The Love She Craves: Selling Her Soul to Declan

by Gemma Jenkins

  “Lotus, it’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve been so worried. Is Reina with you?”

  “She’s standing right here. Wait your turn, Reina, I wanna talk first.”

  “Ow! I’m gonna tell,” the second voice yelled.

  “Stop it,” Nyxie said firmly. “No fighting.”

  Nyxie looked at Declan, a slight blush on her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she wasn’t a good parent.

  “Girls,” he said. “Put the phone on speaker so we can talk to both of you.”

  “Who’s that?” Lotus asked.

  “That’s Dr. Stryker. He’s the one who bought the phones for us. Do you know how to put the phone on speaker?”

  “I’m not stupid,” the girl said impatiently.

  Declan gave Nyxie a told-you-so look.

  “Lotus, that was rude. All you had to say was, ‘Yes, I know how.’”

  “Sorry, Aunt Nyxie. Hold on a sec,” Lotus said. “Okay, it’s on speaker. Say hi, Reina.”

  “Hi.”

  Nyxie smiled widely and her voice had a bit of a sigh when she greeted the younger child, her relief evident. “And what do you say to Dr. Stryker for buying us all such nice phones.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Stryker,” the girls said in unison.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Dr. Stryker, you’re Cody’s doctor, right?”

  “I’m one of them. It took a whole team of doctors to patch him up and early next week, he’s going to have another operation.”

  Nyxie looked at him in disbelief. This was the first she’d heard of it.

  “We had to remove part of his skull because his brain was swelling. When we did, we took the part we removed and put it in the freezer and when the swelling has gone down, we will put it back.”

  “Does that hurt?” Reina asked.

  “It may hurt after he wakes up, but for now we’re giving him medicine to make sure he doesn’t wake up.”

  “Will it give him brain freeze when you put it back on?” Lotus asked. “I hate brain freeze.”

  Declan and Nyxie’s eyes met and he smiled widely. “No, I don’t think it will. If you can keep a secret, I really don’t know. This was my first craniotomy.”

  “Lotus, Reina, tell me about where you’re living. Are you still together?”

  “Sort of. We don’t live with a family. We live in a place with lots of other kids. Reina’s in a house for five to eight-year-olds and I’m in the house for nine to twelve-year-olds.”

  “I don’t like it there, Aunt Nyxie. They won’t let me sleep with Lotus and the other kids call me a crybaby.”

  “Nyxie, she tried to sneak in to our house last night, but she set off an alarm.”

  “Reina, don’t do that again. Listen to me, both of you. You have to be good and you have to be polite and call your house parents ma’am and sir. I guarantee they are watching your behavior and it reflects on how well I’ve been raising you. Promise me.”

  “We promise, Aunt Nyxie.”

  One of the girls suddenly gasped. A faint voice could be heard in the distance. “Where did y’all get that phone?” a woman said.

  Declan used his most authoritative voice when he answered for the girls. “I’m Dr. Declan Stryker. These girls are suffering from Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. We want Lotus and Reina to have twenty-four-hour access to the counseling they need. These are what are being called ‘therapy phones’,” he said with a wink to Nyxie. “If you don’t mind, we aren’t finished with our session. I’m here with their Aunt Nyxie for their family counseling session. Girls, I want you to tell me what you remember about Cody’s accident. Were you both there? Did you both see what happened?”

  “Yes, sir, Dr. Stryker.”

  Nyxie waved her hands back and forth, furiously shaking her head and mouthing the word, “No.”

  “Lotus, Nyxie doesn’t think you want to talk about it. Do you feel like telling us what happened?”

  “It’s okay, Aunt Nyxie.”

  Declan grabbed his phone and turned on the digital voice recorder as Lotus began to speak.

  “Tell me what Cody was doing before the accident.”

  “He was poppin’ curbs.”

  His eyebrows lowered making little lines appear between his eyes. “What do you mean?” Declan asked.

  Nyxie touched his arm. “He uses the part of the driveway where it slopes sharply at the curb as little ramp to jump,” she explained.

  “Oh, okay, I get it. Was he riding from across the street so he could get up his speed?”

  “Nuh uh. He came out of the driveway next door and was almost to Levi’s driveway when that truck came tearin’ around the corner. He was going so fast, he went over to the wrong side of the road and hit Cody.”

  “I don’t think he could steer very good with just one hand,” Reina said.

  “The kid only had one hand?” He looked at the phone wondering if an eight and ten-year-old were reliable witnesses.

  “No, silly. He had two hands. How else could he talk on his phone and drive?”

  “Reina, are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” came the small girl’s voice.

  “Was Levi out there poppin’ curbs, too?” Nyxie asked.

  “Nuh uh, he’s got football camp all week.”

  Declan’s head whipped around. “Football camp at the high school?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Lotus said. “Aunt Nyxie, Ms. Alexander keeps pointing at her watch. I think we have to go now.”

  “I love you girls. Call anytime, okay?”

  “We love you, too. Tell Cody we love him, too,” Lotus said.

  “Hey! I wanted to say I love you,” Reina said.

  “Ow,” Lotus shouted.

  “Reina! No hitting. No fighting. You two need to be looking out for each other. Besides, I want to hear both of you say, ‘I love you’ to me.”

  “I don’t want to say it now,” Reina pouted.

  “Please, Reina, I need to hear it.” Her voice wavered and her eyes filled with tears. “Please.” A few seconds passed and Nyxie thought she wasn’t going to do it.

  “I love you, Aunt Nyxie. I miss you and Uncle Cody.”

  “I love you both. I’m doing everything I can to bring you home.”

  16

  Declan cleared the perishables out of her small fridge and took the trash to the dumpster while Nyxie paid her rent and gave notice that she planned to move out—calling her landlady’s daughter and leaving a message to make sure she checked up on her mother regularly. With all of her clothing and most of Cody’s in the back of the Jeep, Nyxie expected Declan to head back to Lubbock but he headed further into Chimera Flats.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I want to talk to that kid.”

  He drove to the high school, parking near the field house. “Do you recognize the pickup?” he asked confident that most seventeen-year-old boys in Chimera Flats played on the high school’s sports teams and anyone who wanted to curry favor with Coach would be at summer football camp.

  Nyxie began scanning the parking lot for a new red pickup. She had barely glanced at it the day Cody was hit. The pickups she saw were pointing away from them so she couldn’t see if any had front end damage. “Maybe that one, I don’t know.”

  “Do you have any pictures of Cody on your phone?”

  She frowned as she realized what he planned to do. “I took a couple of pictures.”

  Declan smoothed the creases between her eyes. “Cody will want to see them when he’s well. Do you have a picture of him in your wallet from before?”

  “It’s several years old.”

  The photograph was one of her most prized possessions. They didn’t have a camera nor could they afford school pictures, so to have his second grade teacher share a photo she snapped on a field trip was priceless.

  “That’s fine. Come on.”

  Nyxie bit her lip and looked apprehensive. “Can I stay in the car? I don’t want to see him ag
ain.”

  A gentle smile came to his lips. “It’s going to be all right. You don’t have to talk to him. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “I hope your dad doesn’t remember me.” She scanned the distance looking for his father’s familiar form, praying he wouldn’t be there.

  “He only remembers his star players.” Declan said as he climbed out of the Jeep. He hurried over to her side and helped her out. Her hands felt cold and trembled slightly.

  As he walked her into the practice field, he noticed she tended to lag half a step behind him, despite their interlaced fingers.

  “Am I walking too fast for you?”

  “No, this is not a place which holds fond memories. I never thought I would come back here.”

  Nyxie noticed all the elementary and middle school boys had already gone home leaving only the high school players. The sound of Coach Stryker’s voice yelling commands made her feel a bit sick. She turned to leave, but Declan’s grip tightened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Declan!” the coach shouted suddenly before she could answer him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “We were in town to run a quick errand and I heard you were holding camp this week. How’s the season looking?”

  “I think we’ve got regionals wrapped up,” the man said absently, his eyes fixed on Onyx and frowning. “Is this your girlfriend?”

  Roy Stryker towered over her. He was barrel chested and 250 pounds of muscle dressed in polyester gym shorts and a golf shirt in the school’s silver and navy colors. “Flip-flop girl,” he said under his breath as he turned to his son. “Is this a joke?”

  “Is what a joke?”

  Nyxie moved back and partially behind Declan as if to use him as a shield, but Roy followed stepping next to his son. Even as Declan turned, Nyxie continued to retreat and Roy continued stepping aggressively towards her.

  “Tell me sweetheart—you’re an adult now—I can’t flunk you again—I want to know why you deliberately provoked me that whole year?”

  “I-I didn’t. I….”

  Declan put himself between them, holding her hand behind his back and placing his palm forcefully against his father’s chest.

  “Coach, stop. What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Onyx, right? That’s your name, isn’t it? God, your mother must’ve hated you to give you a black girl’s name.”

  “Geez, Coach, that’s not a bit racist.”

  Nyxie raised her chin as she refused to be that girl he intimidated for an hour every day her sophomore year. Normally, if someone said something like that to her, she’d point out that onyx came in a variety of colors including white and many shades of rusty reds and browns to deflect any curiosity about the real reason her mother gave her the name.

  “Yeah, she did.”

  “Maybe it was those goddamn flip-flops.”

  A smirk appeared on her face as she stood up straight. “I bet it was.”

  “Dad, stop.”

  “No, this girl wasted the first ten minutes of P.E. for at least six months and I want to know why. Every fucking day, she showed up in fucking flip-flops, usually five minutes late. Christ-all-mighty, how long does it take to change into shorts and sneakers—only you never had sneakers, you only wore those fucking two-dollar flip-flops.”

  “Dad, stop! Those were probably the only shoes she owned.”

  “I remember her wearing sneakers at least once or twice. But I fixed your wagon, didn’t I? I stepped on the heel.”

  “You made me trip on purpose and it broke the strap of my shoe.”

  “Who cares? Those were just those cheap pool shoes and you wore those things all winter long.”

  “I missed three days of school because I didn’t have shoes to wear.”

  “Bullshit. You wore sneakers….” He poked his finger at her aggressively making her step back again.

  “I was always late, because I was trying to find an open gym locker with a pair of tennis shoes in them so you wouldn’t yell at me. I had no money to buy a pair.”

  “Well, you seemed to have found money to buy sneakers the week after I broke that sandal.”

  Nyxie stared at him, hating him for the way he treated her her sophomore year. But even more than that, she hated the way he still had the power to upset her so many years later. Something clicked inside of her. If she could take her father’s abuse without crying, she could certainly keep those tears at bay while she faced this man. “I walked to every garage sale I could find, looking for a pair, wearing those broken sandals.”

  It had been exhausting trying to fix the sandal every few steps as she walked around town. When she finally found a pair, she begged the lady to let her clean her house or pull weeds to earn money for those shoes because she didn’t have the four dollars she wanted for them. In the end, the woman gave them to her.

  Nyxie could feel tears threatening her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let Coach Stryker make her cry.

  “God, Dad, you’re such a fucking dick.”

  Roy kept his chest puffed out, refusing to admit he owned any blame. “All she had to do was tell me she didn’t have a pair. I would’ve called her parents.”

  “Like that would’ve done any good,” she muttered.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Roy said glaring at her.

  “Nothing.”

  He threw his hands into the air. “You haven’t changed a bit. You were always making some remark then when I asked what you meant, you’d mumble, ‘nothing.’”

  “Dad, just drop it.”

  “No, she wasted everyone’s time with this nonsense.”

  “No, you wasted everyone’s time making such a fucking drama out of it every day when I stepped out of the locker room. You never once asked me in private why I wore them. You had to constantly parade me in front of the whole class and publicly humiliate me. Did you really think I was going to stand there in front of everyone and tell them my mother ran off with a truck driver, leaving my brother and me with our falling-down-drunken father and every penny I could find, went into putting food in our bellies? You don’t know how many times, I stood in front of the shoes at the dollar store wanting to steal a pair, but knowing if I did, everything people said about us worthless Carmichaels would be true.”

  Declan turned his back on his father and took Nyxie into his arms. He realized now it wasn’t Jonah Travis she didn’t want to see, but his father. “I am so sorry, Nyxie. I had no idea any of that happened. I would’ve let you stay in the car if I’d known.”

  When Declan realized her arms were by her sides, he reached down, one hand at a time and pulled her arms up—not to go around him, but to put them between their bodies, enclosed in his embrace, confining her into as small an area as he could to make her feel safe.

  “We didn’t come here to see you, Coach. We want to talk to Jonah Travis.”

  “Why do you want to talk to him?”

  “I operated on the kid he nearly killed.”

  “There it is!” Roy said throwing his hands in the air for a second time. “You just can’t have a conversation without trying to lord over me the fact that you’re a doctor. I’m not impressed. I’ll never be impressed. Any half-smart kid who is willing to take on a couple of hundred grand in debt can become a doctor. You could’ve been a pro athlete, but you threw it away.”

  Declan looked down at Nyxie and rolled his eyes as if he’d heard this tirade a million times. “I didn’t want to be a pro athlete. I wasn’t willing to let you keep doping me with fucking supplements.”

  “Everything I ever gave you was legal.”

  “At that time,” Declan interrupted. “How many of those supplements are only available in Third World countries now? You had no right.”

  “I turned you into a star athlete.”

  “At what cost, Coach? If I get a brain tumor at the age of thirty, do you think I’ll be saying, Thanks, Dad, it was all worth it?”

  �
��Travis!” he yelled to the field. “Get your ass over here.” he turned to Declan. “Tell him the kid’s going to be okay so he can get his mind back on the game.”

  “Oh, right, Coach. We all know the scoreboard is more important than the life of a little kid.”

  The coach didn’t look a bit contrite. “The way he’s moping around won’t make that kid any better,” he said distractedly as he pulled his phone out of his pocket tapped on the display and put the phone to his ear.

  “It’s good to hear he feels bad about nearly killing my brother,” Nyxie said to Roy.

  “Your brother? Oh, now I get it. Declan is playing the hero.” The expression he gave to Declan was the kind of look only a parent can give to convey their disappointment. “Honey, guess who’s in town. Yeah, he’s coming over to see….”

  It took a moment for it to register that Roy was talking into the phone. “No, Dad….”

  “Yeah, and he’s got a girl with him. I’ll let you make up your own mind.” Roy hung up the phone with a smug grin.

  “Why did you do that?” Declan asked in an accusing tone.

  “You know why. If I don’t force the issue, you won’t go see your mother.”

  “Dad, I just got off a thirty hour shift. I’m tired. I just want to go home and go to bed.”

  Roy glanced at Nyxie still in his son’s arms. “Yeah, I bet you do. Maybe you should double up on the rubbers,” he said sneering at her.

  “Geez, Dad. No one calls them rubbers anymore. Besides, we can’t use condoms. Nyxie’s allergic to latex.”

  “Not that we’d want to,” Nyxie said reaching out and touching Declan’s cheek.

  He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead.

  “Your fucking dick’s going to rot off if you put it inside her. But what do I care? It’s your dick.”

  A kid in a football helmet and pads ran up to Roy. “Yeah, coach?”

  “These people want to talk to you,” Roy said before jogging away blowing his whistle.

  The teenager pulled the chinstrap and eased the helmet over his ears. His dark hair, matted with sweat, stuck out at odd angles.

  “Why don’t we go sit in the stands,” Declan said releasing Nyxie. “We want to talk to you about what happened with Cody Carmichael.”