The Bright Effect

by Autumn Doughton

  “Oh right.”

  Denise beams at me. “Amelia is the girlfriend we’ve heard so much about from Carter?”

  “That’s her,” I reply.

  “You’ll have to tell us even more about her,” she says, directing both of us into the kitchen. “Carter already told us that she’s tutoring him and that she has brown hair and a nose.”

  “Nice call on the nose, bud.”

  Carter shrugs. He’s jumped onto one of the brass-backed counter stools and is eating carrot slices off of the cutting board Denise is using to chop for a salad.

  “He also told us that she smiles a lot and loves cats.”

  I laugh, thinking about her Halloween costume. “She’s actually allergic to cats but she seems okay around Jinx. And she does smile a lot.”

  “Maybe it’s rubbing off on you,” she says. “I haven’t seen you looking this happy in a while. And I’ll tell you that Carter seems to think this girl hung the moon in the sky.”

  “We don’t have proof of that but we’re not ruling anything out.”

  Denise chuckles and the sound is so much like Mama that for an instant I lose control of my breath.

  “Burgers ready in fifteen!” Mike calls from out on the back patio.

  The kitchen erupts into activity then. Denise takes a position at the stove, mashing a pot of potatoes while managing to direct Carter and I to finish the salad and set the round table with plates and silverware.

  “Bash, I’m glad you could stay for dinner,” Denise says when all of the plates are loaded and we are sitting down.

  I finish adding lettuce to my hamburger and squash the bun down hard so the thing doesn’t fall apart on me. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m not one to turn down food and I know this guy isn’t either.”

  Carter’s head bounces up and down. There’s already a ring of smeared ketchup around his mouth.

  The rest of the dinner conversation is easy. Mike tells us about a project he’s trying to deal with at work—something about a phone app glitching on him. And Denise asks us questions about school and Amelia.

  When all the burgers are eaten and I’m so full that I have to lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my abdomen, Denise tells Carter to go get his stuff together and he bolts up the stairs to the room he uses while he’s here.

  “So, your aunt and I’ve been talking a lot lately,” Mike says.

  “Uh-huh?” I mutter, trying my damndest not to burp out loud.

  “And…” He and Denise share a look. This is when I realize that she’s tense.

  “We were wondering how would it feel to get your life back?” she asks me.

  I snort. “My life? What are you talking about?”

  My aunt shifts in her chair as she eyes me warily. “Well, you’re a senior now.”

  I’m nodding along. “I am.”

  “And now that you have a serious girlfriend, I can’t imagine it’s easy to behave like a normal teenage boy.”

  “It’s not but I manage it.”

  “Should you have to manage it?” Mike asks and I see the way he scoots closer to Denise and covers her hand with his own. This small move puts my senses on high alert.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, looking back and forth between them.

  Denise pulls in a breath. “Taking care of a seven-year-old is too much responsibility for a kid your age.”

  My brain snaps to the day last month when Elaine Travers swooped in to check on Carter and me. Sitting here at my aunt and uncle’s kitchen table, I have that exact same gnawing, scare-the-shit-out-of-me feeling.

  Could Social Services have contacted Denise and Mike to let them know about the investigation? Is that allowed?

  “Where is this coming from?” I ask them.

  Mike answers me in a steady, deliberate voice. “Your aunt and I have been doing a lot of soul searching these past months. When your mother passed, we didn’t push the issue because everyone was in turmoil. Denise had lost her big sister and you boys… you’d lost so much already.” My aunt is starting to tear-up. Hell, I’m starting to tear up. “But now that the dust has settled,” he says grimly, “we both think it would be best for all parties if we took over primary guardianship of Carter.”

  I’m listening but the words don’t make sense to me right away. When they finally bore through the side of my skull and hit home, I jump up from the table. “What?”

  Denise is crying now. “You know that after your mama died, we wanted you both to move in with us.”

  “Then you must remember that we both wanted to stay in Green Cove,” I yell at her. “It’s what she wanted for us.”

  “Is it?” Mike throws out.

  “What are you implying?” Do they know something I don’t? Did my mother talk to them about this before she died?

  “I know what it’s like to grow up in Green Cove and feel stuck there,” Denise sobs. “Your mama went through it and she never got out because she stayed behind with your father. I went through the same thing, but I fought my way into college and a different kind of life. Now it’s your turn, Bash. You don’t want to be stuck there forever, do you? And I know you don’t want that for Carter.”

  “Why is this happening now?”

  “Because we want you to think about letting your brother start school here at the beginning of next term,” Mike says calmly. “We’d like you to be here also, but we would understand if you want to finish out your senior year in Green Cove.”

  Denise nods and sniffles, getting her tears under control. “We thought you boys could have one last Christmas in the house and then Carter could get a fresh start in Charleston in the new year.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Just think about it, son,” Mike says.

  “I’m not your son.”

  He sighs in a way that has me thinking he knew I was going to say that just like he knows I can’t take care of my brother. “You need to start thinking about what’s best for Carter.”

  “I am thinking about it. I think about it every damn day.”

  “We don’t want for things to get ugly,” my aunt says, her grey eyes wet and pleading. Those are my mother’s eyes. My eyes. Carter’s eyes.

  “Then don’t make them ugly.” It’s both a question and a statement.

  “It’s not that easy, Bash. We aren’t just going to give up on this and walk away. Too much is at stake.”

  “But that’s how I feel,” I say, my fingers squeezing the chair back. “I promised her I would take care of him and now you want to make me break my word.”

  “I would never want to go against Jean Anne’s wishes, but I honestly think she was confused toward the end. She was trying her best to make good out of a bad situation, but this arrangement is not appropriate. It’s too hard when it doesn’t have to be that way. You need to live the life of a young man and not be saddled with the care of yourself and a small child.”

  “It’s not like that,” I say and my voice cracks. “I need Carter as much as he needs me.”

  “Bash, hon, Mike and I are going to do whatever it takes to set this right. Do you understand that?”

  My tongue is so dry that it feels tacky against the roof of my mouth. “You can’t do this to us.”

  “You’re not being reasonable,” Mike says, shaking his head.

  “Because you’re asking my permission to walk into my life and blow it up.”

  Denise looks at me. “But you have to see where we’re coming from. We do have options.”

  “What’s that suppose to mean?”

  “Just that we’ve talked to several attorneys.”

  My abdomen clenches tight as I wait for the other shoe to drop. I guess I’ve known it was coming since Mike cleared his throat and told me that he and my aunt have been doing a lot of talking. It’s still weird how all the pieces come together at once and I can see this family portrait for what it is.

  “Are you the ones who called Social Services?”


  Neither Mike nor Denise move, but I see the guilt on their faces. It’s fucking blinding.

  “How could you do it?” I ask.

  “Bash, we were worried and we thought it was the right thing to do for everyone,” Denise explains.

  “You know what? Save it for someone who wants to hear. I’m done with this conversation and you,” I say darkly as I move toward the stairs. I need to get Carter and get out of this house. Now. “Carter, hurry up!”

  Denise follows me. “Think about this, Bash. Who do you think a judge is going to side with? The 18-year-old kid working at a hardware store after school or the two adults who can provide Carter with a financially secure and stable life?”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Carter appears at the top of the stairs. His backpack is in one hand and Red Dead Fred is in the other.

  “I don’t want to threaten you,” Denise says quietly so that Carter won’t hear her. “But please understand me when I tell you that Mike and I will do whatever it takes to ensure what’s best for that little boy.”

  I look away. “So will I.”

  ***

  “I understand. Thank you for your time,” I say, pressing the end button to finish the call.

  That was the fifth lawyer I’ve talked to this afternoon and every conversation went about the same way.

  Interesting case. Let me pass you along to my paralegal who can explain what my retainer is.

  The minute I tell them I can’t pay a retainer, my case gets a lot less compelling and schedules are too full to take me on.

  You’d think by now, I would be used to taking the shots that come at me, but they still draw blood. Every single time. People like to say that money can’t buy happiness, but it sure as hell can buy peace of mind in the form of legal representation.

  According to my Google search, there is one other lawyer around Green Cove who might take the case, but I just can’t bring myself to make that last call. The two times we’ve met, it’s been more than obvious that Bill Bright doesn’t like me around his daughter. He can hardly look me in the eye so I do not think he’s going to up and volunteer to be my attorney out of the kindness of his heart.

  Maybe I’m also avoiding the call because if I tell Mr. Bright that I’m being sued for custody by my aunt and uncle, then I have no choice but to tell Amelia. The last three days, I’ve kept her in the dark, chucking up my sour mood to bad sleep. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the act up, but once I say it out loud and she hears it, all of this becomes real.

  What am I going to do?

  Bottom line is that Mike and Denise are royally screwing me. They can pretend it’s for my own good, but I know a beatdown when I see it. And the worst part is that their predictions are coming true. I can’t compete with them when it comes to financial stability. Hell, I can’t even hire myself a real lawyer. And even if I talk to my boss about picking up extra hours at Kane’s, I don’t think it will make a difference. What’s a few hundred dollars more when I need five thousand?

  “Bash? You at home?”

  There’s a shadow at the screen door.

  “In here.”

  Paul from next door lets himself in. “Mom’s on another one of her butter kicks,” he says, dropping a casserole dish on the sofa table and making himself comfortable. “She made y’all some kind of shrimp thing. I think there’s rice and sweet carrots in it and she said to let it cool down and stick it the refrigerator. Y’all can nuke it if you want or eat it cold.”

  “Thanks. Carter loves shrimp.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Paul asks, stretching his arms over his head and kicking his feet up on the table. “So, whatchya doin’?”

  I indicate the phone in my hand. “Calling attorneys, trying to get one to work for me for free.”

  “You in trouble?”

  “Nah, I just have something to work out.”

  “I was gonna say that I can still get you that sweet deal I mentioned awhile back.”

  I’m impressed that he even remembers that night. He was so wasted I figured his brain had turned to grits and everything was forgotten.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Paul’s yellow-green eyes narrow. “Just sayin’ that things are going well for me. You saw my car?”

  I did. It was hard to ignore when he drove that shiny new sports car up the street. The engine was louder than fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  “It’s a beauty,” I tell him.

  “You could have a matchin’ one.”

  “I’m not going to transport drugs for you.”

  “It’s not like that,” he says, breathing in through his open mouth. “It’s not even a transport because I do that end. All you would need to do is let us use your place.”

  “For what?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to never find out.”

  I think I’ve heard of this before. Meth dealers rotate houses to cook in so that they won’t get caught. “You want me to let you make drugs here?”

  He lifts his shoulders in a way that could mean yes or no. “All you’d have to do is clear out of your humble abode for a time and when we’re finished, you clean up and make it like we were never here.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Piece of cake, man.”

  “I don’t know, Paul.”

  “Do you remember when we used to get high with everyone at the quickie mart before first period?”

  Paul and I were never friends even when he was a student at Green Cove High, but we did run in the same circles.

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “I’m just sayin’ that you used to be fearless and what I’m presentin’ to you is less risky than gettin’ high with a bunch of teenagers before school. And you can make good money this way, Bash. I’m talkin’ thousands.”

  Thousands? As tempting as the offer sounds—especially now when I need that extra cash—I don’t know if I can go there. Letting strangers in the house where Carter and I sleep so that they can cook up meth in our kitchen?

  Shit, it sounds really bad even in my own head. And Social Services has already sent someone to the house once. I don’t have any assurances that won’t happen again.

  On the other hand, I reason, I might actually get away with it. Then I’d have the money I desperately need to fight my aunt and uncle for Carter. With that kind of cash I’d be able to keep our little family together in the way Mama wanted. Hell, with thousands I could even take a look at schools.

  College. The word reverberates throughout my entire body. With everything I’ve had to juggle in my life, I never thought of it as a real possibility. But maybe with the right resources it could become a reality.

  And, if what Paul is telling me is true, I wouldn’t technically be the one dealing in the illegal shit. I’d just be cleaning up afterward.

  “I’m tellin’ you,” Paul says, putting an end to my wild thoughts. “It’s easy money, man. Easy as pie.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Amelia

  Amelia: Summer or winter?

  Bash: Summer of course. Katy Perry or Taylor Swift?

  I giggle as I tap out a response.

  Amelia: T Swift all the way. LOL

  Bash: Should’ve guessed that one :P

  “Are you going to do that all day, Amelia?”

  I blink up at my sister. “Huh?”

  “You know, text with Lover Boy while I shop over here and talk to myself?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Oh, what-the-frick-ever,” Daphne says but her expression is soft. “You are so gonzo over there, Nancy might be able to get you in something smocked with a monogram without you even knowing it.”

  We’re at the mall two towns away with our stepmother, who had insisted that our fall and winter wardrobes needed a little padding.

  “Smocking and a monogram?” I hiss at Daphne. “I might be texting with my boyfriend but I am not that far gone.”

  She groans and looks away. Then she l
ets loose a thrilled squeal and pulls out a burgundy strapless dress with delicate-looking silk bows at the neckline. Gathering it to her chest, she exclaims, “This is perfect for Thanksgiving! Nancy, what do you think?”

  Our stepmother pauses her methodical perusal of the clothing racks and looks up. She hums while she studies the fabric in Daphne’s hands. “It’s lovely but I preferred the hunter green one. It’s a better choice with your coloring.”

  Daphne twists her mouth and considers this before draping the dress over her arm and giving me a secret smile. “I’ll still try this one on. It’s going to look great with hoop earrings and my suede peeptoes.”

  My phone buzzes in my hand and I can’t help myself. I love playing this game with Sebastian.

  Bash: Tacos or Burritos?

  This one is easy for me.

  Amelia: Shrimp tacos with slaw and lots and lots of sour cream

  I wait, hoping that he’ll respond right away. My heart flutters when the little dots begin to move across my screen to let me know that he’s writing out a text.

  Bash: Those sound a lot like shrimp tacos from LeRoy’s

  Amelia: Probably because they are.

  Bash: Those are my favorite too. Want to go get shrimp tacos with me on Friday night?

  Amelia: Are you asking me on a date?

  Bash: As long as you don’t mind if I bring along a 7 y.o. who will want to talk superheroes and Legos the whole time.

  Amelia: Superheroes and Legos? Count me in!

  “Amelia, are you still texting with that boy?”

  I tear my eyes away from the phone and see that Nancy is frowning at me.

  Daphne shoots me her favorite I-told-you-so-look. “Don’t be too hard on her, Nancy. She’s living in La-la-land and it’s simultaneously adorable and disgusting.”

  I drop the phone into the side pocket of my purse. “Sorry. It was a homework question from Audra.”