therapy, so I’ll take it.” She lets out a bitter laugh as she rolls her eyes. “I told you I was a bad friend.”

  My brain is still trying to process what I’m hearing. What’s now so very obvious. “You fucked my fiancé?”

  Karri bites her lip and nods. “It was the weekend you went to that sorority retreat. We met at a party. I wasn’t going to fuck him, but he promised me cocaine.”

  I should be angry, but I’m disgusted more than anything. “You fucked him for drugs?”

  Her shoulders and arms tremble. She’s still crying, and now her nose is running, too. I wonder if she’s genuinely upset that she hurt me, or maybe embarrassed she fucked a guy for drugs, or maybe she’s just in need of a good fix.

  “He kept telling me you wouldn’t mind, since we’d already had that threesome. It was a shitty thing to do, Christina, and I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to be my friend.” She looks at me and winces, kind of like she’s expecting me to strike out. I can’t stand to listen to another minute of her bullshit. Pain grips my chest, squeezing my heart in a vise, but I don’t let her see how much I’m hurting. I don’t give a damn that my fiancé cheated, but it is different with Karri. Even though we’ve had our differences, I’m not expecting such a betrayal.

  I march toward the house, so ready to put this life behind me.

  “Where are you going?” she calls.

  I don’t answer as I continue walking and slam the door.

  My mom is no longer in my bedroom, so I am able to pack the rest of my stuff in peace. Well, relatively in peace, except for the dark thoughts that plague me. As I’m packing away my drawings, I come across the sketch I did of Ty. I remember how long that picture took me, and I realize now why I had such difficulty drawing his smile. Tyler has Jackson’s smile. Maybe that was my subconscious denying the truth.

  I should throw this drawing away, but I can’t. Despite who his parents are, I love that baby. I clutch his image to my chest and fall to my knees, crying, as a wave of grief washes over me. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so blind?

  I’ve trusted Karri all this time, and she’s turned out to be nothing more than a user. I’ve told Karri some of my darkest secrets, including the one about my dad.

  Wait.

  Realization washes over me and I shoot to my feet, tossing the portrait into the box. Karri never kept that secret about my dad. That’s why my mom stared at me with that frozen expression instead of asking me what I meant about the rape bed. She already knew!

  I storm toward my mom’s bedroom. I don’t bother knocking when I throw open the door.

  She’s sitting at her cosmetics table, applying makeup to her already heavily painted eyes.

  I clench my hands and walk up to her. “Why didn’t you act surprised about the rape bed?”

  Mother doesn’t say anything as she unwinds a tube of lipstick and applies the red gloss to her lips.

  I feel like the wind has been sucked out of me, and I sway on my feet. She knew. All this time she knew!

  Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I fight desperately to hold them back. I will not allow this woman, this horrible woman, to know how much she’s hurt me. “Why didn’t you do anything to help me?”

  Mother turns, and beneath all that heavy makeup, I can see her eyes are foggy. Has she been crying? Does The Spitting Cobra actually have feelings?

  “I was afraid.” Her lower lip trembles as she speaks. “Your father is twice my size. What was I supposed to do?”

  I shake my head. I refuse to let my mother get off that easily. The moment she found out, she should have filed for divorce at the very least. Despite the trembling in my limbs, and the churning in my gut, I jut my chin forward. I don’t care what it takes. I will make this woman realize her inaction was wrong. Terribly wrong!

  “You could have called the cops!” I yell.

  Mother gasps, splaying
a manicured hand across her chest. “That kind of scandal would have ruined our family!” The mock horror in her features is almost comical. “I confronted him the next day, and believe me, Christina, your father felt terrible about it.”

  “The next day?” I barely breathe the words as shock numbs my brain. “The day after Karri told you?”

  She tilts her head and squints her eyes. “Told me what?”

  I feel like I’m sinking into quicksand. It’s like my legs weigh a ton, and it takes all of my strength not to fall over. Memories wash over me. I screamed. Father slapped me and told me he’d slap me harder if I made another sound, but that scream was so loud, I was sure my mother would hear and come save me.

  But she never did. And now I know why. My mother has never given a shit about me. Never.

  White-hot rage consumes me. I let out a strangled cry before bearing down on her with a snarl. “You heard me screaming! You knew I was being raped and you did nothing!”

  I run into her bathroom, slamming the door behind me as the knot in my gut suddenly unravels. I barely make it to the toilet before I’m heaving. I vomit for so long, I’m sure I’ve lost my breakfast and all of my dinner from last night. My eyes and throat are burning from the noxious smell, but I continue to throw up until nothing is left but bile.

  There is tapping on the outside of the door. “Christina, dear, are you okay?” Her voice is laced with sugary sweetness. “Do you need tissues?”

  That’s what she was saying, but I knew what she was thinking: “Try not to make a mess. I don’t have a housekeeper anymore.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Andrés doesn’t know what to expect when he rings the doorbell to Christina’s house, but it certainly isn’t a half-naked, drunk woman wielding an ivory statuette like a weapon.

  “I don’t have any money,” she slurs. “My stupid dead husband blew it all on that secretary he was fucking. He didn’t leave me shit for savings, either. All I got is this goddamn big house and a spoiled bitch daughter.”

  Andrés blinks hard, thinking the crazed woman before him has to be an illusion. “I’m looking for Christina. She was supposed to be at my apartment hours ago, and I’m worried something happened.”

  “Oh.” Her cool eyes sink into their sockets. The paper-thin skin on her face looks ready to split open as she pulls her lips back with a hiss. Andrés is reminded of a poisonous serpent preparing to strike. “You’re the not-stupid, but poor, Mexican? We were just fighting because of you. Now she’s gone.” She rears her head back and snarles.

  Andrés takes a step back, fearing the woman will launch an attack any minute. “Gone?” he summons the nerve to ask, even as a lead weight settles in his gut. “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” The woman waves the statue in front of her, looking like she’s trying to swat an invisible fly. “But one thing I do know, my daughter was raised with wealth and privilege.” She eyes Andrés with disdain. “She will not last long as your girlfriend, but it will be too late. Jackson won’t want her and her future will be ruined.”

  Andrés barely remembers thanking the woman for her time as he finds his way to his truck. He’s always suspected he isn’t worthy of happiness, especially not with a girl like Christina, and now her mother has just confirmed it. Still, he has to find out what happened to Christina. She hasn’t answered any of his phone calls or text messages. He needs to know she’s okay. He can’t live with himself if something has happened to her. There’s only one place he knows of that she could be, her friend’s apartment with the little yappy dog. He only hopes he can find her there.

  * * *

  I don’t know how I have the strength, let alone the willpower, but Grace and I move all of my stuff into the tiny apartment, plus we carry her futon downstairs through the narrow doorway and set it below my bedroom window.

  The sun has finally gone down. I don’t know the time, because I turned off my phone hours ago. There’s no one I want to talk to. I just want to shut out the world. Grace won’t leave me alone. She knows I’m upset, but I tell her I’m too exhausted to talk, so she finally goes to her apartment.

  That’s when I fall onto my makeshift bed and sob. I cry so hard and for so long, I’m nearly in a stupor when I hear a heavy banging on my front door. I lie there in a motionless heap, hoping whoever it is will tire of knocking and go away.

  But the knocking continues, louder and louder, until I’m afraid it will wake all of the other tenants in the building. I can’t get kicked out just after I’ve moved in.

  I heave myself off the bed. I’m sore and tired, and it takes all of my energy to trudge to the door. When I look through the peephole, I burst into tears.

  Andrés is on the other side. I wonder how he knew where to find me, but I remember he’s taken me to Grace’s apartment before. He probably went there first, which means Grace is awake. I look through the peephole again, and her head peeks out from behind his shoulder.

  Damn. I don’t want to talk to anyone now, him least of all. How do I explain to Andrés the state I’m in? How do I tell him about my past? I can’t tell him. What would he think of me if he finds out I came from such sick, twisted parents? How would he feel, knowing he made love to a woman who’s been violated by her father?

  Just the thought of what my dad did to me makes me feel unclean, but there’s not enough soap in the world to purge that man’s taint from my memories. I clutch my sides, bracing myself for the surge as disgust and self-loathing wash over me, and I get the feeling of a thousand tiny insects crawling over my skin. For the past six years, I’ve been able to repress these emotions, but knowing my mother listened to me being raped and did nothing, I feel like I’m being raped all over again. All I want to do is go back to my bed and curl into a fetal ball. I do not want to talk to anyone. Not when I know they will never understand how I feel.

  “Christina!” Andrés calls as he bangs louder. “Open up!”

  “You’re going to wake my neighbors.” Grace hisses behind him.

  I slide the chain over the top lock and crack open the door.

  Andrés looks like shit. His hair is a mess and there’s a wild look in his eyes. “I’ve been worried about you.” His voice is a plea. I don’t know why I was expecting him to yell at me, but he doesn’t. He presses against the door, and I can hear the emotion in his voice. “Please let me in, mija.”

  “Andrés,” I groan. “Now’s not a good time. I have a bad headache.”

  I try to shut the door, but he blocks it with his hand. “I know about your fight with your mom.”

  “She told you?”

  His eyes are wide and misty, and I feel like shit for what I’m putting him through. “She says it’s my fault. She says I’m ruining your future.”

  That selfish bitch. Can’t she let me have one good thing in my life? This is her way of punishing me for moving out. But my mother takes vengeance to a whole new level of twisted. She isn’t just trying to wound me. She’s trying to crush me.

  “She’s lying,” I say in the firmest tone I can manage. “This isn’t about you, Andrés.”

  “Then who’s it about?”

  I shake my head as I choke on a sob. “I can’t say.”

  He pulls away and drops his arm. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re fighting with her.”

  “You’re not. Please, Andrés,” I beg, “I just need to be alone for a while.”

  When he turns and leaves without another word, I feel like I’m falling into an abyss, where everything good in my life is being pulled away from me. I close the door and lean my forehead against the wood, as silent tears fall to the tile beneath my bare feet. I have no idea how long I stand there, before I trudge back to bed and fall into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It starts the same way, just like every other nightmare he’s had. Andrés is navigating the Hummer down the windy incline. James is sitting beside him. Two fresh-faced soldiers, brand new to the unit, and to the Army, are in the bac
k. Andrés swerves when he sees the pothole, and the force of the blast knocks the vehicle on its side. It skids down the incline for several yards, and when it finally comes to a halt, James, or what is left of James, is lying on top of him.

  Andrés can’t do anything, he is so numbed from shock. The blast knocks out his hearing, and he drifts in and out of consciousness several times. He has no idea how long he lays there with his best friend’s body on top of him. Minutes? Hours? Of one thing he is certain: after the dust from the blast has settled, he hears not a sound from the other guys in the truck. Not a sound. But he scents their blood in the air. While he lays there in agony, waiting for help to arrive, he thinks he hears his friends’ lifeless corpses crying out to him, demanding to know why he dodged that pothole, when he should have known it was a trap.

  But then the dream changes, and as Andrés looks at his friend lying on top on him, his heart stills. James is gone, and in his place is a woman. They are no longer in the Hummer but in his bed. Long, auburn hair fans his body as she sobs against his chest.

  “Why are you crying, mija?” he asks her.

  But she doesn’t look up at him as she continues to cry harder. Finally, she speaks through a muffled sob. “My life is ruined because of you.”

  Andrés tries to soothe her by stroking her hair, but then the dream shifts again and James is back on top of him. Andrés squirms beneath the weight of his friend, despite the agonizing pain that shoots up his leg when he moves. Crying out, he chokes on stale blood and dust. When he finally awakes in a pool of sweat, chest heaving as he gasps for breath, Andrés knows without a doubt what that dream is trying to tell him. He’s no good for Christina. He’s no good for anyone.

  * * *

  I have no idea what time it is when I roll out of bed. I know it must be late. Great. I’m going to lose my new job and have no way to pay my bills. It takes me a while to find my phone beneath the heaps of clothes scattered all over the floor. When I power it on, I see it’s already nine am and I’ve got three missed voicemails.