Good

by S. Walden

“Yeah, I bet you are,” I replied, and that’s when the first tear fell.

  When Gracie left, the storm picked up.

  “What are we supposed to do with you?” Dad roared.

  “Nothing!” I shouted back. “I’m eighteen! There isn’t anything you can do!”

  “When did it start?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “I love him.” I turned to leave, and Dad grabbed my upper arm, hauling me over to a club chair, and tossing me in it.

  “You don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you,” he warned, hovering over me. “Now I want to know when it started.”

  “September,” I answered. My voice was suddenly small and scared.

  “Oh my God,” Mom whispered. “Liam, she was just seventeen. She was still seventeen!”

  Dad glared at me, and then his eyes softened. “Did that man take advantage of you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Did you have sex with him?”

  I didn’t move. That question was a private one, and it crossed the line.

  “Did you have sex with him?”

  I started crying in earnest.

  “Answer your father, Cadence,” Mom said. Surprisingly, she was no longer crying. She looked as pissed off as Dad.

  “Yes.” I didn’t say that word. My brother did. And I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe he’d betray me like that.

  “What?” Dad asked. He looked at Oliver.

  “I . . . I knew Cadence was having sex with someone, but she wouldn’t tell me who,” he said.

  “Shut up, Oliver,” I said.

  “How did you know?” Mom asked.

  “I overheard—”

  “SHUT UP!” I screamed.

  “She thought she was pregnant,” Oliver said.

  I had one thought: I had to get out of the house. I was genuinely afraid of Dad’s reaction, and I needed to be somewhere safe. Somewhere with Mark.

  Dad turned to me. “Is this true?”

  I felt I had no choice, and spilled everything in that moment.

  “I love him!” I cried. “I love him. I can’t help it. I fell in love with him. And he loves me. And it’s not your business what we do behind closed doors, and I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed you, but it’s got nothing to do with you.” I took a breath and continued. “No! That’s not true! It does have something to do with you. You don’t like me. You haven’t liked me since I got in trouble. You don’t show me love. You’re not there for me. But someone else was. He was there for me. And kind to me. And he showed me love.”

  “He took advantage of you, Cadence!” Dad yelled. “Do you not see that? He used you because he saw an easy target!”

  “That’s not true!” I shot back. “He didn’t take advantage of me. I wanted him as much as he wanted me! But I was an easy target. You’re right about that. And whose fault is that?”

  Dad grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the chair. He held me mere inches from his face.

  “Don’t you dare act like a victim here! You broke the law. You went to jail. You embarrassed your family, and if you think for a moment you didn’t deserve all the punishment you got, then you’re a stupid girl, Cadence!”

  Those words were more hurtful than what came after.

  “You will never see him again,” Dad said. “And we’re pressing charges.”

  My heart dropped. Charges? Charges for what? I didn’t understand.

  “No!” I cried. “I love him! I want to be with him!”

  “You don’t love him, Cadence. You cannot love a man who’s done that to you,” Mom said.

  “Done what? He’s done nothing but show me love!” I screamed.

  “Stop saying love!” Dad roared. “You don’t know what it is!”

  “I do!” I cried. “I do, I do, I do. I love him. I love him. I love—”

  I only felt the throb once my bottom hit the floor. I heard my mother scream in the background, but I couldn’t make out the words. My eyes were closed: one sealed shut from the blow and the other sealed shut from fear of what might happen next. I could feel the pulsing of my heart in my eye, beating hard and fast. I thought it might push out my eyeball, and I placed my hand over the wound to keep from losing my eye. My sight.

  Mom hovered over me crying. She tried to help me up, but I pushed her away. I needed something for my eye. It was screaming in pain.

  “Was Avery a part of this?” Dad asked.

  I couldn’t believe that he continued interrogating me after he hit me. But I didn’t care what he did next. I would never tell on Avery.

  “No.”

  “Then why did Gracie say she was?”

  “Because Gracie’s a little bitch,” I replied.

  “Well, she was right about you,” Dad said. “I’ll have to call Avery’s parents.”

  I said nothing. There was nothing I could do anyway except pray that Avery would forgive me for ruining her life. I should have been more careful at the movie theatre. I shouldn’t have fought with Mark in public.

  I didn’t wait to be excused. My black eye earned me the right to leave without permission. It didn’t occur to me at the moment that Dad just gave me a card to play. I wouldn’t realize it until the following day.

  Dad watched me rummage through the freezer for an icepack.

  “Where’s your cell phone?” he asked.

  I tensed, then slammed the freezer door. Why didn’t I pick up my bag?

  “I don’t know,” I replied. I glanced at my book bag on the living room floor, and he saw. I sprinted as fast as I could, but he had already taken possession of the phone.

  “Give it back!” I cried. It was excruciating feeling the tears course from my bruised eye.

  “Go to your room,” Dad replied.

  “I’m not a child!”

  “GO TO YOUR ROOM!”

  I bolted upstairs. I locked myself in my room, dug an old T-shirt out of my dresser drawer, and wrapped the icepack in it. I lay down and placed the icepack carefully on my eye, listening for the sounds of the final crescendo, the final push to a frantic, heart-pounding conclusion. Angry chord. Pulsing eye. And then nothing. Nothing but the stillness of my bedroom—the quiet throb of my old heart. It was dying, and I didn’t want to save it. I just lay there and listened to the uneven pounding. I listened as it faded away, like a drum line marching off into the distance. I didn’t know where it was going, and I didn’t want to follow it. That heart held the love I had for my family, and I didn’t love them anymore.

  ***

  A light tapping. I didn’t move.

  “Cadence.” I heard Oliver’s muffled voice through the door.

  Silence.

  “Please, Cadence. I wanna help,” he said so softly that I barely heard him.

  I don’t know why I went to the door. I didn’t unlock it for him, though. I just stood with my ear pressed against the door trying to get a better read on the tone in his words.

  “Say it again,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “What you just said to me. I couldn’t hear you.”

  “I said I wanna help,” Oliver replied. He sounded apologetic.

  “How?” I asked.

  “I can’t say it through the door, Cadence. I don’t want Mom and Dad to hear. Will you please let me in?”

  I stood still for a brief second. I wasn’t sure if it was a trick. I opened the door and he slid inside, locking us in.

  “I’m the biggest jerk,” he said, wrapping me in a hug. My brother hadn’t hugged me since we were toddlers, and I didn’t remember that. I only knew he did from pictures.

  “Get off me,” was my response. Heartless, but then that made sense. Mine had only just drummed off into the distant unknown.

  Oliver pulled back. He was crying. I shifted uncomfortably.

  “I don’t know why I told them. I thought maybe you were in something really deep and didn’t know how to get out. I didn’t know Dad was gonna hit you, Cadence. I almost went for him. I did, but I wa
s afraid.”

  I averted my eyes.

  “You couldn’t tell how happy I was?” I demanded.

  “Happy? You went through a whole sulking period. How the hell did I know?”

  I shrugged.

  “Couples fight, Ollie,” I explained in my most condescending voice.

  “You told me he broke up with you after your pregnancy scare!” Oliver argued.

  “Whatever. Don’t bring that up,” I snapped.

  “Cadence, listen to me, okay?”

  I stared at the opposite wall.

  “Will you freaking look at my face, please?”

  I turned to him reluctantly.

  “I’m. Sorry. I’m sorry, Cay,” he said. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know you loved him. I didn’t understand. And I don’t know about Dad, Cay, I really don’t. I think he’s gone crazy or something. But I’ll help you. If you wanna leave, I’ll help you.” He grabbed me again and wrapped me in a hug.

  This time I hugged him back. And cried into his chest. And told him I was scared.

  “Is he good to you, Cay? Because he broke up with you, and I think that’s pretty shitty.”

  “He’s good to me, Ollie. I swear. He made a mistake. But he won’t ever do it again. I believe him. I trust him.” I pulled away from my brother and looked at his face. He studied my bruised eye.

  “Do you want me to beat up Dad?”

  I burst out laughing. “No. Are you crazy?”

  “Well, we don’t have to pretend to be the perfect family anymore. I mean, look at your freaking eye. I’ll beat the shit out of him if you want,” Oliver said.

  I kept laughing. I couldn’t stop.

  “What?” Oliver asked, his mouth turning up in a grin.

  “You think you could take Dad?”

  “To the floor,” Oliver said, offended.

  I shook my head and chuckled. “How about you just help me get the hell out of here?”

  “Done.”

  I spent the next forty-five minutes packing suitcases. Oliver gave me his, telling me he’d drop by to pick them up later. I didn’t understand what he meant. He couldn’t drive. I drove him everywhere. I knew I couldn’t pack my entire closet and dresser drawers in the bags, but I had to try. I didn’t want to come back to this house. So I worked hard and fast to pack as much as I could, making sure to grab all my favorite clothes and jewelry, my toiletries and make-up. It was haphazard, rushed packing.

  Oliver cracked open the bedroom door and peered out. He turned back to me.

  “Okay, we can’t roll them,” he said quietly, and I understood.

  I hoisted the suitcase off the floor and grunted. The weight was too much, and I dropped it on accident with a loud thud. I cringed. Oliver shut the door immediately.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “It’s okay,” Oliver said. “Listen, I’ll take the bags down the hall. You keep an eye out for Mom and Dad. All right?”

  I nodded and spent ten excruciating minutes acting as a lookout while Oliver carried one large suitcase at a time quietly down the hallway to his bedroom. We never discussed what to do or say if Mom or Dad happened to round the corner. I thought absurdly that I should yell, “Fire!” to get Oliver’s attention. I didn’t know. I’d never sneaked out of my house before. And I’d certainly never sneaked out with the intention of never coming back.

  Oliver slipped inside the room once more and looked at my bed. Only my purse and an over-the-shoulder bag remained. He picked up the bag and handed me the purse.

  “You ready?”

  I shook my head. Then I nodded. Then I shook my head again. And then the tears started flowing.

  “Cay, you don’t have time to cry. You can’t cry and drive anyway. That’s not safe. Take a deep breath.”

  I did as he instructed.

  “Look at me.”

  I looked at his face.

  “You’ll be all right. Mr. Connelly won’t let anything happen to you,” Oliver said.

  That statement made me cry harder. Oliver was doing what parents do to placate children. They tell them things with certainty—things they know nothing about—because they’re the adults, and children will naturally believe them.

  “You don’t know him, Ollie,” I said.

  “But you do. So will he take care of you?” Oliver asked.

  I nodded.

  “Okay then. Dry your eyes. It’s time to go.”

  Oliver helped me sneak out through his bedroom window. It wasn’t easy, or rather, it wasn’t easy for him. He made four trips down the lattice, holding one oversized suitcase at a time. I was terrified the lattice would rip right off the side of the house from all the weight, Oliver and the bag tumbling down with a loud thud that would draw my parents outside to discover us. But it didn’t.

  “Cay! Come on!” Oliver whispered from the base of the lattice ladder.

  I took one last look at my brother’s room before descending. Once my feet were firmly on the ground, a new realization dawned on me.

  “Oliver!” I cried, my stomach sinking. “I can’t just drive away! They’ll hear me.”

  I wanted to cry all over again out of frustration and fear.

  “Cay, it’s all right. Listen, we’ll put the car in neutral and back it down the street.”

  I stamped my foot. “Look at me! You think I can help you push a car?!”

  Oliver grabbed my arm. “You’ve gotta try, Cay! Okay? You wanna get out of here? Then you gotta try!”

  I nodded and helped Oliver pack the car. He closed the trunk soundlessly then explained our plan to back it out of the driveway. Thank God for the nighttime, cloaking our deceit, because otherwise I would have never made it out. I would have stayed a prisoner forever in my bedroom.

  I’ve heard of people doing amazing things under duress, like picking up a car that a child was trapped underneath. I knew it had to do with adrenaline, but I think it had more to do with God. I don’t know why God gave me strength to help Oliver move my getaway car, but I think he did. I think he wanted me out of there, like he knew I was in danger and needed to get somewhere safe. Somewhere like Mark’s house.

  I was sweating profusely when we moved the car out of the driveway and down the street.

  “Okay. I think that’s good,” Oliver said.

  I couldn’t believe my good fortune that Dad didn’t ask for my car keys. Of course, I knew he’d never think for a second that I’d try to run away. Plus, as angry as he was, I couldn’t see him rummaging through my purse. That crossed a line, maybe more so than his striking me.

  I burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Oliver asked.

  But I couldn’t stop long enough to tell him my ridiculous thought.

  “Cadence, get it together,” Oliver said.

  “I’m tr-trying!” I choked out, laughing even harder. “L-look at-t my eye!” I pointed to my face and completely lost it.

  Oliver just stared at me.

  “Get in the car, Cadence,” he ordered.

  I giggled. “Yes, sir,” I said, saluting him.

  I walked around to the driver’s side and was swept up in another hug. I wasn’t used to Oliver hugging me so much. Hell, I wasn’t used to Oliver hugging me at all. And this one was especially strange because it felt so final. And I didn’t like it.

  “Go,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Do you wanna come with me?”

  He shook his head and squeezed me harder. “No. You go live in sin and report back.”

  I laughed. “Okay.”

  I looked at Oliver as little as possible as I climbed into the car. And once I started the ignition, I tore down the road for fear that Mom and Dad would recognize the sound of my engine and chase after me. Our goodbyes felt rushed at the end, and I should have said something else to Oliver before I left. I should have told him I loved him. I checked my rearview mirror and glimpsed him standing in the middle of the street, just an obscure black outline against an even blacker sky.
/>   “They know?” Mark asked. He took my hand and led me to the couch.

  “Yes. Gracie told them. She saw us at the movies.”

  “Cadence, what happened to your eye?”

  “I thought she’d leave it alone, but she told them. I came home today and they were all sitting in the living room waiting for me. She—”

  “Cadence, what happened to your eye?”

  “—had this guilty look on her face. But it was weird. It was guilt mixed with excitement, like she was secretly happy to ruin me. I—”

  “Cadence! You’ve gotta stop, okay? You can tell me everything in a minute. But first, what happened to your eye?”

  I took a deep breath. “Dad got mad.”

  Mark tensed immediately, balling his hands into tight fists.

  “Your father hit you?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll kill him,” Mark breathed. “I’ll kill him.” He disappeared to his bedroom, and I followed.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Changing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to your house, Cadence. To kill your fucking dad.”

  My heartbeat sped up. All the emotions that were void just a few minutes ago flooded my heart and mind. I was afraid, and Mark was making it worse.

  “Please don’t,” I said. “Mark, please listen to me.”

  “Cadence, your father punched you in the eye!”

  “I know that!” I cried. “He’s gonna press charges!”

  “Oh, is he? Press charges against me?” Mark laughed. “I don’t know how a dead man can press charges.” He pulled on his shoes and left the bedroom. I ran after him and barred the door.

  “Don’t!” I screamed.

  “Cadence? Move.”

  “I won’t! You’re making it worse! Everything is falling apart, and you’re making it worse!”

  “Your father hit you, Cadence!”

  “I fucking know that!” I shouted. “Stop saying it! I know he hit me! And you want to go kill him when I need you here with me! Just pay attention to me!”

  Mark dropped his car keys and picked me up, cradled me like a baby and walked to the couch.

  “I’m sorry, Cadence,” he said, lips pressed to my forehead. He sat down and pulled me close, rocking me gently while I spilled tears all over his neck and shoulder.