by E. J. McCay
“If I’ve got a choice I’ll choose the coffin.”
She just looks at me again, the laughter in her face gone. The silence starts to feel heavy. Chrissy leans back in her chair. “Lilly, how about we change the way we’re doing things? How about you just talk about whatever you want and we’ll go from there?”
I give her a hard look. “You know everything there is to know about me.” It’s not true, but I hope she buys it.
Chrissy levels her eyes at me and I know her dollars aren’t buying what I got. “Start with after you left here. Where did you go? What did you do?”
There isn’t enough air in this awful, earth colored room to fill up my lungs, but I try anyway. “I went to college when I left just like all of you.”
“Where? No one knew where. Not even your dad.”
“No one needed to know.”
“Did you go because your momma had just died?”
My jagged pieces grow like Magic Rocks at the mention of my momma. I start to open my mouth and spew something so nasty Papa might blush, but Chrissy cuts me off.
“Don’t you start. You’re here and I’m here, and what you say won’t go anywhere, Lilly. I’m a good listener. Great even. I had a 3.8 GPA in school and I knocked my doctorate out quicker than anyone in my class. This is my calling. It’s what God gave me. So, keep your nastiness to yourself.”
Chrissy puts water in my gas tank and all my hatefulness sputters. Tears pool in my eyes. I feel Papa poke my heart with a sharp finger. “I’m sorry, Chrissy.” I can’t look at her, but the apology is real.
“It’s okay, Lilly.”
“No, it’s not. I got a viper for a tongue sometimes.”
“At least you know it,” she says and the laugh that escapes her is light and free. “Now, tell me something. Something with importance. Tell me secrets worth keeping.”
I lift my head and stare at her forehead. Meeting her eyes is more than I can handle right now. “I left Foaming Springs because I had to and I didn’t want anyone I knew to be where I was going.”
Chrissy sits quiet, doing her therapist thing.
“Everybody knows my biological parents was druggies. They’d come back to town from time to time, but they’d never stay. Momma and daddy and I were okay while I was little, but as I got older it got harder. They didn’t understand me and I didn’t understand them. Anyone on the outside saw a little family, but on the inside, we were a war.”
Chrissy is using her pen. I can hear it scratch across the paper fast and furious. For a second, I rev my viper and get ready then I remember Papa’s sharp poke and put it in neutral. She looks up from her clipboard and smiles. “Keep going.”
“Me and momma we didn’t see eye to eye. She had plans for me and at no time did she need input from me. I was traveling the world, you see. By any means necessary, whether by military or sugar daddy. I was going to see things she hadn’t. Coming up poor, made momma a little crazy about things.”
“Her dying hurt, but not like I missed her, hurt. It hurt because I wanted a relationship with her like other girls had with their mommas. I wanted her to brush my hair, kiss my scars, and want for me what I wanted, but she never could. She loved me,” I say thinking back hard. Trying to remember if I believe what I’m saying.
“You okay, Lilly?”
Chrissy’s voice rocks me from my memories and I look at her. “Obviously not. I’m here aren’t I?”
“You know what I mean. Your momma loved you. I saw the way she cared.”
“Yeah, I think she did. I think she just loved me the way she thought she wanted to be loved when she was my age. Only, I needed to be loved like I wanted to be loved. Her loving didn’t feel like loving. So, when she passed, it was like momma died, the end. I didn’t really feel anything, but an emptiness where her body used to be.”
“Do you miss her?”
I think for a moment. I want to answer Chrissy honestly, but I haven’t been asked that question before so I don’t know the answer just off the top of my head. “No.”
“You don’t miss your momma?”
“I thought therapists weren’t supposed to judge.”
“We don’t, but we do challenge you.”
“So you’re challenging my response?”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“So you have to back it up with a reason. That way when you think about it the next time it’s not just a feeling or an answer. It’s something tangible you can understand. That’s what I do. I’m not just a friend, sipping coffee with you, taking your answers as gospel. I’m the little voice in the back of your mind, pushing you to really answer the questions and work through what you’re actually feeling.”
I take a deep breath. “I don’t miss my momma. I miss what I could have had with her. If you can miss what you don’t even understand.”
“Have you tried to understand it?”
I shrug. “I think so. I don’t know. I haven’t had to think about it, ever.”
“Well,” Chrissy says and looks at her watch, “think about it between now and Friday. I want a solid answer when you come back. That’s your homework.”
“I hate homework.”
Chrissy smiles. “Maybe by the time you come back you won’t.”
“Maybe, but don’t count on it.” I sit for a moment longer and then push out of the chair.
Oh, Papa, I got mountains that need moving if you’re so inclined.
I stuff my hands in my pockets and set off with a determination to get light bulbs from the Thriftway. My determination turns to cowardice as I round the corner and the sign blinks at me from the distance. I don’t need light bulbs that bad, I think to myself and spin on my heels in the direction of my woodland cabin.
A truck rumbles next to me. Uriah pokes his head out of the window and smiles. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed a ride to town today?”
Why? Because. I got no good answer beyond just because, so I shrug in response.
“You wanna take a ride and get a bite to eat in the next town over?”
“Can’t. Bad girls gotta eat tacos or fish or nuke Hungry Man meals.”
“Well, want fish?”
I walk to the truck and lean my hip against the door.
“She doesn’t like fish!” Bo yells from behind me. He jogs to a stop next to the pickup. Those eyes he’s got are throwing daggers and large furniture in my direction. His suit is fine and tailored and obnoxious. I wish I could push him in a puddle.
“What you doin’, Bo?” Uriah asks.
“Oh, just got some papers to get notarized. Fancy said she’d do it. I just gotta go to Kettlefish to do it,” Bo answers and looks at his watch.
Uriah gives Bo a questioning look. “Why don’t you just go to the courthouse to get stuff notarized?”
Bo makes a face. “Because Tallulah Moore is still the court clerk, and the only notary. She’s just as nasty as when she was a substitute teacher when we were kids and I avoid her at all costs. I’d rather go to Fancy. She’s tough, but she’s not nasty.”
“I understand that.” Uriah nods and his face scrunches at he looks skyward. “You had lunch?”
Now, Papa, I know you’re a cunning fellow, but this idea is sounding about as good as sticking my hand in a dark hole hoping to pull out a catfish. What if there’s a snake in there?
Bo looks at me and then at Uriah and then at me again. He’s thinking the same thing I am only he’s not hiding it as well. “I don’t know.”
“Oh come on. We’re friends, me and you. How many times did I help you tip the cows in your grandma’s field?”
Bo laughs at the memory. A memory I’m absent in. “All right. Where?”
Uriah looks at me. “Lady’s choice.”
“Tish’s. Just don’t want them cold ever again.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you two there.” Bo looks at his watch again and sprints in the direction of the Kettlefish and I walk around the front of the pickup and hop in. If I’m goi
ng, I may as well ride.
The truck rumbles as Uriah hits the gas pedal. It chugs along and he’s humming a hymn I recognize: All to Jesus I Surrender. There you go again, Papa. That finger you got seems to be extra sharp today. I rub the spot on my chest that’s directly over my heart. I hear the little voice that seems to be growing louder the longer I’m in town.
Papa says, “Sometimes my finger needs to be extra pointy; otherwise, no one listens.”
I can feel the tears burning to be released, but I blink a few times. That seems to quell the tide in my eyes, and I decide the silence isn’t what I want right now. “Why’d you invite Bo?”
Uriah stops humming. “Why not?”
“You didn’t see the looks he was giving me?”
“I saw them. I want him to confront them. I want him to see you and stop being jealous. I want him to move on and find someone who will love him. If we keep just tossing him aside, we let his anger grow and fester and we can’t do that. It’s not what Jesus, or Papa, would want.”
Well, dang. “Okay. Point taken.”
Chapter Twelve
Bo slides into the seat next to me. Uriah has ordered enough tacos I believe them to be in my foreseeable breakfast future. I slide a bag to Bo. “No lettuce this time,” I say.
He bumps me with his shoulder and smiles. “You know me so well.”
“So, what plans have you got for Friday?” Uriah directs the question to Bo.
Bo unwraps his taco and takes a bite before answering. “I thought I’d go to the town over and see a show. They’ve got a run of old movies playing.”
“The drive-in?”
“Yeah, should be fun. What are you doing?”
“I’d like to go with you if you’ve got the room.”
Bo looks taken aback. I look taken aback. We got abacks flying left and right. I look at them with wide eyes, eating my taco, keeping my mouth full.
“Well, you got someone special you’re taking or can I come?” Uriah chomps down on his chicken taco and a strip hangs down his chin. I can help but snicker as he pushes it in his mouth and gives me a smile.
“No, I’m not taking anyone special. You mean you aren’t spending every waking moment with Lilly?”
My strategy to keep food in my mouth backfires and I choke. I take a sip of soda to stop the hacking. Uriah comes to my rescue though and says, “Lilly needs Lilly time and I need guy time with someone I considered a good friend before I left for the service.”
Lilly needs Lilly time. I do have homework. Stupid homework.
Bo twists to look at me. “Well, she certainly can’t go. Judge Kringle has her on lockdown in Foaming Springs.”
“Told you bad girls don’t have options,” I say without looking at either of them.
“You’re not a bad girl,” Bo says. Uriah bounces his head up and down in agreement.
“No? What’s your definition of a bad girl then?” In my mind, I feel like I fill up that definition quite well with a big red letter “B” written on my chest.
“There're bad girls and a girl who’s made a bad choice,” Uriah says.
“You definitely made a bad choice. No argument there.” Bo adds.
I slouch and look at the wall. “Well, I can’t argue either,” I whisper, but I know they’ve heard me.
Uriah reaches across the table and smacks Bo on the arm. “You remember that time Lilly went missing in the woods?”
My rear burns a little from the memory of the punishment and I shift in the booth.
“Yeah, man, her momma paddled her something fierce. Right there, at the edge of the woods, in front of the whole town. Lilly looked like she had no idea what was happening,” Bo says.
“I don’t know if she got paddled for going missing or the way she talked to her momma after she was found.”
“Both,” I interject.
“You always did have a mouth.” Bo shakes his head. “I was lucky you kept quiet in front of Judge Kringle or you may not be sitting here.”
“I didn’t have anything to say.”
“Yeah, but when you do, it’s worth hearing most of the time.” Uriah smiles as he looks at me.
“Did your dad ever whip you like that?” Bo asks. I don’t think he’s thought through the question because the look on his face makes me think he regrets asking.
My head hurts all of a sudden. It feels like fireworks with a bad fuse busting inside my skull. “No, he didn’t have to whip me. He just used words and a tongue with a surgeon’s precision.”
“I didn’t know that Lilly,” Uriah says just above a whisper.
“Don’t. Don’t give me those looks.” I turn my head to the wall. “I don’t need your sympathy or your sweetness or anything.” Anger bubbles like fizzy soda in my throat. “This is why I never told anyone. I got what I got and that was all there was to it. Not like anyone could have done anything and I can’t change it now.”
The three of us sit in silence. It’s horrible and uncomfortable and it smells like toe jam socks. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. Why didn’t I? It’s not like saying this stuff can change anything.
“How did your momma handle your dad?”
That’s a new question. I search my memories like an old library card catalog. “I don’t remember.”
“Do you know what happened to your biological parents? Did they ever try to contact you after you were adopted?”
“Some. My biological daddy, Will, did of course, ‘cause he was momma’s baby boy. I only met Uncle Robert a few times. Right before I was adopted, Lucy, my biological momma, kidnapped me. She got as far as West Virginia with me. I was gone two or three months. Can’t remember for sure now.” It pops out like hot kernels in an iron skillet. I slap my hand over my mouth. I don’t know why I said it.
Bo and Uriah react like I expect them to. The town may have known I was adopted, but few knew Lucy had taken me. It’s not like momma and daddy talked about it. Not from what I remember anyway.
“What?” they ask in unison.
It’s out now and I shrug because to me it’s not big news. I’ve lived with it so long it doesn't even feel real anymore. It never really occurred to me to say anything before now. What difference did it make?
“What did your momma and daddy do? Did your biological dad do anything?” Bo asks.
Uriah’s green eyes are studying me hard. He’s both shocked and heart hurt for me all at the same time.
“They hired a private investigator and prayed. The private investigator never could find me and eventually the FBI did. After they got me back, they made the adoption official. Lucy wrote a couple times when I got older, but I was mad at her. If she’d wanted to talk to me, maybe she should have hung around. I don’t know where she is now, and I have no inclination to go searching for her.”
They both seem to reel from the revelation. Uriah’s eyebrows raise and Bo just looks at me like I’ve eaten a worm. They asked, and I answered. What’s the big deal?
“So your biological dad, he hung around?”
“Do you remember seeing him?”
“A few times.”
“Well, there ya go. A few times. He came around, spent a couple of nights, and in a flash of false promises he was gone. He died about six years ago. Daddy called and told me.”
“Wow. Why did you keep all this to yourself?” Uriah is genuine when he asks.
I throw my hands up. “I don’t know. It never dawned on me to be something worth telling. Being taken wasn’t the worst of what’s happened to me and it’s just a way for people to talk about things they know nothing of. Can we just stop talking about it now? Please? Besides if I spill all my secrets here Chrissy might just feel useless.”
They chuckle nervously and that seems to change the topic and the mood. Uriah and Bo start planning their trip to the drive-in and I sit quietly wondering how it’s going to be with a full weekend alone with myself.
Chapter Thirteen
Uriah drives me home, but he doesn’t stay. His m
omma has a list of things for him and my mood doesn’t really make for a lot of room in my little cabin. I change clothes, grab a grape soda and take up my residence on the deck.
It’s sunny and bright. The birds are dipping and diving. Woody is nowhere to be seen, but I’ve got a squirrel eyeing me. He’s got a buddy and they start playing in the trees; their little bushy tails swishing as they leap from tree to tree.
My thoughts start to wander back to Tish’s. I am happy that all those bags of tacos Uriah bought weren’t for me. Apparently, there're a few families in town that he’s been dropping in and giving them food. He’s sweeter than sugar.
I mentally whoop myself for telling either those two about being taken by Lucy. I try to picture Lucy’s face and I can’t. She’s been gone so long her face and memory are just faded and there’s no picture. The breeze picks up and whips through my clothes. The air has turned icy and goosebumps line my arms like a little army.
My toes tingle from the bite of the wind, but I don’t want to move. I want to sit here on the deck with the frosty breeze and watch the sun as it moves across the sky.
I take a sip of my soda, wiggle my toes, and then Papa decides to take a seat next to me. More than anything I wish He could take a vacation and leave me alone for a little while. I still need a band-aid from the last time He poked with His sharp finger.
He sits quietly for a while, smiling in my direction, letting me stew. Then He pounces with the grace of an elephant. My heart itches and tingles and hurts and bleeds.
“Why did you let this stuff happen to me?” I say out loud to my audience of birds, squirrels, and Papa. I feel Papa more than the birds and squirrels. “Why couldn’t you just let me be normal? What did I do to deserve all the crap that’s happened to me? I didn’t ask to be born. You put me on this earth and now look at me. I’m all warped and twisted.”
Tears spring to my eyes. I feel the hurt all the way down into my soul. The kind of hurt that just rips and shreds and leaves nothing but tattered pieces laying all over.
The cry slips between my teeth and out my lips. I jump out of the chair, walk to the corner of the deck and take in a new view. There’s a part of me that wants to fling myself off the railing, but I know I’d just end up with a few broken bones. Then I’d have to explain myself and that seems more trouble than the broken bones.