by Jessica Park
She nods.
Chris and Sabin are in the same spot where I left them, and I ignore the few onlookers who witnessed the scene.
“Come on. It’s okay. Come on.” It takes more force than I expected to get them to budge from their spots, but finally, I wordlessly move them away from the tent and get them down to the next cross street.
“Where are Estelle and Eric?” Chris asks, suddenly panicked.
“They’re still back up where we left them.”
“I don’t want them to see. They can’t see.”
“Okay. I’ll make sure Zach gets them past that gallery without stopping.” I send a short text to Zach, explaining what’s going on.
“Thank you.” Christopher’s usual steadiness has been shaken hard, but he’s starting to come back to solid ground. He turns to his brother. “Sabin? It’s okay now.”
Sabin’s eyes are unfocused. “Chris?”
“It’s okay, Sabin,” he repeats. “You’re all right.”
“But…you’re hurt?”
Chris sounds more confident now. “No, I’m not. Look at me. Sabin, you have to look at me.”
Slowly, Sabin turns his head to Chris. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m not. See?” Chris holds out his arms, and he turns around once, letting Sabin scan his body. “Do you see? I’m not hurt, and more importantly, you are not hurt. You’re in one piece. I’m in one piece.”
Sabin’s eyes fall back to Christopher’s upper arm area, to a place where I know there is damage from a burn. “You are hurt. I remember that.”
“That’s over.” Chris takes a stride forward and puts both hands on Sabin’s shoulders, forcing them to lock eyes. “Listen to me. We’re safe, and we’re free. Look around. Do you see where we are? We’re not back there.” He takes Sabin’s hand and presses it under his arm. “See? It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“I want to go home,” Sabin says.
“Okay.” Chris is so gentle with him, so caring. But it’s as though he were speaking to a child.
And, I realize with pain, that is what he’s doing. He’s speaking to Sabin as he must have done years earlier.
“I need to go take care of Mia. She needs the exercise.”
“If that’s what you want to do, that’s what we’ll do.”
A glimmer of brightness peeks through. “You haven’t been to the ranch yet, Chrissy. You can see the tree house and Mia.”
“I think that’s a great plan,” Chris says.
I’ve never heard Sabin call him Chrissy. I bet he used to though. It’s something a little kid would say.
We usher Sabin back to the car, and I hurriedly text Zach again. I don’t need to tell him more than that we had to get Sabin out of here. He’ll understand.
Getting back to the ranch seems to restore a bit of whatever happened to Sabin downtown. It’s the first time he’s wanted to show Chris where he’s made his home, and I stay in the background while he gives Chris the tour. The truth is that I’m too unnerved, too frightened, to do much else. Chris is very good with Sabin, whereas I’m afraid that, if I open my mouth, I’ll fall apart. Chris is admiring the exquisite paneling of the tree-house walls and commenting on the view when I excuse myself to go visit Mia.
I walk the path back to the paddock and try to clear my head. Mia is by herself today, and she clops toward me.
“Hi, pretty,” I say.
I’m not scared to reach my hand to her now, and she waves her tail and makes a few nickering sounds while she lets me pet her.
There is too much swirling through my mind, and I am overwhelmed by Sabin’s evident pain. I don’t think it was until today that I understood how he was still haunted. It sounds stupid to me now, but I thought he’d worked through so much. But maybe it’s too much to escape—or too much to escape alone.
Estelle, Eric, and Chris all have a significant relationship. While we cannot undo childhood trauma, James, Zach, and I do provide the person we love with some level of help and comfort. Love doesn’t fix everything, but it helps.
Sabin is alone. I’m not there enough. I’m not truly his—or his alone.
Alone. It’s a word that fits here because I suddenly see how alone Sabin must feel.
The understanding surges through my system and crushes me. He has an added layer of pain that his brothers and sister don’t have. In fact, I suspect he might have other layers that I don’t see yet.
Each sibling had their own experience growing up in that sickening household.
I’m not sure I know what Sabin’s was.
I’m not sure I can stomach knowing.
Sabin brings Chris out and introduces him to Mia. I stroll to the edge of the arena with Chris while Sabin gives the same riding demonstration he gave me. This time, however, we are all subdued. Chris has managed to bring some peace and calm back, but something significant happened today that none of us can shake entirely.
We lean against the rails and watch.
“You’re very quiet, Blythe,” Chris finally says.
I nod.
“It must have been scary to see Sabin like that.”
I nod again.
He blows out a long breath. “The painting…” he starts. “I didn’t…I didn’t know Sabin remembered that day. I tried to protect him from that, but I guess I didn’t do a very good job because he remembers something.”
I watch Sabin. I just watch him ride and watch him be free for a few moments.
“The painting…” Chris continues. “The black on it? It’s from coal. Burned into the canvas. Then, caked on. I could see some ash in there, too.”
It’s as though these stories are endless. When I think that maybe I know them all, there are more.
“Sabin was there?” I ask.
Chris shakes his head. “No, actually. I made sure. He was outside. I thought…I don’t know how he knows. My intention was for him to be shut off from it all.”
“But he had a very strong reaction today.”
“Yeah. I was…” He inhales and exhales so sharply that I feel his pain. “He must have heard or seen more than I knew. So, today hit him hard. Gave him…some kind of flashback.” Chris pauses. “We get those sometimes. We always will probably. It’s part of the post-traumatic stress. He and I have it worse than the twins. I get mine at night, mostly when I sleep. You deal with that all the time, I know. I got it a bit today, but Sabin and I handle things differently…or we process things differently when they happen.”
Chris, I’m aware, was unusually logical and present, even while growing up in his father’s house. He stayed focused on the idea that there was a finite end to what they were suffering, that they would all get out of their father’s control, and that there would be life after. What kept him sane was, ironically, putting himself in his father’s path so that the other children would be safe. He routinely had Sabin take charge of Estelle and Eric to shield them from whatever abuse their father was unleashing. But that wasn’t always possible, and I see how Chris is faulting himself for that right now, as he has done many times before.
“I didn’t do enough,” Chris says.
“You did everything that you possibly could. You have got to forgive yourself for this crazy idea you have that you had to be some kind of superhero. No one could have done what you did for Sabin, for everyone.”
“I thought he was doing well. Maybe he was. Maybe today was just a bad day.”
“Maybe it was.”
“But it was scary for you. I know that. It’s hard to be present for someone else’s pain.”
“Sometimes, I feel helpless.”
“There are many layers of hell, Blythe, and you’ve watched us go through a lot of them. It can’t be easy for you. On days like this, I think you should run.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
He turns to me and smiles softly. “I know. It took me a while to accept that because I could not understand how you would choose to be in this with us, but I know you won’t leav
e. And you do more for me and for Sabin than we could ever explain. Some of what you do is so intangible that we can’t break it down to thank you, but we are grateful for every moment that you stay.”
“And I’m grateful for every moment that you let me.”
Chris and Sabin have been and might always be enveloped in some degree of darkness. But I will always love them both.
“Sabin’s pain feels worse than my own,” he says.
“I know it does.” I understand this because it’s what happens when you love someone more than yourself. You would take on their suffering. You would do anything to bring them relief. “But…but look at him with Mia. For right now, just for right now, in this moment, he’s happy.”
Chris takes my hand. “That’s something.”
“That’s an important something. So, let’s take it.”
Sabin has picked up his riding pace with Mia, and it’s a beautiful thing to watch. The two of them move as though they’ve been together for years, and Sabin has some punch back in his voice when he nears us. “Chris, you want to ride?”
“You bet I do, cowboy!”
“Bet you don’t do as well as Blythe did her first time.”
“We’ll see about that.” Chris hops the wood fence and winks at me. “Although, I think Blythe was outstanding her first time.”
Sabin’s laugh is a welcome sound. “Yee-haw to that then!”
“Oh my God, Chris! Really? Sabe, make sure he falls off.”
Sabin strides toward me and takes my hand as he eloquently removes his hat and gets down on one knee. “Whatever my darlin’ cowgirl wants.” He kisses my hand and then looks up as though he’s going to say something, but then he stops himself. He holds my hand in his while he struggles for words.
I shake my head a touch. “I hear you. You don’t have to say anything at all. I hear you.”
He kisses my hand again. “Your boyfriend is about to fall off a horse. Get ready!”
Sabin, of course, does not let Chris fall, and for the next thirty minutes, I escape the troubled afternoon and just watch. The strength of the bond between these brothers is strong, but that strength is grounded in turmoil, and that worries me. There is endless love, but an additional piece is beginning to show, and I cannot identify it. It’s a dynamic that hasn’t yet fully played out.
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
I turn and blush a bit when I see Pearce. “Hello, again.”
Sabin waves enthusiastically. “Pearce! This is my big brother, Chris! Look how well he’s doing.”
Pearce waves and gives a thumbs-up. “Lookin’ good there! You’re a solid teacher, Sabin. Nice job.” He leans against the railing with me and squints before he taps down his cowboy hat. “You enjoying your trip?” he asks.
“I am. Been exploring the city a bit, being a little touristy on occasion, but I think that’s allowed. It’s nice to see where Sabin lives. I especially like being here, watching him with Mia. It’s a peaceful place to be.”
“We could all use a little peace now and then, huh?”
I sigh. “You’re not kidding.”
He follows Sabin with his eyes for a minute. “Sabin doing all right?”
I look at Pearce. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”
He tips his head to the side a bit. “He’s been working when he doesn’t have to. Trying to keep busy. Probably avoiding a few things. Sabin’s a drinker, right?”
“How did you know?” I can’t hide my surprise.
He shrugs. “I might know a thing or a hundred about that.” Pearce smiles a bit. “It’s easy for me to see it. That’s all.”
“You used to drink?” I ask hesitantly. I don’t know the rules about talking about this stuff, but he brought it up.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I’m not married anymore. Been sober for twenty years now. Drinking away your problems only makes new ones, I learned. So, I quit. Carrying around a lot though, that boy. I’m guessing booze was the least of it.”
“You know Sabin pretty well.”
“Not details, but I don’t need details to know Sabin has a story. And it’s a whopper.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It’s a whopper.” There’s no disguising the sadness in my voice.
“He’s a good kid. Really good kid. Tough as nails. Just a little unsteady right now. Sabin’s got some shit to work through, and this is as good a place as any to do it.”
“You watch over him, don’t you?”
“As long as he lives here, you bet I do.” Pearce stands up and gestures to Sabin. “Watch the reins, Sabin. Getting too loose there.”
Sabin nods and tightens the reins in Chris’s hands while he continues to walk next to his brother and Mia.
“There you go. See how that’s better?” Pearce rubs his palm over the stubble on his cheek. “I’ll be here if he needs anything, Blythe, okay? He’s good people. He’s got a home here, no matter what.”
Sabin is singing at a club this evening. He’s always loved the spotlight, and I’m excited to see him on stage. Stage might be a grander term than necessary, given that we’re going to a restaurant/bar that probably doesn’t offer up a massive performance area, but that’s fine. It’s the night before New Year’s Eve, so I don’t know what kind of crowd will be out tonight, but the six of us will be there to cheer him on.
I’m picking up Sabin so that he can get there early, and the others will meet us. I’m a little stressed because I’m running late. It took me forever to get ready tonight, which is unusual for me because—much to Estelle’s dislike—I’m not much for fashion. Yet I couldn’t figure out what to wear or how to do my hair or makeup, so I eventually caved and called on Estelle for help. It’s not as though we’re going to a formal gala, but I wanted to look nice. It’s a night on the town. It’s for Sabin.
I’m parked under a tree outside the path to Sabin’s place, but I sit in the car for a few minutes and fuss with my lip gloss and then curl my hair around my fingers, trying to feel comfortable. Estelle fluffed out my hair into a wild mane of curls and assigned me fitted boot-cut jeans paired with heels and a shirt that shows more cleavage than I usually do. I pull on the back of the shirt to raise the fabric in the front, and then I pull down the front. It’s just going to slip back that way anyhow. Might as well go with it.
It’s dark out now, but solar lights have come on to shine the way over the bridge. I’m pleased that I’m managing the heels better than expected although I do take the walk slowly. I hear voices when I reach his door. It’s open, and I’m about to step in when I see that he’s not alone.
A young woman, near our age, is sitting on the floor in front of him while he leans back on the sofa. His pant leg is rolled up, and she’s holding a hand to his calf.
“Well, ow! Shit! That hurts!” He throws his hands into his hair.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She keeps her hand pressed to him but apologetically looks up. “We just need to make sure it’s clean. I’m really sorry.” Her voice is soft and even, a bit motherly.
I don’t know why I don’t come out from the shadows I’m in, but I stand still.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m glad that I saw you limping when you came back, or you might have just walked around with gravel and dirt in this. It’s a pretty bad cut. That motorcycle is a bad idea. Are you sure you won’t let me drive you to the hospital?”
“It’s okay, darlin’. I’m fine.” But he winces a bit.
“I’m just going to coat it in antibacterial ointment now and then bandage it up.”
“Thanks, Mollie. You’re real sweet.”
She drops her head and focuses on his leg, but I can see her cheeks turning pink. Tenderly, she takes a handful of gauze from him, and I can see the significant scrape he’s given himself.
I knock on the open door and step in. “Hey,” I say tentatively. “You all right?”
“Blythe!” Sabin sits up. “Shit, is it th
at late already? Sorry. Minor bang up.”
I take a seat next to him and peer down. “That’s a rather bloody mess.”
He’s got a nasty deep scrape that runs most of the length of his calf.
“It’s nothing. Blythe, this is Mollie, Pearce’s daughter. Mollie, this is my friend Blythe.”
I smile at her. “Hi. Thanks for patching him up.”
Mollie smiles shyly at me. “Hi. No problem.” Her light-brown bangs hang over her eyes.
She’s pretty, I notice—petite, simple blunt haircut, no makeup, T-shirt, and cargo pants. Sabin was right when he mentioned she wasn’t really his type, but I can’t help noticing that she seems nervous and a bit flustered. Her hand shakes a bit when she tears open a few large bandages and applies the ointment to his leg, but she does a very good job of securing the gauze with white hospital tape.
“So, you wiped out on that stupid bike, huh?” I can’t keep the scolding tone out of my voice.
He waves a hand. “Whatever.”
Mollie packs away the supplies she brought into a tote bag. “I’m sure he was going too fast,” she says quietly. “It’s not safe.”
“Where did this happen? On the highway?” I ask, alarmed.
Sabin shakes his head. “Just…you know, up the road. It’s fine. I just took a turn too fast. Don’t overreact.”
“His arm is cut, too,” Mollie adds. “Not as bad. But it’s still cut.”
I grab his arm and pull up the sleeve. Another large bandage is wrapped around his upper arm. “God, Sabin!”
“Relax! And we have to leave, B. I go on at eleven.”
“Are you sure you still want to do this? You just had a motorcycle accident. And Mollie’s right. You should probably go to the hospital.”
“What? This is nothing, kid.” He stands up and does some exaggerated knee bends. “See? Check me out! All in working order.”
Mollie stands awkwardly and looks at her feet. “Okay. Well, good night,” she says. “Please don’t ride so fast. It’s dangerous,” she speaks so softly that I can hardly hear her, but her tone is kind and concerned. She starts for the door.
“Thanks again, Molls!” Sabin moves to the far side of the tree house to collect his guitar.