The Sins That Bind Us

by Geneva Lee

  And there it was. She wasn’t there to visit. She was there to take him away to a life of instability and heartache. “Fine. You can see him, but you can’t just run off with him, Faith. Promise me.”

  “I won’t.” It was a lie. They both knew it. Faith could only claim one true talent: disappearing. She’d vanished from Grace’s life last time as swiftly as she’d appeared. She was a magician and her secret was coke.

  “When?” Grace’s mouth was dry as she asked.

  “Tonight?” Faith suggested eagerly. “Jason can’t wait—”

  “I’d like to meet Jason before he’s around Max.”

  Faith tensed, her shoulders squaring. “Why don’t you trust me?”

  The answer to that question was too long and painful for Grace to bear. Instead, she reached out and took Faith’s trembling hand. “I just need to. He’s a stranger and I have to look out for Max until we straighten things out.”

  “Okay.” Faith let out a long sigh. “But I don’t want to wait to see Max. Can I come tonight?”

  Grace nodded, the pit in her belly turning into a sink hole. It wouldn’t hurt for Faith to see Max and as long as she played by Grace’s rules, she could keep things under control.

  She hoped.

  She rocked Max to sleep in her arms and finally put him in his crib around nine-thirty. Her dinner was cold on the table. She hadn’t felt like eating it before and she didn’t feel like eating it now. The fact that Faith hadn’t shown was as heartbreaking as it was relieving. Tossing the unwanted noodles into the garbage, she started the dishes. Tomorrow she would talk to a lawyer, just in case, although she suspected she didn’t have any claim to the boy. She might be able to claim abandonment. Didn’t plenty of girls run off and leave their babies with their mothers? How was this any different?

  Leaving the dishes in the sink, she pulled out her banged up laptop—the one Nana had given her when she graduated–and prayed that she could piggyback on a neighbor’s Wi-Fi signal. After a few tries she found one that wasn’t password protected, but before she could finish googling attorneys, there was a knock on the door. No, more like a bang. The person continued battering it like an invading army.

  Grace’s instinct was to run to it, honed from the months before she learned that Max couldn’t be woken by noise. She peeked through the peephole and then threw it open. Faith waltzed in, scanning the room, and a moment later a tall, lanky man followed her.

  Staring at them both, Grace saw herself reflected in Faith’s glassy hazel eyes. She bit down on her lip before she started to scream. If there had been any doubt before, she was certain now that her sister wasn’t sober.

  “Where is he?” Faith’s voice took on a note of alarm. “I told you I wanted to see him tonight.”

  Grace darted in front of her, blocking her from the apartment’s small hallway. “He’s in bed. We waited up and you didn’t show.”

  “What? It’s only like eight. Jason and I went to dinner.”

  “It’s nearly ten.” She couldn’t quite control the quiver in her voice. “He goes to bed at seven, which you would know if you’d been here for the last year.”

  “I thought we’d gone over that, sissy. I’m here now.”

  “And high,” she accused.

  “No, no, no.” Faith flapped her hands dramatically.

  “And I told you I wanted to meet Jason first.” Grace eyed Jason suspiciously. His hair was cropped close to his head and his ebony skin accentuated his high cheekbones. He was well-dressed with none of the usual flair that Faith’s dealers flashed. But there was a calmness—a sense of authority that he exuded—that made her uneasy. “Are you giving her money or product?”

  His eyebrow arched up slowly. So far everything the man did, he did with precision. “Baby, I don’t give her anything. I take care of her.”

  “But you don’t take anything away from her, do you?” He wasn’t using. He was too collected, but Grace had met her fair share of guys eager to prey on addicted women. Women who would do anything to get their next hit. Women who were all too eager to fulfill every depraved fantasy. Willing slaves whose freedom was only granted when they’d been used up. Then they’d crawl to someone else more fucked up with more fucked up fantasies. Grace couldn’t help but wonder how far down the rabbit hole her sister had fallen.

  “Why did your wife leave you?” She wanted answers and she wanted them fast. Was Jason connected? Did he hope to walk away with Max, too?”

  “That bitch.” He shook his head, and for a moment, the smooth facade slipped. Jason rubbed his hands together. “She wanted every ounce of me. Every piece. I couldn’t have a thing to myself, and then she started making up lies.”

  Grace imagined they had something to do with her sister, but she didn’t ask. She only wanted to know more about this man and his intentions. That had told her more than enough. Jason slinked toward her.

  “Why? What did you hear?”

  “That you loved kids, and that you wanted to meet Max.”

  He backed her against the wall and waved for Faith to go ahead. “I do. I’ve been eager to meet him. My lying bitch ex-wife doesn’t let me see mine. She claims I’m an unfit father. Can you believe that?”

  Obviously the woman had sense. More than Faith who’d allowed herself to be backed into a corner. Jason might have been in control a few minutes ago but now he seemed unhinged as though talking about his family had loosened some screws. As soon as her sister was out of sight, Jason leaned closer, studying her face. “Absolutely identical. Now I would be lying if I said that wasn’t most men’s fantasies. What do you think? I could take care of you, too. We’d have Max and be one big, happy family.”

  Happy. Her stomach lurched and she was grateful that she’d had no appetite earlier. She wasn’t certain what a man like this would do if she vomited on him. If she squirmed away would he try to stop her? Faith was already in the bedroom. Would he let her go to check on Max? She couldn’t decide, so she stayed pressed against the cold plaster. A high pitched cry decided for her. She knocked into Jason as she dashed toward the bedroom, but before she reached it, Faith appeared holding Max. He’d calmed down but his eyes were red and sleepy.

  “See? He knows his mommy,” Faith cooed, stroking Max’s silky, dark hair. As soon as she spoke to Grace, Max’s head turned and met Grace’s eyes. Immediately, he whimpered and held his arms out.

  He did know his mom. Grace’s heart swelled even as it pounded frantically in her chest. She reached for him, but Faith turned away.

  “You’re fine. Your mommy has you.”

  Max started to cry, struggling to turn his head around to find Grace.

  “Let me just calm him down. He’s confused.” Panic trembled in her words despite her best efforts to sound calm.

  “Why would he panic?” Faith snapped. “He’s with me.”

  Because he doesn’t know you. Because you look like me but you’re a stranger.

  And maybe Max could sense that the woman holding him was a warped version of the one who took care of him. It wasn’t something he could possibly understand at his age, which would only make it more terrifying. Grace’s breathing sped up, but she resisted the urge to hyperventilate.

  Faith ignored this entirely. Whatever desire had led her back here didn’t stem from maternal instinct. She swept across the room and presented Max to Jason like a trophy.

  Bile rose in Grace’s throat and she swallowed it back. Max was one of Jason’s fantasies. If he couldn’t have his family, he would take another.

  “Isn’t he perfect?” Faith asked and for a second she sounded like his mom.

  “Not perfect,” Jason said with a laugh. “He can’t hear, right? I thought you were lying to me about him not being mine, but that skin doesn’t lie.”

  “Does it matter, baby?” Her motherliness shifted immediately into simpering.

  “Nah. I guess not.” He picked Max up and held him in the air. The baby let out a piercing cry and Jason jiggled him slightly. �
�You read lips yet, little man? You need to chill.”

  Jason started laughing again, glancing toward Grace like she was in on the joke.

  “You got a bag for him?” Faith asked, making her way back to the bedroom.

  “Do you have a car seat or baby formula or diapers?” Grace spewed out the list of essentials, praying something would stick and make them realize they were unprepared to take him. She just needed a little more time.

  “Just give me yours.” Faith giggled as though this was the obvious solution. Grace’s eyes landed on the baseball bat she kept near the door for when Faith’s old friends stopped by. “You won’t need it anymore. Just think, sissy, you’re going to be a free woman.”

  She could take Faith out, but Jason was bigger and he was holding Max.

  “Wait!” Jason interrupted. “We’re taking him right now? Baby, I have some business in the city before we head home. We can pick him up then. Besides I’m not letting my little man wear shit like this. Where’d you get this, the flea market?”

  Relief flooded through her. Grace might have flushed if someone else had noticed how worn Max’s romper was, but right now she was the one hanging by a thread. This was what she needed: the time to find help.

  “I guess you’re right.” Faith shrugged, pursing her lips. “You can pack up that other stuff, but we don’t need the clothes obviously. I’ll come by tomorrow and help. Jason has meetings.”

  Grace nodded, afraid to say anything that might change their mind.

  “Put him back to bed,” Jason ordered, handing the baby off like she was his nanny. “And consider my offer.”

  She forced herself to bob her head again. She had to keep them happy. If they believed they had won, they would leave and come back tomorrow. Grace held Max closely, his cries softening into whimpers.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Faith kissed Max’s forehead, leaving behind two strips of pink lipstick. She didn’t bother to wipe it off.

  Grace followed them to the door. She waited for their footsteps to fade down the hall before she bolted and latched it. They were gone. For now.

  Max’s hand reached up and touched her cheek, drawing her attention down to his face. Even though he had quieted, his eyes were rimmed with red and a few large crocodile tears puddled in the corner, waiting to fall.

  “It’s okay,” she soothed. He couldn’t hear and he couldn’t read lips, but somehow he knew, felt the vibration of her voice. Max settled his head against her shoulder, nestled right above her heart and fell asleep. He felt safe, but she knew he wasn’t.

  Tomorrow Faith would return. For the first time in a long time she had confidence in her sister’s actions. But Grace could see into a future that Faith could not. Faith would wind up back on the street when Jason grew tired of her, and what would happen to Max? Would he be tossed out like his mother? Or would Jason—a man with no ties to him, a man whose own children had been spirited away from him—keep him?

  Like so many other moments in her life, Grace had no choice. She laid Max down in his crib and he smiled in his sleep. She was his mother if not by birth, then by heart—and blood. Grabbing a bag, she began to pile diapers and formula inside it. Slowly she collected all the things she knew Faith would need—his birth certificate, the small photo album Nana had put together before the Alzheimer’s overwhelmed her, the soft giraffe he liked to chew on. The last time she’d disappeared she’d left everything behind. Grace found the box of items she had saved for her sister. Faith’s whole life leading up to now fit in a box. She packed it up quickly although it felt like her world had slowed down as each moment ticked by, bringing her closer to one she couldn’t face.

  Then she went to the closet and found her suitcase. They didn’t need much. Only what they could fit in the bags. She didn’t have a car at the moment, but the bus was still running and so was the ferry. Dumping a few toiletries on the top of the clothes that were clean in the drawer, which weren’t much, she paused and picked up the picture she had of her and Faith’s fifteenth birthday. The last one before things went horribly wrong. She pulled the photo from the frame, ripped it in half and tossed Faith’s photo on top of her things. Then she tore up the other half and zipped the suitcase closed.

  Even as doubt clawed through her, she carried no guilt. Max had two mothers. By morning, he’d never need to know that.

  Chapter 23

  Loving an addict is to live torn between hope and mourning, caught in an endless repetition of the five stages of grief. Tonight stripped away the hope and left me with only sorrow.

  Four years ago, I had run away with Max to protect him. I’d spent the intervening years trying to understand what had happened to my sister. Now that she’s gone, there are more questions than ever.

  But the most disturbing one of all has nothing to do with her.

  What’s happened to me?

  Outside, rain begins to beat against the window in an out of tune rhythm that gradually builds to a dull roar as the storm grows in intensity. It’s uncharacteristically violent rain for the Pacific Northwest. I can’t help but think of when I was a child and my grandfather told me that when it rains it means God is crying. Something about that soothes the dull, aching, hollowness in my chest.

  Amie took away the bottle and my car keys before she disappeared back into her room. I can’t blame her for leaving me here in the dark. And honestly, I should be comfortable alone, trapped with my own memories. I’ve been stuck in this space for so long. The truth hasn’t set me free. Instead, it’s brought me to my own personal judgement day.

  I rap my fingers on the tabletop, trying to match that pitter-patter of the rain on the glass. It’s something to occupy me now that I’ve stopped crying. I’ll let God weep for me now. Perhaps he’s mourning Faith.

  It’s funny to grow up with such heavy names. Faith. Grace. My mother believed in both concepts, and she took all that belief with her to the grave, leaving none for those of us she left behind.

  Looking down, I realize I’m still in my pretty dress that I wore tonight for Jude.

  Jude, the betrayer.

  Jude, the collector of lost souls.

  Jude, my Jude.

  And the Jude that doesn’t belong to me at all.

  I want to erase him from my mind. I’d known he was a hurricane of a man when we met, and now the storm has broken. Standing, I yank at the back of my dress, trying to reach my zipper and not caring if I tear it. He touched this fabric, and I want the memory of his fingers as far away from me as possible. With one swift yank, it puddles to the floor at my feet. But with it gone, I realize that I can’t erase my own skin. I can still feel where his fingertips blazed over my bare flesh. Maybe with time, that sensation will fade along with this expansive sorrow welling in me. But for now, the memory of him lingers on my skin.

  I kick off my shoes and open the back door. The wind howls on its way to be swept back to the sea. As the first drops of water hit me, I release my own strangled cry. It isn’t a scream. Rather, it comes from a place I’ve kept locked away. It takes its time, clawing its way back out of me and into the world. I have spent the last five years in fear, wondering if I could protect the precious child I chose as my own. Tonight has stolen that comforting blanket of fear from me. My tears come again, encouraged by the water, baptizing me in the dark. I cry for the choices I have made, and for the sister I left behind. I cry for what is and will never be. I cry for myself. I cry until I don’t know what are tears and what is rain.

  All that I was washes away, leaving me exposed and new. I’ve been her for so long that I don’t know how to be anyone else. I don’t know if I want to be anyone else. That realization scares me, and I fall to my knees. In trying to understand Faith, I followed the steps she should have taken.

  There was only one I got hung up on: trusting a higher power. Religion has always been hard for me to wrap my head around. I guess I believe there’s a God, but I don’t pretend to understand him. We certainly don’t have much of a relation
ship, but being here, reborn in the cold, wet night, his name is on my lips.

  “Why?” The wind catches my question and carries it to Heaven. “Why do you tempt and take? Why do you fragment us with loss?”

  I’m not really seeking answers. Now what I want is the solution. I want to understand how to make myself whole, just as I want to understand how I’ll face tomorrow when it finally comes.

  I raise my arms to the sky as if I can call the answers down to me. Instead a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap around my waist and lift me off the ground. My body betrays me, feeling comfort when I want to feel hate.

  “Let me go!” I scream, kicking against his hold on me.

  But Jude doesn’t listen as he carries me back into the house. I spot Amie waiting by the front door. She doesn’t say a word when he carries me to my bedroom.

  “Put me down.” I struggle against his hold, smacking and slapping him wildly. Finally, he lowers me to my feet and steps back.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand, doing my best to ignore that I’m drenched and half naked.

  “Amie called me,” he says in a low voice.

  Traitor. I cross my arms to hide the first trembling chills as they quiver through me.

  Jude shakes his head as he studies me. “You’re soaking wet.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  But he doesn’t stay to argue with me. He returns a moment later with a towel. I snatch it from him before he has the audacity to try to dry me himself.

  “You can go now.” I dismiss him. Amie is worried about me.

  “Amie is worried about you, and so am I,” he says, “I saw the bottle.”

  “Newsflash,” I sneer at him. “I’m not the one with the addiction. If I want to have a drink, there’s no issue.”

  But he’s not buying what I’m selling. “If that’s true, then why haven’t you? It’s not about how much you drink; it’s about how it affects your life.”