She probably didn’t realize this comforted him. She might as well have stroked his hair and whispered, It’s okay… none of it is real. She wouldn’t have done that to you.
“Those are my kids,” David said. “And hers. I know they are.”
“I know.”
“I agree with you. Of course, I do. The woman I knew wouldn’t have let that happen… but she did.”
“What happened to the man? Did he go to prison?”
“No, he wouldn’t go quietly, so they ended up gunning him down. He died before he was cuffed.”
“Good.”
avid had fallen in love with Crystal shortly after he had fallen in love with Amanda. He had never intended to fall in love with Crystal, of course. He should have known better than to even spend time with her. To him, she stood out among all the rest at the crowded University of Texas campus. As if she wore red when everyone else wore black. He’d thought they could be friends. But he didn’t tell Amanda about his “friend.” He should have recognized that as a dangerous sign and gotten away as fast as he could.
It didn’t take long for their friendship to turn into more. The second time they studied together at a coffee shop, Crystal kissed him. They sat side by side on a couch, sipping double espressos. David had been talking about something… he couldn’t remember what… something boring, something unsexy. And, out of nowhere, she leaned over and kissed him. A quick, innocent kiss, like a twelve-year-old trying it for the first time. After her peck, she leaned back and waited, biting her lip.
If David had said what he should have said in that moment, such as, “I’m in love with my girlfriend”, or “Thanks, but no thanks; I don’t cheat”, everything would have changed from that point forward. But he didn’t. He didn’t say a thing. He smiled. Then after a moment or two of silence, which probably drove Crystal mad, he leaned in and kissed her, a lot less like a twelve-year-old. It felt right.
Four months later, they went away together, but not on purpose. On a random Wednesday, when Amanda had class, Crystal suggested they go for a drive.
“Where?” David asked.
“Let’s just see what we can find,” she said.
They took the highway out of town and turned down the first road that looked interesting. They drove purely on gut, and always agreed on which way to go, based on absolutely nothing. Without planning it, they drove almost directly to Enchanted Rock, a huge natural dome of pink granite outside Fredericksburg, Texas.
They hiked to the top of the dome and arrived at sunset.
“Is this what you were looking for?” he asked. No planned trip could have ended better, and he expected a wistful ‘yes’ but got a different answer.
She wrapped her arms around herself and looked across the orange-streaked sky. He remembered that moment clearly. She had on a thin white sweater that she hugged to herself as if it had protective powers, and her dark hair twirled and twisted madly in the wind.
“No,” she said. “I want more.”
His tongue got dry, and his heart hammered in his chest. But he couldn’t remember why he had felt so agitated.
She turned and stepped toward him. Her brown eyes pleaded with him. “Is there more, David?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, but the blood rushed through his head as loudly as the wind. He remembered he had been lying to her. But that made no sense. This memory, like a lot of his memories, felt a little off. Maybe he had drunk enough in college to burn holes in his brain.
She kissed him. Her lips tasted salty from the hike.
“Why do they call this place enchanted?” she whispered in his ear.
He could barely hear her over the wind. “The sign at the bottom says the rock moans at night. When it gets cool, the rock contracts, and that makes the sound. The Indians thought it was ghosts.”
“I see,” she said. “Maybe we can spend the night and check for ourselves.”
“I didn’t pack,” he said. “I don’t have a toothbrush or anything.”
She kissed him again.
“Okay, we can stay.”
“I know you have the answers,” she said. “You have to tell me.”
“Crystal… I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“I know there’s more. I want the more.”
“Who says more is better? What’s wrong with what you can see with your eyes?” He had shouted it. Why had he been so pissed? Probably because he had thought the day was perfect and she hadn’t. The amazing view wasn’t enough for her. He wasn’t enough. But he hadn’t felt angry, exactly. He had felt scared.
Amanda announced they would have dinner together. Jude, Patrick, and Emmy responded as if she had asked them to rip out a tooth and hand it over. But it didn’t matter. They would do it. Amanda wore a quiet simmering rage like a vest of TNT. So, everyone would sit and the table and eat the lasagna she made. Even her stepchildren lacked immunity to her force of command.
Never had the task of eating lasagna felt so dangerous. His family members hovered around the dining room, choosing seats an impossibly difficult task. David tried to help Amanda in the kitchen, but she created a force field in the doorway with a firm and biting, “I do not want your help.”
So he sat at the head of the table and waited patiently. Samantha placed the silverware and napkins with a ballerina’s grace and a paid-by-the-hour inefficiency. She took one piece of silverware out of the kitchen at a time, seeming grateful to have something to do. Poor girl. Wrong place, wrong time.
“Isn’t anyone going to help her?” David asked the room at large.
“I don’t mind,” Samantha said. “I’m pretty much finished anyway.”
“Thank you, Samantha,” David said. “Everybody sit down.”
The kids acted as if snakes hid under the napkins. Evangeline sat on his left. Maybe he had one child who didn’t hate him. Better than zero.
“Thank you,” he said.
Then Xavier had no choice but to sit down on the other side of his sister. Samantha headed toward the other side of the table but had a sudden change of heart and filled the spot next to Xavier, leaving three seats on the other side for the Vandergraff siblings. David thought she did this on purpose; she knew the two halves of David’s kids should not risk touching elbows.
When Amanda came in with the lasagna, Emmy, Jude, and Patrick sat down. Patrick sat on David’s right. David didn’t know if that meant anything. Patrick had the coolest head of his kids… at least, of the three he knew well. Patrick usually wanted everyone to “shut up and stop the drama”. He yelled something to that effect at his siblings several times a week. As the least likely to stab a fork through David’s hand, Patrick may have sat next to his father just to avoid drama.
The lasagna looked huge. Everything needed two more servings now. Aside from plates scraping and a few quiet “pass-me-the’s”, the diners remained silent. The longer no one talked, the heavier the silence became, and the harder it felt to break. Emmy talked more than this when she had the flu. She talked more than this when she had tonsillitis. She may have never gone this long without speaking in her life.
“Samantha, I talked to your mom today. They arrived in Switzerland safely,” Amanda said.
Samantha nodded. “What did she say?”
“They checked in. Said the place is nice. They’re sure it will do them some good.”
David’s daughters distracted him. They had both engaged in that specific type of sibling looking that inspired many children to say, “she’s looking at me”. He knew he shouldn’t, but he smiled slightly. They acted like sisters.
“Emmy, Patrick, it was nice of you to share your clothes. Thank you for doing that,” David said.
Patrick shrugged. Emmy appeared to have about three million words held in with a cork.
“As soon I get the chance, I can take you to buy some clothes of your own,” he said to Xavier and Evangeline.
Patches of flush had broken out on Emmy’s neck. She would
boil over any minute.
“Emmy, is there something you want to say?” David asked.
Patrick winced and shook his head, which David took to mean, you should not have asked that, you stupid, stupid man.
“She’s a witch,” Emmy said. She pointed her fork at Evangeline in accusation. She would have made the Puritans proud.
“Emmy!” Amanda scolded.
“That’s not an insult,” Evangeline said, calmly. “You are something much worse. You are a Mundane.”
“What does that mean?” Emmy spat.
“It means you are nothing. Ordinary. I would rather die than be a Mundane.”
“Jesus, you’re completely crazy, aren’t you?” Jude said. “You really think you’re a witch. Psycho.”
“Jude!” David shouted.
A slender crack branched up the side of the water glass Jude held. Then the glass shattered.
“Fucking shit,” Jude said. Drops of blood dribbled down his fingers onto his placemat.
“She did that,” Emmy said. She stood and pointed at Evangeline again and said, “Witch,” in classic Crucible fashion.
Amanda examined Jude’s hand. “You’re fine. It’s not that deep. Go clean yourself up.” Then she turned to her daughter. “Emmy, we don’t point at people and shout ‘witch.’ That’s completely unacceptable. Sit down right now.”
“She’s right, Emmy,” David said. “Apologize to… Evangeline.” He had gotten very close to saying “your sister”.
“It’s okay. She doesn’t have to apologize,” Evangeline said. “It’s not a mean thing to say. I am a witch.”
An expected amount of silence followed this pronouncement. But, for some reason, Amanda was the only person upset by this statement. Her eyebrows rose and then furrowed as if she had to massage the words into her brain. Her hands shook.
“Emmy,” she said. “Go get the broom and dust pan and clean up the glass.”
“She should have to do it,” Emmy said. “She broke it.”
“Emmy, if you don’t go get the broom, I swear to God…”
She didn’t have to finish her swear because Emmy left to get the broom.
And that completed their first family dinner.
Amanda went to go check on Jude, and David stayed with the rest of them. He told them to take their plates and finish eating in their rooms.
“Why am I being grounded?” Patrick asked. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You’re not being grounded. I just want everyone to chill out.”
“You know what,” Patrick said. “That’s fine. I vote that we all stay in our own rooms all the time from now on.”
“Fine with me,” Emmy said.
Evangeline and Xavier picked up their plates and got up to leave, too, glowering at Emmy the whole time. He had to admit, when they glowered, they glowered. He thought maybe he should actually scold them for looking at her.
“Emmy, I need to talk to you,” David said.
“No.”
“It’s not optional.”
He waited until the other kids had left the room, then sat down in the chair next to her. She started crying before he even started.
“I’m not speaking to you,” she said with wet cheeks. “You’re an adulterer.”
“It’s okay for you to be mad at me. You should be.”
She used her napkin to wipe away her tears as soon as they left her eyes, as if somehow he might not notice them if she grabbed them fast.
“But it’s not okay for you to be mean to Evangeline or Xavier. They didn’t do anything to you. And they’re going through a lot. You have to be nicer.”
Emmy’s lip quivered. He sensed she had a lot of responses to this. But David figured Emmy knew as soon as she opened her mouth she would start to sob.
“Do you know what happened to them?” he asked her. “Did Mom explain?”
She didn’t answer. He’d hoped she’d nod. He didn’t want to say it again.
“Their mom was murdered,” he said.
“Your girlfriend,” she clarified.
“She hasn’t been my girlfriend in a very long time.”
“How long?”
“Twelve years.”
“I’m thirteen,” she said.
“Yes.”
Emmy stared down at the broom and dustpan she held. Apparently, Amanda’s punishment of holding the broom and dustpan hadn’t ended, even though she had already cleaned up the glass.
“They were there when she was murdered. They saw it. And… it was more than that. Their stepfather abused them.” He couldn’t explain to his baby girl that their stepfather had raped them repeatedly. He didn’t want her to know something like that happened in the world.
“Does it make you sad?”
“Of course, I’m sad my children were abused.”
“No, are you sad she’s dead?”
“Yes. Emmy, she was a human being. What happened to her is sad.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just… never mind.”
“What?”
“Did you love her, or was it just for sex?”
A question you don’t want from your daughter.
“I loved her.”
“As much as Mom?”
He hesitated. Honestly, he couldn’t answer that question. He had chosen Amanda. But he had never really known why. The decision had come from his gut, not his head, or even his heart.
“No, not as much as Mom.”
“You hesitated before you answered. Are you lying?”
“No.”
“Was she a witch too?”
“You mean Crystal?”
“Her name was Crystal? That’s a stripper name.”
He had to chuckle. “Well, she wasn’t a stripper.”
“Was she a witch?”
“Emmy, none of them are really witches. Witches aren’t real.”
“Mom said they think their stepfather was a dark wizard. And that’s why he abused them. They say he wasn’t always a bad guy. The dark magic broke him, messed up his brain.”
“They believe that because it’s harder to believe the truth.”
“Which is?”
He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He didn’t know at which point she began lecturing him, but the conversation had veered off track.
“That they were abused by their regular human stepfather, who was a very bad guy.”
“That’s what you believe?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’re an idiot.”
“Are you saying you really believe they are dark wizards?”
“I know they are.”
“You’re thirteen. You’re too old for that kind of thing.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Emmy had been pissed at him before, almost every day in fact, but not like this. Her hate made his throat burn.
“They’re cursed too,” she said. “Just like their stepfather.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“It’s not their fault, but they are. It’s sticking to them. The evil is getting on my clothes.”
Reason had left the conversation before it had even started. Since when did Emmy believe in witches? Maybe he should have listened to her more carefully when she talked.
“I’ll take her shopping tomorrow. You don’t have to share your clothes anymore if you don’t want to.” As if this would fix everything. Emmy would no longer get curses on her clothes.
Amanda knocked on the door to his office—a small but unsettling change, since she usually just walked in. He opened the door, and she handed him sheets and a comforter. She wore the gray pajama pants he found oddly sexy. He guessed the pants themselves didn’t do much for him, but she wore them with a tank top that showed her midriff when she moved at certain angles. Most importantly, she wore these pants to bed and he had pulled them off her many times. He also happened to know she wore her sleeping clothes without a bra or panties. Useless and tortuous information now, like how he still had t
he salad dressing choices memorized from the restaurant he waited at in college.
No small talk. She went straight to business.
“I made their first therapy appointment for Thursday. They’re scheduled with different counselors, but it’s at the same time. I can drop them off on the way to work. Do you think you can pick them up? Also, do you think you can work from home as much as possible until they start school? I know they’re old enough to be on their own, but it doesn’t feel right.”
“Yeah. I—”
“I emailed you some links to private schools. I was thinking that might be better. I just can’t imagine sending them to public school right now. The high school has almost 4000 students. I think it would crush them. I thought maybe somewhere with small classes, where they could give them more attention, get them caught up with their peers. It would be less overwhelming, don’t you think?”
“I like that idea. Can we afford it?”
“We’ll manage. It would have to be temporary. Maybe for just this school year. Patrick may have to wait on getting a car.”
David groaned.
“I know,” Amanda said. “It’s not very fair to him. But he’s a sensible kid. I think he’ll get over it. We’ll make Jude share his truck.”
“What do you think the counselors will make them do in therapy?”
“Talk… I’m assuming.”
“They hate that.”
“Evangeline likes to talk.”
“Only about witchcraft.”
Amanda chuckled, the closest she had gotten to a smile since she’d met her stepchildren.
“Maybe we should postpone therapy,” he said. “They’re not going to want to talk.”
“David, they watched their mother murdered, then proceeded to watch her corpse burn just weeks ago. They’re going to therapy. That’s not negotiable.”
“I know…” Please don’t say things like that out loud.
“Honestly, I don’t think they’ve dealt with any of it. They just float around the house like ghosts. They’re in shock. Completely numb. Xavier doesn’t even talk, for Christ’s sake. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when the shock wears off and they have to feel it. Trust me, you want them in therapy.”
“That’s what scares me. The therapist will make them talk about it. Make them say it all out loud. I don’t like thinking about what that’s going to be like for them.”
Destruction: The December People, Book One Page 5