by Bijou Hunter
Pop appears next to me, and I wonder how loud I’m talking. He leads me into the kitchen where we sit down.
“You’re fine,” he says.
“Soso won’t let me in the room.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Bubba, you’re tired and in pain, and she’s just down the hall with her family. Let her parents take care of her for a little bit.”
“I want to take care of her.”
“You will.”
Shaking my head, I sigh. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Turn on the TV and stare at something stupid. If you’re hungry, eat. If you’re tired, close your eyes. Soso is right down the hall.”
My hand reaches for my arm again. The pain is getting worse. Or I no longer have anything to distract from it. The wound has a heartbeat, and each one gets more painful and accusatory. I ended up with only a flesh wound, but Soso is likely black and blue.
I didn’t save her fast enough. Or I should I have known Griff would pull this shit. Something should have been done differently, and now I can’t be with Soso.
“Try a doobie,” Pop says, waking me from my thoughts. When I chuckle at his word choice, he adds, “It’ll settle you down at least.”
“What about Soso?”
“She also wants you to settle down. She and I spoke spiritually.”
Grinning, I nod. “Maybe someone can offer her a joint to see if it helps. The Tylenol will be wearing off soon.”
Pop realizes I’m asking him to do it. I’m afraid to go to the door. If Soso reacts badly, I’ll probably cry like a bitch. I really, really don’t want to get teary-eyed in front of all these people. Only Bjork wouldn’t judge me, and she’s hiding under the cover.
I walk out back to smoke a joint while Freki runs around the yard. He’s hyper with so many people in his house. He acts the same way at Butch’s place when the kids are loud.
“Someone’s getting a taste for killing,” Dayton says, walking outside.
“How is Soso?”
“Alive.”
With his dark gaze reminding me so much of Soso’s, I feel judged when he just watches me. “I’m sorry.”
Dayton sighs. “I don’t know why you’re sorry when I’m the asshole who almost got my baby girl killed.”
Not wanting him to blame himself, I turn rational. “The only one to blame is Griff.”
“True, but I read him all wrong. Even after the crap he pulled with the birds and that day at the house, I didn’t see him as a real threat. Like I looked in his eyes and told him to back off or else, and I thought he was reasonable enough to listen. I didn’t see anything in him that said today would happen. I always thought I was a good judge of character, but now...” He pauses and sighs again. “I don’t know what’s what now.”
“Maybe he just snapped,” I lie.
Dayton walks farther into the yard. His regrets make him sheepish about talking around others.
“When Soso and Griff started dating, I never worried about violence. Or even that nagging bullshit he did until she finally dumped him. My first thought was she needed a strong man in the life to understand her,” he says and then mutters, “My second thought was if Griff could keep it in his pants. Some men will always cheat. My father is that way. I couldn’t tell which way Griff would go, but I knew they wouldn’t last if he was running around with other women. Not once did I think he’d hit her, let alone try to kill her.”
“And you worry that you misjudged me too?”
Dayton gives me a little frown. “Griff would have been at the bedroom door, knocking and whining about coming in. Then he’d come back and ask again and again and again until either we gave in or he threw a fit. He couldn’t see outside of himself.”
Dayton leans down to give Freki’s head a rub. “You’re out here pouting because Soso’s feelings matter more than yours. That’s not something Griff would do. I know you’re not him.”
“Does Soso?”
“She’s all jammed up in her head. I think she’s scared of you,” he says, and I feel as if I’ve been slapped. “But she keeps talking about you. ‘Bubba eats a lot of ribs. He doesn’t like hickory sauce, only honey.’ She’s just rambling, but she’s rambling about you.”
“Do you think she’ll talk to me today?”
I flinch at Dayton’s laughter. He sees my expression and looks guilty. “Kid, she’s only been away from you for like an hour, and she asked me to come out and check on you. Don’t worry so much.”
“She nearly died.”
“Yeah, and then you fucked up the asshole. She’ll heal, and you’ll heal, and he’ll still be dead. That’s how things worked out. Maybe you two can’t see that right yet.”
I think of Griff dead. Everything that happened in the woods is a blur in my mind. I ran on pure emotion. Soso needed to live, and he needed to die. Nothing else registered.
“It’s only been an hour?” I ask, blowing out smoke. “It feels like longer.”
“I think Soso hopes something will click and she’ll instantly feel better. That’s not going to happen. It’ll take time for her body and mind to recover. She’s lived a charmed life for the most part. Shit, look at how things played out with you. How many women take home a drunk biker and end up with a man who puts up with her little dog and birds?”
I look at my hands and flash back to the woods when I tore apart Griff. “I don’t know why I didn’t beat him to death. I ripped him to shreds. That’s why Soso thinks I’m a monster.”
“Killing is ugly, no matter how you do it. Soso is still in shock. Her fear of you is part of her fear of everything.”
Dayton is suffering from a bad case of regret with Griff, but I don’t think he’d lie to save my feelings. His words calm me, and I ask, “How long will you stay?”
“Tonight, at least. We didn’t bring anything. Got that call from your mom and dropped everything. We’ll be back, but Harmony works at a demanding group home and finding replacement staff can be tough. Let’s just say we’ll be back and forth unless Soso can’t handle us gone. If we cramp your style, we can stay with Bailey and Nick. She’s been asking for us to hang out.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing to do. Sit back and let everyone do the work. Like when Harmony gave birth to Soso and her sisters were all over us to help out. At first, I was annoyed by the constant company, but then I decided to stop bitching and enjoy the extra pairs of hands. You should do that now. I told Soso the same thing. Her new home is filled with people, and she’s overwhelmed, but she needs the help. Being alone won’t make her feel better. She needs to suck it up and appreciate how people care enough to be here.”
I look back inside where Mom and Sawyer discuss cleaning the house. They want to schedule everything. When the yard is mowed, who cleans out the birdcage, which of them will run errands. It’s busy work for women uncomfortable with feeling helpless.
“I’ll see if Soso is willing to come out of the room,” Dayton says, walking back to the door.
“I can come in if she’s not ready.”
“Hiding isn’t the answer. She has nothing to fear and even less to feel ashamed over.”
The pot takes the edge off my pain and unease, but only intensifies my lost feeling. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Sit on the couch, turn on the TV, and comfort the dog,” Dayton says, talking to me as if I’m his kid rather than another man. “Soso will be out soon.”
I obey him. What the fuck else am I going to do? Freki joins me on the couch and cuddles close. He’s a sensitive little guy, and I’m his security blanket right now. I smile at the way he looks at me.
Mom joins me for a few minutes, fixing my hair and telling me how proud she is of how I handled today. I smile at her words.
I feel calmer thanks to the pot, but a gloom lingers because Soso feels a million miles away. The last time we shared a room, she was covered in blood and d
irt. I imagine her clean now, surrounded by her family. Has she smoked her joint? Is she calmer? Is the pain more bearable?
Time is a blur. I think none has passed and then I notice everyone around me moved. Mom is with Pop. Sawyer and Jace are in the backyard. Keanu walks out the front door while taking a phone call. Then I blink, and Mom is gone, and now Dash is talking to Pop.
Did I smoke the wrong joint? Am I tripping balls? Why can’t I track what’s happening?
Then I blink, and Soso is next to me with Freki in her lap. Wearing a blue and red flannel nightgown that reaches her ankles, she looks snug. When she studies my face, I think I smile.
“I smoked too much pot,” I whisper.
Soso’s battered face struggles to smile. She looks around before returning her gaze to me.
“You’re talking too loud,” she whispers, and we share a chuckle.
Then my laughter dies, and I say, “I’m sorry.”
Soso wipes something from my cheek and strokes my forehead. “You can never go wrong being you.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t know if I do. Soso takes my arm and wraps it around her shoulders. Sighing with relief, I hold her against me. She rests her head against my chest and stares at the TV that I just now realize is actually on and playing a baseball game.
My mind is a mess, and I’ll need to be more careful with the pot. Still, I’m calmer, and Soso is finally back in my arms. If I can work on my volume control, everything will be perfect.
Well, at least, until the pot wears off.
THE BOHEMIAN
Even dead, Griff torments me. I’m haunted by his screaming even when I’m wide awake and surrounded by people. Sometimes, his terrified cries are all I can hear.
The first night isn’t horrible. Then my parents have to drive back to Hickory Creek. They promise to return.
On my second night home, I wake up to Griff screaming that high-pitched, panicked cry. I try to calm myself and be rational, but the sound echoes in my mind. His fear infects me. I’m overwhelmed with guilt as if I’m the reason he died. Finally, I scream just to drown out his.
Bubba must think I’m crazy. He holds me in his arms and promises to protect me. His words help for a short while, but then I hear Griff again in my head.
I can’t sleep. In my dreams, Griff’s on top of me, inside me, his face hollowed out, his eyes gone. Even awake, I see him hiding in the shadowed corners of every room.
Bubba prowls around the house, holding a gun, worrying over how I cry and shrink in fear. He doesn’t understand.
“It’s not real. I’m afraid of what’s in my head. The bad memories of him and you and me and what happened. I can’t stop hearing him. What I fear isn’t something you can shoot! It’s not something you can kill!”
My yelling hurts Bubba. He wears a pained expression. I don’t know how to explain that the quiet is driving me crazy. It makes no sense to me, so how can any of it make sense to him? But I say the words anyway. Bubba sees what I’m blind to. He understands what I can’t.
He puts away the gun and turns on all the lights. The TV too. I start to say I don’t want to watch anything, but he’s creating noise, distractions, something besides the memories to occupy my time.
I crawl into Bubba’s lap and marvel at how he doesn’t push me away even when I do the same to him.
“I want to learn to belly dance,” he says when my fear returns and I require a distraction.
I can’t focus on my memories of Griff when Bubba says such silly things. He knows how to keep my mind from replaying the past. Firmly in the present with him, I don’t know how Bubba remains so strong when he must be stressed and in pain too.
“That night you were drunk, I told you to do you and not be someone else. I didn’t know you then. I had no clue who I was telling you to be. I’m happy to report you’re better than I could have imagined.”
Bubba might be a rock, but he exhales with relief at my words. He’s still my hunky puppy wanting to impress me. I try to focus on reassuring this man right here rather than thinking about the one in the woods. I need those memories to fade until I can eventually doubt that they’re even real.
In Bubba’s arms, while we watch dumb comedies and he laughs at the silly antics, I only feel us.
THE RUNAWAY
Soso nearly breaks me when she won’t stop screaming. I don’t understand what she’s reacting to, and I don’t know how to erase her fear. Eventually, I somehow calm her panic.
But I’m rattled.
The next morning, I can’t leave her alone, but I need time away from her to get myself in order.
Soso claims she’s fine alone, but she also agrees quickly to hanging out with Lily and Sissy at their place. Freki comes along to play with Hart.
Soso pretends to be okay with me leaving her. Then I catch her staring out the front windows of Sissy’s townhome as I prepare to leave. I don’t know if I should go back inside. Even with her swollen face, I can see her terror. Someone must speak to her because she leaves the window.
I’m afraid to go to my parents’ house where Mom might want to help me. Her tendency to fix things will likely make them worse. I’ll step back and let her take charge because I’m terrified of fucking shit up.
Pop agrees to meet me at The Bean Hut for a cup of coffee. I’m relieved by his expression when he arrives. He knows I’m fucked in the head. There’s no need to dumb things down and explain anything.
“I should have kept her safe,” I say as soon as he sits down.
Pop exhales softly and hesitates before speaking. “I won’t waste time saying you did all you could. Or that you shouldn’t feel guilty. That’s a cross you’ll bear no matter what I tell you.”
Having expected him to provide soothing advice, his harsh truth cuts deep. Pop gives me a sympathetic smile and says, “Lies won’t help you or Soso.”
“I thought ending him would make her feel better. That probably sounds stupid, but I thought seeing him die would provide her relief.”
“Trauma doesn’t always make sense. The reason she’s afraid is gone, but the fear remains. It’ll never go away completely. I still hear my father’s voice sometimes. The asshole’s been dead for longer than he was in my life, but the old fear returns at the oddest times. I’ve learned to deal with it. Soso will too, but it takes time.”
“I wonder if she’d be better off in Hickory Creek with her family,” I say, unable to control my words. “Like they’d know what to do, but I can’t leave Conroe again, and I can’t be away from Soso.”
“Does she want to stay with her family?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does she tell you what she wants?”
“Yes.”
Pop’s green eyes remain perfectly calm despite my edginess. “Then if she hasn’t asked, assume she wants to be here with you.”
“What if I make things worse?”
“Why do you assume you would?”
“I let her down before.”
“Ugly shit happens,” Pop says and adds when I frown, “The world is fucked up. People do bad things. You can’t keep your woman or your future kids locked away from the world. If you try, you become the bad thing that happened to them.”
“Then what do I do?”
“I don’t know Soso well. I know you, though. It’s your nature to watch out for people. I think you have all the skills to take care of her. If she says she needs to be in Tennessee with her family, you’ll adapt. If she wants to stay here, you’ll help her through the dark moments. Time will heal a lot of what’s hurting her right now.”
I think of Soso screaming last night. Her big brown eyes stared at me in horror. Her terror made no sense. We were alone in the room, and she was wide-awake. Was I the monster she feared?
“Bubba, we can help you,” Pop says when I feel myself choking up. “You’re not alone.”
“I just wanted him dead. I didn’t think about how I might seem to her. Now, I think she hates me. I k
now she fears me. I see her watching me like I’m the scariest thing she’s ever seen.”
Pop studies me for a minute and then nods. “Think of what happened as having the flu. At first, when you start feeling bad, you can make plans for how to deal with the symptoms. Then the sickness overwhelms you until your plans feel impossible. None of the medicine helps enough. You’re miserable, and you believe you’ll feel that way forever. You’re too sick to be rational. But, eventually, you wake up feeling a little better. Still bad but there’s a change. It gives you hope. But if you rush back into normal activity too soon, you can backtrack and feel worse. However, if you take your time recuperating, you'll get past it.”
“So, I just have to wait for her to work it out?”
“You keep her comfortable. If she needs something, you give it to her. If she feels crappy and doesn’t want you around, you give her space. But don’t be surprised if she turns around and wants you close because you gave her space. It’s like how your mother kicks off the blankets when she’s sick and then complains that she’s cold. Soso won’t act like herself, and some of her reactions might seem bizarre. She’ll fear you and then want you to make her feel safe. But you just do what she needs and remember it’s not forever.”
Nodding, I feel tired in a way I never have before. Pop reaches across the table and pats my hand.
“With you and Soso hooking up so fast, you’re not equipped to deal with this stress. But love isn’t a fairytale. Just remember that you don’t always have to say the right thing to Soso. Sometimes, you’ll be a dick. I’m a dick to your mom, and she acts like a raging bitch to me. Not all the time, of course, but we have bad days. Good marriages can handle the bad times. Rocky marriages have trouble with even the smallest problems. If you and Soso are meant to work, you’ll find a way. Just do your best with her. If it’s not enough, you can’t force it to be enough.”
“I feel like I can’t breathe if I don’t have Soso.”
“Good,” Pop says instantly. “She gave up a lot to be here with you. I want you to need her like that.”