Lacy's End

by Victoria Schwimley

  “I talked back.”

  Lacy rolled her eyes. “Certainly you should know better by now.” She broke off a leaf from the aloe vera plant, milked out some of the sap, began to rub it on her mother’s cheek. She grinned. “Nonetheless, I’m proud of you.”

  Brenda couldn’t help but smile. “I thought you had a shift at the diner this evening.”

  Lacy plucked an olive from the pasta salad Brenda was making and plopped it in her mouth. “They were slow, so Ray sent me home. Bummer, too, I really needed—”

  Brenda cut her off, shame rising and coloring her face. “You’re sixteen, Lacy. You shouldn’t have to work so hard.”

  Lacy shrugged, took some plates out of the cupboard, and began to set the table. Leaning across to place her mother’s plate on the other side. She said, “I told you, I’m going to college and getting us out of here.”

  “That should be my job,” Brenda whispered.

  “What?” Lacy asked.

  Brenda shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “It’s just as well, I suppose. I’m buried in homework tonight.”

  “Need some help?”

  She didn’t, but she knew her mother wanted an excuse to be away from her father. “I have a history test tomorrow. You could quiz me.”

  Brenda smiled. “Sounds great,” she said. “Will you call your father? Dinner’s ready.”

  She went to the back door and shouted for her father. He didn’t hear her, so she stepped off the porch and went in search of him. She could hear the sounds of the lawnmower and followed them. She saw him mowing near the tomato garden. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted for him. He still didn’t hear her. She crossed the lawn and tapped him on the shoulder, startling him. He turned, and his hand flew across her face so hard that she fell to the ground.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing sneaking up on me like that?”

  She sat there, stunned. Her hand came up, caressing her cheek, which was already swelling. She didn’t doubt it was red, too. She maneuvered herself into a standing position, glared at her father and said, “Dinner’s ready.”

  She turned and walked away. When she was halfway to the house, still in hearing range, her father shouted, “I’m sorry.” She paused but did not turn around, did not even acknowledge him speaking.

  She slammed the door when she entered the kitchen, walked wordlessly to the dining room table and sat stonily in her seat.

  Brenda was setting dishes on the table, but she paused in her task when she noted the red, swollen cheek. “Again?”

  Lacy nodded but said nothing. She just picked up a serving bowl and began serving herself. She would most likely take flak from her father about not waiting for him, but tonight, she didn’t care. However, when her father entered the house, he went straight to the washbasin in the laundry room. He took off his dirty shirt and donned a clean one from the stack of shirts that were kept on a shelf in the laundry for just such occasions. He washed his face and hands and took his place at the table. He noted Lacy was already eating and said, “You don’t wait to thank the good Lord?”

  Lacy shook her head. “I said my own prayer.”

  “Try again,” he said and offered his hand to Lacy.

  She stared at it, defiantly, but then she saw the look on her mother’s face, fearful and pleading. She took her father’s hand in her left and reached across the table with her right to grab onto her mother. Brenda squeezed Lacy’s hand, offering support and gratitude. Lacy barely touched her father’s hand.

  Peter began the blessing. “Oh dear, mighty, Father, thank you for the bounty upon our table, for the family around it, and for the wisdom you bestow upon us. Amen.” Lacy and Brenda both muttered, “Amen,” and began eating.

  Peter chewed silently, watching both the women in his life with interest. They kept their heads lowered, lest they say something or cast some look that might set him off. After a while he said, “So, I hear Brett and Linda Mackey are having another kid.”

  “Oh,” Brenda said.

  “What does that make for them, four now?”

  Brenda nodded. “That sounds about right.”

  Peter looked at Lacy. “You babysit for them, don’t ya? How many does that make?”

  Lacy sighed. “It’s only their third, and I don’t babysit for them anymore. Not since I got the job at the diner.”

  “I’m wondering why we can’t have another. Lacy will be out of the house soon and then what will we do with an empty room?”

  Brenda took a deep breath, preparing herself for the onslaught of accusations. Truth be told, Brenda didn’t want any more kids. She was, in fact, secretly on birth control pills, which she got at the free clinic so Peter wouldn’t notice the money missing from the checking account. There was no way she was risking bringing another child into the house.

  “I don’t know, Peter. Perhaps we just weren’t meant to have more than one.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Peter said. “The men on my side of the family are virile.” He sat up straight, pumping up his chest in a display of machismo. “Something must be wrong with your plumbing.” He grinned at his play of words.

  “Perhaps,” Brenda said. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  “I thought the same thing, but then Ryan Marley told me he and his wife had some trouble, so they went to a fertility expert. She’s pregnant now.”

  Brenda held her breath. Lacy looked sideways at Brenda, clearly showing compassion.

  “Don’t you think we’re getting kind of old to be starting a new family?” Breanda asked.

  Brenda looked at Lacy with panic-stricken eyes. Lacy wished with all her might she could help her, but she knew her mother was on her own with this one.

  Peter rolled his eyes and frowned at her. “You’re only thirty-two.”

  Brenda nearly dropped her fork. Was that all the farther along in life she was? God, she felt fifty. She stared at Lacy. She was nearly seventeen now, older than Brenda was when she had given birth.

  Lacy nudged her under the table with her foot, wishing she would shut up.

  “I think you should see this doctor. Maybe he can help you.”

  “Peter, I don’t think that’s necessary. Linda Mackey is twenty-six. Her oldest kid is barely out of diapers. Our daughter is close to graduating high-school.”

  Lacy dropped her head, praying her mother wouldn’t argue.

  “All I’m saying,” Brenda continued, “is that we have freedom mere miles from our doorstep, why would we want to start all over again?”

  Brenda could see Peter’s face reddening, could see the signs of impending anger but couldn’t stop herself. “What about my request to volunteer at the hospital?” she asked.

  Lacy’s head snapped up, just as Peter’s fist flew out, knocking Brenda to the floor. “I said no!” he screamed. “You have plenty to do around this house. You don’t need to go looking for other things.”

  Brenda picked herself up off the floor, staring defiantly at Peter.

  Lacy was shocked. Her mother never stood up to her father.

  Peter jumped out of his chair, grabbed Brenda by the hair and began dragging her toward the bedroom.

  “No!” Lacy said. She jumped from her seat and grabbed her father’s hand, trying to dislodge it from her mother’s hair. Peter used his other hand to knock Lacy to the floor. She reached out and grabbed her father’s pant leg. “Leave her alone!” Where this sudden bravado came from, Lacy had no idea. She only knew she’d had enough. It was time for this to end. No more beatings!

  Peter looked down at his daughter clinging to his leg. With all his might, he kicked her in the lower back, effectively dislodging her. He continued down the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

  Lacy grabbed her back and cried out in pain. How long she lay there, she didn’t know. She just lay there with her eyes closed until the pain subsided, waiting for the familiar sounds from her parents’ bedroom. She listened as the slaps came, heard her mother wh
imper, then the sounds of the headboard, and her mother’s cries of pain.

  Lacy finally stood, cleared the table and washed the dishes. There was no dishwasher in this house. They costs too much money.

  She was drying the last pot when she heard the bedroom door creak open. Lacy turned to find her mother standing in the doorway, her robe pulled tightly against her, her hair a wild mess of curls from her father pulling on it. Her eyes already showed signs of bruising. Lacy crossed to the freezer, took out an ice pack and handed it to her mother.

  “Why did you goad him?”

  Brenda sat in a dining room chair and stared at Lacy. The first emboldened look Lacy had ever seen on her mother’s face. “I’m tired of it.”

  “Then let’s leave,” Lacy said. She dropped into the chair next to her mother. “Please, Mom. I’m tired of it, too. Let’s call that social worker lady and get some help.”

  “What social worker?”

  “The one from the hospital.” Lacy reached into her back pocket and pulled out a business card that was worn around the edges from being transferred from one pair of jeans to another. The social worker had given it to her at the hospital. She had even written her home phone on it, even though it was against the rules. “She said I could call her anytime I wanted.”

  Brenda took the card from Lacy, stared at it for what seemed like ages. It was worn from Lacy toting it around in her back pocket, but all the numbers were still visible. “If only it were that simple, Lacy.”

  “It is that simple. I’ve been looking into this. There’s a shelter we can go to. There are lots of women like us there. They’ll help us out. Please, Mom. Let’s do it.”

  Brenda saw the excitement in her daughter’s beautiful face but knew she couldn’t go through with it. Peter was the sheriff, drinking buddies with most of his officers, golfing buddies with nearly every judge. She shook her head. “I can’t, Lacy. I want to, but I can’t. He’ll just drag us back, and believe me, it will be a whole lot worse.”

  “Then let’s go away somewhere. I have some money saved.”

  Brenda’s gazed hardened. “No! That’s for your college. You’ve worked hard for that money, and I’ll not let you spend it on anything but college.”

  Lacy sat back defiantly and said, “I can’t go to college if I’m dead.”

  Brenda gasped. “Don’t talk like that, Lacy. I forbid it.”

  Lacy stood. “As if you have any right to pull the mother card on me now,” she said and ran out the front door.

  Brenda winced when the door slammed. Lacy had never spoken to her like that before. She looked down at the card. She had no memory of meeting the woman. But then again, she had been nearly unconscious that night. I wonder, she thought but broke off when she heard the bedroom door open. Knowing it would be Peter, she stuffed the card into the pocket of her robe.

  “About that volunteer work,” she said when Peter came to stand before her. She knew he wouldn’t react now. There would be the whole remorse thing he would have to work through. He was most approachable after the beating.

  “Why would you want to spend your days tending to sick people? You have this whole house to take care of, and Lacy, too.”

  “Lacy takes care of herself,” she said. “Please, Peter. I need something else in my life. I’m tired of staring at these walls all day.” An idea struck her. “Peter, it’s an election year, right?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Think how good it would look if your wife were out doing community service.”

  He looked thoughtful. Brenda took the time to assess him. He had once been a very handsome man, but alcohol and anger had ruined that for him. He wore his brown hair long, just past his shoulders. He claimed it gave him a tough look. His body, once hard and lean, had gone a bit soft from lack of exercise and all the alcohol he consumed. His green eyes were distant and mean.

  Brenda stood and put her arms around her husband’s neck, turned on the sexy look she always used when trying to play him. “We both get what we want,” she said. “I get out of the house, and you get a wife who gives to the community, which makes you look good. I see re-election down the road.”

  Peter looked down at his wife. She was still beautiful, even after all these years—despite the black and blue marks under her eyes. “All right, you win,” Peter said.

  Brenda jumped with glee, plastering kisses on his mouth and neck. “Thank you so much, Peter. You won’t be sorry.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see a spark of joy in her. “Just remember, the housework doesn’t slip, and Lacy’s and my needs are met.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  He slipped his hand down her backside, resting on her buttock. He swatted her. She flinched but mustered a smile. “Do you like that?” he asked. She said nothing. His hand journeyed toward the front of her robe, brushing past the pocket that held the card in it. She stilled, praying he wouldn’t feel it. His hand continued past it, found the opening and pulled the robe open roughly. She was naked underneath, except for the bandage covering her ribs, and she could feel his response.

  “Where’s Lacy?” he asked.

  “She ran out. We had an argument.”

  “Good.”

  He pushed her down on the floor. “Not here, Peter. What if Lacy comes back?”

  He ignored her, pushing her roughly onto her back. Her head hit the floor as she went down. She tried hard not to cry out in pain. Her cries would only intensify his need. He mounted her, pushing himself roughly inside. She bit her lip, wincing with each thrust until finally he had finished.

  She sighed in relief when he got off her and strode back to the bedroom. She lay there for a few moments, thinking to herself. She didn’t even bother to pull the robe closed. So what if Lacy came home. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what went on between them.

  She closed her eyes against the pain. It wasn’t just submitting to Peter’s violence that hurt so much; she had grown accustomed to that. It was the humiliation and the fact that she had never known the gentleness of a caring man. She let her mind take her away from the pain. What would it be like to have a tender lover? Perhaps one who would arouse her to places Peter’s greed could not. If she tried real hard, maybe she could feel her lover’s kiss. She let her hands wander, finding the spot that gave her pleasure. In a rush of fury, she finished what her husband hadn’t.

  ***

  On the bluff overlooking the vast desert, Lacy stood perched on the edge of danger, the night air riffling her hair, whipping it fiercely around her face. Tears streamed out her eyes and down her cheeks, making it difficult for her to see.

  Lacy had lived in this harsh desert all her life. She was used to the ravages of the climate. Once, when she was three, the wind had blown so hard it had nearly knocked her on her butt. Her mother had laughed nervously, but Lacy could tell she had been scared. After that, Brenda always held her daughter’s hand when they walked near the bluff.

  Her mother wasn’t here now, though. She could not shield her from danger, could not stop the thoughts racing through Lacy’s mind.

  She gripped the railing with one hand while testing the breeze with the other. “If I just let go it will all come to an end.” She spoke the words aloud, even though there wasn’t a soul around for miles. Even if there had been, the night’s cover would have hidden her actions, the wind would have carried her words into the air.

  Would they notice her gone? Would the students in her school mourn her and cry, as they had last spring when Jacob Walters broke his neck in the football game and died? Most likely not. If she were gone, her mother might feel free to move away and start a new life. Perhaps she would change her name and appearance. She was still young enough to start over. She could take the money Lacy had saved for college and make a new life.

  She smiled at the thought. Her measly little stash was hardly anything—just enough for a bus ticket and a few months in a motel. Her mother didn’t have any job experience, bu
t she cooked and cleaned better than anyone Lacy knew. Perhaps she could get a job in a fancy hotel. She’d heard they made good tips, enough to live a nice life—better than what she’d lived so far, anyway. How she loved the idea of being the one who made it possible for her mother to have a normal life.

  Millie might miss her, but kids bounce back quickly. Six months from now, she was likely to have a new best friend.

  She wondered where her father would be when the call came in. Would he even know he had driven her to it? Would he even care?

  A hand gently touched her. She jumped slightly, losing her balance, nearly letting go of the railing. The hand held tight to her wrist. “I’m here, Lacy. You’re not alone.”

  She gasped, turning to stare into the eyes of her new friend. “Jake,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?” She still held the railing. He still held her wrist.

  “Is this what you really want, Lacy?”

  “What if I do?”

  “I guess that’s your decision.”

  “You won’t stop me?”

  “That’s not my job.”

  She stared, puzzled, thrown off guard by this mysterious stranger. The moonlight danced in his eyes. For the first time, Lacy noticed how odd his eyes were—smoky-gray, with flecks of white nearly replacing his entire pupil.

  “Your eyes,” she whispered.

  He smiled. “They are unique, I know.”

  “But how?”

  He pulled her to him. She didn’t resist but lifted each leg over the railing, into his arms, back to safety.

  “Why didn’t you just let me go?”

  “You didn’t let yourself go. I’m just here to help. You’re making the decisions.”

  “Who are you?”

  He smiled. “I told you. I’m Jake, and I thought I was your friend.”

  She looked stricken. “Oh, but you are.”

  “You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

  She nodded. “It was a bad night.”