We sat there for a long time watching a pair of hawks that nested nearby, their huge bodies burdening the thin branches of the tree.
“You showing me this. Does this have something to do with the fight you and Mike just had?”
I nodded. “He didn’t know. And he found out. He started calling me sick, telling me there’s something wrong with me.”
“I see.”
“Yeah.” Words like asshole and jerk came to mind, but I didn’t say them.
“And where do things stand now?”
I shrugged. “Who knows?”
Minute after minute passed by and my nose started to run. Was Dad somewhere up above looking down on this holy mess? Would he be surprised to know what I’d done to myself? Back at the gas station, he’d said that he could tell I’d moved on. It was laughable, although it wasn’t, how little he’d known about me.
There was a pain inside my chest, inside my body, touching every part my blood touched. I tried to pull back the good feelings I’d had at the cemetery, the feelings of optimism, hope. Every few thoughts I felt a slither of those feelings, but right now they were out of reach.
Miss J. scratched the arm of my jacket with her finger. “Do you want to go back?”
“We probably should.” I was unable to bear the thought that I could go back to the house on the day of my father’s funeral, and not see Mike before he left, even though I was furious with him. “Levi, come.”
Levi bounded over, and I clicked the leash to his collar. We walked back to the Anderson’s in silence. When we went inside, Jess was awake and eating from a huge plate of food. Trina sat nearby, watching her eat, a look of disgust on her face. I could hear Gran, and Mr. and Mrs. Anderson talking in the kitchen. If Mike was in there, I didn’t hear his voice. He was probably upstairs packing, eager to get away as fast as he could.
I sat beside Jess and pulled a carrot off her plate. “How was your nap?”
She forced a laugh. “It was good. Much needed. My second one of the day. Now I’m starving.”
“Obviously.”
This time her laugh came easier. But Trina noticed. She looked at Jess’ food, and I could see the wheels turning in her blonde head.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Trina blurted.
“Go to hell, twerp,” Jess said.
“Oh my God, you are so pregnant.” Trina started to laugh, a high cackling sound that made my eardrums hurt.
“Trina, don’t be a bitch. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, stealing a glance at Miss J.
She was watching us closely.
“I do know what I’m talking about. Remember?”
How could we forget? Getting knocked up by a black kid my dad would never approve of, blaming it on Mike, then losing the baby the day she tried to kill herself. No, there was no way to forget all that.
“Trina, leave. You’re not wanted here,” I said.
“I can be anywhere I want. And I want to be right here, watching Jess feed her face and her unborn baby.” She laughed again, an ugly, scratchy sound. “Is it that old guy’s? You know, our old substitute teacher?” She snapped her fingers and looked at the ceiling. “What was his name? He was gone by the time I got to high school, but I think he substituted for the middle school, too. Peter…? Patrick…?” She fidgeted in her seat. “Paul! That’s it!”
She shoved a finger at Jess. Laughter rang throughout the room. “You are so pregnant by that old man.”
“Out!” Miss J. jumped to her feet and pointed at the front door.
Trina snarled her lip. “What? I didn’t do anything. She’s the one who’s knocked up.” Her laughter trilled up to the ceiling and back down to the floor. I winced and fought the urge to cover my ears.
“Trina, I said out. Either listen or I’ll call your grandmother in here and see what she has to say.”
Jess covered her face with her hand, the food forgotten on her lap.
Trina didn’t head outside. Instead, she stood to her feet, flashed a smirk at Jess, and walked toward the kitchen.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that.” Miss J. shook her head as if she was clearing out the cobwebs.
“Don’t apologize. She’s a bitch,” I said.
Jess stayed quiet. She stared at the books on the coffee table, but I doubted she’d be able to tell me a single title if I asked.
“Jess?” Miss J. asked. “Is it true? Are you pregnant?”
Jess didn’t respond, like she didn’t hear her. Miss J. looked at me and with the slightest motion, I nodded. Miss J. fell back against the couch, closed her eyes, and her lips started to move. I think she was praying.
MIKE DUMPED his bag in the front hall. “I need to get on the road.”
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Anderson went to him. “Be careful and call me when you get there to let me know you made it.”
He kissed her cheek.
“Bye, son,” Mr. Anderson said, giving him a hug.
“Have a safe trip,” Gran called as she walked into the living room.
“Bye, Mike,” Trina sing-songed, back in the chair, twirling a long blonde strand of hair between her fingers.
“Rowan?” He turned to me.
“I’ll walk you out.”
I pulled on my coat and boots then followed him outside. The blast of air was frigid, but not nearly as cold as the vibes bouncing between us. He threw his bag into the back of his car and turned. “I don’t know what to say. You need help.”
I sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t.”
His eyes narrowed. Finally, he shrugged. “Okay. Then, I guess that’s it.”
I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to prevent the chill that was settling into my bones. “I guess it is.”
“I’ll call you.”
I’ll call you? That was it? Really and truly it? I wished for the numbness of earlier to wash over me again. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Okay. Well, bye.” He paused and I didn’t think he was going to reach out to me, but he did and kissed my cheek. My skin was so cold I barely felt it.
“Bye,” I choked as he pulled back.
He got into his car and backed out of the driveway. Something had changed between us. It was as simple, as easy, and as devastating as that.
THE BENCH was cold beneath me, but I didn’t notice. The only thing I was conscious of was that the space in the driveway was empty again. Mike’s car was gone, leaving a big, gaping hole where his Mazda should be.
If noxious, poisonous gas started rising out of that black space, I wouldn’t have been surprised and I would have inhaled it willingly. Maybe it would’ve stopped my heart before it could turn into a cracked, irreparable, frozen mass.
Snow started to fall around me—large, fluffy flakes like tufts of cotton being dumped from the sky. I held my hand out beyond the reach of the porch and let them fall onto my skin. They melted into tiny, miniscule puddles.
When the front door opened, my palm was covered in water.
“Thank you for having us over.” Gran walked onto the porch.
“You are welcome here anytime.” Mrs. Anderson hugged Gran and Mr. Anderson shook her hand.
“Trina, it was good to see you again.” Mrs. Anderson hugged Trina. “Stop by and see me if you want to talk.”
Talk about what?
Gran stopped in front of me. “There are some things that I need to give you, things of your father’s. Come over tonight or tomorrow. If not right away, then soon.” She rubbed my arm. “You’ll want these things.” The skin around her eyes crinkled as she forced a sympathetic smile.
I nodded and let her hug me.
Trina breezed past me. I thought she was going to ignore me, but she turned suddenly, grabbed my arms, and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on my cheek. “I love you, Rowan! I miss you so much. Please come home. I want my sister back.” With the flip of a switch the tears started down her face, creating little pale rivers down her freshly applied makeup. She dro
pped her arms and darted toward Gran’s car. Just before she ducked inside, Trina turned and flashed a smirk that was gone so fast, I wasn’t sure anyone saw but me.
“ROWAN? ARE you okay?” Mrs. Anderson moved to my side by the window. Mike had been gone about an hour and the hollowness in my heart was only expanding. I missed him.
“I’m fine.” I stared at the emptiness on the driveway.
“Did something happen with Mike?”
I shook my head. The black pavement started to swirl under my unblinking gaze.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She rubbed a light path between my shoulders, but I barely felt it.
“No,” I whispered. “Not today.”
“Okay. I understand.” She planted a kiss on my head and gave me a hug. It felt warm, secure, and safe. But there was something else bothering me, something besides Mike that had entirely to do with his mom. “What did you mean when you told Trina she could come and talk to you?”
She sighed. “She’s suffering, Rowan. She needs guidance.”
“Guidance? For what?” A guide to lead her straight to Hell? I doubted she needed help with that.
“She’s lost and probably always has been. I think what happened last year has had a great impact on her. I know she misses you terribly, and your mom.”
“How do you know all of this?”
She watched the snowflakes melt into the grass. “She started going to the youth group at church on Wednesday nights.”
“Trina is going to church? Your church?”
“Trina started going to the youth group at the beginning of the school year. She really seems to like it. She would come to Sunday service if she didn’t think it would bother you.”
Maybe the cold had frozen my ears, and I wasn’t hearing her correctly. Trina had been a part of Mrs. Anderson’s life, and I didn’t know anything about it? Why would Mrs. Anderson allow that?
Mrs. Anderson would never do anything to hurt me. I knew she loved me almost like her own child. But wouldn’t she think that this would hurt me? Was I no consideration in Mrs. Anderson’s moral obligation to save every lost kid out there?
“One day it would be nice if you went on Wednesdays, too. Maybe the two of you can go together. Start to repair what’s been damaged.”
Shock and revulsion swallowed my words.
“Blood is thicker than water, right? Isn’t that how the saying goes? And we know that God encourages forgiveness. Maybe it’s time to forgive.”
I turned to her. “And forgive my mom, too?”
“At some point, Rowan, you have to move on. Forgive, if not forget.”
“And you think that forgiveness should extend to not only my lying sister, who accused Mike of rape and getting her pregnant, but also to my mother who killed my brother and let me take the blame for seven years?”
She let out a heavy, weighted breath. “Perhaps now isn’t the time to talk about this. Come away from the window. Let me make you some tea. It’s been such a long day. I’ll have Mr. Anderson make a fire, and we can sit around and watch bad TV all night. Why don’t you have Jess spend the night? I know how close you two are and she’s always welcome here.” Words tumbled out of her mouth in a long breath of hot air.
I let Mrs. Anderson lead me away from the window. I fell down beside Jess with Levi between my feet and Miss J. soon by my other side.
“Is everything okay?” Miss J. whispered.
I shook my head. Two pairs of eyes were on me—Miss J.’s brown ones and Jess’ blue ones.
But I couldn’t speak. Someone had grasped my brain and shook it so hard that I didn’t know what was right, wrong, or even real.
Jess and Miss J. each took one of my hands in theirs. Hours went by. Mrs. Anderson set a cup of tea in front of me but it remained untouched on the coffee table.
At some point, Miss J. left and Jess fell asleep by my side. And still I sat there, staring at the television but not seeing it, not hearing it. Eventually dawn filtered in through the large window before my mind could finally absorb everything that had happened.
JESS AWOKE to a string of texts from her father, demanding to know where she was and that she get home. In true Jess fashion, she hadn’t bothered to tell her dad where she was. In his true fashion, he hadn’t noticed her missing for days.
It was only seven in the morning, but I was in the frigid car taking her home.
“Are you going to school tomorrow?”
She was looking out the passenger-side window, her hand resting on her stomach. “Yeah. I mean, why not?”
“Well, that’s the spirit, I guess.”
She snorted but kept her focus outside.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking of how I’m going to tell Dad.”
I nodded even though she didn’t see me. I pulled up in front of her apartment building.
“Thanks, Ro.” She threw open the door. “Hey. I’m so sorry about everything. Your dad. Mike. Trina.” Her shoulders slumped. “Man, life kinda sucks right now, doesn’t it?”
I forced a laugh but it was an ugly sound and I swallowed to moisten my throat. “Yup. It does.” I thought about my dad and wanted to cry. I thought about Mike and wanted to die. I missed him so bad. But I didn’t say anything to Jess. She had enough worries.
“I’ll call ya later.” Jess got out of the car.
“’Kay.” I waved and watched her walk into the apartment building, disappearing through the front doors.
When I got back to the Anderson’s, Mike’s mom was sitting on the chair in the living room, her eyes planted on my face, unblinking.
“Hi,” I said, hesitating at the door. “Is everything okay?” Had Mike gotten into an accident? I froze at the door.
She was sitting with a rigid back and knees pressed firmly together. Her jaw was clenched and her fingers tapped on her knees, the only movement in the entire room.
“We need to talk.”
“Okay.” My heart beat faster than the drum section at a college football game. I pulled off my boots and coat and forced my feet to walk over to the couch.
“Rowan,” she started, “we have provided you with a nice home, haven’t we? We have treated you like part of our family, only because you feel like part of our family. You are welcome here and always will be.”
Her voice started to shake and her fingers were moving almost as fast as my heart. “And you’ve had quite a life. No one would judge you if you had trouble coping with everything that has happened, especially over the past ten years.”
Oh my God. Mike told her about the cutting. She was going to throw me into a psych ward, somewhere I’d enter Rowan Slone and leave a zombie, a medicated emotionless shell of who I used to be. God, no. How could Mike do that?
But I was wrong. It had nothing to do with my cutting. It had everything to do with the drugs she found in my room.
In her hand she held a clear plastic sandwich bag, her bright pink nails almost comical against the white powder lining the bottom. But white powder wasn’t the only thing in that bag. There was also a razor blade. I didn’t need to lean closer. I didn’t need to ask what it was. A razor blade was something I was so familiar with I could almost smell the steel from here.
She didn’t need to speak. The question was written all over her face, in the set of her lips, and the purse of her brows. She wouldn’t accuse me, though. That much I knew. She would ask and listen.
“That’s not mine.” I was still standing by the door.
“Do you have any explanation as to how it got into your room?”
“That wasn’t in my room. There’s no way.”
Her eyes were unblinking and her weighted silence made me want to shrink into the floor.
Clearly she’d found that in my room. But how? Mike? Jess? Who else had been in my room?
Trina.
Had Trina left that in my room?
“It has to be my sister’s.”
“Trina’s?” Her voi
ce was matter-of-fact. “When was Trina in your room?”
I shook my head, my mind spinning. “I don’t know. I mean. The other day Gran took her upstairs to lie down. The day Dad died. But Trina has been on drugs for a while.”
“How do you know? Have you seen her actually doing drugs?”
“No. I mean, yes. We got into a fight in school a week ago. She was high then. And I’ve seen her smoking a joint.”
“You got into a fight at school? Why didn’t you tell me?”
My palms started to sweat. “I, um, I don’t know. I didn’t get into trouble. We were called into the principal’s office but that was it. He let me go. He kept Trina. I figured it was because she was high. I don’t know.” I wrung my shirt in my hands, the razor blade calling to me.
“So, you’re telling me that Trina is on drugs and planted this in your room?” She held up the bag and all I could see was the razor. The razor. The razor. The world was spinning around me. I think Mrs. Anderson believed me, but there was enough in her tone to tell me I shouldn’t be so sure.
“I would never do drugs. I would never…do that.”
She nodded, but it wasn’t in the least reassuring. “This is a very big deal, finding drugs in my home. In all my years, none of my children have brought drugs into my home.”
“I’m not one of your children,” I spat, my control slipping away by the minute.
“No,” she breathed. “I guess you are not.”
“Those drugs aren’t mine. I promise. I would never do drugs, and I would certainly never bring them into your home.”
But I would use that razor blade…
“Do you know what kind of drug this is? Is it cocaine?”
I didn’t want to step forward, get close to the bag. If I did, I didn’t know if I’d have the resolve to not grab that blade and slice a new line in my arm. Trina used it to slice lines of drugs. I used it to carve up my skin. Weren’t we a pair worth saving? An ugly burst of laughter, tinged with hysteria, burst from my lips.
“What’s so funny?”
A Life, Forward: A Rowan Slone Novel Page 14