“Sorry, not her exactly, just her ghost.” Shit, I think. Ty McCabe has fucking lost it. It's just a matter of time before I go, too. I drop my hand from his face and turn to look at the front door as it opens and a copper haired head pokes out.
“Beth wants to talk to you, Never,” Lettie says as her eyes swing over to Ty's face and freeze there. I see right away that she senses a change in him. It's like some switch has been flicked in Ty's brain. It's turned off that fire, that light, that energy and left him blank. I have to shake him out of it and quick. I once saw this girl use a little, plastic clicker on a frightened dog. It was pulling on its leash, flailing around like a mad thing. She clicked the device and its ears snapped forward; its eyes swung over to her face. I decide that Ty is much the same as that dog in this moment. He isn't thinking clearly, and it's my job to snap him out of it. A slap is out of the question, so I maneuver myself in front of him and clap my hands hard and sharp. Works like a charm. After all, inside of each of us is a frightened animal waiting to take over and send us over the edge.
Ty blinks at me carefully and then folds his hands over his mouth in a steepled position.
“Ty … ” I begin and then glance over my shoulder at Lettie who's still staring at Ty with a curious expression on her young face. She doesn't understand the pain she sees in him, and I hope she never does. “Tell Beth I'll be there in a minute,” I say and when Lettie doesn't retreat, I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. Little kids are excellent at reading body language. It's a skill that slowly disappears as we get older, but one that I think the world would benefit from nurturing. So much can be said with a raised brow or a tense jaw, a tilted head, a firm set to one's shoulders. Lettie sighs and retreats, letting the screen door slam behind her. She doesn't bother to close the front door which makes me nervous. My family is notoriously nosy, and I know somehow, just know, that Noah Scott is listening, too. I turn back to my bad boy, my heart throb, panty dropping, butterfly whose smile makes me weak in the knees and whose eyes burn me from the inside out and cleanse my pain each and every time I look at him. I turn back to him and I ask, “What's going on?” See, I know nothing about Ty's past, nothing at all. He's got all the gory, dirty details of my life spelled out in blood and I have nothing on him but the whispers of ghosts. He doesn't like his mom; she took pictures of cars; he stole her rings. Other than that, I've got nothing.
“My mother's in the hospital,” Ty says, and then he drops his hands and turns around, sitting down on the porch swing heavy and hard like his legs have just given out, crippled by the weight of this revelation. “That was actually her lawyer on the phone. He says she's pretty much dead and that if I want to see her before she goes that I better get my butt up to New York.” I don't know what to say (which seems to happen a lot lately), so I just sit down next to Ty and take his butterflies in my hand, brush my fingers over his skin. It's all smooth up his arm and though I've never seen him do it, I think he shaves, so that the tattoos are as bright and crisp as can be. What do you say to someone who hates their last, dying family member?
“Would you like to go see her?” I ask. Ty laughs, harsh and hard, like I haven't heard in awhile. If I'm being honest with myself, I have to say that it's a little scary.
“Fuck no,” he says and then pulls his hand from mine so he can drop his face into his palms with a groan. “Honestly, I hope that cancer has rotted her from the inside out.”
“Ty,” I begin because I know how hard it is to hold onto that hate. Even now, on this Christmas Eve, this momentous moment when all her family is gathered in one, single spot for the first time in years, the first time in Maple and Darla's existence, my mother is heading out the front door and giving me and Ty a cursory glance that's as empty as Ty's were when he got his phone call. My mother (I use this term loosely) has on a pair of bright, red boots with heels that are inappropriate for the snowy weather and a short, black dress that peeks out from beneath her winter coat. Her makeup is too thick and she looks like one of the dime a dozen whores that work the streets across the road from Ty's apartment. Today, she's heading over to her boyfriend's house. He has a child of his own and wants to spend the day with her and his parents. My mother chooses this over us, chooses to go to them instead of bringing them to us. We hardly factor into her decisions.
“Merry Christmas,” I say randomly. This stops her on the bottom step for a moment.
“Don't forget to unplug the lights on the tree before you go to bed. The house isn't insured. If we lose it, those of us who aren't running back to California after the holidays are going to be homeless.” And then she starts moving towards her old, beat up station wagon, the same one that she used to cart us around in as kids. Like I said, there's not much money in the belly dancing industry, especially not for a washed up, evil, old bitch like Angelica.
“Hey,” Ty says and my mother ignores him, slipping and sliding across the icy snow in her stupid boots. “Fuck you.” I laugh, can't help it, and I find myself looking over at Ty who's nibbling his lip hard and glaring at my mom with steely eyes that show her no sympathy, that refuse to cloak her selfish insecurities and foolish decisions in anything but shame. “You have a daughter that was willing to give you another chance. Do you know how lucky you are?”
“I want you out of my house by the time I get back,” Angelica tells Ty as she slips and lands on her ass in the slushy, muddy mess that surrounds her car. Neither of us move to help her up.
“If Ty goes, I go,” I say, and it's as simple as that. I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. True to my words, Beth proves that she has, indeed, been listening in on Ty and my conversation and comes out onto the porch, crossing her arms over her chest rather authoritatively.
“I pay all the taxes. I pay the electricity. I pay the water. And, despite your belief to the contrary, I also pay the home insurance. Your name might be on the papers, but this house is mine. They stay.”
“Oh for Christ's sake, Beth,” Angelica says as she uses the handle of the car door to stand herself up. “You're as dramatic as your sister.” And then she gets in and drives away. Beth says nothing, but she does pause on her way back inside to squeeze my shoulder.
“It's cold out here. You almost ready to come inside? I actually have an announcement I want to make.” My eyes snap up to hers and pause there, trying to read her emotions. She's not going to talk about my pregnancy is she? No, that isn't it. Whatever it is that Beth has to say, it's about her own life, not mine. I study her carefully and nod, glad that I have a big sister with a heart that's all encompassing, that looks at me with as much love as she looks at her own daughter. I am so, so lucky.
“Fifteen minutes,” I say and she nods, tucking some of her short, copper hair behind one ear. She understands, I know she does. When Beth goes back in, she closes the front door behind her to give Ty and me some privacy.
“Want and need,” Ty begins as his gaze travels up to the sky and focuses on the slices of snow that cut through the gray and twirl like ballerinas, melding into the flow of frozen water like the most perfectly choreographed troupe. Beautiful. “Two totally different fucking things. Don't you hate how they're always at each other's throats?” I don't answer him, quite aware that whatever it is that he's talking about, it's more for his benefit than it is for mine. One thing I do know: if Ty goes to New York, I go to New York. Period. “I don't want to see my mother, but I think I need to, right?” Again, I remain silent. He needs to figure this out for himself. I did, and it nearly broke me, but with Ty's help, I'm healing. It's his turn to break and my turn to repair him. I have to do right by him.
This boy, this Mr. McCabe, is my redemption. I cannot fuck this up.
“I love you,” I say simply. “And I know you'll make the right decision, no matter how hard it is, no matter if it cuts you into pieces, because you have to believe that I'll be there for you in the end.” Ty squeezes my hand, pulls it to his lips and kisses it with a butterfly's soft touch.
“We
ar a white dress for me?” Ty asks, and although his gaze is still dark and his eyes are swimming with fear, he seems a bit more like himself.
“White is for virgins,” I say. “And liars. I'm neither of those things.” As soon as I say it, as soon as Ty laughs and smiles a sad, dimple free smile, I feel sick. If I do not tell him about this baby, then I am a fucking liar, through and through. I'm breaking the one, golden rule that Ty and I have set for one another. I lick my lips and try to search my lover's facial expression for proof that this is a good time, that this is okay now, but I don't want his thoughts and feelings and decisions tainted by pain and confusion and hurt, uncertainty and old demons. “Okay,” I say with a sigh. “White. Off-white, but you're wearing a tux.”
Ty's dimples flicker for a moment and disappear into the lush, perfection that is his face. At least his mother gave him that. Ty is a beautiful specimen of humanity. He taps the box of rescued cigarettes against his palm a couple of times and says, “Can I quit tomorrow?” I smile at him and nod, watching as he slides out my favorite forbidden treat and places it between his lips. When Ty goes to light up, his hands shake, and I'm forced to take the lighter from him and flick the silver wheel. Flame sprouts from my fingers as I lift the purple plastic to my lover's mouth and watch the tip of his cig catch. I take a cigarette, too, and put it between my lips, letting it hang there like somehow it will help my cravings.
“If I don't see her, I'll always hate her like this, won't I?” I nod, but that's all I do. Ty is working his way through this, piece by piece. “Fuck me, Never, this sucks.”
“Life sucks,” I say as Ty pulls out his cig and looks over at me, bracelets tinkling.
“Not when I'm with you,” he says, and that's God's honest truth.
4
Ty tells me he still wants to announce our engagement, but I can see that his mind is preoccupied with his mother and how exactly he's going to get to her from here. He says he has to leave in the morning after presents which sucks but which I totally understand. After all, if we go all the way there and find that the source of his hurt and his pain has already left this earth, I don't know what he'll do.
“I hate ham,” Lorri says when Beth presents her prize dish on a silver platter, and I do a big sister thing that I haven't been able to do in years and kick her under the table.
“It looks beautiful, Beth,” says Zella who is sitting way too close to Noah Scott, so close that their elbows bump together when they reach out for their water glasses. He is left handed and she's right. It's kind of cute and although I'm still unreasonably attached to Mr. Scott, I can see that Zella is dying for him to notice her in a different way. Pen pal is not the title my sister wants to hold in the mind of the blonde haired, blue eyed boy who told me goodbye, but whose eyes can't stop fixating on my sea blue ring, the one that sits pretty next to the other that Ty gave me the night I went to dinner with my sisters. If he keeps presenting me with such prizes, eventually we'll look like twins, both ringed, both damaged, both repaired. And I haven't told him yet, but I want some tattoos. Guess that's out the window right now. Prego bitches can't get inked. I shift uncomfortably.
“Before we eat,” Beth begins, wringing her hands and looking positively trashed. “I have an announcement I want to make.” My big sister looks over at me with her pretty, Barbie face, the one that looks so much better when she cries, the one that reminds me somehow of the dad I barely knew and says, Sorry Never with a few, well placed blinks. I can't figure out what's going on, so I stay quiet and wait. She doesn't know that Ty and I are together, so she can't possibly know that I was seconds away from making a statement of my own to the family. Maple babbles nonsensically and Darla says turkey, turkey, turkey over and over. Still, the atmosphere is pleasant enough. Maybe she got a new job? A new boyfriend? A scholarship?
“I'm pregnant again,” she blurts, quite unceremoniously, and the room goes quiet. “With Maple's father.” Ah, I think as I stare at her with my emotions running wild, the prick who barely said hi to my sister, who seemed pissed off that he had to take his baby daughter for a night. I thank my mom for poisoning our blood with a bad taste for men and count my lucky stars that I found Ty. He's one in a million, a shot in the dark, a tortured soul with redeemable qualities and a heart that's too big for this world of hate and pain and angst. “And he's asked me to marry him. He's coming over soon.”
“What?!” This from Jade. She stands up and her chair goes toppling over, smashing into the wall and making both Maple and Darla cry. “You didn't say yes to that fuckwad, did you?” she screeches and for once, I think her outburst is well deserved. Here Beth looks guilty and ashamed which freaks me the fuck out because that's how our mother always looked when she was introducing us to new boyfriends that we knew weren't going to stay or who were obviously bad news. Shit.
“I said maybe,” Beth says as she picks up her daughter in one arm and pats her little sister's head with her other hand.
“Beth,” India begins and her voice is so soft and pretty, such a counterpoint to Jade's yelling that it makes my ears hurt. “You have to say no to him.” India looks up at Beth and I watch as something passes between them, something that I don't know. I feel a twinge of jealously and have to calmly remind myself that Rome wasn't built in a day. I can't have perfect, secret free relationships with my sisters when I've only just returned. Life doesn't work like that. When Beth was dating Maple's father, I wasn't around, so I don't know what transpired, but if India is willing to give Beth an order like that, then it must have been seriously harsh.
My stomach roils and I have to put a hand to my mouth to keep from throwing up. From Beth's photo album, I know that she's one of those perfect women who glow when they're pregnant and never get tired, who take up herb gardening and learn to speak a second language during their nine months of incubation. Unfortunately, something in our gene pool must've gotten real screwed up because I'm only a few weeks along and already, I'm sick as a damn dog and tired as hell. The way my luck runs, I'll probably be on bed rest for the last few months of this journey. If you keep it, that is. I swallow hard. That icky, little thought keeps plaguing my mind, and I can't confront it until I talk to Ty, so I push it back.
“I don't know how,” Beth admits openly, and the display of raw emotion on my sister's face causes both Ty and Noah to turn away and look at the floor, like maybe they shouldn't be a part of this. I feel a niggling urge to join them, but I force my eyes to remain on Beth's, watching as any hope of a joyous engagement between Ty and I goes out the window. There is no way in hell I can tell them now. Circumstance and happenstance, fuck you.
“You tell that abusive bastard to back off and to shove this stupid ham up his own ass!” Jade yells and then she's turning and marching out the archway to the hallway. Her steps sound loud and heavy as she retreats up the stairs and takes refuge in her bedroom of band posters and cannabis incense. There goes our happy Christmas, I think as Beth sits down heavy and sad in her chair and starts to apologize profusely for doing nothing wrong.
“I shouldn't have told you all this way,” she begins and India interrupts her gently.
“Beth, it's your life, so you get to decide what happens in it. The mistakes are yours to make.” And then she, too, gets up in retreat.
The ham sits forlornly in the center of the table and Beth begins to cry. Zella and I exchange a look across the table and we both know it's up to us to rescue the remainder of this dinner. After all, the little ones have done nothing wrong and poor Ty and poor Noah.
“Shall I cut the roast beast?” I joke as I poke Lorri in the arm. Her face lights up instantly, making me believe all of that crap about children and innocence and whatnot. Fortunately, with my forced joyousness and Zella's terrible jokes, we manage to survive the rest of our meal without anymore heartbreak. India and Jade never rejoin us, and we make a unanimous decision not to open any presents without them.
Still, all is not well in the Ross-Regali household because I still have
n't told anyone about Ty's mom, about how after so long apart, I'm leaving on the first real Christmas these girls have had in years. There's that and then there's this. I touch my still flat belly and gaze at my eyes in the mirror. They seem brighter somehow, like the flecks of green are shining, giving me the look of someone who has hope. I lift my engagement ring up to my mouth and kiss it gently, imagining that the warm metal is actually Ty, that I'm giving him my soul in my breath, breathing my secrets into his body, lifting this burden from my shoulders.
“Asshat Danny is here,” Ty says, barging in without even the courtesy of a knock. Luckily, I'm not doing anything suspect. I glare at him anyway. “And Nev, you know how some people have a gay-dar?” he asks and my eyebrows go up to tickle my hairline. Ty pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and teases me with the tip, talking around the little, white stick and letting it jiggle enticingly. If he keeps doing that, I'm not going to last a week let alone eight more months. Sigh.
“You think Danny is gay?” I ask and Ty shakes his head, ruffling his dark hair with one hand and casting a quick glance down the hall. He looks extra sweaty and tense right now, and his pupils are bigger than normal, dilated with a bit of fear and a dash of anxiety.
“Um, not exactly. I don't really have a gay-dar, but I have a fucktard-dar, and this guy definitely fits the bill. He is bad news, like headliner bad. If I were you, I'd get Beth out before she climbs so far into her own ass that she can't see the looks on her children's faces when … ” Ty trails off suddenly and although he sounds like the man I fell in love with, says things that that man would say, he isn't that man, not right now. Right now he is an abused and abandoned boy, one whose mother chose not to believe him. It's hard to understand how much trust matters. Until someone you count on denies you that, it's impossible to understand where Ty and I come from, how we've grown, where the seeds of our pain were planted. “I'm rambling,” he says suddenly, snapping us both back to reality. “Anyway, I don't like what I see playing out in that foyer. She's afraid of him, Never.”
Keeping Never (Never say Never) Page 2