My Unexpected Hope

by Tammy L. Gray

  He slid Betsy’s gear shift into drive and pressed on the gas. He passed Katie’s old house first, one of the few nonmanufactured homes on the street. She’d moved to the country the summer before second grade, but by then the bond they all shared surpassed any distance.

  Laila’s trailer came next, but Chad couldn’t make himself look. He’d spent the last seventy-two hours trying to remove her from his mind. Touching her had been a mistake. It’d only made the pain deeper, the ache more pronounced. He had thought getting rid of Ben would bring her back. But now, he knew Ben was only an excuse.

  She didn’t want to come back.

  Pressing his foot harder, Chad managed to lurch forward without the past ripping away at his memories. His dad only wanted to assert his authority, so Chad would play along. Let the man feel powerful for a few minutes and then go back to trying to rebuild his life.

  There were two cars in the drive when Chad finally pulled up to the house, if it could still be called a house. The porch hung at an odd angle, and one corner of the home was yellowing, most likely from water damage. The roof had leaked when Chad was a kid, and he doubted his father had ever fixed it.

  Lost in a sea of emotion, Chad closed his eyes and walked through the mantras he’d learned from his meetings.

  If nothing changes, then nothing changes.

  Chad hadn’t been back to this house since the day they buried his mom six years ago. She hadn’t been sick. Hadn’t complained of any aches or pains. She just simply died in her sleep one night. Doctors gave some medical reason, but Chad always knew her death was because life had finally beaten her down.

  The air caught in his lungs when he thought of his mother and the frail, wounded woman she’d become. He should have done more to ease her burden. He should have demanded that she leave the monster.

  Chad forced himself out of the truck and up the sidewalk. The grass needed cutting, and there were four cracked plastic chairs in a circle by the fire pit. Inside the pit were remnants of burnt logs, and abandoned aluminum cans dotted the grass around it.

  The front door was wide open, likely to air out the house that, on a good day, smelled like a brewery. Chad peeked his head inside and knocked.

  He was greeted not by his dad, but by a pretty brunette in a pair of dark jeans and a thin, flowy-looking blouse. Two large hoop earrings hung from her ears, and matching hoops dangled from her wrists.

  “You must be Chad,” the woman said warmly. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

  She appeared to be in her midthirties, but it was hard to judge because she had what he would call “old eyes.” Deep, soulful eyes that indicated a person had lived through several lifetimes already. Her poised posture and plastered smile hardly hinted at the hard times she’d likely seen, but the survivor in him immediately felt an odd kinship.

  “It’s nice to meet you . . .” Chad let the sentence hang on purpose.

  “Megan.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Megan.” He offered a hand, which she shook with very little strength. It was more like a touch than an actual handshake.

  “Your father is in the living room. He’ll be happy you came.”

  Chad did his best to swallow the sardonic snort that threatened to escape as he followed his father’s new girlfriend to the living room.

  When they walked in, his dad sat in a leather club chair, balancing a tumbler of brown liquid on his knee.

  Cheap whiskey at two in the afternoon. Different year, but the image was exactly the same. Chad tried to ignore the way his skin crawled as he looked at the man who’d wrecked every moment of his childhood. Years had passed since Chad had seen him, but he knew what signs to look for. The deep, etched lines, the broken capillaries, the overly bright sparkle in the same green eyes he’d inherited. Andrew Richardson was exactly as he’d been most of his life. Drunk.

  He hadn’t aged much despite pushing fifty. Dark brown hair with only a hint of gray at his temples, the same quick smile—used to charm and manipulate. Chad knew his father was still considered a very handsome man. But then again, Lucifer was also known for his beauty.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “I thought it wasn’t optional.”

  A smile appeared. “It wasn’t, but I’d like to think a part of you is glad to see your old man.”

  He could almost feel the leash tighten around his throat. “I’m not.”

  Megan stepped forward, her voice calm and eager. “Chad, would you like something to eat or drink? I can make whatever you’re in the mood for.”

  Chad took his eyes off his father to steal a glance at Megan and confirmed his earlier suspicion. His dad had already hurt her. Maybe not physically yet, as she didn’t seem to be hiding her arms, but that would come soon enough.

  The signs were easy to spot. The way she twitched with fear when his dad shifted in his chair, and rushed to interfere before Chad could set off the man’s temper. His mom had been the same way. Always moving, always reacting, always flattering, whatever it took to keep his father calm.

  “I’m fine. I don’t plan to stay long.” As Chad walked to the couch opposite his father and sat, he noticed that the man’s knuckles were white. He could tell his father was barely maintaining his composure.

  Concerned for Megan, Chad tossed her a look over his shoulder. “Would you mind giving us a minute?” If his dad was going to explode, the least Chad could do was take the brunt of the fury.

  Her eyes flashed to his father’s, a quick request for permission that made Chad’s muscles turn to lead. His dad offered only a quick nod, and dutifully, Megan disappeared.

  “She’s kinda young for you, don’t you think?” Disgust lined every syllable.

  “Yeah. That’s what I like about her. She’s still firm and perky.” He lifted his glass and swallowed the rest of its contents in one easy motion. “So, you’re back in town, I hear.”

  “For now.” Chad didn’t know what his dad wanted, but there was no doubt that an ulterior motive was responsible for this little reunion. “Why did you want to see me?”

  “What? A dad can’t miss his boy?”

  “Yeah, a dad can. You, however, have never been much of a father.” He shouldn’t poke him this way, but everything about being in this house without his mom made the atmosphere unbearable.

  His dad stiffened. “You’re trying to test me.”

  In the past, those blazing eyes and red cheeks would have made him flinch, but not anymore. Once he’d turned seventeen and gained an inch and twenty pounds on his father, Chad realized he no longer had to be afraid of him.

  “No. I’m just trying to find out why you blackmailed me into coming here.”

  His dad lifted his glass, just to realize it was empty. He sprung out of the chair, walked to the drink buffet by the wall, and poured until the tumbler was half full.

  “You always did have a problem with respect,” he said after drinking it down and pouring more. “This town watches you. And you not coming to see me for so long makes me look bad.” Steely eyes met his. “The Richardson name means a lot in this town, and I won’t have you disrespecting it.”

  “Then you’re delusional, Dad, because everyone knows you’re a slobbering drunk.”

  He whipped his head to look at him. “Watch your mouth.”

  Chad felt his own temper start to break. “Fine, then let’s get this circus act over with. What do you want from me?”

  His dad let out an annoyed grunt. “Word on the street says Barney hired you at the factory.”

  “So?”

  “So vouch for me. He’ll listen to you and give me another shot.”

  The man was certifiably insane. Barney would never hire him again. “Why do you even want a job? Mom’s insurance money should be . . .” And then the truth hit him like a fist. “You spent it all? That fast?”

  “I told you to watch your mouth!”

  “Or what?” Chad taunted, standing himself so his father didn’t have the upper hand. “You
gonna hit me? Maybe take a breather from hurting your new girlfriend?”

  His dad’s entire body went taut as he set down his glass on the chipping buffet.

  “You don’t think I recognize the behavior?” Chad continued to hiss out. “You don’t think I see the same soul-piercing agony that Mom buckled under before you killed her?”

  His dad stalked toward him, stopping only when they were a mere foot apart. For a second, Chad thought he might strike him, a jab to the jaw or, his favorite, a line drive to the stomach hard enough to knock the wind from him. Even worse, part of him wanted his dad to throw that punch, just so he could strike back. To smash his fist into the man’s pathetic face, and show him what it was like to get hit by someone who was supposed to love you.

  But his dad didn’t lift his hand, and neither did he. The sour scent of booze pelted him with every breath his father took. Suddenly, the realization that he could face this confrontation sober, while his dad couldn’t, changed the entire atmosphere.

  Chad stepped away, still shaking. “You need help, and I really hope you get it before you hurt that woman any more than you already have.”

  His dad was the first to break eye contact, and the coward stumbled back to his lifeline, the bottle, and all the promises it never kept. “Get out of my house.” But there was no power behind the statement, only the hoarse demand of a man who had nothing.

  Chad gladly escaped to the front door, his adrenaline still pumping from his victory, even though basking in it felt all kinds of wrong.

  Megan sat on one of the sagging chairs, arms crossed in a hug while her fingers ran a trail up and down her arms. He hesitated, then sat next to her trembling form.

  “He’s not a good man. He’s sick and violent and will somehow convince you that it’s all your fault. But it’s not. You will never meet his expectations because they are impossible and constantly changing.”

  She didn’t speak but began to rock in her chair.

  “I don’t know if he’s hit you yet, but he will. And I hope you leave before that happens.”

  “He says he loves me,” she finally squeaked out.

  “Maybe he does. But not enough to do the right thing. Not enough to let you go until he gets sober and becomes a better man.” Frustrated that she was desperate enough to stay with someone so vile, Chad left her sitting there, huddled in her shell.

  Only, he did understand, more than he wanted to admit. He’d been a train wreck too. For a year for sure, maybe even longer. He may not have hurt Laila physically, but the emotional damage he’d inflicted was equally debilitating.

  She’d practically begged him to let her go. To set her free. And all he’d ever done was connive and manipulate until she was trapped back inside his web.

  I had a chance to be free of you . . . Do you really hate me that much?

  His head fell forward, hitting the steering wheel with an agonizing thud.

  He wouldn’t be his father. He wouldn’t destroy the people he loved.

  CHAPTER 27

  Laila had never been to a prison before so she didn’t have much to compare it to besides TV shows and movies. Kim had told her the facility was one of the smaller ones and minimum security, but still, she had expected high fences with barbwire, clanging metal gates, and strict rules of engagement.

  Instead, the atmosphere was fairly relaxed. There was only a small fence surrounding the barracks-like structure, and the guards were all efficient and friendly. They ushered her into a large cafeteria-style room and told her to find a table.

  She found a secluded one in the corner and watched the other families. The facility women were in white jumpsuits, and most of them were smiling and interacting with their children. A few played games while others talked. Some kids sat lovingly in women’s laps while others, mostly the older ones, looked put out to be there. Laila wondered how Sierra would feel. If she would rush to her mother or hang back and eye her with suspicion. Not that it mattered. Kim had no intention of letting Sierra anywhere near this place, and Laila didn’t fault her for it one bit.

  The door opened at the far end, and a woman who had to be Sierra’s mom stepped through. Angular and bony in her shapeless prison uniform, Brianna walked—no, strutted—closer. Her hair was a light, dull brown and wasn’t braided as Laila had anticipated. The strands had been coarsely chopped and now fell just to the collar of her white jumpsuit. Her chin had a large raised scar across it, but the rest of her skin looked surprisingly radiant and soft. Not her eyes, though. Two distrusting slits of brown raked Laila over as the woman sat across from her at the table. Kim had said they looked similar, but Laila didn’t see it at all.

  “So, they tell me you’re a friend of my mother’s.” Brianna’s tone matched her irritated stare, and Laila felt her spine stiffen.

  “Actually, I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

  Brianna hunched closer, her words as sharp as needles. “My daughter, huh? Well, you go tell my mother I’m not signing over my rights. As soon as I’m out of this crap hole, I’m getting Sierra back.”

  Laila knew the state had already legally placed Sierra with Kim, so Brianna would thankfully have an uphill battle if she ever wanted her daughter back. However, her agitation and passionate delivery made Laila wonder if maybe there was some hope for her yet.

  “So you do want to get better?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

  “It was a misunderstanding. I didn’t do anything they accused me of.”

  The words were Brianna’s, but they could have been Laila’s mom’s. The denial, the complete lack of responsibility. “You pleaded guilty,” she reminded her.

  “Only to get the lighter sentence.” Brianna shrugged. “What do you know about that anyway? You’ve only heard one side, and my mom likes to tell everyone I’m a junkie and an unfit mother. Well, I’m not. Sierra was happy with me.”

  Laila laced her trembling fingers together, not from fear but a vicious rage that grew with every lie from this woman’s mouth. “She was? What did you two do together?”

  That seemed to hit a nerve, either the question or the sarcastic tone in which Laila delivered it.

  “I don’t know. Stuff,” Brianna said defensively. “What do you do?”

  “Well, we draw pictures, braid each other’s hair.”

  “There you go. We did the same things.” Brianna flung her hand in the air, and lounged in her chair like she’d won some great battle.

  “What changed the night you were arrested?” Laila hated confrontation, yet something inside her refused to let this woman sit smugly by as if she hadn’t broken her daughter.

  “I told you. I didn’t do anything wrong. Sierra was supposed to stay with my friend. She never picked her up.”

  Laila knew that was a lie. The cops had found Sierra locked in her room. She’d been there three days with only a gallon jug of water and a box of crackers. She’d had to use the corner as a toilet. Laila closed her eyes, nausea rising in her throat, forgetting for a moment why she had even bothered to come here. Then Sierra’s heartbroken face popped in her mind. The tears she’d shed all over Laila’s shoulder.

  “Brianna, you say you love your daughter. A part of me wants to believe that. So, I’m going to tell you what she’s gone through since that weekend. Sierra doesn’t engage with kids or many adults for that matter. She won’t climb anything. She can’t be alone in a room without the door open, and even then, she usually ends up on the floor by Kim’s bed. But worse than anything, she doesn’t speak, not a word.”

  Brianna’s cool exterior slipped enough that Laila thought maybe this visit wouldn’t be in vain. “Sierra’s always been a quiet girl. She’d sneak in and out of a room like a church mouse.”

  “Kids tend to do that when they fear what state they may find their parents in.”

  Whatever softness Brianna had allowed disappeared before Laila finished her sentence. “Why are you here, again? ’Cause I’m getting real tired of this conversation.”

  Lai
la suddenly felt speechless. Why was she there? Why had she even come, knowing all she did about this woman?

  Brianna suddenly laughed, bitter and cunning. “So, you’re that type, I see. No wonder Mom took such a liking to you.”

  Laila swallowed. She didn’t like the change in Brianna voice, from defensive to offensive. She began to speak, but Brianna kept going.

  “Oh man, what a great replacement daughter you must be for my mom. You’re nothing but a beautiful, empty shell who needs everything to be perfect.” Her mouth quirked up. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Will no one like you if you’re not kind and happy all the time?” Brianna changed her voice to sound as pathetic as Laila suddenly felt. “I bet you surround yourself with failures or worse, make them feel like failures, just so your life doesn’t seem so pitiful. That is why you came to see me, right? So you can go back home and feel all kinds of satisfaction that you’re better than I am?” She pressed in, her voice getting low as if going in for a killing strike. “Well, I hate to shatter your delusions, but you’re not Sierra’s mother. I am. And no matter how hard you try, she’ll never love you like she does me.”

  Something inside Laila snapped. Maybe it was the scars that had never fully healed from her miscarriage. Or maybe the years of silence she’d suffered through, first with her mom, and then with Katie and Chad. The excuses she made for them, the crippling pain she had let all of them inflict without ever truly demanding more. Or maybe it was just the agonizing truth in Brianna’s accusation. She did fear their rejection. She did wonder whether, if they ever saw her deepest, truest self, they would walk away like her father had.

  Brianna sank back in her chair, smug and all too aware that she’d delivered a right hook to Laila’s heart. But she wasn’t the only one who could read through the guarded stare and biting words. Laila had spent her entire life with a woman just like the one in front of her.