Sink or Swim

by Jamie Canosa

  She was his best friend—always had been. She understood him and his shit better than anyone. She wasn’t like the other girls they went to school with. He’d dated a couple of them while him and Allie had been on one of their many ‘breaks’, but it was never the same. They were clingy and demanded his attention. They wanted to go out every Friday night and have fun with their friends at all the parties. None of them understood that he couldn’t do that.

  When he wasn’t at school or studying, he was working. And he needed all the money that brought in. For his family. And he wasn’t about to blow it on dinner and movie with some girl he couldn’t have really cared less about.

  Allie, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Maybe it was because he’d known her so long. Even before all the shit that went down with his father, they’d been close. Through all of it, she’d been like this silent pillar of strength for him. More so than she’d ever give herself credit for. Her presence alone, by his side at the funeral, had given him the strength he needed to keep it all together for his family.

  Allie never demanded anything from him. Never even asked. She understood he couldn’t be around a lot of the time and she was cool with that. She even used to try and pay her own way whenever they actually did get to do something together. It led to more than a few arguments, but in the end he’d won. He may not have been loaded, but he was the man in the relationship and he’d be damned if he was letting his girl pay for shit.

  She was his one indulgence. The one thing he allowed himself that took away from his family obligations. She was his break from reality. Their time together—as rare as it may have been—was the only time he didn’t have to think about the rest of that crap. Without it, he probably would have lost his damn mind.

  He thought he’d let his hurt and anger burn away all of those feelings over the past six months, but damn if seeing her standing there with her hair braided down her back like one of his many school girl fantasies hadn’t brought it all right back up. Along with a certain body part. Shit!

  The smart part of him said to let it go. She’d made her decision loud and clear. He should just accept it and step back. But he couldn’t. Not until he got some answers. She owed him at least that much. The girl’s mind was like a friggin’ Rubik’s cube. Impossible to figure out. A simple ‘I’m not interested’ would have sufficed. He wasn’t some damn stalker. She didn’t have to run from him. And he wasn’t going to be able to let it go until he understood why she felt like she had to.

  Chapter Four

  Allie

  The silence of the house was more than a bit unnerving, but at least it meant her father probably wasn’t home.

  “Mom?” The word stuck in her throat, but she forced it out.

  The woman had never been much of a mother, but she was still her mom. And she needed her. That was the only reason Allie was there. Moving quietly through the house, just in case, she headed upstairs.

  Allie had been trying to imagine her father’s reaction to her sudden reappearance the whole way home, but finally forced herself to stop when she’d come dangerously close to hurling in the backseat of the bus.

  “Mom?” She inched towards her parents room—the forbidden zone—but stopped short when she heard a faint coughing coming from her old bedroom.

  Backtracking, Allie pushed the door open and peeked inside. Now that she’d found her, she kinda wished she hadn’t. Sam hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her about her mother’s condition. Stage four cancer.

  Her mother had looked fine when she left. The past six months had eaten away at her body. She couldn’t have weighed more than eighty pounds soaking wet anymore. Her collar bones stuck out starkly beneath her paper white skin. The pajama pants she was wearing hung loosely on her jutting hip bones. Christ, the woman was a living skeleton. It scared the ever living crap out of Allie.

  “Mom?” Stepping into the room, she moved over to her old bed still done up in her purple and blue bedding.

  “Allie?” Her voice was weak and her eyes fought to focus.

  “Yeah, Mom. It’s me. It’s Allie.” She dropped onto the bed and took her mother’s fragile hand. Poor excuse for a mother or not, she was scared and she wanted her mom.

  “Oh, baby. You’re back.”

  “Yeah. I’m back. I’m right here.”

  Her mother smiled for a moment and then it quickly faded to fear. “But you can’t stay. You have to go. Your father—”

  “Screw dad. I’m staying.”

  “Allie, you can’t. He’ll be so angry.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Mom. I don’t give a rat’s ass how pissed dad is. He’ll have to get over it.”

  “Oh, baby, don’t let him hear you talking like that.”

  No fucking duh. Apparently it wasn’t just her father who thought she was an idiot.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mom. Just relax. Do you need anything?” Allie shifted and felt the dampness on the sheets. It didn’t take long for the stench to follow.

  She knew that smell. Months on the streets made it hard to forget. Piss and human waste.

  “Oh, Mom.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.” She looked mortified. “I can’t get up on my own anymore . . .”

  “And dad just left you here alone.” It wasn’t a question. And she wasn’t surprised. “Come on, Mom.”

  Half-an-hour later, she had the bedding and her mother’s clothing changed. While she was helping her slip on a new pair of sweat pants, it was hard to miss the bedsores covering a good portion of her back and hips. Dammit, how long had he left her lying there like that? The useless, selfish bastard.

  In that moment, Allie almost couldn’t wait for him to get home just so she could let him have it. But the moment quickly passed when the front door swung open and she heard him come inside.

  It was like nothing had changed, at all. All of the independence and fortitude that she’d convinced herself she’d gained living on her own for the past six months evaporated, and just like that she was nothing more than a pathetic, scared little girl again. Dammit all to hell.

  Allie listened to her father moving around down stairs doing who-knows-what, while she tried to figure out her next move. He had no idea she was home, but he would soon enough. She couldn’t just hide up there forever. Although that sounded like a pretty damn fine option, at the moment.

  Her mother had drifted off to sleep, thank goodness, or she probably would have been having a fucking heart attack right about then. Best to get it the hell over with before she woke up. Sucking in a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to calm her raging nerves, Allie made her way to the staircase.

  Going down those stairs—knowing what was waiting at the bottom—was one of hardest damn things she’d ever had to do in her life. But she did it. When she reached the last step, the whole world froze. She could have sworn time even stopped. There stood her father in the middle of the kitchen . . . staring right at her. Holy crap. She thought she’d known fear before. She’d known shit.

  She was about to die. If you’d have asked her in that moment how much longer she had to live, she would have guessed less than a second. Hell, she would have bet on it.

  “Allie.” To her utter amazement, he turned around and went back to fixing his sandwich.

  “Sir?” It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but that’s the way it came out.

  “Sit.”

  That’s it. That’s all he said. Just the one command. Sit. And gave her nothing else to work with. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it, at all. The irrational urge to run up the stairs and hide under her bed surfaced, but she stomped it back down.

  She inched her way cautiously toward the kitchen, wondering the entire way if she was headed straight to her own demise. Taking a seat on the opposite side of the table from where he stood, she waited. He took his sweet ass time finishing up the damn sandwich, and then dropped it down in front of her.

  Poison?

  Seriously, that’s the first p
lace her mind went. Poison. Then she realized that was too passive aggressive for him. If her father was going to kill her, it would probably be with his own two hands. Besides, where in the hell would have gotten poison? It’s not like they had a bottle labeled with a fucking skull and cross-bones just sitting in the pantry.

  “Eat.” Another singular command. Not knowing what else to do, she obeyed.

  The sandwich tasted freaking amazing. One of the best things she’d eaten in nearly six months. Not wanting to give him the pleasure of her desperation, she tried to pick at it slowly, but it was a lost cause. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see the weight loss on her, anyway. With the baggy clothes she was sporting, it wasn’t quite so obvious, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Shit, she was nearly as emaciated as her mother under all the layers she was wearing. Sooner or later, someone was bound to notice.

  After making himself another sandwich, he took the seat across from her. His gaze flicked to her empty plate and she swore his lips twitched. Dammit!

  “So . . .” He took a big bite of his ham and cheese with mayo and left her hanging once again. Damn him and his friggin’ games. After swallowing, he continued. “Look who’s back. Couldn’t cut it on your own? Not so much better than the rest of us, after all?”

  What the hell was she supposed to say to that? “No, Sir.”

  “What the fuck makes you think you’re welcome back here? You took everything I gave you and threw it in my face. Why the hell would I give it to you again?”

  “I’m not here for you.” The absolute wrong thing to say, but there it was.

  “Excuse me?” Anger flashed in his eyes and that old familiar need to set things right resurfaced.

  “I’m here for mom. She needs me. She needs someone to take care of her.”

  “And you want the job?”

  Job? Yeah. Sure. Fine. Whatever. “Yes, Sir.”

  “I won’t be paying you. If that’s what you’re thinking, you can just forget it now. The room and board is more compensation than you deserve, and it’s a hell of a lot better than anything you’ve had in months, I’m sure.”

  Negotiations? Definitely not what she expected.

  “Okay.” She couldn’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “You’ll have to take the couch. You’re mother’s been moved to your old room. I don’t want that disgusting excuse for a woman in my bed. She wouldn’t be doing me much good there these days, anyway.”

  Bastard! Bastard! Inhuman fucking bastard! Her mind screamed it, but her lips flat out refused to form the words. She wasn’t suicidal.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You’ll be expected to earn your keep with household tasks, as well as caring for your mother.” He stood and took both of their plates to the sink.

  Chores she could live with. “Okay.”

  “And, one more thing.” He paused beside her on his way out of the room.

  She saw his fist coming, but there wasn’t shit she could do about it. Connecting with the back of her skull, she saw stars. Allie went flying out of the chair and ended up sprawled across the kitchen floor.

  “You ever think about leaving here again . . .” A kick to her stomach had her curling up in a tight ball. “You’ll wish I’d killed you!”

  Another kick landed on her back, and without the padding of her extra layers, he probably would have broken her spine. It was that hard. She laid there moaning in pain as tears sprung to her eyes and he strolled upstairs.

  Welcome the fuck home.

  Chapter Five

  Allie

  “Allie!”

  Her eyes shot open and she groaned against the light pouring into the room. It was eight-fourteen, according to the clock on the DVD player. Even crashing on the couch, she hadn’t slept that good in months. Home may have been its own brand of hell, but it did have its perks.

  Abrupt knocking reminded her of what had woken her in the first place.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Allie, so you might as well open the damn door.”

  Dean. Dammit. What the hell was he thinking? If he woke her father up . . . Crap! Allie scrambled off the couch and threw open the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you to get off your ass and open the damn—” He stopped short and just stared at her. Her in her old board shorts and cami she’d worn to bed last night. Shit. “What the fuck? Get dressed.”

  “What do you mean ‘get dressed’?”

  “I mean . . . get your bony ass body into some damn clothes, right now so I can get you something to eat.” Oh boy, bossy Dean was back full force and damn if it wasn’t still hot.

  “I don’t need—”

  “Don’t give me that crap. And don’t you dare try and tell me you don’t need to eat. Look at you, Al. What the hell happened to you?”

  “Nothing. And I don’t—”

  “Get. Dressed.” Not a request. “Or you’re going like that. Actually, I kind of like that idea.”

  Dammit, she couldn’t keep standing there, arguing with him. They were definitely going to wake up her father. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “You’ve got five,” he sniped as she shut the door in his face.

  Allie checked in on her mom, who was still sound asleep as she scrounged around in her dresser drawers. Taking a hoodie and jeans with her, she slipped into the bathroom and dared a glance in the mirror. No wonder Dean freaked. She looked like death warmed over. Dark circles under her eyes, despite the good night’s sleep. Her hair still looked limp and dead, despite the ten hour long shower she’d taken the night before. And she was rail thin. No fucking joke, she looked like that walking damn dead.

  For one ludicrous moment, she toyed with the idea of makeup, but honestly what the hell good was that really going to do? Besides, he’d already seen her in all of her repulsive glory, anyway.

  At least the bruises from yesterday’s little home coming had been covered. The hot water from the shower had eased some of the soreness, but it seemed her father had learned a new trick or two. From where—child abusers anonymous?—who the fuck knows. Blows to the back of the head are conveniently covered by hair, but hurt just as badly. And the others managed to be completely concealed even by the light clothing she’d worn to sleep in.

  Stripping quickly, she pulled on clothes that covered the evidence of her recent eating habits—or lack thereof—and raced back downstairs, afraid Dean would start banging on the door again if she took much longer. He didn’t. He was sitting behind the wheel of his truck, which he’d pulled up to the curb in front of her house, when she stepped out onto the porch.

  It was hot for June. Too damn hot to be wearing a hoodie, but T-shirts were probably going to be out of the question for a good long while. He didn’t make a move to open her door, so she climbed up into the truck and Dean just stared at her. She so wasn’t ready to handle this shit. Too fucking early. Too fucking tired. Too fucking drained. All of it was just too fucking much.

  Thank Christ, he must have realized that and opted to let it go for once. Instead, he cranked the engine and pulled away from the curb. Neither of them spoke. She didn’t bother asking where they were going. The last thing she wanted to do was start a damn conversation. Dean looked royally pissed.

  When they pulled into the lot of the local-yokel diner, Dean climbed out of the truck without a word, came around to her side, threw open the door, took her hand, and practically dragged her inside. Once they were seated, he ordered for both of them. An omelet for him and the Lumberjack Special for Allie, which—if she remembered correctly—included just about everything on the freaking menu.

  “Dean, you don’t have to do that. It’s too expensive.”

  “No, it’s not. A few months back I got a raise and the promise of a full-time position after I graduate. Money isn’t such a worry anymore. You’d know that if you bothered to keep in touch.”

  She chose to ignore that last part and focus on the good instead. There was usually
so little of it in either of their lives.

  “Dean! That’s fantastic. I’m happy for you.” If anyone deserved a break, it was him.

  “I’ll be happy when you’ve gained back about fifty pounds,” he griped, but it was the last he complained during the meal.

  They ate quietly, and Allie made sure to clear her plate. Just because he’d gotten a raise didn’t mean it hadn’t put him out to buy all of that for her. Not that it was difficult. The pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, ham, and toast were freaking amazing. God, she’d missed real food.

  “Holy shit. Allison Porter? When’d you strut your fine ass back into town?”

  Crap. Justin-the perv-Harrison and the rest of the jock squad were sliding out of a booth across the restaurant in their garish green and white letterman jackets.

  Justin broke away from the others, waving them on ahead as he strutted in her direction. Fantastic. She was surrounded by arrogant pains in her ass and it wasn’t even ten AM yet. Welcome to Shit Creek. Where the hell was that damn paddle when she needed it?

  “How ya been, beautiful?”

  Justin had been hitting on her relentlessly since the seventh grade. It had never mattered to him in the slightest whether or not she was with Dean at the time. And, obviously, it still didn’t seeing as how he was sitting across the friggin’ table glaring daggers at the tool as he spoke. Clearly, this guy could not take a hint.

  “Justin.” Go away!

  “Long time, no see. Where you been hidin’?”

  Was he serious? “I’ve been . . . away.”

  “I gathered that much when you quit showing up for school. Where’d ya go?”

  Allie tensed and Dean, being Dean, didn’t miss a thing.

  “None of your damn business.” The growl radiating from his fierce scowl should have been enough to send any sane person running. Justin was not one of those.

  “Why don’t we let the girl speak for herself, Ritter? I’m sure she’s got a perfectly good explanation as to why she left me high and dry.”

  Dean’s chair shot back with enough force that it teetered on two legs before coming back to rest on all four. If he’d made it to his feet there would have been violence involved. Pain, possibly blood, definitely police, and questions. None of which Allie wanted. Dean didn’t make it to his feet. Allie settled a firm hand over his forearm before he could fully extricate himself from behind the table, and he sank back into his seat still vibrating with barely restrained anger.