by Vivian Wood
Effie blushed at the memory and looked at him. Asleep, he looked even more like he had in high school, relaxed and innocent.
God, he was so amazing, she thought.
She crept out of bed quietly and tiptoed into the hallway as she pulled on his oversized tee-shirt. Effie found her old phone charging in the kitchen and turned it on.
There were dozens of missed calls. A few were from Thorne, but most were from her mom.
Effie held her breath as she listened to the first of the messages. Thorne had changed tactics.
“Effie? Where are you? Look, this whole thing has gotten completely out of control, and it’s not totally you’re fault. If you could just call me back—”
“Effie, it’s Thorne,” started the next message. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you can’t hide from me forever—”
Effie skipped the message and heard the anger in Thorne’s breath before he even spoke. “Where the fuck are you, you fucking bitch?”
She quickly skipped the message, though she wanted to delete it.
You might need this in the future, she told herself. Her mom’s messages were full of rage from the start.
“Where the hell are you?” her mom screamed into the voicemail. “Effie? Effie, you better answer your phone right fucking now.”
Effie skipped the message and braced herself for the next. “There are men at the goddamned door, Effie! They’re demanding to be let in and say the house is being sold? What the fuck—”
Effie pressed the END button and breathed heavily. Of course Thorne would do that. Her mom didn’t have a lease, any kind of legal paper, or anything proving that she belonged in that house.
And no means to fight it, she thought. Neither money or legal knowledge.
Effie knew that what Thorne was doing was illegal, but he had the upper hand.
Effie gathered up all the bravery she had and punched in her mom’s number. Silently, she crept onto the back patio.
Clearly, King had slipped her number to her mom when they left. He must have expected them to make contact.
“Mom?” she asked when she heard someone pick up.
“Effie! Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell are you doing? How could you do this to us? You’re supposed to take care of the family, and instead you’ve been screwing around on Thorne, messing everything up—”
“Oh, my God, I didn’t cheat on him!” Effie screamed. Her mom went silent. She’d never yelled at her before, and the years of buildup came pouring out. “He cheated on me, remember? And before all that, he had you wrapped all around his little finger. How could you sign the house over to him? I could have made the mortgage, I could have—”
“But you didn’t,” her mom snapped. “Did you? Thorne is the only person who’s ever really helped this family—”
“I was eighteen years old!” Effie yelled. “Give me some time! You think it was easy?”
“I did it,” her mom said sharply. “I had you when I was seventeen years old, Effie, and Yaya already had early dementia—”
“I’m not you!” Effie yelled. “Okay? I’m sorry, I’m not perfect like you. I didn’t survive all these hardships like you. But I was doing my best. Isn’t that enough?” She felt tears start to choke her. “Why isn’t that enough?”
“Effie,” her mom said with a sigh, “I never said that—”
“You didn’t have to! You… you should have been the one taking care of me. Not the other way around.”
When Effie started, she couldn’t stop. She’d held those feelings in for so long. She’d tried to deny them, all throughout high school and after. But her mom had put so much pressure on her, always comparing her to herself as a teenager.
“You need to apologize to Thorne, and that’s that,” her mom said bluntly. “Feel sorry for yourself later. I’m sure he’ll take you back, if you just say you’re sorry—”
“Forget it,” Effie said. “Seriously, you’re wasting your breath. When I caught him cheating on me, the shock didn’t last for long. Honestly, I just didn’t care. I only ever dated him to make you happy, and I just can’t do it anymore. I’m tired mom, don’t you get it?”
“I’m sure Thorne is sorry for what he did. If you’ll just apologize to him for spending time with his brother—”
Effie pressed the END button and wished with all her might that she could slam down the phone.
It was pointless. Talking to her mother was like going in circles. She’d never be able to make her mom understand how she felt.
She felt the first tear slip down her cheek, chased quickly by the second. Within a minute, she was full-blown crying. Effie did her best to gulp down those angry sobs, but it was like a floodgate had opened.
My mom’s a lost cause, she realized. Always has been. Why did I try to win her over for so long?
“Effie?” Effie wiped wildly at her cheeks when she saw her Yaya standing in the doorway. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Even in her distress, Effie realized it was a strong moment of lucidity. “I just got off the phone with my mom—”
“Your mother has always been selfish. Ever since she was a little girl,” her Yaya said. “I did everything I could, but no one could ever tell her anything.”
Yaya threw up her hands in despair at the memory before she wrapped her arms around Effie.
Effie breathed in the familiar scent and let the calming effect of her Yaya take over.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” she murmured. “Thorne cheated. He never loved me, and I never loved him. At least with King, there’s history. I loved King. Hell, I think I still do.”
Her Yaya gently pushed her back and looked at her face. “Does he know how you feel?”
“No. I had my chance with him once. It’s not fair to try again.”
“All is fair in love and war. Yes?” Yaya asked.
“I wish—” Effie shut her mouth as King came outside.
“What’s going on out here?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Effie and Yaya said in unison.
He raised his brows at them. “Well, Thorne is trying to sell my mom’s house…” Effie started.
“What? Really?”
“Yeah, I… I don’t know what to do…”
“Come with me,” King said. “Yaya, you should come inside, too. It’s cold out here.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve lived through more Chicago winters than you can even fathom. I know when I need to come inside.”
Effie shook her head at King as he looked at her in surprise.
“What is it?” she asked as he dragged her by the wrist into the den.
He handed her a sheaf of papers at least an inch thick. Effie started to thumb through them. On the third page a full spread of a gorgeous home in San Diego stared back at her.
“What is this?” she asked.
King looked down the hallway to where Yaya had just entered from the patio.
“King, what’s going on?” Effie asked.
Yaya made her way into the den and looked at King knowingly.
“What’s going on between you two?”
“Yaya and I talked last night,” King said slowly.
“About what?” Effie felt flutters in her stomach.
When did they have time to talk?
Then she remembered. King had knocked her out good, one orgasm after another. She didn’t even remember falling asleep.
“You, mostly,” he said. “And the position you’re in now, now that you’ve left Thorne.”
“Okay…”
“I have feelings for you, Effie. I always have.”
Effie felt herself start to well up. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. From the corner of her eye, she watched Yaya suppress a smile.
“King …”
“I’ve just got you back in my life,” King said. “More than anything, I know that I don’t want to let you go. Not ever again.”
“Oh, King, I—”
“Just let me get
through this,” King said. “I want us to leave Illinois, start all over again. I’m thinking of a house like this, on the west coast. It’s… well, when I was in L.A., it’s where I always pictured us. Even when you were with Thorne. I thought it was just a fantasy, but… maybe not. But it doesn’t really matter where we go or what we do. I just need… I just need you by my side.”
“But… but what about Yaya?” she asked as she dropped her voice.
“Baby, I’m not deaf. I can hear you,” her grandmother said.
“Sorry,” she said. “But it’s a fair question. I mean, even without my mom, I can’t leave—”
“She’ll come with us,” King said. He shrugged like it was so simple.
“Yaya?” she asked.
Her grandmother grinned at her.
“Just because I’ve been through so many Chicago winters doesn’t mean I like them,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to go to Califonia since I was a young girl. Of course, I don’t think I have the same odds of making it now as I did back then. But there was a time some people said I was more beautiful than Lucille Ball.”
“So the two of you talked about this. Together. Last night, when I was asleep.”
“Well, you seemed pretty exhausted,” King said with a knowing look. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
Effie blushed slightly and looked down at the photo of the white mid-century house.
“It’s not that easy. What about your work? What about—well, hell, I guess I don’t have work to worry about anymore—”
“Effie, language!” her grandmother said.
“My work?” King asked with a laugh. “I push papers around. But I do happen to do so for one of the most prestigious firms in Chicago. And I still have a lot of connections in California, as well as some pretty substantial savings. We’ll be fine, I can find work anywhere.”
Effie shook her head. “It can’t be that easy.”
“Why not?”
“Not everything has to be hard, dear,” her Yaya said. “I know it seems that way when you’re young, but don’t you think you’ve had it hard enough? I know sometimes I’m not all… well, all there, but I see. I watched you struggle to help your mom all through high school. I heard you bawling your eyes out when King asked you to go with him and you refused because of us. And I had to sit through how many years of watching you try to force this relationship with Thorne when you were clearly miserable. Lord knows I prayed daily that he wasn’t actually abusing you—”
“Yaya, why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Yaya shrugged. “It wasn’t my place. Young people need to figure things out for themselves, and besides would you have listened?”
“Probably not,” Effie said quietly.
She felt like a fraud. All this time, Yaya knew.
“Anyway, the two of you needed some time apart. Otherwise, you’d crash and burn hard. I’ve seen it happen a thousand times. High school romances, they never work out. Unless they’re me and your grandfather,” she said pointedly to Effie. “But it’s a different time now. You love each other young, then you go out and sow those wild oats. If you come back together, then it’s kismet. Don’t you think?”
“Well, maybe?” Effie said as she smiled up at King.
“Don’t maybe me, baby, I know a thing or two. And I knew the two of you would make your way back to each other. Though I have to admit, that whole engagement threw me for a loop. I was worried there for a bit.”
“So, is this for real?” she asked King.
“It’s for real.”
Effie threw herself into his arms. She felt the worries and stress of the past few years melt away as his lips met hers. For once, she was happy without any thoughts of what might be en route to ruin everything.
It felt like she always hoped it would, pure and full.
Why did it take us so long to get here?
24
King
King stood in front of a jewelry display window and stared at the gleaming jewelry. From the corner of his eye, he could see Effie with Yaya in a one-stop-shopping store.
The two of them had a basketful of essentials. Effie’s arms were full of clothes for the both of them. There was a kind of elation in starting over, but a sadness, too. They hadn’t felt comfortable going back to her mom’s house at all, and King didn’t feel safe going to his own condo. The three of them were starting from scratch with just the clothes on their backs.
It wasn’t time for a ring just yet, King knew that. But he also knew he would need one soon. Hell, if she’d let him, he would marry her and they’d be pregnant by summer.
King was tired of waiting. He may not have known it until recently, but he’d been waiting for her for years.
Yaya knew, though she’d kept quiet. How could he have been so blind?
He thought back to all those awkward encounters they’d endured while she’d been with Thorne. The force conversations at family get togethers and the sideways glances he stole at her.
The whole time, he hadn’t realized she’d felt the same way. He hadn’t known that what he thought was envy from Thorne having “won” was actually his heart screaming that he needed to do something.
From the reflection in the window, he saw a familiar face approaching. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see Thorne. He knew it would come to this eventually.
King turned with a growl in his throat. Before Thorne could speak or make a move, he grabbed his brother by the collar. King almost withdrew, disgusted by the stench of booze. Thorne stumbled in his grip, and for a moment King almost felt sorry for him. But then his brother began to speak.
“What, no Effie?” Thorne asked with a slur.
“That just means one less person will witness me beating the shit out of you. She’s the only reason I didn’t do it before.”
Thorne broke away and nearly fell into the newspaper box nearby.
“She’ll never be happy with you! You know that, right?”
“And she was with you? You’re kidding yourself,” King said.
“You don’t understand…”
“You need to leave,” King said firmly. “You’re fucking hammered.”
“Mom and Dad sent me to get Effie,” Thorne said. He held up his hand and King was sure he would vomit. Instead, Thorne hiccupped loudly and followed it with a belch. “They feel… that without a woman by my side, I look… feminite. Effiminate,” he corrected.
“Oh, Mom and Dad sent you, huh? And do they know that you cheated on her?”
Thorne glowered.
“Yeah, I somehow thought not. Now I’m going to give you one more chance to get the fuck out of here. Then I’m going to beat the tar out of you, drunk or not.”
“You can’t have her!” Thorne bellowed. “She’s mine!”
King launched himself at Thorne. His brother fell to the ground easily while King toppled on top of him. Thorne turned his head to the side. King couldn’t tell if it was to vomit or try and protect his face.
He could hear the small crowd that gathered, but didn’t care. This was a long time coming. The first punch landed squarely on his brother’s jaw, but Thorne was so drunk he barely flinched. The second hit his nose and King felt bone give way beneath his fist.
Blood began to ooze from his nostrils while Thorne tried to sniffle it back up.
“You’re a waste of air,” King spat into Thorne’s face.
His brother didn’t argue. Instead, he brought his hands to his face and wondered at the blood that poured onto the concrete. King stood up and brushed off his clothes.
He saw a group of teenage boys with their phones angled towards him. A trio of old women whispered viciously. A shop owner stood in the doorway in an apron and a phone in hand.
“I called the cops!” she yelled.
“Don’t bother,” King replied.
Effie ran towards him from two stores down.
“Effie,” Thorne muttered when she got to them. “I need you to come—”
�
��Thorne, you need to leave,” she commanded.
King grabbed Effie by the waist and pulled her close.
“I told him that,” he said. “I think he understands now. Right, Thorne?”
Thorne groaned as he pushed himself onto hands and knees.
“Burn in hell,” he growled. “You two deserve each other.”
Thorne glared up at them, and in his eyes King didn’t see any semblance of a brother. They’d never been close, but he’d never realized the pure hatred that burned below the surface.
As Thorne made his way to his feet and began to slink off, King held Effie tight. He tried to think back to their younger years, when they were supposed to be brothers.
King remembered being in third grade and his mom screaming so loud he thought something terrible had happened. When he’d raced to her bedroom, he saw her slapping Thorne who was dressed up in her red sequin skirt and heels way too big.
He didn’t know what “faggot” meant back then, but he knew it was bad. When Thorne realized King was there, he turned bright red and hung his head.
King remembered being in middle school and Thorne found out he had a crush on a girl a grade above him. For all he knew, Thorne didn’t like her, but he made it his personal mission to embarrass King every time he could in front of her.
It didn’t really work, but when King finally confronted Thorne about him and asked him why, Thorne had shrugged. “Because I could,” he’d said.
Every memory he had of Thorne was tainted. There was the time their dad had forced a stack of Playboys into Thorne’s hands when he was thirteen with the remark, “Maybe this will fix you.”
King didn’t get what that meant, but he remembered being jealous. Thorne had instantly turned away so King couldn’t even see the covers.
“Don’t worry, King,” his father had said and patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t need those. You’ll do plenty fine on your own, I can tell that already.”
King had hated his father for that. He’d never realized such magazines really existed—he thought they were just in movies. And he certainly didn’t realize his dad had them or access to them.