by R. K. Ryals
“I’m not doing anything. Other than saving your unborn baby a hell of a lot of pain.” My cousin blanched, and I stared, horrified. “You knew!”
He wilted, his hands clutching the back of a black leather sofa. “She’s cut back. She’s working on stopping.”
I laughed, cruelly. “What's wrong with this family? Why do we keep doing this kind of shit?”
“We don’t love each other, Eli. Mandy and I … we just don’t,” Lincoln murmured.
My gaze shot to his face, to the lines in his forehead. He had broader shoulders and fuller features than I did. “Then why?” There was no need to explain.
“Because she was yours,” Lincoln admitted. “She was beautiful, and she was yours. I didn’t realize how much that played into my attraction for her until she told me she was pregnant.”
“You wanted her because she was mine?” I breathed, stunned. “You jackass!”
Lincoln grunted. “You don’t even see it, do you? Blind as a brickbat. Come on, Eli! The way Pops looks at you, the way people gravitate toward you … you just don’t see any of it. Pops acts like you hung the moon, for God’s sake.”
“What a load of bullshit. I’m a tragedy, Lincoln.”
“Whatever, man.” He waved at me. “You’re not a tragedy. You just keep getting drawn into other people’s tragedies. Your mom—”
“What do you know about that?”
Lincoln laughed. “Really? You think people don’t know? Other than Jonathan that is. It’s the family scandal. Poor Eli, Heather, and Jonathan. What sucks is that people love tragedy, Eli. They fucking love drama. They want to be right there in the middle of it. Either to get a front row seat or because they want to fix it. For an asshole who keeps making mistakes, you somehow keep coming out on top of them. Me? I’m settling.”
I leaned against the den wall, my eyes dropping to the floor. “What are you really saying, Lincoln?”
“That you’re a dick who needs to quit pitying himself so much for what happened. People pity you enough as it is.”
I exhaled. “You don’t put things lightly, do you?”
“Did you want me to?”
My gaze rose to his. “No, and I’m going to be just as forthright with you. Get your fiancée off whatever meds she’s on or I’m reporting her. Damn you and damn her for what you’re doing to that kid.”
“She used me,” Lincoln admitted. “I didn’t want a kid.”
“She needed your job. You knew that. You used her, too. Keep using each other if you want. Just leave the kid out of it. That kid didn’t want you anymore than you wanted it. As for Pops, you see how he is. You give him a reason to think you don’t give a shit about that baby, and he’ll be done with you. For all of his bluster, he cares about this family or he wouldn’t keep trying.”
Lincoln left the couch, walked to the den’s exit, and paused. “Drop the act, cousin. Quit pretending you’re such a jerk when every time you turn around, you’re trying to fix people. Quit giving me even more reasons to dislike you.”
“What the hell?”
He snorted. “Don’t. You know as well as I do that people don’t like being helped. They don’t like crusaders, so stop being one.” He stormed off.
“No,” I agreed, my eyes on his retreating back, “people like wallowing in shit.”
He was right about me though, damn it.
TWENTY-ONE
Tansy
There was something incredibly eye-opening about getting thrown into someone else’s messy family. Their problems. Their flaws.
“We seem so fucking typical, don’t we?” Mandy sobbed, looking up at me.
I gazed at her, my throat working to swallow past the tightness invading it. “Not really,” I answered finally. “I mean, yeah. Kind of. But we all are, right? The things we do. The things we say.”
“I don’t mean to be that way,” she sniffed, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose. “I wanted better, I guess. My mom is a single mother. My dad left when I was young. I don’t even remember him. Mom works.” She nodded to herself. “She does. She’s got a job working in the cafeteria at a hospital, but it’s just not enough sometimes. She … it doesn’t matter. The point is, I don’t want to turn out that way. I don’t want to struggle. I don’t want to have to do things to make ends meet.”
I sat down on the steps, keeping my distance, my arms wrapped around my legs. “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?” I asked. “Aren’t you doing things to make ends meet by being with Eli’s cousin?”
Her tears kept coming, but tears didn’t frighten me. I envied her the tears. I often wondered if I’d be better—if I wouldn’t get lost in my head so much—if I could just cry. Then again, maybe not. Ivy and Mandy were criers. Ivy had drugged her kids, and Mandy was taking pain pills while pregnant.
Ivy Lockston, who’d been watching us quietly, sauntered over to the porch stairs and stared down at me. “Who are you? I know about my son working at the rescue, and that he’s going to be working with your sister. Dad told us as much, but … who are you?”
I peered up at her, disturbed by the curiosity in her gaze. “I don’t understand the question.”
“People misunderstand me,” she said, leaning toward me. “I don’t know what my son has told you about me, but it isn’t true.” She squinted at me. “Are you into Eli?”
My lips parted, my gaze locked on hers. I didn’t doubt what Eli had told me about Ivy. I could see it in her eyes, could see the anxiety and panic there. She was the kind of person I was afraid to get to know. The kind of person who could convince people that whatever was wrong with her was everyone else’s fault.
“I’m not into anyone,” I answered finally. Standing, I brushed off the bottom of my shorts. “It all gets to be too much occasionally.” I glanced from Mandy to Ivy. “I know that. Things get to be too much for me, too, sometimes. I’m sorry.”
With that, I stepped off of the stairs and walked around the house toward the parked cars in the driveway. A lamppost to the side of the house threw glares over the windshields, turning the vehicles into lonely, obedient children waiting to go somewhere.
Eli and his family were too much for me. I hugged myself, blowing my cheeks out on an exhale.
Gravel crunched. “Hey, there you are.” I twisted around to find Eli standing in the drive, frowning. “I didn’t see you with Mandy and Mom, so I came around.”
“Are they always like that?” I asked, nodding at the house.
He chuckled, which should have seemed out of place, but it didn’t. “That’s my family for you. Not all of them. I’ve got normal family, too. Boring ones even.”
“They’re pretty intense,” I admitted.
“Says the girl who—”
“My dad died,” I interrupted. “We were normal before that. When my mom was still here, we were happy—”
“Were you?” His eyes pierced me. “Are you pushing me away, roof girl? Because that’s a pretty crappy way to treat a friend.”
“So we’re friends?”
He shrugged. “Only if you need one.”
“Yeah … I do.”
He took a step forward. “Then don’t worry about all of that.” He waved at the side of the house. “Drama is background noise in our family.”
“God, you aren’t kidding.” Jonathan’s voice broke into the darkness.
Stepping into the light, he grimaced, Deena behind him.
She glared. “Next time you decide to sneak out of a stuffy family invite, take me with you, okay?”
“I think they’re done anyway.” Jonathan yawned. “We walked out while Pops was talking Ms. Anderson into letting Tansy come work in the yard here.”
“What?” Eli and I exclaimed together.
Deena grinned. “Something about how therapeutic it would be for you, Tansy. Isn’t that what the boxing is supposed to be for me?”
Eli pulled a face. “Pops suggested it?”
Jonathan’s shoulders rose. “Yeah, said—”
The door swung open, squeaking, and Hetty strode out, a cordial, “Thank you for the meal,” echoing behind her.
“Come on, girls,” she ordered.
Deena skipped to the van, shoving me lightly as she passed. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?” she hissed. “Having people do what they think is best for you.”
I stared after her.
Pops marched into the yard, his hands clasped behind his back, gaze straight ahead. “I heard you like to garden,” he said, stopping next to me. “Hetty says it’s a hobby of yours.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, good,” he murmured. “My wife used to like to do it as well. Personally, I kill plants. It’s nice to meet you, Tansy. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
The bold words chased me to the van, to the quarreling duo within.
We were almost home when Hetty looked at me and said, “You’re going to be doing some work for the Lockstons. Starting tomorrow.”
She didn’t give me a choice.
“It’s the weekend,” I protested.
“It’s as good a time as any,” she countered.
Decision made.
TWENTY-TWO
Eli
“What was that?” I asked when I walked back into the house.
Pops stood in the living room, the family surrounding him. Lincoln lolled on the recliner, the white fabric a perfect match to the sofa, all of it custom made. Jonathan, who leaned against the wall, looked as disturbed as I felt.
“You didn’t think one night with this family was enough?” I added.
From her usual place on the sofa, Ivy grinned, serene in the face of my misery. Beside her, Mandy slumped, her eyes bloodshot, her head pushed into the couch cushion. One glance and anger consumed me, but I reined it in, my gaze on Pops.
“I’m trying to figure out how being here is supposed to be therapeutic for anyone,” Jonathan murmured. For once, he agreed with me.
Pops glanced at the fireplace mantle, his gaze landing on an old photo of Grams. “I think this place needs what Tansy can give it.”
“Oh, great,” Mandy groaned. “This place needs more messes. Right on. Let’s just add to it then. I’m really glad we’re leaving in the morning.”
“Hush, Mandy,” Lincoln cautioned.
Pops stared, his glinting, suspicious gaze missing nothing. “Not feeling well, dear?”
“Not really,” she answered, sitting up straight. “Morning sickness and all.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied. “I’ll be sure to check in with you more often. Maybe speak with your doctor?”
“Not necessary,” Mandy inserted quickly, her gaze flying over the room. “It’s nothing a little rest won’t fix.”
“All the same. Have you added me as an emergency contact on the paperwork?” Pops inquired, his gaze sliding to Lincoln. “And on the information release forms?”
“That’s an invasion of privacy!” Mandy protested.
“Do you want me to continue supporting your family?” Pops asked. “Lincoln’s job depends on his family’s happiness and health.”
The look he gave her discouraged any discussion. It simply presented her with two options: friend or foe.
“You’ll be added,” she promised after a moment.
She chose friend.
My gaze met Jonathan’s.
He pushed away from the wall. “I think Eli and I are going to go for a drive.”
“Now?” Ivy screeched.
Pops looked between us, eyes narrowing. “Be careful.”
“You can’t be serious!” Ivy exclaimed. “You shouldn’t let Jonathan go anywhere with Eli at night! It’s bad enough he’s chauffeuring him around during the day. He’s a bad influence on Jon.”
“Afraid of what I’ll tell him?” I asked.
Ivy ignored me, her glare directed at Pops. “You can’t let them go!”
Mom talked in exclamation points. She made people cringe when they saw her in public. She didn’t speak, she yelled, screeched, laughed too loudly, or pouted so much that to approach her meant becoming part of a scene. She lived for moments like that.
“They’ll be fine,” Pops assured.
We didn’t wait to hear what she said next.
The night air was a wet slap in the face, the thick humidity and sudden encroaching clouds promising rain.
“Maybe the weather will be bad tomorrow,” Jonathan mumbled, rushing to his car.
I stopped in the gravel driveway, my gaze on his lamp lit figure. “Do you really want to leave? Not that I mind a drive, but leaving isn’t like you.”
He paused next to the Porsche, his hand resting on the hood. “I don’t know what I want. There’s so much to take in lately. This stuff you told me about Mom. Whatever Lincoln and Mandy are up to. This town. Tansy and Deena Griffin … those girls just came out of nowhere, you know, and they’re pretty messed up. Not the kind of messed up our family is. I don’t know.” He glanced at me. “We shouldn’t be mixing all of our messes.”
Sighing, I waved him away from the car. “A drive isn’t going to fix where your head is right now, brother.”
Jonathan didn’t move. “Everything about Mom, about this family … I still love all of you the same, but I also wish I was with Dad.”
That was the difference between me and my brother. He had a good father, and he could say things like “I love you” or “I give a damn about you” and it not feel awkward. Me? I stumbled over the words.
“That’s because you’re a decent guy, Jon. One day, you’re going to be one hell of a man. This family,” I gestured at the house, “it’s all pretty appearances with spots of ugliness. That’s everybody. Not just us. What was that reality shit Heather made us sit down and watch with her? Wasn’t there always some kind of pregnancy, cheating, or abuse crap in it?”
Jonathan laughed, and the sound encouraged me.
I stepped toward him. “One thing I’ve learned is that you can’t judge people by their families. What and who you are may start at home, but what you become later, on your own, depends entirely on you.”
He looked up at the sky, at the wisps of darkness crowding the moon. “The Griffins,” he sighed, “did you notice how separate they all were tonight?”
“Separate?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I mean, we might have our crazy problems here, but we interact. Even when we don’t want to. Look at you and Mom. That relationship sucks ass, but we all acknowledge there’s an issue between you.”
Despite my interest in Tansy, I hadn’t noticed the way her family interacted. All I’d noticed was Deena’s attitude and Tansy’s hidden pain.
“It’s like they’re working hard not to see each other,” Jonathan pointed out.
“Grief is a great divider,” Pops’ voice said suddenly, his figure materializing out of the porch’s shadows. “You were engrossed in conversation,” he informed us, as if we needed an explanation for his eavesdropping. “I didn’t hear the car start or see the headlights, and I got curious.”
“You know what they say about curiosity,” I muttered.
Pops huffed. “That’s only when us old folk aren’t adulting. I’m adulting.”
“Adulting?” I laughed.
“You got that off the meme I shared this morning,” Jonathan accused.
Startled, I stared at my brother. “He uses social media?”
“Three separate accounts,” Jonathan answered, grinning.
“Back to adulting—” Pops began.
“Don’t use that word,” I insisted.
Pops smirked, his gaze shifting to Jonathan. His lined face fell. “Grief makes strangers out of people. Depending on the situation, it can take away who they thought they were and leave behind someone they don’t understand.”
I cringed. “Please say he didn’t get that off one of those therapy talk shows.”
“You know this from losing Grams?” Jonathan asked, ignoring me.
“No, I know this from war.
Your grams was different. I knew who I was with her. I didn’t change when she left, I just became lesser.” He looked at me. “I don’t know what your interest in Tansy is, or vice versa, but there’s something brewing in that girl. She needs this place. She doesn’t need you.”
“Like I need this place?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from the words.
Pops grunted. “You don’t need anything, Eli. You figured yourself out the day you left your mother’s house. You just need a place to stay and enough time to work off your debt to society. A little forgiveness, less hatred, and a lot of resolution wouldn’t hurt. But this place? No. Your grams needed this place, and I see that same kind of need in Tansy.”
Looking at him, I realized Pops saw what I’d seen in Tansy, the darkness swirling beneath the surface, hidden by a calm façade. For some reason, I was jealous of him for noticing it, jealous I wasn’t the only one who saw past Tansy’s emotional smokescreen.
“Whatever,” I mumbled. I’d liked the idea that Tansy needed me. Had I been wrong about that?
Rain began to fall, the misting kind, slow and barely there.
“It’ll be coming a flood soon,” Pops assured us, gazing at the sky.
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” I said, heading for the cottage.
Let the rain come. Better yet, let it stay.
TWENTY-THREE
Tansy
Rain battered the house, coming down so hard that I didn’t see it ending before morning. This relieved me more than it should. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see Eli or his family again, but seeing them meant taking on more than I wanted to. I hated myself for that. I’d always thought I was a strong person. It scared me to think I wasn’t.
My sister, Nana, and I were strangers. We cared about each other, we cared about what happened to one another, but it was all pretense. We weren’t scratching beneath the surface.
We’d forgotten how to breathe.
As soon as we walked into the house, we went separate ways. Deena and I disappeared into our rooms, half of the cats following my sister, and Snow following me. The dog had made it her mission to become my shadow despite the fact that I wasn’t the one who fed or took care of her. The cats, on the other hand, simply liked to antagonize Deena and her them. They’d turned it into a game.