“So stay.”
Teasing him, Ryann released his calf and turned to lie flat on her back, knees up. Turning her head, she looked up at Spencer.
“Hey,” she said, sounding surprised. “It actually is comfortable down here.”
Spencer grinned down at her. “Yeah?”
“Yup. Come join me.” She extended a hand and he humored her, lowering himself to the carpeted floor and lying flat on his back next to her, looking up at the ceiling.
“We should turn off the lights and sleep here,” Ryann said. “This is the best my back has felt in about two months.”
They lay there for a few moments in silence and then Spencer felt Ryann’s fingers close around his.
“Baby,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about your Mom. I know you wanted her to see the babies. I don’t think I ever said that. I’m so, so sorry.”
Spencer felt his eyes fill, and he squeezed her hand, then pulled her over so her head was resting on his shoulder. Kissing her forehead, he exhaled a deep sigh.
“Y’know what?” he said. “I think you’re right. Let’s just stay here and not move.”
~34~
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Your inmate has to call you. We don’t accept incoming calls for …”
“I’m aware of that,” Ryann said impatiently, and for the third time. “I just wanted to know whether I could get a message to him, so that he would …”
“Taking a message for him would be tantamount to accepting an incoming call on his behalf, and we don’t …”
“Yes, you said. You don’t do that.”
Exactly. So if you’d like to hear from him, I suggest you.”
“Write. Yes. I did that and I haven’t heard back, so I thought I’d try to …”
“Sometimes our men go through a period of … They go through difficult periods. I’m sure he’ll be in touch when he feels ready to be. But as I told you, there’s no information in our system to suggest that he’s anything other than perfectly fine.”
Ryann resisted the urge to laugh. No one in a maximum-security prison was “perfectly fine.”
“Thank you,” she said, instead. “You’ve been a great help.”
But apparently, her sarcasm was lost on the person on the other end of the line.
“You’re …”
She hung up.
It wasn’t that she missed Rick. Part of her did, but a larger part, a secret and guilty part just wanted to hear him say that it was fine for her to just … be happy. And his silence was unsettling, and felt accusatory. She hadn’t been back to Red Onion since that one last visit, and she figured he would have needed some time to cool down, but that had been two months ago and in more than fifteen years that he’d been there, Ryann hadn’t gone this long without hearing his voice.
She had been so busy in the weeks following Spencer’s mother’s death that she almost hadn’t thought about Rick at all. But now that Spencer had gone back to work just that morning, she felt like she had a little more emotional bandwidth, and could consider repairing things.
“Brittainy!”
Her assistant stuck her head in. “Yes, Miss Walker?”
“I have to go out for lunch unexpectedly. If I don’t come back by two, can you cancel everything I have this afternoon?”
Brittainy nodded. “Yes, Miss Walker. Everything okay?”
“Mind your business. Everything’s fine. I’ll have my cell if you need me.”
Gathering her things, Ryann summoned a car with Uber and waddled toward the elevators, feeling Brittainy’s eyes on her. Ever since that time Greg had surprised her in Deanwood, she’d suspected the girl had been turned into a spy for Spencer, but didn’t bother calling her out on it. It was kind of cute, actually, having her twentysomething-year-old assistant taking care of her.
Only once she was almost at her destination did Ryann realize she had neglected to pick up something to make the visit go much more smoothly. And once she was at her mother’s building, there was nowhere close by to grab a sweet dessert. Reconciling herself to going in emptyhanded, she headed upstairs, taking almost twenty minutes to get up the stairs, since, as was almost always the case, the elevator was broken. By the time she knocked on the door, her armpits were clammy and her nose dotted with perspiration. Pausing to lean against the door to catch her breath, she waited for her mother to answer rather than dig through her enormous bag for her own keys to the apartment.
Ryann pictured her mother hoisting herself up from her chair and making her way slowly toward the door. She almost sympathized with her now. Carrying these kids had given her a new appreciation for the challenges of people of considerable girth.
When the door swung open, her mother’s expression was a curious mix of resignation and expectancy.
“Ryann,” she said. “I thought I might see you soon. Come in.”
“Is he here?”
Spencer sat upright and looked toward the door of his office, waiting. Moments later, just as he’d expected when he heard the tenor and loudness of her voice out in the hall, Ryann came bursting in. Donna was close on her heels, her expression frantic.
“It’s okay,” he said, nodding at her before she could begin her apology.
Ryann was standing just inside the threshold, her breathing heavy, her shoulders rising and falling. Coming from behind his desk, Spencer nodded once again at Donna.
“You can shut the door,” he told her.
She backed out, eyes fixed on his as though trying to give him permission to telegraph that he didn’t actually mean what he was saying. Once the door clicked shut, Spencer turned his attention once again to Ryann.
“Did you go see my mother?” she demanded.
“Yeah,” he said.
Ryann blinked twice, thrown by his easy admission. Her voice lowered a little. “Why? What did she tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me anything,” he said truthfully.
“That’s what she said. But I don’t …”
“You don’t have to believe her. But you know you can believe me.” He took a few steps toward her. Her eyes danced around the room, like a trapped animal, looking for escape. “Right? You know you can believe me.”
Ryann’s shoulders sagged and she exhaled deeply. “Yes, but …”
“What did you think she might have told me?” Spencer asked carefully.
Turning away from him, she searched for something, and when she sat in one of his guest chairs, Spencer realized she had been looking for a place to sit. Collapse was more like it. All the tension went out of her body so suddenly, she appeared physically smaller.
“Ryann,” he said. “What did you think she might have told me?”
Swallowing, she looked up at him and her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Going to crouch in front of her, Spencer took both her hands in his.
“Before my mother passed. You said you wanted to talk to me about something …”
Ryann tugged her hands free.
“Is that what it is?” Resting his hands on his thighs, Spencer watched her face as about five different emotions crossed it. But the one that remained, underpinning them all, was shame.
“You were going to tell me,” he reminded her, softly. “You still can. I’m here. I’m listening … And I’m not going anywhere.”
Still, she said nothing. So, acting on a hunch, Spencer told her the one thing, the only thing he had been deliberately keeping from her.
“Your brother called,” he said.
Ryann’s head snapped up. “When?”
Spencer shrugged. “Couple weeks ago.”
“A couple weeks? Why didn’t you te…”
“He won’t be calling back.”
“What?”
This time Ryann tried to get up from the chair, but Spencer put his hands on each of its arms, effectively caging her in.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because I told him not to.”
>
Ryann’s eyes widened and became angry. Her nostrils flared. “You had no right …”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I had every right,” Spencer said, speaking over her, his voice louder. “To do what I need to do. To protect my family.”
“From Rick?” Ryann demanded. “He’s my brother!”
“And what else is he, huh? Tell me.”
Ryann looked alarmed. In a matter of seconds, she was breathing hard again. “My mother …”
“Told me nothing. Just like I said. Just like she said.”
“So did Rick …”
“Did Rick what?”
“Tell …”
“No. Not Rick, and not your mother. No one told me anything. Not even you. But you can … You can tell me, Ryann. Do you believe me?” Spencer brushed two fingers against her cheek, and put the other hand on her stomach.
Closing her eyes, Ryann sunk back into the chair. Spencer saw the moment she gave up in defeat. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with tears.
Slowly, she nodded. “I believe you.”
No one was home. No one ever was.
Ryann shut the apartment door and tossed her backpack on the couch. The vague scent of Opium hung in the air. That only meant one thing. Her mother was out, and would be gone late.
Ryann would have to make her own dinner, if she wanted dinner.
Going into her bedroom, she stood in front of the mirror and surveyed herself from the front and then from the side. Sometimes it felt like this mirror was a liar. Even now, looking at her reflection, she didn’t think she looked that bad.
So why was it that by the time she made it to school, she felt differently? Today had been another crappy day to add to what had been an entire schoolyear of crappy days. This morning when she put on her new Calvins, and the white blouse with her white Reebok high tops she felt almost confident. And when she got to school, she’d noticed a few of the girls glancing her way, their eyes drifting to her brand-new kicks, and she lifted her chin higher, walked a little straighter.
Then she got to homeroom and saw Grace Evans and her friends, sitting on the windowsill waiting for the bell to ring. They were clustered in their usual group of three: Grace Evans, Kendra Layton and Michaela Simpson. When Ryann walked in, Grace looked up at her with lazy, bored eyes. She didn’t notice Ryann’s new sneakers, and barely gave a glance to the Calvins. Not too many girls had the new Reeboks, so Ryann had hoped they would give her a leg-up, a second look from the most popular girls in her class.
Grace had her legs stretched out in front of her, resting on the edge of a chair. They were slender and smooth and she was wearing Keds without socks, a jeans skirt and perfectly ordinary pink t-shirt. Then why was it that she looked so much better than Ryann, so much better than everyone. And without even trying.
By lunchtime, Ryann had succeeded in getting some attention, but not the kind she wanted. Two or three boys had “accidentally” bumped into her, one of them managing to get a handful of her already blossoming breasts before snickering and muttering an insincere apology. Ryann had blushed crimson … that was another thing, her complexion hid nothing. Not her embarrassed blushes, and not the little pink eruption on her chin, a pimple that she was too scared to mess with, in case it became a full-blown zit.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Ryann took off her Reeboks, setting them carefully in her closet. She was hungry, but wondered whether she should skip eating tonight. If she did, maybe she could get rid of some of the fleshier parts of her body that attracted all that attention from the boys, and made the other girls look at her scornfully. But no, she hadn’t eaten much at lunchtime and the entire bus ride home, her stomach had been growling.
Going into the quiet kitchen, she made herself macaroni and cheese, not wanting to mess up more than one pot and have to hear her mother’s mouth when she got home later that evening. She would have been with Mr. Higgs, and would come in smelling like alcohol, her perfume, and a strange, musky masculine scent like perspiration. Her mother was stupid, if she thought she was fooling somebody. Everyone in the damn neighborhood knew she was messing with that man.
Ryann knew when it started and she knew when it stopped. It started and stopped a lot. Joe Higgs was married, so that was probably what the starts and stops were about. His wife was a nice lady, who Ryann could no longer look in the eye when she saw her around the block. She was pretty, but Ryann had to admit, not as pretty as her mother. And her mother had something not too many women around here had—not just a pretty face, but pretty manners, and a nice, proper way of talking and carrying herself that had people thinking she came from somewhere.
Maybe that was what Joe Higgs liked about her mother. That she could look so proper, even as she did very improper things.
Since they’d been messing around, he treated Ryann differently at school, and when he spoke to her, it was with averted eyes and a slight smile that looked a little shamefaced. It made Ryann want to stare him down, and sometimes when she felt particularly spiteful, that’s what she did.
‘I know who you are,’ her stare said. ‘I know what you do.’
Eating while sitting on the couch, Ryann was almost content. She was used to being alone, and there were times when it was preferable. Without seeing herself reflected in the eyes of other people, she almost liked what she saw. She had just finished up with her bowl of food when she heard the key in door, and smiled.
“What’s up, baby girl?” Rick came slouching into the living room and collapsed on the couch next to her.
He smelled like weed and beer, and his eyes were unfocused and heavy-lidded. Ryann didn’t like it when he got high, especially because she suspected that weed and beer weren’t the only things he got into.
“Nothin’,” she responded. “She’s out.”
“Ain’t she always out?” he drawled.
Rick and her mother didn’t get along anymore. Not since Rick had graduated early, and yet failed to enroll in UDC like he was supposed to. He said he was taking a year off, but their mother didn’t buy it. Ryann didn’t buy it either. Rick didn’t have a job that she could see, and yet he was always flush with cash. He was the one who had bought the Reeboks and Calvins. And he got her a Walkman too, when she asked for it. He took care of her, especially now that their mother was so distracted.
At least twice a week, Ryann listened to her mother and brother yelling at each other, and her mother threatening to put him out. Rick was the only person who made their mother yell.
“Yeah. Lately,” Ryann acknowledged.
“What you watchin’?” Rick took the remote from between her fingers and started flipping channels, not even allowing a few seconds to see what was on each before moving on. So that meant more than weed. He was on the stuff that the boys in the neighborhood called ‘Go Fast’. Ryann thought that meant cocaine, but she wasn’t sure.
“How was school?” he asked, still flipping channels.
“Okay,” Ryann said trying to sound casual.
Rick stopped messing around with the television for a moment and glanced at her. “You lyin’. What happened?”
Ryann felt her heart melt. Even when he was like this, her brother paid more attention to, and noticed more about her than anyone else.
“Just … nothing,” she said.
“Them girls still gettin’ on you?” he asked.
At first, Rick talked like this only to get under their mother’s skin. But now, it seemed to be part of him. He seemed to change the more time passed since his graduation. He used to want to be an engineer. But something had knocked him off that path. Ryann wondered whether it had anything to do with their mother and Joe Higgs. She knew that Rick knew about the relationship as well, though he never talked about it. Maybe that was what had broken him.
“They don’t …get on me,” Ryann said. “I just want them to …” She shrugged. “Like me.”
Rick snorted. “Forget them bitches,” he said savagely.
Ryan
n resisted the urge to defend them. Grace and her friends weren’t bitches. Not really. They were just … exclusive. They didn’t exactly go out of their way to make Ryann feel bad about herself. She just did.
“None of ‘em got shit on you,” Rick said. He turned to face her and Ryann smiled at him.
He smiled back at her, but his eyes were foggy, and it almost didn’t seem like he saw her at all.
“This what you wore to school today?” His eyes ran over her frame, from head to toe and Ryann felt a slight tremor that was confusing and unpleasant.
She nodded.
“See what I mean?” Rick said. “Pretty as you look right now? Anyone who don’t see that …” He made a sound of scorn. Then he had a hand on her shoulder. It was heavy and damp. Ryann felt the dampness through the fabric of her blouse. And he was sweating a little as well, across his upper lip and on his forehead, even though it was cool outside, and in the apartment as well.
He pulled her into a hug and Ryann submitted to it, even though she wanted to pull away from the clamminess of his arms around her.
“Pretty …” Rick said. His breath was hot in her ear. Something inside her froze, feeling that something was not quite right. His hands were holding her like a brother might hold his sister, but there was something else beneath that, in the intention of his hands …
And just as quickly as Ryann formed that thought, Rick’s hand was on her chest, and he was breathing harder. Leaning in, he squeezed. Briefly, almost fleetingly, like that boy at school. Ryann sat there. Frozen in spot, her mind spinning in a hundred different directions. But it didn’t matter how and where it spun, it could not find firm footing anywhere that would explain what was happening.
Rick turned his head and she felt his tongue, hot and sour, against the side of her face, and then pushing its way into her mouth. Her lips parted, not because she wanted what was happening, and not because he was exerting force, but because her body seemed to have gone completely slack as she departed it entirely, watching the scene from somewhere above.
As she observed, Rick pushed her body back onto the sofa and lowered his on top of it. He fumbled with the button at the waist of her jeans and then shoved a hand down it. He touched it, and the body jerked in surprise. She watched as he tried, grunting in frustration to get his hand even farther.
The Lover Page 34