by Khan, Jen
I look to the family room and see Braden, Emma, and a beautiful blonde I have never met along with the cutest little boy who looks like her spitting image, only he’s missing two teeth in the front.
I smile at them and throw out a, “Hey!” I get a few heys back as I step down into the living room, squeezing my way in between Braden and Emma, placing my hand on her slightly swollen belly. I lean in and coo, “Hey, baby girl.”
“Baby girl? You mean baby boy,” Braden corrects. “My sperm is strong. It creates boys.”
Emma and I roll our eyes and giggle.
“It’s going to be a girl and we’re going to dress her up in anything and everything pink that we can find,” I respond.
Braden, Tristan, and Jake all groan.
The sliding glass door opens and Olivia comes barreling through it with a tray full of cooked brats. Emma and I leave the men to themselves and go to see what we can do to help. I wrap my arms around Olivia from behind and give her a tight squeeze before releasing her.
Emma clasps her hands together. “What can we do?”
“Do you know how to make potato salad?”
“I sure do. I could also eat it by the gallon.”
“Everything’s all set out.” Olivia jerks her head to the counter across the kitchen next to the fridge.
Emma bounces to the setup and gets to work.
“How about me, Livs? Whatcha got that I can help with?” I inquire.
Olivia jerks her head to the breakfast bar, where onions and peppers, a cutting board, and a butcher knife are placed. “You get the honors of chopping the toppings, gorgeous,” she replies.
When I move to the veggie station and get to chopping, the sound of the sliding glass door opening catches my attention. Jim’s head pops in.
He asks, “Can someone get me a beer? A man has to have a beer at all times while grilling his meat.”
I smile at him and rush to the fridge to get our chef a beer.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says with a wink and resumes manning his grilling station.
About an hour later, we are all sitting at the picnic table on the back porch. I
look around the table as everyone digs into their burgers, brats, and chicken, actually feeling like a part of something. Something bigger than what I had growing up. I felt like a part of a unit. The closest to a big family unit that I have ever experienced.
My mother was amazing, so I don’t want to discount her, but when my father went to jail, everyone in our family alienated us. It was as if we had done it to that poor woman ourselves. A guilty-by-association charge with no possibility of parole. She had to uproot me to a new town because the kids were brutal and their parents were even worse. They all knew what my father had done and they weren’t going to let me live my life forgetting it either. I was pushed, kicked, and tripped from behind. One day, a group of kids chased me all of the way home from the bus stop while throwing rocks at me and hollering, “Your daddy is a killer!”
That is what did it for Mom. She didn’t want to see me pay for the sins of my father any longer. So we moved from Spartanburg to Saluda, which is a town over from Tryon, and we began a new life. That’s where I met Emma. We became the best of friends instantly.
I never told her why my father is in jail. One day, it’ll come out. It always does. I know she won’t judge me though. She would never do something like that.
I glance across the table and see Tristan’s eyes on me. He is beaming. I peer down at my plate and grin. I feel his foot nudge mine under the table, my grin morphing into a full-blown smile. Things are going really well with the two of us. I just hope that we can keep up this streak.
The food is delicious. Jim really knows his way around a grill. The conversation at the table is light and easy. Everyone is clearly comfortable with one another and it all flows freely. The men talk sports while we ladies discuss Olivia’s business venture with Charlena.
Olivia goes on and on about the new product line and the difference between a clitoral vibrator and a ten-speed G-spot vibrator. Ten speeds! Somehow, I get roped into hosting a toy party.
When all finish up with our meal, we lug our dirty dishes to the kitchen, and now, I am sitting in the living room, surrounded by the women in my life and a newbie. Her name is Claire and her son’s name is Jett. He runs between the deck, where the boys are drinking beer and talking man speak, and us as we drink wine (except for Emma, who is nursing a glass of milk) and discuss women things. Claire is here with Jake, and I wonder if this is the girl from the strip club I’ve heard so much about. If so, I would be shocked considering how sweet and lovely she is. Completely unlike someone I would think of as a stripper. Then again, I don’t know anyone who is a stripper.
So I’m chillin’ with my home girls when, out of the blue, Emma, the nosy little bitch, inquires, “How are you and Tristan doing?”
To avoid answering her question for just a spell, I take a sip of wine and answer with my own question. “Pardon me?”
“It looks like you roped him in, honey,” Olivia notes.
Shit. I can’t talk about this with her.
“I, yeah, well…” I start but trail off, unsure of how to respond to them.
“Well, babe, we’re very excited to see the two of you finally working things out,” Emma says.
That really makes me smile. She smiles back.
“Be careful, honey. I love my brother with all of my heart. Just be careful.” My gaze moves to Olivia. She leans in and warns, “Do not let Tristan get away with anything. He’s gotten away with everything all of his life because of what happened to him with Mom. I get that he has a right to some of the shit he’s done to work it out, but there is no excuse, shitty circumstances in his past or not, to hurt someone else. Especially someone as beautiful as you. Got me?”
“I—“I begin, but I get cut off by Emma.
“Tristan is a good man, Olivia. People grow up. From what I’ve seen out of him lately, he’s making a lot of progress. Trying to be a good person. And I think that he’s doing it for you,” she finishes, tipping her chin at me at the end.
I am so relieved that she feels the same way that I do. I have seen Tristan’s remarkable transformation firsthand.
“I understand that, but he does have a questionable past. My only concern is that he may not be ready for you yet,” Olivia said.
My head jerks back in her direction.
“Olivia!” Emma snaps. “Give him a break. Everyone has their demons. Some take longer to work through than others.”
“How is the sex?” a small, shy voice asks.
All three of us gape at Claire, who is looking back at us like a scared deer.
“I, well… It’s… We’ve only done it a few times, but—“I stammer, not sure why I didn’t just tell her that I don’t share with strangers.
“I’m sorry. I was out of line. It’s just—“
“No, that’s a great question,” Emma interrupts. “Is he attentive to your needs? Does he make sure he carries you to the finish line before he gets his in?”
“Jesus Christ. Why the hell must you females do this to me? Do you realize how disgusting it is to hear you two horny bitches discuss taking out your hornballish ways on my brothers?” Olivia cries.
“Well, I have to say, your brother Braden is quite the manhandler in the sack.” Emma giggles while holding her baby bump.
“Tristan can be quite creative. When he draws an orgasm out of me, it’s mind blowing,” I second.
“You bitches are killing me!” Olivia moans.
“Jake gave me my first orgasm and I have a kid,” Claire giggles.
“LULULULULULULULULULULULULULULULULULU!” Olivia wails.
We all laugh hysterically while teasing Olivia until I have to go to the bathroom and excuse myself to take care of business.
When I finish, I head down the dimly lit hall to return to the living room to rejoin my girls when an image on the wall catches my eye. I stop and stare at the be
autiful woman in the photograph. She has two little boys holding on to her legs and a baby in her arms. She has dark-brown hair sprinkled lightly with red highlights and brown eyes that barely contain their glow. She is a happy woman with an indescribable smile. She is also very familiar. Maybe it’s because she is clearly Tristan’s mother, but there is something else about her that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I continue my trek to the living room when it dawns on me. The impact of the realization hits me like a ton of bricks to the head. My entire body jerks and I have to use the wall to hold myself up before my knees give out. I do know that woman in the picture. I just can’t believe it.
I saw photos of her after my father went to jail. They were all over the news. My mother tried shielding me from it, but it was a wasted effort. I would see her picture and immediately feel the guilt that was always sure to follow.
I slowly back up to the woman on the wall, tears streaming down my face, and whisper, “No.” I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. This beautiful woman who lost her life way too soon due to the carelessness of my father was the mother of the man and the family I am falling in love with.
The emotion knocks me off my feet, the air leaving my lungs. I slide down the wall, knees to chest, wrapping my arms around them as if protecting myself from storm that is sure to come next. I just need a minute to get my shit together. What the hell am I going to do?
I hear footsteps coming down the hall, which snaps me out of it and brings me back to my feet. I wipe my face from the tears that have stained it.
Emma eyes me curiously. “Why are you crying, honey?”
I shake my head rapidly, not willing to answer that question at this time. “I have to get out of here.”
“Holly? Talk to me, love.”
I can’t talk to her. Not about this. This could ruin everything. No, correction. It is going to ruin everything. After all of these years, it still comes back to haunt me. I’ll never escape it. Guilt digs her talons into my skin with such a grip that I will never be rid of it as it threatens to rip the flesh from my bones.
When I pass her, her hand wraps around my arm. I look down to where we are connected and meet Emma’s eyes.
“I love you, baby doll, but I just can’t right now. Okay?”
She gives me an expression of understanding and a light squeeze before releasing me. I don’t know how I am going to handle this. What I do know is that, once Tristan and the rest of them find out about me, I will never be welcome in this house or their lives again. Now that Emma is marrying Braden and having his baby, I wonder what that means for our friendship.
I sit at the long, metal table nearest to the window, watching my hands as I twiddle my thumbs, waiting on him to show up. The guard escorted me into the brightly lit visiting room and immediately left to retrieve the man I haven’t seen in almost five years. The last time I was here, he eyeballed me with a look of disappointment. He never forgave me for having called him out on his lies, even though I was just a young girl at the time.
My head lifts and I see Dad approach. Joshua Hart is a handsome man. He gave me his thick, brown hair and dark eyes. His hair has faded to almost all gray but in an attractive way. He is a broad man and has kept himself in shape. I’m guessing there’s not much else a man can do while in prison.
If he weren’t such an enormous dickhead and hadn’t caused the hit-and-run that took a woman’s life, he would be a real looker. Instead, you can read all over his face what a miserable sack of shit he is.
“Holly,” he greets. That is the first word he has spoken to me in five years and he did it in a voice that was made of pure ice.
I decide that I will respond in a more dignified manner as opposed to the, “Sperm donor,” reply that I really want to dish at him. Instead, I go with, “Dad.”
“I hear that you’re doing well out there in Greenville. Got yourself a cushy job working for the state as a paralegal, is it?”
I don’t feel the need to reply. He already knows the answer. So I keep my mouth shut.
“Heard your mama is doing well. How is the bitch who turned her back on her husband, sending him to rot in this hell whole?”
I feel my eyes blink in surprise. My mind processes what he had the nerve to say to me.
“Mom is doing great. Considering the fact that she had to pack up and relocate with a child because her loser husband couldn’t leave the drink alone.” I shrug. “I think she’s done quite well for herself.” I scan his face, watching his jaw tick and his eyes harden on me. “I see that life hasn’t been good for you, old man. Your age is showing.”
Dad’s mouth gets tight and his eyes flash with fury. His hands, which are resting on the table, ball into fists.
I sigh and move us past this awkward greeting. “I need to know more about the woman.”
Dad huffs out a hard breath. “What do you need to know? She’s dead. There ain’t nothin’ I can do about that now.”
It amazes me how little regard he shows for a life lost due to his careless mistake. You would think that, after being in prison for so long, a man would have a ‘come to Jesus’ moment. Not my father. I can’t believe my mother ever saw anything in this man.
“Mom always kept everything hidden from me. She didn’t feel the need to give me all of the gruesome details. Said that I was too young and had gone through enough as it was. I need to know who she was, Dad.”
“Why?”
“Because it is important to me,” I respond.
My father sits across the table, his eyes assessing me.
“What was her name?”
He slouches back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Alexis Holt. Wife and mother of four. She had one of her kids with her in the car that night. He survived, but just barely. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
My world just stopped turning the minute he said her name. I can’t breathe. Beads of sweat form over my brow and my heart threatens to burst through my chest. All of this and I already knew what the answer was. I just needed to hear it from him.
This man will never understand to the full extent what he has done. He ruined so many lives, and he continues to do so while rotting in a jail cell. Just when I finally find a piece of happiness, a possibility of a future with love in it, he rips it from my grasp.
“You son of a bitch! You don’t get it, do you? You ruined the lives of a man and his four children, almost killing one of them, by ripping his wife and their mother from them!”
“Yeah, Holly, I know. Been sitting here in orange for quite some time now, paying for that little mishap,” he responds bitterly.
“Little mishap? You consider killing a woman a little mishap?”
“It’s not like I meant to do it. Besides, what the hell was she doing out so late at night with one of the kids anyhow? She should have been at home where she belonged.”
I slap my hands on the top of the table and shoot up out of my seat. “I was in the car with you!” I scream at him. My eyes slice around the room. When I notice the guard coming toward me, I hold my head up in a way to ward him off and let him know that I will take it down a notch. I notice that all eyes in the visiting room are now on me as I struggle with regulating my breathing.
Dad leans forward and hisses, “When are you gonna get over that?”
I’ve had enough. If I stay much longer, I will lose my lunch all over him. “I’m done. That’s all I needed.” I sling my purse over my shoulder and turn on my heels, clicking across the room. Before I make it to the door, I turn and give him one last look. “You are a mean, miserable old man and I hope that you rot in here for the rest of your life. Once your sorry excuse for a life is over, I hope that you burn in hell for all of your sins.”
He knifes out of his chair and roars, “I’ve paid for my sins!”
“No! I’m the one paying for your sins.” I whirl around and quickly walk out the door.
A little over a week after the barbecue over at the Holt ho
use, I am getting ready to head over to Tristan’s for a date. I give myself a once-over in the mirror and take in my red sweater dress, turning to check the back. I always look great in red when I actually wear it. This dress is form fitting, hitting me just above the knee with a deep scoop neck that displays a generous helping of cleavage. The sleeves are short.
I decide on a half-down, half-up do, allowing for that pesky strand of hair at the front to lie freely where it may. I’ll end up tucking it behind my ear all evening. I apply a little extra makeup, going for the smoky-eye look and red lips to go with the dress. I look hot.
The boots are my favorite part. They are black, leather knee-highs with a nice heel.
I feel sexy.
I drive to Tristan’s house in a constant state of anxiety. I have fallen in love with him and I don’t know how much time I have left with him, so I plan to make whatever time I do have count.
His gym-slash-apartment comes into view and my heart kicks into overdrive. When I get out of the car, I see the front door to the gym open. Tristan is in jeans and a dark-gray button-up. He went semi dressy knowing that I always like to dress nice for him.
I grab my bag, shut my door, and engage the alarm, locking it up. I gradually make my way up the sidewalk, meeting Tristan’s eyes. He is standing at the entrance, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest, watching me as I approach.
I take a deep breath and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as to not take a nose dive onto the pavement. When I get within a few feet of him, he takes my hand in his and guides me through the gym to the stairs that lead to his apartment. We climb up and he steps aside, letting go of my hand and applying it to the small of my back as he ushers me inside.
One second, I am walking through the door, and the next, I have my back against it. Tristan leans into me, one arm around my waist, one hand in my hair, and his tongue in my mouth. He tightens his grip in my hair. Our hands are roaming each other’s bodies. I feel the area between my legs dampen.