by Shari Ryan
Mom gives me the thumbs up over her shoulder along with an approving wink. I slap my hand over my eyes and nod my head.
“You can call me, Carly, and thank you for making our evening a little less boring,” Mom offers in response.
“Thanks, Mom,” I laugh.
I give Aly a hug and a kiss, and Layne gives her a high five before we head out the front door. We don’t make it past the front steps when I confess my distaste for the shore. “I don’t know why my mom suggested we take a walk along the water,” I tell Layne, fidgeting with the woven bracelets I have dangling from my wrist.
“We can walk along the street if you’d like,” he offers without thought. “Are you one of those people who hate the texture of sand?”
My head recoils, wondering what his question means. “People have issues with sand?”
“I assume,” he says with a gentle laugh.
“I don’t have issues with the sand. It’s dark and—”
“I understand,” he replies. He does. Layne doesn’t push. Instead, he takes my hand, and leads me down the street. I’m still wondering how he seems to know so much about what I feel. He never filled in those blanks. “If I ask you anything you don’t want to answer, just tell me to stop. Okay?”
Most questions I get asked lead to a dark place, and I have no qualms about telling people to stop.
“Sure,” I tell him. I don’t know if he has an intent to ask me questions, but I suppose it’s only fair he learns more about me now that I know about his mom. “It happened just about two years ago. I was at a street fair downtown, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time after I stepped away from Lexi.”
Layne’s hand is squeezing mine like my words hurt him. “Do you know who did it?”
“No,” I answer. “I didn’t know him, but now I know of him.”
“He’s in prison, you said?”
“Yes. He got hit with attempted manslaughter and rape charges. I had severe head trauma, a bleed in the brain. Beyond that, I got pregnant, so he left his mark on my life in more ways than one.”
Layne’s head bobs around for a minute as we continue to walk. It’s like he needs my statement to digest before he responds. Everyone else acts the same way like I’m too fragile to engage in a conversation. Most of the people in my life got the shortened version of the story by Mom who put pieces together from my memory and the doctor’s reports.
“This may be inappropriate and rude to say, but I admire you for not looking at alternate ways to handle your pregnancy. Aly is a lucky little girl.”
He’s the first person to say this. He might be the first person to agree with my decision off the bat.
TWO YEARS EARLIER - I WAS ONLY 16 YEARS OLD
Walking out of my pediatrician’s office with pamphlets was not how I saw that day going. Mom was still in a mess of tears, holding a tissue up to her right eye. I knew she was in shock like I was, but my emotions seemed to be frozen.
We slipped into her Toyota Camry and secured our seatbelts. I twisted in my seat to look at Mom. Her eyes weren’t blinking. She was staring through the window. The veins in her eyes were dark red, making her look older than she did that morning. Mom released a scream I’ve never heard in my entire life—a blood-curdling shrill that sounded like it belonged in one of those old horror movies. “My baby,” she shouted.
I don’t know why I was so calm, even throughout her reaction. All I could do was watch her unravel. The moment gave me time to understand that there was a living being growing inside of my body. My eyes faltered to the brochure pinched between my fingers, and I saw a young girl with her hands covering her swollen belly. She wasn’t with a boy. She’s with her mom, who was holding her shoulders for support.
Mom takes a breath and places her hands down on the steering wheel. “They called ahead, so the clinic is waiting for us,” she whispered between gasps.
“What does the clinic do?” I asked her.
“They will help you decide,” she said before letting out another wail.
“A decision?” I repeated.
“You don’t deserve this, Dani.”
I didn’t know if she was referring to the baby as “this” or if she meant the situation at hand. Either way, I knew I didn’t deserve either, but that didn’t matter. “This” was my outcome to bear.
“I’m keeping the baby,” I told her, trying to be gentle with her feelings even though I was the victim. I knew a baby would affect her too though.
Mom covered her mouth with her fingers bent in like claws. I knew the news was destroying her, but I would not hurt another person, no matter how big or small. That was my decision, regardless of how I ended up there.
“Dani, think about your life,” Mom said. I knew Mom was not a supporter of ending pregnancies, but my circumstance was different.
“I have,” I told her.
“It’s only been a few minutes, sweetheart.”
“That’s all it took to picture my future.”
Mom didn’t respond again. She drove to our next destination moving no part of her body except her hands. I kept my focus set out the window, imagining the days and months ahead, knowing I was nowhere close to being ready, but it was to be my life, whether I was ready or not.
The moment we pull into the parking lot next to the women’s clinic, Mom put the car’s gear into park. “I will support you, Dani. I will always support you. This is your decision, and I know it will be the right one.”
Mom opened her door, and I opened mine. We met in front of the car, and she took my hand as we walked toward the brick building. Once we stepped away from the parking lot, shouts from the corner of the short block startled us. “Baby killer!” “They have a heartbeat too!” “Murderer!”
My heart stopped. I wasn’t sure if they were talking to me, but I glanced over, spotting their posters attached to wooden poles. I couldn’t make out what I was seeing, but it looked like a blood-covered baby.
I felt sick.
“Shame on you,” Mom grunted toward them at the top of her lungs. “Shame on all of you. This clinic is for all women. All women with different stories and reasons for being here.”
“Don’t murder your child!” A woman responded with similar wrath.
“She was raped, you asshole.” Bile shot up from the depths of my stomach and through my throat. I heaved out everything I ate for breakfast, and possibly what I had for dinner the previous night. Mom’s hand rested on my back, and her free arm held me up as I found my balance. “Get the hell out of here,” she yelled again.
I couldn’t understand why Mom told them someone had raped me. At that moment, I felt like it would label me for life. I wondered if that’s all I would ever be—a rape victim.
In the trail of vomit, my eyes teared up, and I knelt on the pavement, vomiting once more.
After a moment of hanging my head over a bubbling puddle of guts, Mom helped me up to my feet and took us back to the car. “No, you’re not going here.”
She secured me inside the car like I was a child who couldn’t buckle her seatbelt, then fell to her knees between the car and door. “Look at me, Dani.”
I turned my head as my eyes still flooded with tears.
“Keep our baby. Let’s give this baby a fair life. We’ll do it together. I won’t leave your side. We can do this, okay?” I cried harder because I didn’t know what I would do without her. She had been by my side for weeks, even slept in my twin size bed with me, never making me feel like I was alone. Mom kept me moving. “We’ll find a nice doctor in Boston, and everything will be okay.”
“Thank you,” I told her.
“There comes a point in every mother’s life when she has to stop and realize that it’s time to learn from the child she has raised. I raised you well, Dani. I raised you well.”
18 YEARS OLD
“Is it weird I want to tell you I’m falling for you after just knowing you for two weeks?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to hold back any
other cheesy comment I might respond with, since that feeling is the only way to describe how I’ve been feeling about him.
“I know. It’s weird. I don’t know why I feel so connected to you, Dani, but I’ve never wanted to spend every waking moment with someone before, and I can’t stop thinking about you. Every minute we spend together, you amaze me more, and I’m jealous of the person you are.”
I’m glad we’re in the dark because he’d see the embarrassment filling my cheeks if we weren’t. “I’d like to take that walk on the beach now.”
“Nah, let’s stay on the street tonight. Next time, if you’re up to it, we’ll walk on the beach, okay?”
“Okay.”
Layne’s hand pulls from mine, but doesn’t break contact with me as he sweeps his fingers up my arm and slowly wraps his arm around my neck, pulling my head toward his shoulder. “I think you might end up being the best friend I was looking for,” he whispers.
Twenty
Current Day
Layne has his hands pressed into his front pockets, rocking front to back on his heels while we wait for Aly to walk out of school. I realize I have a tendency of standing behind Layne or behind Layne and Aly, watching them interact. I enjoy being a fly on the wall, knowing when I leave this world, if it’s before the two of them, they’ll be okay together. Layne is Aly’s rock, and while they don’t share DNA, I have been hard pressed to find a father-daughter-duo like them two. This last year has put a lot into perspective for me, and while I want to kick, scream, and cry my way out of this shitty mess, I see what I’ve done, and I’ve done it well.
Aly walks out with two of her girlfriends, laughing, and the sight makes me remember my earlier days in high school, how carefree and easy they were. I envy her and the fact that she has a lifetime ahead of her. Layne lifts his hand and waves in her direction. Aly’s initial reaction is a smile and a quick wave until that switch flips in her head, reminding her it’s not cool to wave at parents. She says goodbye to her friends and meets us at the curb. “Why are you both here?”
“Hi, sweetie,” I respond.
“It’s embarrassing enough being picked up by one of you. Why do you both have to come now?”
“We love our sweet, adorable, little girl,” Layne coos, loudly, pinching her cheek. “Why else would we be here to pick up our little snookums.”
“Dad, God,” she groans. “Where’s the car?”
Layne places his hand on her head and gently twists her to the side so she can see the car parked fifteen feet away.
“Someday, you’ll miss the days of your parents embarrassing you,” I tell Aly.
Layne looks at me and tries to perk his lips to the side. I don’t know if he’s reacting to my words because he misses his mom or because “someday” will be in a time when Aly will wish I was there for her. I didn’t mean to bring down the mood.
Aly is in the car before the two of us step off the curb. Why is she so angry? I don’t know when she went from a happy child to an angry teenager, but it’s upsetting.
Once we’re all settled in the car, Layne adjusts the rearview mirror, looking back at Aly. “Hey, kiddo.” Aly doesn’t respond with anything snide. Instead, she meets his gaze. “I have something for you when we get home.”
“You bought me something?” she asks with a hint of mild excitement, sounding more like the little girl I know.
“You’ll see.” I’m not sure what Layne has for her, but he likes to surprise us both with unique gifts all the time, so I can only imagine.
I look at Layne with wonder, but he winks at me, and I know I’ll have to be surprised too. “Why aren’t you at work again today? Aren’t you going to get fired?” Aly asks Layne.
“They gave me a couple of days off this week so that I can take Mom to her doctors’ appointments.”
“Oh yeah. How was that?” she asks, surprisingly.
“Everything is fine,” Layne answers for me.
“Sounds it,” she mutters. “Oh, Dad, can I borrow twenty dollars?”
“Sure, for what?”
“Battling Bands of Boston is coming in a few weeks, and a bunch of us want to go. Is that okay?”
A genuine smile hit’s Layne’s face, and he places his hand over his chest. “You know you’re not allowed out by yourself that late at night, kiddo. You’re only thirteen.”
“I know,” she says. “Will you come with us?”
Layne rests his head back against the seat and stares up and out of his window, seemingly thanking the clouds, sun, and sky. “I would love nothing more than to go with you. I’ll hang back at the bar so you can have fun with your friends. Sound good?”
“I love you, Dad,” she says.
This is all I ever wanted for them. This is why I watch. I get to see these moments. “I love you, baby-girl.” Layne sighs and readjusts his posture as we back out of the parking spot. “Oh, while we’re making plans, this weekend, Saturday, it’s a big day.”
“You don’t have to remind me every year. I don’t forget,” Aly tells him.
“Just making sure,” he responds.
This weekend. I don’t know what this weekend is. My stomach feels hollow while I try to recollect all the information I need to figure out what Saturday is.
I open my phone and scroll to my calendar. This Saturday has nothing written in the box. If it’s important, why wouldn’t it be in here?
“I have something special planned,” Layne says.
I twist my head toward the window, staring out onto the blurred pavement, hoping Layne doesn’t see the confused look on my face. We arrive home in a matter of minutes, and I’m still puzzled. “I’m going to go do some work in my studio for a piece someone hired me to work on last week. I haven’t started it yet,” I tell them.
“No problem. We’ll be up in Aly’s room if you need us,” Layne tells me.
I sit down in the center of my studio where I was earlier, staring back at the black hole painted on my canvas. Everything is so foggy. It feels best to lose myself within the dark circle on the canvas, but my mind drifts elsewhere when I hear soft music playing from up the stairs.
Layne is playing his guitar. He’s singing.
* * *
It’ll never be for nothing
The everlasting darkness
Can be a masked fronting
Because it’s all an illusion
And it’s always all for something
* * *
“A Hushing Trust” was one of my favorite songs Layne wrote. He still sings the words like he just wrote the lyrics, and as if he were still performing it live on stage. Layne doesn’t like to gloat or talk about his past. Therefore, Aly knows little of the fame he once had. She only knows he loves music and can play the guitar. Layne used to sing her to sleep when she was little, but as she got older and began to put herself to bed, those days ended. Layne lost his need to sing, and his life unraveled into a path of adulthood we both had to accept.
“Holy crap, Dad!” I hear once the music stops. “You can freakin’ sing. Like, you can sing, sing. Why have you never sung before?” She was too young to remember Layne singing.
“I have,” he says, chuckling.
“When?” she shouts. “You mean with my uncles?” She knows they used to have a garage band because that’s how they talk about themselves, but she never asked questions until now. I don’t think she even knows the name of their band.
The conversation becomes quiet, and I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I hope he’s telling her about Dividing Oblivion.
“What?” I hear a moment later. “Wait, wait, no you’re not.”
I stand up from the floor because I can’t tell what’s happening upstairs, whether Aly is happy or upset. With soft steps, I trail up the stairway, listening. “I don’t like to talk about it, baby-girl. It was in the past.”
“But I know Shattered Stars, Dad. I know that song. I didn’t know it was you.” My hand flies to my chest, and I lean against the wall as Aly�
��s words take my breath away. “Wait, why aren’t you still performing?”
My gaze falls to the wooden stair I’m standing on, wondering what response he’ll give her. I blame myself for the discontinuation of his budding music career, but he doesn’t allow me to take that blame out loud.
“A better opportunity came around, and I took it. It was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
“The music teaching job at school is a better opportunity?” Aly asks.
Silence fills the air for a moment. I imagine Layne giving her a loving smile. “It sure was and still is the best job. I love to teach.” A lump rises in my throat, doubting Layne would ever tell Aly the real reason he gave up music. He will protect her forever, and that kind of love means more to me than anything else in my life.
“Why don’t you ever play for us?” she asks.
If I could see Layne right now, I’d guess he’s shrugging his shoulders. In his head, I believe he thinks it’s too painful to sing. He’s said it in the past. “I’m older now. I don’t know.”
“You’re never too old to sing,” she says.
“Well, I suppose you’re right, but this is my decision. Anyway, Aly, I want to give you this—”
The sound of Layne’s rings fumbling against the neck of a guitar echoes in the hall. “You’re giving me your guitar?”
“Yes, and I will teach you to play if that’s what you want?”
“Are you kidding? My dream is to be in that Battling Bands of Boston someday.” She just made Layne’s world, and she doesn’t even know.
“Then that’s our goal, baby-girl. We’ll get you there.”
“I want to practice with you every day after school, okay? Will you teach me all your songs? I want to be just like you, Dad.”
I haven’t heard Aly this excited about anything in longer than I can remember and I wish I were a part of this moment, but I’m getting a peek inside of my future, and I’m happy they will have something to move on with, something that doesn’t include me or bring them any pain.