by Lynn Rider
“Hardly ever,” Matthew finally answers around a mouth full of burger. My eyes meet his and see the silent pleading and more than ever. I know I must rescue him. He’s old enough to know this isn’t normal. Brandon still sees my parents as only that. Matthew is old enough to see them as people.
People that are far from perfect.
“Where have you been?!” my mother shouts, rising from the same couch she was passed out on when we left. She pushes the dark, grey streaked hair from her face. Her lips twist in a scowl, eyes narrowed with fire. I step in front of the boys. She creeps around the couch, using it as support of her unsteady legs. The scent of beer assaults me as she gets closer. I glance over my shoulder where Matthew and Brandon watch wearily.
“Guys, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hand the bag of snacks we bought on the way back to Matthew and jut my chin toward the stairs. He takes my cue, leading Brandon up to their room. Matthew’s eyes pleadingly lock to mine as he climbs the stairs.
I wait for them to disappear before I allow the red-hot fury to creep back in. I remind myself to take a deep breath before looking back to our mother.
“You can’t just come in here and take them anytime you want! I’ve already told you that! Do I have to call my lawyer?”
I snicker. “Your lawyer? In what universe do you have a lawyer?”
“I can hire one anytime I want.”
“With what? The money I give you to provide a better life for those two? Good to know you’re setting some of it aside because they sure as shit aren’t seeing a dime of it!”
“They have a roof over their head!”
I glance around the small room. With the lights on, I have a better look: linoleum floors peeling in the kitchen and large, dark stains on worn beige carpet. I don’t even want to think about the neighborhood. “This is a real Taj Mahal. What the hell happened to the other place?”
“It didn’t work out,” she mumbles, looking away.
“You got evicted, didn’t you?” Her eyes drop and I growl. I want to kick my own ass for believing she was paying the rent with the money I give her.
“This place is fine! Don’t come in here with your nose in the air. You run around with your whores, not caring what those two boys think of you.” I take a deep breath, forcing myself from launching at her. “You think they don’t sit in their rooms with those fancy laptops you bought them and not stalk your every move on the internet? They idolize you and your lifestyle. Running around hitting people for a living. How do you sleep with yourself at night?”
“How do I sleep with myself at night? Where in the fuck do you think I learned to fight? I can’t remember a day when I wasn’t kicking and punching to save your ass from the revolving door of men you brought through your bed.”
“I never asked for your help!”
“And you sure as fuck didn’t try to stop it when I was taking punch and after punch for you either!” I seethe.
“Awe, poor little Chance!”
“If I had it to do over again, I would have let you take it. You brought those bastards into our house. I sure as hell didn’t deserve it and those boys upstairs don’t either.”
“They don’t need you! They have a father.”
“A father that’s never fucking here!”
“He’s at work.”
“Those boys haven’t seen him since last week!”
She looks away, stumbling to the kitchen. I follow her the short distance and watch as she opens the door of the refrigerator, seemingly forgetting it’s empty before slamming it back.
“Why don’t you have food? Jesus, Brandon was so hungry he stole a fucking orange today at school!”
She spins, steadying herself with the help of the counter. “Awe, are you worried about what your precious private school is going to think of our little degenerates?”
I step forward, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. The intoxicated fog in her eyes clears and I love the wild-eyed fear that replaces it. I’ve never hit a woman, and I’d spent my entire childhood protecting this one, but I won’t let her do to them what she’s done to me. “Don’t you ever call them that!” I drag her closer, aligning my eyes with hers. “I know you’re using again and I will not let you ruin them like you ruined me!” I push her back, watching in satisfaction as her body falls against the counter.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” I turn, stalking toward the door.
2
Mia
No new message or missed call on my cellphone. I look at the door. My sister Audrey is late…again. It really shouldn’t surprise me. She’s always late and as of recent, sometimes doesn’t show at all.
“Did you want to go ahead and order?” the redhead waiter stops and asks cautiously. I’ve been sitting here close to thirty minutes, watching the door and my phone like a left behind puppy. His blue eyes narrow, an expression on his pale, freckled face that I can’t decipher. He’s probably pissed I was seated at a table in his section.
He works off tips, Mia.
I pick up the menu, stalling for another minute. My eyes lift, meeting his baby blues once again, this time seeing pity in their depths. He thinks I’m desperate. Knows I’m desperate. I am where Audrey is concerned. She’s my Achilles’ heel. Practically the only family I have left and despite her inability to embrace the bond of family, I hold onto it for dear life. I glance toward the door once more and see the top of her golden hair bouncing behind those waiting for a table. Our eyes connect and her head ducks down, weaving through the crowd.
“Can you give me another minute? She’s here.” I breathe the last with a relief that is deeper than he could possibly understand. He turns and walks away, not hiding his irritation by my request.
Audrey makes her way to the table and slides out of her coat. Today’s high temperature is thirty-five degrees and she’s wearing a leather mini skirt, ankle boots, and a skin-tight pink tee with a glittered ‘The Big Shebang’ emblazoned across the front.
“What are you wearing?” I hiss as she lowers in her seat.
She looks down at her barely-there clothing. “I have to go to work when I leave here. It’s not like you haven’t seen my uniform before.”
“You’ve never worn it to dinner!” I look around the room to see the patrons’ reactions to her, seething.
“I was running late.” She looks at the few lingering sets of eyes from other customers. “What do you care?” She shrugs dismissively, picking up the menu.
“What I care about is that I’ve been waiting for over a half an hour. Is your phone broken? You could have called or at the very least, sent a text.” I glance down to where she’s placed her pink phone on the side of the table. I know her well enough to know her phone is never outside of her immediate grasp and she didn’t miss my texts; she ignored them.
“I overslept. What’s the big deal?” The big deal is that she’s only ever concerned about her own actions, never considering how they affect anyone else.
“I thought you were off last night?”
“I was. Just because I wasn’t tending bar, doesn’t mean I can’t go out after dark, Mom.” Her reference paired with her sarcasm hurts.
It’s been over two years since our parents were killed in a car accident and every day I miss them more. I was twenty, Audrey barely eighteen. Each day I embrace their memory tighter while Audrey does everything to distance herself. They were the epitome of perfect parents and at one time, we were the epitome of a perfect family. From the outside, looking in, we appeared that way until the day they died.
That’s when it all unraveled.
I watch Audrey as she scans the menu.
“You remind me of her,” I finally say.
Her eyes flick above the menu, meeting mine. “You do, too,” she responds, numbly.
“You always looked more like her than me. I used to hate you for that,” I tease with a soft smile, masking the truth behind it. Audrey was always the prettier one. We both inherited my mother’s s
traight golden hair, thin build, and caramel eyes. However, my cheekbones are higher and my face is more angular whereas Audrey got our mom’s more delicate features and most of all her spirit. Her love of life. She had the ability to bring a room alive when she walked in. Despite Audrey’s absurd attire, she was turning heads the minute she stepped through that door fully hidden beneath her long wool coat.
She huffs, clearly not wanting to talk about my parents as she tosses the menu on the table. “You didn’t miss out on the gene pool if you’re insinuating you’re not beautiful, Mia. You have long dancer legs, Mom’s elegant neck and jawline, and her grace. No one can dance like you, Mia, not even Mom.” I blink back the sting of tears. I was a dancer, and although I go to a studio everyday giving lessons to young girls wanting to follow a dream like I once had, I’m not a dancer…anymore.
“Did you decide what you want to order? The redhead is eyeing us from the corner.” I decide to change the subject.
“Pizza, a large one. I’m starving. I went on a date last night and had to eat like a bird.” She smiles and I allow the tension to pass. Years ago, Audrey and I read an article, clearly written by a man, that said to make a great impression on a first date, a lady should eat like a bird. Even our father laughed at the absurdity of it when we shared it with our mother. It’s been a longstanding joke ever since.
“Really? You went on a date?”
“Nah, I just didn’t eat dinner.” I’m forced to bite back my response as the waiter approaches.
The young waiter, no longer in an aggravated rush, takes his time while taking our order. His eyes appreciatively jump from one of Audrey’s surgically enhanced boobs to the other. By the time he’s done, the moment has long passed to ask about her comment. I add it to my mental list of “things to worry about where Audrey is concerned.”
“You still seeing that Clark guy?” Audrey asks, sitting up and giving me a rare moment of her full attention.
“No, we haven’t been out in a few weeks.” I’m only partially disappointed that it didn’t work out.
“Sex wasn’t good?” she deadpans and I cough, almost spitting out my water.
“To be honest…no, it really wasn’t,” I smile. “But it was still sex with a real breathing man instead of a battery-operated one.”
The waiter returns with Audrey’s drink and smiles before turning away. “I don’t know, Mia, sometimes the battery-operated ones are better.” She holds up her drink, air toasting to that.
“What about you, seeing anyone?”
“No, but always looking for my Prince Charming to carry me away from all this.” She feathers her hand in front of her logoed shirt.
“Please tell me you’re not still into the creeps, like that one you dated a couple years ago.” I shiver in my chair thinking of that guy. Her brow line pinches and I can’t blame her. I’m more of an open book, spilling details of a budding new romance, whereas Audrey keeps it to herself. I only met that one because he was lurking around the house we once shared. “Pete or Paul or something like that?” I add. The sudden fall of her eyes tell me she knows exactly the one I’m talking about and doesn’t want to talk about him.
“He was scary,” I state.
Her eyes dart around the room then down to her phone. I lean forward.
“Audrey, no. Tell me you’re not still seeing him.”
“I still run into him on occasion,” she says, shifting in her seat. I glance around, trying to figure out why her entire demeanor changed into something that I can’t pinpoint.
“Audrey, I worry about you. You always dreamed of being a teacher. They have financial aid programs. I wish you’d go to college and—”
“And what? Go into ten years of debt to make forty thousand a year? No thanks.”
“I worry about the people you’re keeping company with. I worry that every time you walk into that bar, you’re going to start drinking and not stop—”
“Stop, Mia. I don’t need you to worry about me. Let me worry about me and you worry about you. Mind your own business, okay? Every week you insist we eat dinner together so you can drill me for every detail of my life. It’s like a torture session for me. If I want to share with you, I will. Otherwise, don’t ask!”
The redhead steps up to the table with our salad, a second waiter on his heels holding a large pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” he asks Audrey as he busies himself setting it all up. She shakes her head and they both walk away.
We eat in silence, the tension of her comment still lingering in the air. She’s twenty, the same age I was when my life fell apart. I picked up the pieces. I have to trust that she can do the same.
“You’re right Audrey, I do tend to pry. It’s only because I care. Losing Mom and Dad at twenty was terrible; eighteen would have been worse. You were going through a tough time before they died. I just want what’s best for you.”
“I know you do. I didn’t mean to call our weekly dinner dates torture sessions. You did things your way, I need to do things my way.” She pours her dressing over her salad, the tone of her half-hearted apology an obvious dismissal, preventing the conversation from going any further.
The silence returns. You did things your way rattles around in my head. Back then, in a matter of hours, my parents were dead, my future was destroyed, and my sister was missing. I didn’t have a choice to do things my way.
After dinner, we step into the cold night air. It does nothing to cool the tension from inside. We managed to make it through dinner without another word spoken. Standing outside is not as awkward as sitting across the table from a person who won’t even look at you, but I still struggle with a way to end the night. Each week we meet for dinner at my insistence and it’s evident with the close of each one of these disastrous meetings, we’re drifting further apart.
“I’m in the south lot.” I say, motioning the direction of my car. She nods and begins walking with me, giving no indication whether she’s parked there or not. We turn the corner walking silently through the night and it’s during times like these, I wonder why I even try. Plenty of siblings have relationships that are no more than acquaintances. Why can’t I let this one go there?
“Hey baby,” a deep voice says, stepping out from the shadows in front of us. I freeze, dropping the small box of leftovers onto the concrete as the tall dark figure steps closer, blocking our path. He stops in front of Audrey and wraps his arm around her bicep in a possessive nature. Her posture straightens and I can’t tell whether it’s defiance or fear, but I sense a familiarity between the two. “Where you been Audrey? I’ve been looking for you,” he whispers into her hair.
I hear her deep exhale before she speaks. “My phone broke. I lost all my contacts,” she says nervously. He pulls her tighter and tssks against her ear, knowing she’s lying. He steps back, his dark eyes looking at me. I’m already frozen still, but fear bolts through me like a shot of electricity. “Introduce your friend, baby. I don’t think I’ve met this one.” Even in the shadows of the building, I see the shift of his eyes as they drop down my body.
“Paul, you’ve met my sister before. We used to live together on Glencliff Drive.” Audrey’s voice sounds more relaxed, casual even, but I tense with the name. This is the same creepy guy that was hanging around outside our parents’ old house before we had to sell it.
“Does this sister have a name?”
I take a deep breath. “We need to go. Audrey is going to be late for work,” I manage, sounding more confident than I feel. A slow creepy smile forms on his lips and my eyes dart to the small gap between his two front teeth.
“Paul, we need to go. Drive me to work?” Audrey whines. She’s crazy if she thinks I’m going to let her leave with this guy.
“Audrey, I’m driving you, remember?” I urge. Paul watches this and narrows his eyes.
“Audrey, we need to talk. I expect a call before nine in the morning,” he says firmly and walks away. He goes across the street and opens the back door to a black sed
an. He turns, giving us a lingering glance before closing the door. The sedan takes off.
“What the hell was that about?” I race to catch up with Audrey.
“Nothing.” She continues walking toward her car.
“Audrey, are you in some kind of trouble?” I call out, still chasing after her.
She turns. “No! Mind your damn business, Mia. Fuck!” She gets into her car and races away, leaving me standing alone in the dimly lit parking lot.
3
Chance
The steel door of the gym slams, echoing off the bare walls of the building. The heavy footfalls that follow work in rhythm with the thud of my fists hitting the leather bag.
“You gonna tell me what in the hell you’re doing in my gym at three-thirty in the morning?” Vic’s pissed off tone would usually cause a reaction. He’s the type of guy when he speaks, people listen. Myself included, but I don’t stop. I need to burn off the rage that’s kept me awake all night. The hour on the treadmill only worked me up, making the need to hit something…stronger.
He steps around me, grabbing the heavy leather bag from swinging on its chain. “Stop, boy! You’re gonna hurt yourself!” I throw one last punch at the bag, almost knocking him on his ass. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”
Stepping back, my weak legs and shoulders scream in protest.
“Get in the shower, then in my office!” he yells, storming across the gym before disappearing behind his office door with a slam.
Not waiting for the water to warm, I step under the spray, needing the coolness to calm the fire burning inside of me. The water heats and I begin pulling at the tape that’s still wrapped around my hands. I dismiss the cuts on my swollen knuckles and wash quickly, knowing it’s not above Vic to march his ass in here and pull me out by the short hairs.
I dress quickly, shoving my sweat soaked shit in my bag and heading toward Vic’s office. There’s nothing fancy about this gym. Concrete walls, exposed air ducts, free-weights, bags and the smell of sweat pretty much sum up all there is to offer here. But as I walk around the large boxing ring, I’m reminded that this place will always be more to me.