by Jo Raven
His mouth twitches. “Your profile pic is a cat with a mustache.”
Yep. “And on Instagram?”
“A socked foot. Why…?” He snorts. “Why did you put a socked foot?”
“It’s my socked foot. Kinda like your drawings: parts of things, hinting at the whole.”
He really did check. He’s not making it up.
And I shouldn’t get so excited about it, but hey. Would he check up on a girl he only wanted to bang and leave?
I rest my case.
“You said you’re visiting your sister. I saw a pic of her. Her smile is like yours.” He shakes his head. “But yours is much prettier.”
Oh God. There’s a lot of squeezing going on in my head. In my chest. But if I tackle-hug him, we’ll probably both die in a horrible accident. “You think so?”
“Yeah.” His gaze is laser-hot again, directed at me. One side of his mouth curls up. “I sure as hell do.”
My heart is thudding. He told me he found me pretty before, but that was different. That was when he was trying to get into my pants—not that I didn’t want it, too—and while he did dirty things to me.
This feels… more real somehow.
Eyes on the road, Kay.
“My family’s boring.” I roll one shoulder in a shrug as I overtake a car. “My parents live in the outskirts of Chicago, with my little brother, who’s turning seventeen next month. My parents hate each other, but won’t divorce because hey, what will the neighbors say? And my sister lives in Milwaukee with a boyfriend who’s a cheater and an a-hole because of what my parents will say. And it all sucks, but it’s not so bad.”
As I’ve come to realize. When compared to your family.
“It makes you sad,” he says in that quiet, raspy voice of his.
“It tells me love isn’t real. That relationships never work out. That they’re not worth the pain.”
And I don’t know why I’m telling him this, especially since he’s got me all confused and God, I’d give it a shot if he asked me to. I’d give love a shot.
I’m going out of my mind.
He takes a deep breath and presses a hand to his ribcage. I want to ask him how he’s managing the pain, how he’s been, but I keep my mouth shut and wait for him to say something.
“My mom,” he says after a few beats, “has lupus.”
Lupus. My mind freezes as I try to dig up anything I know about the disease. “Light sensitivity?”
“Autoimmune disease. It attacks the organs. It’s serious.” His voice is like gravel. “That’s what the doctor thinks she has. They did some tests this week. It fits in with the depression bouts she’s had for years.”
I swallow hard and reach blindly for his hand. I wrap my fingers around his bigger ones. “I’m so sorry. But treatment is good nowadays, right?”
“She has no health coverage. My old man should be on top of this, but isn’t, and she’s not enrolled. It could take ages before she’s approved. And there’s no money. And I fucking can’t—”
“It’s okay,” I say automatically, because what can you say in the face of that? Even without knowing the cost I can tell it has to be huge. “Somehow it’ll be okay.”
He’s squeezing the hell out of my hand, and I’m seriously considering pulling to the shoulder to continue with this discussion, when he releases me.
“Here,” he says, “take this exit.”
So I do and we roll off the highway, down a narrow road between darkening fields and isolated houses.
“Will you wait for me?” he asks as I pull into an overgrown, muddy field that apparently serves as a parking lot. “I won’t be long.”
“You don’t want to stay and visit?”
“I don’t want you getting lost around here in the dark,” he says and I wonder why.
“Just tell me one more thing.” I lick my lips, not sure why I feel so nervous asking him this. “Why did you say you were going to leave? Where were you planning on going, and why did you change your mind?”
Night is seeping through the windows of the car. Lights flicker outside, in the trailer park, low and uncertain, like fireflies.
“I was going to leave,” he says on a sigh, “to save my mom. I put aside some money. I was gonna take my mom away from my bastard father and take her someplace where a doctor could see her and help her. But now she’s sicker than ever and the doctor is here, so I’m staying.”
He looks into my eyes, and there it is again, that flicker of hope. It’s like a question, and I don’t know what to answer.
He turns away before I figure it out. It isn’t until he’s climbed out of my car and is heading toward the cluster of trailers in the distance that I realize he hasn’t mentioned the other topic I wanted him to explain.
That he caused a child to die. Whatever that means.
But he’s already give me more than I hoped for. He said he was sorry, and opened up about his mom’s sickness, and the financial issues. No wonder he’s so distracted and moody.
I stare at the lit-up trailers and a small grove of scraggly trees, and blink slowly. This is where he grew up. His parents live here. This is Ocean’s world.
Without a second thought, I get out of the car and follow him.
***
People openly stare at me as I walk past their trailers. A woman is watering a small herbal garden in tin pots, her hair in a pile atop her head, her apron bright red. A little terrier yips at me and dances in my feet until I move past the trailer he guards, a dull gray one with shuttered windows.
Ocean’s tall figure vanishes between trailers, and I hurry up, not to lose him from sight. It’s already done, though, and the stares of the people turn oppressive and a little bit scary.
I shove my hand in the pocket of my jacket and palm my cell phone. I’m okay. If I get lost or a rabid dog attacks me, I can call him. The trailer park isn’t very big. Surely he’ll find me quickly if it’s a matter of life-or-death-by-mutt.
I skulk along more trailers, starting at every sound and bark. More dogs. I didn’t even know I was afraid of dogs. Maybe I’m only afraid of dogs in dark, unfamiliar trailer parks in the middle of nowhere.
Turning the way I saw Ocean turn, I find myself hurrying between two blue trailers. A curtain twitches at a lit window as I make my way past. Someone’s sitting on a porch further down, on a creaking rocking chair.
“See, that’s how it is, Blue,” the man on the rocking chair says in the raspy voice of a chain-smoker, talking to a tall figure standing in front of him. “We all head for the grave, sooner or later.
“She’s not gonna die. I’ll look after her.”
Ocean. The tall figure is Ocean.
“The doctor didn’t seem happy with the results,” the raspy-voiced man says, his form a dark silhouette against the light of the porch. “Only so much you can do, Blue.”
He keeps calling him Blue. And Ocean doesn’t correct him, not about that. He just gives a jerky nod and lurches away.
Huh.
My mind churning, I follow him. The guy in the rocking chair hisses at me like a snake as I walk past, startling me so badly I almost fall on my face.
Awesome.
Clutching my phone a tiny bit more tightly inside my pocket, I jog after Ocean’s form.
“Blue!” another guy calls after him. “Changed your mind about racing my cars?”
“We’ll talk later,” Ocean calls back.
Racing?
“Hey, Blue,” a little girl yells, running straight at him, colliding with his legs. He pats her head. “Daddy says can you help fix our fridge?”
“Ask one of Sue’s boys, midget. I don’t have time today.”
“But daddy said you’d cooooooooooooome,” she whines as he gently pulls her off him and resumes walking, his determined, wide stride eating the distance, taking him past a water spigot and a communal toilet to another cluster of trailers.
My heart is pounding. Yeah, this is a whole different world from where I grew up
all right.
I have to sprint not to lose him again, and by the time I see him, he’s opening the door of a dilapidated trailer and stepping inside.
I stop. What am I doing? I can’t follow him inside. He asked me to wait in the car, not spy on him.
We’re not together, as in a couple. I’m not here to meet his folks and see photos from his childhood.
I bet he was super cute, though, I think as I retrace my steps, trying to find the way back to my car. With those denim blue eyes and that soft mouth, and… dark hair? I guess. I’ve never seen him with anything but blue. Taking care of his little brother.
Aw God. I should stop imagining it and hurry. It’s started to rain and it’s cold. I jog down the main road of the park, then stop, not quite sure in the dark which way I came from.
Oh shit.
Mortified, I stop in my tracks. I could wait for Ocean right here. He can’t miss me, on his way back to the car. I mean, this has to be the main road… Right?
If he asks why I’m not in the car, I’ll say I came out to look for him because it was getting late. I’d hate for him to feel bad for no good reason, but I’d feel even worse if I told him I came out to do some snooping.
Then something short barrels into my side, and I scream.
“Shush!” a high-pitched little voice says from the vicinity of my thigh. “It’s me.”
‘Me’ turns out to be the little girl from before, the one who barreled in the same way into Ocean.
She grabs my hand. Hers is tiny and sticky and super strong for something so small. “You’re a friend of Blue.”
“You mean Ocean.”
“Nobody here calls him that.” She tugs on my hand. “He’s Blue, like his hair. He dyed it for the races.”
“What races?”
“The car races. I was very little when he raced the last time. But he’s good, my mom says.”
Right. Car races.
How much more don’t I know about him?
“My name’s Avery, what’s yours?”
“Kayla.” I consider my options. “Hey, I’m looking for the parking lot. Looking for my car. Can you take me?”
She tugs on my hand again, a painful jerk, and I stagger after her, assuming she does indeed know what I’m talking about. It’s really hard to make out her features in the dark, but from her height, she can’t be more than six or seven years old.
“Are you his girlfriend?” she asks as she pulls me along like a very determined tiny missile. “You’re pretty.”
“Thank you. Um. Ocean… I mean Blue and I, we’re just friends.”
“He needs a girlfriend,” Avery informs me. “Soon.”
“And why’s that?”
“Blue is nice.” She pants a little as she drags me on what I hope is that right path to the exit of the park. “He takes care of everyone. He helps my mommy. He cleans and cooks for his parents. He took care of his brother, my mommy says, and of everyone else here.” She stops and turns to look up at me. Her eyes glimmer in the faint light from the nearest trailer. “But he has nobody to take care of him.”
***
Just a few minutes later, when he appears walking toward the car, his familiar tall silhouette darker than the night sky and the faint lights of the trailer park, I’m inside my car, pretending I’ve never set foot outside.
I feel a little bad about it, but hey, I just followed him for, like, ten minutes and heard a few people interact with him, that’s all.
And I was told by a kid how nice and sweet he is with everyone.
That’s the guy who caused a child to die? This really doesn’t fit in. Not that people don’t surprise you sometimes—it’s not the first time a nice old lady was found out to be a serial killer.
But that’s unusual, okay?
When I ask how his mom is, he grunts an “okay” in reply and a “thanks for waiting.” He’s quiet as I pull out of the field and back onto the interstate, heading to Milwaukee.
Which is fine with me for once, since it’s a short ride to my sister’s neighborhood, and my own head is spinning with everything that’s been going on.
As we approach my sister’s address, though, my thoughts shift to her. I park down the street from her building and zip up my jacket.
I glance at Ocean. Crap, I hadn’t thought that far. “Will you stay here? I don’t know how long this will take.”
He nods, and God, he looks exhausted. Like the visit to his family zapped out the last of his energy. “If you don’t mind. I’ll catch a few Zs until you come back.”
“Sure. Lower the back of the seat, make yourself comfortable.” Before I know it, I’ve reached up and stroked a strand of hair back from his face. “Be back soon.”
“Your sister.” He captures my hand, presses it to his face, and I shiver. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. Some boyfriend trouble, from the sounds of it, but she’s okay.” I give him a quick smile, my heart thumping hard enough to break a rib, and pull my hand away. “You rest.”
It’s that feeling again, of needing to take care of him, protect him, pull him to me and shelter him from the problems and the cruelty of the world.
Instead I step outside and close the door of the car, glance up at the building and square my shoulders.
I know what that feeling means, and I really need to talk to this boy—Ocean, Blue, my boy—and figure things out with him, despite my fears. See if he feels the same way.
Like I can’t breathe without him, can’t think about anyone but him—and I don’t even know yet the truth about his past.
This is insane…
***
I ring the bell three times before the door unlocks and opens, revealing Allie in a bathrobe, her eyes red.
“Kay?” she whispers, blinking owlishly. “What are you doing here?”
“Told you I was coming to visit you today. You forgot?”
She blinks again, then throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around me. “God, Kay. Can’t believe you’re here.”
Crazy, huh? It’s as if we live a thousand miles away from each other, but we’re not. We could have met every weekend if we wanted, but we never saw eye-to-eye.
As she shakes against me, thin and barely taller than me, I wonder if it was really her or me, putting distance between us. I put distance between myself and everyone who reminded me of my childhood, the rules and constraints I did my best to leave behind.
“Let’s go inside,” I whisper, and together we walk into her apartment and close the door. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”
“I’m okay. So happy to see you.” She sniffles, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her robe.
She looks terrible. Her hair is limp and knotted, her face blotchy as if she’s been crying for a while.
I lead her into a tidy little living room and seat her on the beige sofa. The place is like a page from a furniture catalogue—bland, neutral colors and basic shapes, black-and-white posters of flowers. Nothing personal in sight.
That’s not how my sister used to be when we were little. But I rebelled and did my best to keep my true colors. She faded away.
Now she looks like a shadow of my older sister. A see-through ghost.
“How are you? You look good, Kay. How’s the studies?” But she keeps shooting nervous glances at the door and picking at the hem of her sleeves.
“Allie, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Nothing, I just…” Another nervous glance at the door, then she folds her hands in her lap and gives me an over-bright smile. “Just don’t feel so good today. Must have caught a bug. But I’m okay. Tell me about you.”
So not convincing. She’s a terrible liar. “Everything’s good. You should really come visit. I love my classes, and I have good friends. And there’s this boy—”
She starts, gaze darting around, as if she heard a noise I didn’t notice. “Kay, you should go.”
“Go?” I gape at her. “I literally just arrived, Allie.”
&nb
sp; “You don’t understand. I told you.” She shifts on the sofa, and that’s when I see the bruises on her thighs and her wrists.
Oh fuck.
“Allie, what the hell?” I’m on my feet, tugging at her robe to see what else she’s hiding. My voice is going up, turning hysterical. “Who did this? Oh God, don’t tell me it’s your asshole of a boyfriend?”
“Let go.” She tugs her robe out of my hands and glares. “It’s nothing. I told you life isn’t a fairytale. This is how—”
“No.” I shake my head, livid, and grab her hand. “No, this isn’t okay, Allie, and that fairytale thing is total bullshit, and you know it. Is he coming back here? We need to leave.”
“He went out to buy cigarettes. He won’t hurt you, Kay. He’s not like that. He’s a good guy when—”
“Are you frigging kidding me right now? Look at you! He’s beaten you black and blue. Jesus.” My pulse is filling my ears. I feel light-headed. This is my sister. And that asshole beats her. “How long has this been going on? How long has he been beating you?”
“Mom said I should give him a chance. Relationships are like that.” She’s letting me pull her up, though, and her voice is growing unsure. “She said we can’t tell what someone is like unless we give them second chances.”
“Does Mom know he beats you?” She shakes her head. “No. Let me tell you something, sis. We can tell what someone is like, most of the time. When a guy hits you? That’s a big fat clue that he’s a violent douchebag and that you should put at least a state or two and maybe an ocean between you, got it?”
“Please, Kay…” Her voice is choked, and I stop in the process of looking around for her clothes and purse.
“Please, what?”
“You’ll be hurt. Please go.”
“Not without you.” Isn’t that what Ocean told me what feels like ages ago at the bar, before he took me home? I smile at her. “We’re going together.”
“Okay.”
Relieved she agrees, I finally locate her long coat on a hook and drag her toward it. I’m not sure what I’m doing, I only know I’m not leaving her here with a guy who might kill her in a fit of rage at any given moment.