The Best I Could

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The Best I Could Page 7

by R. K. Ryals


  This conversation was going too far.

  Taking a step back, I met his gaze. “I really have no idea how any of this is your business. I don’t know why you stopped. Frankly, I don’t care. I’m sorry about what happened to you. Really, I am—”

  “You haven’t, have you?”

  “Plenty of times, thank you,” I blurted. My teeth pressed into my tongue, silencing me.

  Eli grinned. “A little young, aren’t you?”

  “Because I’m seventeen? What century are you living in, dude?” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ears, the pixie cut I had longer in the front than in the back. “It was an ex-boyfriend. A year ago. Same person every time. He broke it off. Couldn’t handle all the stuff I had going on at home.” I glanced at him. “Is it wrong for me not to want love but still like intimacy? Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

  He shoved the cigarette he held back in his pocket. “What’s jaded you? Aren’t women obsessed with romance?”

  “I told you about my dad, remember?” I swallowed hard. “He died because he couldn’t exist without my mom. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die because I can’t make it without someone. I don’t want to hold on so tight to someone that everything else just doesn’t matter.”

  Eli gazed at me, his face and body immobile. “Makes sense I guess,” he said finally.

  A light switched on in my grandmother’s house. Eli stepped back, sinking into the shadows.

  A door opened. “You coming in soon, Tansy?” my grandmother called. “You’re going to get eaten alive by mosquitoes out there.”

  “Yeah,” I answered, my gaze on the shadowed lot. “I’m coming.”

  Hetty retreated, the door clicking shut behind her. Eli remained in the shadows.

  “You working at the rescue tomorrow?” I asked.

  A lighter flared, highlighting the hard ridges of his face. The cigarette from before dangled from his mouth. Puffing on it, he removed it.

  “I’m helping out at a boxing club in town. Training troubled youth.”

  “Boxing? One of those things you’re into, right?”

  “Yeah.” He was silent, and then, “You know that sister of yours should really consider it. All of that rage—”

  “By fighting?” I interrupted. “How does that help? She’s already angry. She doesn’t need to learn how to hit someone.”

  Eli stepped back into the light. “It’s not like that. It’s a way to channel the anger in the right kind of environment. Trust me, boxing helps. I’d be in a lot more trouble if I didn’t do it.”

  I studied him. He wasn’t broad the way some guys were, the kind of guys that lived in gyms. He was lean, his body honed but not fake honed. He looked fit in a fast, ‘I can take a punch and deliver it’ kind of way.

  My eyes dropped to his fingers. “You should probably quit smoking then. Can’t be good for your breathing.”

  He smiled, and then exhaled smoke. “I’m working on it.”

  “Looks like it.”

  Behind me, another light switched on.

  Eli walked backward. “Think about it … with your sister.”

  I took a step back, the distance growing between us. “You’re going to be okay, right?” It was the same question he’d asked me on the hospital roof.

  He laughed. “You’re not pitying me, are you, roof girl?”

  My cheeks reddened, and I was suddenly grateful for the darkness.

  “I’m always careful,” he added.

  I caught the lewd suggestion in his tone.

  Backing toward the house, I watched the darkness. I couldn’t see Eli, but I could feel his eyes. Even with clothes on, I suddenly felt naked, stripped to the core.

  Halfway across the yard, I stopped.

  A car engine started up. Headlights flashed down the road behind the empty lot, swinging as the vehicle turned around. It crawled onto the street next to the clinic.

  The windows in the Porsche were down, and a radio popped on. “Renegade” by Styx blasted into the darkness.

  Shaking my head, I stumbled toward the house feeling like I’d just survived an earthquake. Maybe I had.

  EIGHT

  Eli

  There are some things you wake up regretting. My jaunt to the animal clinic in town and my conversation with Tansy were definitely on that list. My mother and my anger were heady drugs for me, drugs that carried me off the beaten path and made me do things without thinking them through first.

  I still felt like the kid with a spoonful of medicine in his mouth. The kid who wanted to fight but who kind of liked the calm feeling that came after the syrup.

  Maybe that was why I hated my mother so much. Maybe it was because I was still chasing that feeling after all of these years.

  A pounding noise reverberated throughout the cottage, growing more insistent with each knock.

  Sitting up, I groaned and ran my hands over my face before throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

  The front door crashed open.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” my brother cried, his voice echoing.

  Jonathan marched into my bedroom, the cottage’s spare key dangling from his fingers.

  I eyed it. “Why bother knocking if you’re just going to come in?”

  He glared. “Why bother getting your license suspended if you’re just going to jack my car and drive?”

  “About that—”

  “Did you know Mom wanted to call the police? She went into complete hysterics. Pops was dangerously close to locking her in one of the bedrooms.”

  I couldn’t help myself, I grinned. “Tell me you got that on video.”

  Stunned silence.

  “This is not a joke!” Jonathan roared.

  My face fell, weariness sinking into my bones. “No, it’s not.”

  “You’re not telling me something, brother.” Jonathan leaned against the bedroom door, his gaze studying me. “Not just you. All of you.”

  I glanced at him. “You’re the one everyone looks to, Jon. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, and no one wants to mess that up.”

  He cringed. “And I’m supposed to be okay being kept in the dark? Don’t you think it’s just as hard having to overcompensate for you and Heather all of the time? Don’t you think I want to know what happened to you?”

  “Heather doesn’t know either,” I assured him.

  He snorted. “Are you so sure? Look at her, Eli. She’s run away from home five times, and she’s been in trouble more than she’s been out of it. Something’s going on there.”

  My hands gripped the side of the mattress. Could Heather know?

  That thought and the conversation with Tansy the night before loosened something inside of me, and I met Jonathan’s gaze, my eyes full of steel. “Mom used to drug us, Jon. All of us.”

  He froze. “What?”

  “Codeine cough syrup,” I continued. “At least I think that’s all she used. It doesn’t really matter.”

  It took a moment to register on Jonathan’s face, but when it did, he stumbled forward, his fists clenched. “You’re lying.”

  My face shut down, going stony and unreadable. “You asked, Jon. I told. Do me a favor and go ’fess up to Pops. I’m all for him kicking me out right now.”

  Jonathan sat hard on the end of the bed, his head falling into his hands. “You have to be lying,” he whispered. “Our mom?” He looked at me. “Eli,” he begged.

  My chest hurt, but I didn’t back down. “Do you want me to tell you it’s a lie? I can tell you anything you want me to tell you. I can pretend whatever you want me to pretend, but the truth remains.”

  Jonathan inhaled, exhaled, and then inhaled again. “To us?” he asked. “She did that to us?”

  Standing, I started pulling clothes out of the bedroom closet. “If it makes you feel better, she started out doing it to protect me from my father, from his angry outbursts. He hit me once, or so I’ve been told. I don’t remember it. A mutual friend of Mom and Dad
’s told Mom that a little cough syrup would help keep me quiet. She tried it, it worked, and the rest is history.”

  Jonathan tracked my movements, watching as I pulled on a pair of workout shorts and a T-shirt. “How do you know if you don’t remember?”

  I shrugged. “What Pops didn’t tell me, I discovered through police reports and people who knew Dad.” Stepping into my tennis shoes, I stooped to tie them. “I remember more than I want to. Mom drugged me until I was eight. She quit sooner with you and Heather.” I paused, my gaze distant, and drew in a breath. “There was a drug raid after Mom remarried Dad. DHS got involved. She lost custody of all of us voluntarily. You went to your dad, Heather went to her dad—until he abandoned her at Pops—and I went to Pops. I don’t know the specifics. I don’t know what Pops did to get Mom off or what he did to adopt me. Honestly, I couldn’t give a shit. I just know that she moved in with Pops and continued to drug me because I was too much to handle. It wasn’t until Pops walked in to find her giving me cough syrup that he discovered what she was doing. When you and Heather went through withdrawals after the raid, the authorities assumed it was Dad, that he was the one giving us drugs. I really don’t know what she was giving us.”

  Jonathan stared, horrified. “Pops didn’t turn her in?”

  Anger consumed me, the inferno of emotions blazing through my body, and I struggled to tamp it down. “He covered it up. Mom’s …” I paused, my fists clenching and unclenching. “Mom needs help. She sees people, and she takes medication when she feels like it, but …”

  “Pops thinks she’d commit suicide,” Jonathan finished quietly.

  My gaze rose to his. “She’s not stable, and she refuses to stay focused on any kind of treatment.” I studied his face, my voice dropping. “You’re the only one of her kids who doesn’t see her as a monster. I don’t know what Heather does or doesn’t know, but she and Mom don’t click. Mom needs to feel … loved.”

  Jonathan laughed, the sound short. “And Pops thinks that if I know what she did, that if I start treating her like everyone else does, that it will push her over the edge.”

  It was a burden my brother shouldn’t have to bear, but it was there.

  “I agree with him,” I admitted. “It’s why I haven’t said anything.” It took every bit of compassion I had left in me to add, “Don’t hate her, Jon. She’s got enough people hating her right now. I don’t think there’s any room for more. Just don’t ask me to love her.”

  Jonathan stood, ran his fingers through his hair, and then straightened, his shoulders back, his face stoic. “I don’t think I could hate her. I just need to think about all of this. You know, I … I feel kind of sorry for all of you.” He pushed past me. “I don’t blame you for any of this, Eli. I want you to know that, but could you … I don’t know … back off of everyone just a little bit.”

  My eyes fell closed, my jaw tensing. “I need a ride to the boxing club.”

  He grunted. “Why don’t you drive yourself? You didn’t seem to have a problem last night.”

  Re-opening my eyes, I snagged the cigarettes and the car keys I’d dropped next to the bed the night before. “I’m assuming the boxing club reports to my probation officer.” Throwing him the keys, I smiled coldly. “Try locking your shit up at night, brother. You never know what monsters are lurking in the dark.”

  Jonathan caught the keys. “Where did you go last night?”

  I froze, my thoughts instantly on the barefoot, wildly sweet, punk-hippy girl at the clinic. Tansy was such an odd collection of contradictions. “For a drive. I needed the air.”

  “Just a drive, huh?” my brother mumbled. “Tell me, if you hadn’t gone for that drive, would you have told me about Mom this morning?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  He nodded and started walking toward the door. “Maybe you should take a drive more often, then.”

  I glared at his back. “Lock your shit up at night, kid.”

  “So you can talk yourself out of a drive?” He left, leaving the front door open behind him.

  Grabbing a duffel bag, I stuffed a change of clothes inside and followed.

  NINE

  Tansy

  The smell of dirt … I think that’s what I loved most about gardening, about digging my fingers into the soil. The earth lived. The smell and feel of it reminded me how happy I was to be alive. It kept me from sinking to the lows Deena had fallen into. It kept me from sinking into the lows which killed my father.

  My fingers pillaged the dirt around Hetty’s house, testing it.

  Lifting the sediment, I watched it sift through my fingers, the damp scent touching my nose. It fell. Falling, falling, back down to the ground.

  “You look ridiculous,” Deena called haughtily.

  Glancing up, I found her hanging out of a bedroom window, her nose scrunched. She’d pulled the glass up and removed the screen.

  “You’re like some stupid dirt whisperer,” she added.

  Sitting back, I stared up at her. “Do you even know how to replace that screen?”

  “No fucking idea whatsoever.”

  “You do that on purpose, right?” I asked, shaking my head. “You know the cussing would be more effective if you did it more selectively. Throwing it into every sentence makes it look like you’re trying too hard to be a pain in the ass.”

  “Are you saying I’m desperate?” she scoffed.

  I shrugged.

  “Whatever, Tansy. Just go back to sniffing your dirt.”

  She tried slamming the window closed, but it caught on the removed screen, sending the mesh sailing into the yard.

  A giggle escaped me. “They’re really easy to get out, but a nuisance to get back in.”

  “Sounds like your love life,” Deena tittered.

  My eyes widened, my hand lifting dramatically to my chest. “Well, I’ll be. Was that a joke? Was the almighty pain in the ass cracking a joke?”

  Deena’s face fell into a scowl. “Seriously, fuck off.

  My amusement died. “It was funny, Deena. It’s okay to laugh, you know.”

  The morning started off cool but turned hot and humid much quicker than I thought it would. The sun beat down, slashing my skin. A lightweight jacket I’d removed sometime after breakfast was tied around my waist, and the silver hoop earrings I’d pushed into the lobes of my ears were warm, the heated metal brushing my neck.

  “Did you say something?” my grandmother’s voice asked. Throwing a look over my shoulder, I found Hetty standing in the grass behind me. Her eyes fell on the window screen. “How did that happen?”

  I didn’t have to look to know Deena had ducked out of sight.

  “No idea,” I answered.

  Hetty’s gaze slid to the open window above me. “I’m sure.” Sighing, she gestured at the ground. “Look, I don’t know what you’re going to need to work on the yard, but here.” She handed me a roll of money. “It’s my ‘use when needed’ stash. This,” she gestured at the lawn, “is a good idea, Tansy. You can take the van into town if you need.”

  Above me, I heard a faint snicker and a taunting, “Dirt whisperer.”

  The night before suddenly washed over me, ramming my thoughts with scarily seductive images of Eli Lockston standing in the overgrown lot next to the rescue. My heart pounded.

  “What if … and this is going to sound crazy, but,” my gaze rose to the window, “what if we enrolled Deena in a boxing program. I heard there was one in town that caters to troubled youth.”

  Deena’s head popped up above the windowsill. “Hell, no!”

  Hetty studied my face. Minutes passed, her voice full of suspicion when she asked, “How do you know that?”

  I fidgeted, my fingers fisting around the bills she’d given me. “I heard it from the new guy working at the rescue. He was talking to Vanessa about it when he first came in.”

  Smooth lie. Not so smooth delivery.

  “The asshole alcoholic?” Deena screeched. “What the hell, Tansy?”
<
br />   I glared up at her. “It’s part of his community service.” My gaze dropped to Hetty. “From what I heard, he has experience in boxing.”

  She frowned. “He’ll be training troubled youth?”

  Deena laughed. “When he’s all messed up himself? What a load of bullshit!”

  “Deena!” Hetty warned.

  “Whatever,” my sister continued, unfazed. “It doesn’t matter because I’m not doing it.” She crossed her arms.

  Hetty’s jaw tightened, Deena’s reluctance pushing her over the edge. Stepping forward, she touched my shoulder. “Boxing for troubled youth, huh?”

  “You can’t be serious!” Deena scoffed. “Are you actually considering this, Nana?” Her hands fell to her sides. “The man is a criminal! You want me to take lessons from a criminal?”

  “He had a DUI, for God’s sake,” I intervened. “He didn’t murder anyone.”

  “He could have,” Hetty muttered, her shoulders slumping. “But I don’t see how getting involved could make things any worse.”

  “There is no way in hel—” Deena began.

  Hetty’s face hardened. “Then hell it is. You’ve got to find some way to channel all of this rage.” Pulling a set of keys from her pocket, she handed them to me. “Take your sister into town and stop at the boxing club. See if she qualifies for one of the classes. If not, maybe they’ll change their minds when they meet her.”

  “Total shit!” Deena spat. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “No,” Hetty agreed. “Nothing except a complete lack of respect for other people and anger toward anyone who tries to help you. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.” Shaking her head, she walked away.

  My gaze trailed her.

  “I hate you, Tansy!” Deena hissed.

  Her words slammed into me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing past the pain they caused before turning to peer at my sister. “It’s good that I love you enough for the both of us.”

  Slamming the butt of her palm against the window frame, Deena shoved away from it, her figure disappearing from view.

  I suddenly hoped Eli was right about the boxing. Deena was angry at too many people, alive and dead, and eventually, the rage was going to explode.

 

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