by Carian Cole
I’m afraid to find out. I’d rather stay in this comfortable limbo we’re in forever than risk losing her or seeing any sign of rejection in her eyes.
She folds the blanket, drapes it back over the chair, and then glances at her watch. “Can you take me home?”
I look at the wall clock. “Now? It’s only two.” Usually, I take her home around four or five.
“I’m going out to dinner with Zac and Anna tonight, and their friend John. Zac said he had something exciting to share with me.”
My jaw twitches. “Then I’ll drive you home.” I was hoping she’d stay longer today and have dinner with me for the first time. I have no right to be upset, though, since that wish only lived in my head and I never actually asked her to stay.
Maybe next time.
While we drive back to her apartment, she watches the trees go by for a few miles, before she turns to me. “I’m nervous about dinner,” she blurts out.
“Why?”
“Because of what I mentioned earlier…people recognize me sometimes. They stare at me, and ask questions.”
“I get the same. Ignore them.” Oh, like you do, Ty? Hypocrite.
“It’s hard to.”
“I know.”
“I wish you could come too,” she says wistfully. “I feel better when we’re together.”
My heart jumps in the air, grabs her words, and runs back to the darkness to savor them. “Trust me, they’ll stare more if I’m there.” The people of this small town would go nuts if they saw Holly and me together. The murderer and the Girl in the Hole to some, the hero and the victim to others. Both the scarred-up freaks in one place for them to stare at and spread rumors about.
No fucking thanks.
“Can I text you later? When I get home?” she asks when I pull over at the usual place in front of her apartment. I always stay parked there, watching her, until I see her go inside, safe and sound. And sometimes, I still watch her window, late at night, just so I know she’s still okay, and so I can be close to her. Is it stalking if you’re trying to take care of someone from afar? Does that, in fact, put me in that feeding-the-stray-cat category?
Fuck it if it does.
I’ll love someone however the fuck I want to.
Like them. I meant like them.
“Tyler?”
Shit. “Sure.” I clear my throat. “Text me. Take a picture of your dinner and text it.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “I can’t do that…it’s food.”
“Everyone does. It’s weird if you don’t.”
Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she laughs. “Okay, then. I’ll try.”
After I watch her close her front door behind her, I continue to drive into town, turning down a side street to drive past the pet shelter my mom runs. I eye her car as I do a u-turn and head back to the main road. Then I drive past my family’s motorcycle shop, noting all my brothers’ cars out in the parking lot. Where mine should be, too. A new sign is hanging on the outside of the building, much larger, bolder, and brighter than the one that was there before. I hope that means business is doing good for them. Tor used to send me text updates about how the shop was doing. He’d text me pictures of bikes that were scheduled for custom work, trying to entice me to come back to work my magic. I ignored his messages for months until he gave up. Now he just deposits money from the business into my bank account every month. Money I get because my last name is on the sign, not because I deserve it.
I donate most of it anonymously to my mother’s pet shelter.
I miss my family, but they’re better off without me there reminding them of all the heartache I caused them and giving them more grief.
17
Holly
The restaurant is dim with jazz music playing in the background. The tablecloths are bright white, the tables, chairs, and booths black wood. The floor is so shiny it’s like a mirror, and I don’t like walking on it. Everything feels expensive, and I feel cheap and out of place. Anna looks beautiful in her maroon wraparound dress, her dark hair falling in big, soft waves. I should have changed my clothes, but I didn’t because I didn’t know this was a dress-up type of night.
Apparently, everyone else knew, though, because even Zac and his friend John are wearing dark pants, light shirts, and jackets. Not jeans like I am. I’m seated across from my brother and his girlfriend, and John is next to me, on my right. To my left is the wall of the booth and a window. My eye continues to shift to the window, trying to discreetly find the latch, but there isn’t one that I can see. Does the window not open?
Count to ten, Holly. You’re not trapped. It’s only dinner.
My hand strokes my purse as they chitchat; inside is my cell phone with photos of every page of all my fairy tales. Oh, it’s not quite the same as having the actual books with me, but it’s close enough to make me feel less afraid without them.
John’s leg accidentally lightly brushes against mine, and I scoot to the left. A small person could fit between us now, but he still feels too close.
“We have news to share with you,” Zac announces, and Anna smiles shyly. “We wanted to tell you two first.”
I wonder how I became part of this special group and, while I like being included, I worry I can’t live up to such an expectation. John is Zac’s lifelong best friend. I’m a sister he barely knows. I begin to worry if I’ll react to the news appropriately. Silently, I pray I don’t hyperventilate and pass out. I wish Ty were here, sitting next to me.
“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” John urges. “Tell us.”
“I’m pregnant,” Anna says happily. “We found out last month but wanted to wait to share.”
“Holy shit!” John exclaims. “Congratulations.”
I’m filled with all sorts of emotions and questions. I’m going to be an aunt. Will they still be moving to New York? Will they still want me to go with them? Will they let me near the baby? Or will they keep her away, like my mother does with Lizzie, afraid I might taint her?
I force my brain to be quiet, and I smile at my brother and his girlfriend. “That’s terrific. I’m so happy for you both.”
They clasp hands on the table. “We’re really excited,” Zac says. “Surprised, but excited.”
“How far along are you?” John asks. He knows the right questions to ask. I don’t.
“About twelve weeks.”
“This doesn’t change the plan, right?” John asks. “You’re still coming to New York to work with me?”
“Definitely,” Zac answers. “We’ll just look for a bigger place, that’s all. And Anna wants to look for a position that will allow telecommuting so she can work from home with the baby.” His eyes travel over to me, and he smiles. “I hope you’ll still come with us, Holly. You can help with the baby.”
Anna jumps in. “Only if you want to, of course. I’m not going to force you to be a babysitter if you live with us,” She playfully slaps Zac’s arm. “Don’t scare her off.”
“I’d love to,” I say quickly. “I’ve never babysat before, obviously…”
The waitress comes to the table and takes our order. As usual, I have no idea what I like, so I get the same as Anna orders because it’s easier than reading the entire menu and asking people to explain what everything is.
“I’m glad you’re coming to New York, too,” John says to me after the waitress leaves. “We’ll all have fun together.”
“Thank you,” I say because I’m not sure how else to respond. “I’m looking forward to it,” I add for politeness. I’m a parrot. Repeating words I don’t even know if I feel.
Zac smiles at me across the table, and I get the nagging feeling that this was more than just a dinner with his sister and his best friend. I want to run to the ladies room and be alone for a few minutes, but I don’t want to ask John to move. That seems like it would be annoying, and that’s the last thing I want to be, so I stay there and keep counting to ten over and over in my head until it aches.
&
nbsp; Their voices sound like they’re coming down a tunnel, and I know I’ve disconnected but I can’t help it. I smile when they do, but I don’t speak. Thankfully, they’re so involved in their conversation that I don’t think anyone notices, and I’m relieved.
Later—when Zac is driving us home, and I’m sitting in the backseat again with John—he leans closer to me. Too close.
“Can I get your number? Maybe we can talk sometime, or grab a bite to eat.”
I stare forward, at the back of my brother’s head, dumbfounded. Do I want to give him my number? Talk? Eat?
“I-me?” I stammer.
John smiles. “You don’t have be nervous, Holly. I’ve been your brother’s best friend since kindergarten.” His voice and his eyes are soft, sincere. Trustworthy. “I know what happened to you, and I’m sorry. I helped look for you, in the search party.”
I look down at my hands in my lap, wishing he hadn’t brought that up. And this is the first I’ve heard mention of a search party, which is actually a very ironic term. I wonder how much he knows and if he would understand that his knowing makes me even more nervous.
“Thank you…”
“I’d love to get to know you better, take you to some of my favorite places. Get you out a little more.”
My hands shake, and my palms dampen. I’m not ready for this. I’m not sure I want to be known better by John. Or anyone. And I don’t want to get out anymore. My smile is shaky and awkward. “I think I’d like to think about it. If that’s okay?”
“Sure it is.” He reaches behind him, pulls out his wallet, and takes a business card out of it. “Here’s my card. You can call or text my cell any time if you’d like to talk or go out. No strings or expectations, I promise.”
I take the card from him and slide it into my small purse, having no plans of adding him to my cell phone. I don’t want his number on my phone next to Ty’s. That feels wrong to me.
After Zac drops John off at his apartment, I breathe a sigh of relief and open the window a few inches to let some air into the car. I feel so suffocated I want to hang my head out the window like a dog.
“Holly…” Zac says, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “Don’t be scared. John’s a really good guy. I trust him with my life. He thinks you’re sweet.”
I gulp.
“Who’s my sweet little girl?”
“He really is a nice guy,” Anna adds. “A real gentleman. And so handsome. I think he would be good for you to spend time with. Take it slow, one day at a time. He’s very understanding. Who knows what could happen.”
John might be nice, but his eyes are hazel, not blue.
And he doesn’t wear soft faded jeans with holes at the knees with frayed edges.
And he doesn’t have pictures in his skin, a storybook for me to someday read.
And he doesn’t make my heart flutter.
He probably doesn’t even own a soft blanket.
He’s not prince material, and he never will be.
Everyone knows there can only be one prince, and I’ve already found mine.
18
Tyler
.
Tyler: Hey. :-) You forget my picture, sugar?
A few minutes pass while I wait for her to reply, and I debate getting out of bed to go outside for a smoke to chill my nerves.
Holly: I couldn’t do it. It was a really nice place, and I didn’t see anyone else taking pictures of their food.
Tyler: That’s okay. I was just teasing you. Did you have a nice time?
Holly: I guess so.
I frown at the phone, sensing a change.
Tyler: Everything okay?
Holly: It was uncomfortable. My brother and his girlfriend are having a baby. I’m excited about that.
Tyler: That’s good news.
Holly: It is. I’ve never been around a baby.
Tyler: I’m sure you’ll love it. Is that what made you uncomfortable?
Holly: No. My brother’s friend wants to know me better. He wants to talk or go out. He gave me his card of phone numbers.
My jaw clenches. I saw this coming a mile away. I remember Zac Daniels and John Parker. I went to high school with them. They were both jocks, just like me. And they’re both nice guys, not assholes. If Holly were my sister, I’d be trying to set her up with a nice guy too, because that’s the kind of guy she needs. Someone with a career and a future who can give her stability, maybe even a family. Not someone living in dysfunction junction like me.
Tyler: It’s good for you to have more friends.
Holly: I have you and Feather and Anna and Poppy.
I can’t help myself, so…
Tyler: Do you like him?
There’s another long pause, and the screen taunts me, my question just hanging there, and the more I stare at it, the more desperate and immature it makes me feel. Do you like him? What the fuck am I, fourteen again? Of course she likes him. He didn’t get beat with the ugly stick.
Holly: He reminds me of the bad man. They dress the same. They have the same hair.
My heart sinks for her and rallies for me. It’s hard to run from bad memories. I try to say the right thing, because it’s the right thing to do, as the friend that I am. And above all else, I want Holly to be safe and cared about.
Tyler: Give it time. Not everyone’s the same, even if they look like they might be. We both know looks are deceiving.
Look at me, being nice. It’s almost sickening.
Holly: Can I see Poppy tomorrow?
She makes me smile. That’s been our little way of avoiding actually saying we want to see each other.
Tyler: Not tomorrow. The day after. I’ll pick you up at noon.
I want to give her a day to think. About me, hopefully. But also about John, because she deserves to have space to think and sort her thoughts out.
I toss my phone on my nightstand and lace my hands behind my head, staring up at my ceiling. I try to imagine us together. I picture us on a date together, her so beautiful and soft spoken and me a mess of flesh and scars, growling like an animal trying to speak. What if people stare at my face or back away from my voice like they always do? Would she feel embarrassed? Would she ever be happy hiding from the world here with me, in the sanctuary I’ve created for myself? Or would she eventually resent me for putting her in another trap?
“Sir…you can’t touch those.” The woman practically pulls the blanket from my hands. I glance across the aisle at another customer, clearly fondling bedsheets, her fingers wedged under the plastic wrapping around the sheets.
I never should have done this to myself. It took me two hours to force myself to get in my truck and drive across town to this bed and bath store, and I was right to think it was a mistake.
“I’m only trying to find a soft one,” I say.
She cringes at the sound of my voice.”Well, you can’t stand here and touch them all. It’s completely unsanitary.”
I point to the other customer, who’s trying desperately to ignore me. “She’s fucking touching them,” I growl, not giving a shit how I sound now.
The saleswoman gasps. “Excuse me, but you can’t speak to me that way. I’ll call security and have you thrown out.”
“For what? Molesting blankets?”
Her eyes flit across the scars on my face then down to my throat, my arm, and my hand. I should have put my leather jacket on, but I left it in the car because stressing out about coming in here was making me hot and sweaty.
Another salesgirl comes rushing over, this one younger, with an apologetic smile. Her hair is dyed jet black, and a small silver hoop hangs from her nose. “Why don’t you go work the register, Helen. I’ll help this customer find what he needs.”
Helen glares at me and walks away, taking the blanket I was holding with her like she just saved it from a life of misery.
The new girl makes a pained face. “I’m so sorry about that. She’s just a rude old bitch,” she says under her breath. “Can I help you with
anything? Are you looking for a certain size, color, or fabric?”
Why does everything have to be so difficult and come with so many choices? “It has to be the softest. It’s a gift for someone special.”
“Everyone touches them,” she whispers, glancing at her bitchy coworker, who’s still looking at me as if I’m Satan himself, sent here from hell to corrupt all the angelic blankets. “I’ve touched most of these myself. These over here are the softest…we have chenille, fleece, flannel, down.” I follow her down the aisle as she points to each one, and she waits patiently while I feel each of them, trying to pick the one Holly will love the most. I debate just buying one of each so I can get out of here faster.
“You’re Tanner’s brother, right?” Her brown eyes squint at me, tiny wrinkles forming in the corners and across the bridge of her nose.
“One of them.”
“I went to school with him. You’re the one who saved that girl in the woods.”
I nod uncomfortably and put two blankets off to the side. Chenille mink seems to be the winner.
“He was my uncle.”
I throw her a quizzical look.
“The man you killed.”
I knew this day would come eventually. That pig had a wife and kids who, best as I know, still live here. And, apparently, a niece. I can’t walk across this town without tripping over someone who either knows me, knows what happened to me, or knows what I did.
I finger a blindingly white down comforter. “I’m not gonna apologize.”
“I don’t expect you to,” she replies quickly. “You did the world a huge favor.”
I don’t want to know if this girl helping me pick out blankets is another of his victims, or maybe someone he groped at family parties or exposed himself to, or who the hell knows what other kind of sick shit he did. The less I know about the man I killed, the better off I’ll be.
I grab two of the softest throw blankets in the biggest sizes. “I did what I had to do,” I say gruffly. “Thanks for your help.”