Let Me Go (Owned Book 2)

by Gebhard, Mary Catherine

  “No one does that,” I argued. They couldn’t do that. Could they?

  He stroked my cheek. “I love you, Gracie. I love that you’re so innocent and naive, but you don’t know this town like I do. Part of me wants to keep you like that.”

  “Why would they say that? Why—”

  “Don’t,” Eli cut off my words, pulling me into his chest. “It’s not worth your time. Just understand that that’s why I need to work for Zero. He’s offerin’ me a way out. I just have to work for him a few years and then we can really be free.”

  I read To Kill A Mockingbird before Eli and I ever met. It was one of the things we had in common, probably the only thing in the beginning. I remembered Atticus telling Scout that being a nigger-lover wasn’t a bad thing, despite her town telling her it was. I remembered Atticus saying that if being a nigger-lover was a bad thing, he didn’t want to be good.

  That book was written decades ago, and it was as if nothing had changed. I agreed with Atticus. Eli was the best thing in this town. He was kind, good, intelligent, and loving. He was everything I aspired to be. But because he was a different color, people didn’t like him.

  It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

  Skin color didn’t determine your worth.

  Zero was white. He’d moved into our town and infected it with bad drugs and no one noticed or cared. Now Zero was infecting Eli.

  “It isn’t fair.”

  Eli shrugged against me. “Life ain’t fair.”

  “Aren’t you mad?” I was furious for him. Furious at this town. I wished I could rip off my skin and give it to him. I wished that white wasn’t such a good thing. Who determined that, anyway?

  “What’s being mad gonna solve?” Eli bent down to kiss my forehead.

  I didn’t know what it would solve, but it sure did feel good. It felt right.

  “Do you understand, at least?” Eli asked against my skin.

  I didn’t like it, but I understood.

  I’d knocked at least four times now, each time without receiving a response. Double-checking my watch to confirm that I had the right time, I knocked a fifth time. Still no response. I started to feel queasy, like a prank was being played on me. Lennox had told me to come at 11:30 for the baby shower, but no one was responding. I stood outside the door, feeling dumb.

  I turned to leave after the sixth knock, my hands in my pockets, when my finger touched something cool and metallic: the key. The key that opened the door in front of me. I pulled it out, eyeing it with uncertainty. Lennox had told me to use it.

  Spinning it around in my fingers, I weighed the pros and cons. Maybe Lennox wasn’t answering on purpose. Maybe she wanted me to use the key. Or maybe she’d gone out for milk and would be horrified to find me in her apartment.

  The key glinted in the hallway light, as if taunting me.

  “Fine,” I muttered to myself.

  I shoved the key into the lock, feeling odd as it unlocked their door. Despite Lennox’s assurances that she and Vic both wanted me to have and use the key whenever because I was family, I didn’t feel right using it. Family. It felt odd to say that, even in my head.

  Even growing up, Daddy never said the word family much and I never thought about what we were. The three of us in that house…we just were.

  Mama had once snuck me a book about Ancient Greek temples. I remembered the day very clearly, because that book in particular was so dangerous. If Daddy had found out Mama and I were reading about false gods… Well, I probably wouldn’t be here today.

  Mama told me she kept the book from when she was in school, that she’d first gotten it when she was about my age. I was probably thirteen at the time. She snuck it to me when Daddy was out getting stuff at the market.

  We sat together in my bed, flipping through the pictures of big marble gods encased in their stone homes. Mama explained their history to me. She explained that years ago people had worshiped other gods. She also reminded me that this was our secret, that Daddy could never find out about the other gods, or that we knew about them, or that we had that book.

  That book became one of my favorites. As the years dragged on in our dark home, I came to see the three of us as the marble statues. Just like the marble gods, we were trapped in that house as the world moved around us.

  I shut the door behind me and stepped into the open apartment. It was spacious and bright, sunlight streaming in through tall windows that lined the walls opposite me. I called out for Lennox, feeling like an intruder in the empty apartment.

  There was no response. I held on to my key as I pressed forward on the dark wood floors, the only dark thing in the apartment. The kitchen was to my left, my reflection warped in various stainless steel surfaces.

  “Lennox?” I called out again, my voice disappearing into the lofted ceiling.

  A pastel pink sign that read “It’s a girl!” hung from the ceiling. Balloons floated unearthly, their ribboned stems swaying in some unfelt breeze. Everything was set up for the baby shower. I felt as if I’d just arrived after some mass abduction.

  Following a noise, I walked up the stairs to the second floor. Now I really felt out of place. It was one thing to use my key and another thing entirely to go up to the second floor. It was where the bedrooms were. It was where they slept.

  Once, when I was about four, I’d wandered into Daddy's bedroom looking for comfort after a nightmare. He’d slapped me and tanned my hide just for walking up to the second floor. I reckon you could say that gave me a few issues with going places I wasn’t expressly invited.

  I paused, my feet stuck on the last step. This was the second floor. Though the apartment was open and lofted, and therefore you could clearly see part of the second floor from the first, it was still a different space. My hand shook on the railing.

  “Grace?” That was definitely Lennox. Though faint, I could hear her voice.

  “Lennox?” I called into the space of the second floor. “Lennox, is that you?”

  “Grace, I’m in here!”

  I swallowed and stepped up to the floor. I swore you could hear a thud when my feet hit the hardwood.

  “Where are you, Lennox?” I tried to follow the sound of her voice, but it was still very faint. Why wasn’t she just coming out to meet me?

  “Grace, I’m in here!” Lennox repeated. Her voice sounded closer, so I was going the right way. Still feeling like an intruder, I ignored the art and pictures on the wall as if seeing them solidified the situation. I kept my eyes trained on the wood floor, following her voice.

  It lead me to a door in the hallway. Uncertain, I called out for her again.

  “Yes, I’m here!” Her voice filtered through the wood. I opened the closet door, surprised to see Lennox sitting on the floor beneath hanging coats.

  “Lennox?” I asked, uncertain as to what I’d stumbled upon.

  “Thank you!” Lennox stood up, uncrossing her legs from the floor. She steadied herself against the wall and brushed past me, as if I hadn’t just freed her from a dark closet, as if this was completely normal. She walked out of the room and I followed, feeling like a stray dog.

  She walked quickly, almost running down the hallway. We were at the staircase and I nearly tumbled into her when she stopped to talk to me. “The doorknob inside the closet is broken. Who knew? Not me. Obviously.” Lennox laughed and descended the staircase, me trailing after her brisk pace.

  “I’m so glad you came when you did,” Lennox continued. “The guests will be here any minute. Can you imagine if I was locked in when they came?”

  “Right…” I stared at Lennox, watching as she fumbled around the room fixing glasses and arranging food. I was beginning to accept that she wouldn’t tell me anything about why she’d been in the closet when quietly she said, “I go in there to think sometimes.”

  Lennox fingered the dangling ribbons on the balloons, the fine stems slipping through her fingers. The balloon bounced against the ceiling, making a badonk sound right as a knock so
unded on the door. I almost didn’t register it, but Lennox smiled at me and said, “Showtime.”

  “This is Lissie.” Lennox introduced me to a bombshell blonde with huge boobs, long legs, and bright red lipstick. She was smiling so bright her eyes were crinkled small.

  “It’s so great to meet you, Grace!” Lissie reached her hand out to me, shaking it fast. “I’ve heard so much about you I feel like I know you already.”

  I stammered, not sure what to say. Luckily Lennox saved me from embarrassment. “And this is her wife, Zoe.” Lennox gestured to the petite pixie-haired woman next to her. She had cocoa skin and short black hair. Though she was small, there was a fierceness about her that rivaled Lissie’s bubbling temperament.

  I looked back from Zoe to Lissie and Lissie to Zoe. I didn’t know why it hadn’t dawned on me at dinner, but these two women were lesbians and this was their combined shower.

  Okay, play it cool.

  I knew lesbians existed in the world. I’d never met them before, but just because you hadn’t seen something before didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Daddy had always told me that homosexuals were evil, but then I was learning that Daddy had said a lot of things that weren’t true.

  I believed that if you were good, that’s all that mattered.

  Still, as I looked at Lissie and Zoe, I felt worried. I was worried they would see Daddy in me. I was worried they would know I’d never met a lesbian before. I was worried they would think I didn’t like them or that I judged them. I wanted them to know I didn’t care. I could feel sweat forming on my palms.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, my voice cracking. I’d failed.

  Zoe smiled at me, her eyes sharp. “So you’re Vic’s sister.” It wasn’t a question.

  “It’s so obvious,” Lissie said, snaking her arm around Zoe’s. “If I’d seen her on the street I’d have known right away.”

  My words were stuck in my throat, like I’d swallowed especially gooey cheese.

  “Thanks,” I eventually replied, though I think it sounded like a question. Lissie winked and with that I’d met my first lesbians. Lissie and Zoe moved over to the couch, and Lennox soon followed. Everyone was mingling and playing little games that had to do with babies. One of them was to guess the due date.

  Blood. So much blood. More blood than I’d ever seen in my life. Flowing out of me like a flood.

  “Never again Miss Wall.”

  “Never again?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  I never realized how much I wanted it until they said I could never have it.

  The memories assaulted me like a bullet to the gut. I was thankful for the music and the laughter, because it meant no one noticed me keel over and clutch the countertop. I must have been an idiot coming to a baby shower. I thought I was safe, but the longer I stayed in California, the more I realized I couldn’t run from my memories.

  “What’s up? You’ve been standing over here for ten minutes. You’re missing the oh-so-important decorating of the onesies!” Lennox nudged my shoulder, giving me a brief respite from my memories.

  I laughed brokenly. “Just getting some food,” I lied, picking up a pig-in-a-blanket. Trying to change the subject, I asked Lennox, “You go into the closet to think?”

  “What?” Lennox poured herself pink lemonade from a glass pitcher. “Oh, yeah, that. Probably think I’m a weirdo.” Lennox smiled at me, taking a sip of the lemonade.

  I shook my head. “No.” And honestly, I didn’t. I was just curious. Why did going into a closet help her think? As if she could read my mind, Lennox spoke.

  “Sometimes my mind gets too loud. Everything from the walls to the lights exacerbates it and I just need…” She looked ahead of me, as if seeing something I couldn’t. “Quiet. The silence and darkness in the closet calms me down.” Lennox shrugged. “I stopped questioning it a while ago. There’s so much weirdness in my head that sometimes I just have to go with it, ya know?”

  I nodded. I got it. Well, I didn’t totally get it. Locking myself in a closet would freak me out more than help me, but I understood just going with it. I understood feeling so overwhelmed that you stopped questioning what helped you. When things pile on faster than a Louisiana flood, you don’t question the lifeboat. You just get on and hope that it takes you someplace better.

  “Oh my god!” Both Lennox and I turned our heads to see Lissie standing up, a half-opened present on the ground. Her face was a mixture of fear and excitement as she stared wide-eyed at her phone.

  “What? What is it?” Zoe jumped up with her.

  “Margaret is going into labor!” Lissie squealed.

  “What? Right now?” Zoe stood in front of Lissie, hands on both of her arms, trying to get her attention.

  “Yes right now!” Lissie looked around her, the excitement too much to process. “She just texted me. She’s on her way to the hospital!” Excited murmuring broke out among the crowd.

  “I’ll get you a cab,” Lennox said, stepping away from me.

  “Our overnight bag…” Zoe trailed off, looking a little lost.

  “We’re having a baby! Oh my god we’re having a baby! It’s going to be here, it’s going to be alive and in our arms. Oh my god! Oh my god!” Lissie fell back on to the couch, her chest rising and falling fast.

  “I’ll walk you out and grab your overnight bag on the way.” Lennox took both Zoe and Lissie by the arms, leading them out of the apartment.

  “We’re having a baby,” Zoe said as they walked through the door.

  “You’re having a baby,” Lennox repeated. I closed my eyes at their happiness, willing my memories to stay buried.

  “How many does Vic want?” I asked, throwing away the trays of unfinished food. Lennox was back but the party had cleared out. I stayed behind to help her clean and our conversation turned to babies—the baby shower, the baby decorations, and the baby probably had something to do with it.

  “Jesus, like five. And I’m like five? One tops.” Lennox paused, a piece of torn wrapping paper in her hand, and laughed. “No not even one. Half of one is all I could manage.”

  I laughed. “Half? What’s half a child?”

  “I’d imagine a boarding school child,” Lennox said, shrugging. “I’d send it away from my crazy and see it on the holidays.”

  “You’re crazy?” The question fell out of my mouth before I realized how intrusive it was.

  “I’m bipolar,” Lennox explained. “Most days it’s a win for me to just get out of the fucking bed. It’s a home run if I put on any decent clothing at all.”

  I gawked at her. “That’s ridiculous. Look at you! You’re gorgeous and all done up.”

  Lennox laughed. “You say the nicest things. Look closely. My nails are a mess, bitten unevenly with the paint torn off. I’m only wearing a little lip gloss. Why? Because I was too depressed to put on makeup today. I’m wearing a dress because I was too tired to put on underwear.” Lennox paused, looking around at the mess of wrapping paper and balloons before continuing. “My point is, Grace, you see what you want to see. You’re comparing yourself to a version of me that doesn’t add up to reality. That’s okay, though, because…” Lennox laughed softly. “Shit, what even is reality? I’m taking pills that are supposed to give me the answer and even I can’t tell you.”

  “You own your business, though.” I’d overheard her talking with Zoe and Lissie. They owned some kind of event planning business. I hadn’t gotten the specifics, but I’d heard enough to know that Lissie and Zoe’s maternity leave was causing Lennox stress. “You’re successful with great friends and a great life.”

  Lennox choked on her spit. “I wouldn’t say it like that, but I’m not completely hopeless. It took me a long while to get to this point. A long while. With a lot—and I mean a metric fuck ton—of missteps and mistakes along the way. My deepest fear, dear Grace, is that I’ll impart my crazy to my child.”

  I thought back to Daddy. “Like your genetics?”

  Lennox
laughed. “No. I could handle a crazy child. I fear that I’ll, I don’t know, go crazy and hurt my child. Not like drown it in the bathtub crazy; I don’t think I could ever do that. Something more subversive, more insidious. I fear that I’ll just mentally mess up my child. I don’t think I’ll ever be a fit mom.”

  I nodded, still thinking about Daddy. “Vic doesn’t agree?”

  “Vic thinks I’m too compassionate to ever hurt our kids, but then Vic doesn’t completely understand mental illness. Part of him still thinks you can control it.”

  I laughed. “Well I hope that’s not true. Then that would mean my daddy really wanted to do all that messed up stuff to me.”

  Lennox threw the trash bag down and slunk on to the couch, officially giving up any pretense that we were cleaning. “You don’t talk much about your dad.”

  I shrugged. “Not much to talk about. How are you going to stop yourself from having kids?” I asked, trying to switch the subject from me and Daddy.

  Lenny sighed. “Well I have an appointment to tie my tubes next week. I haven’t told—”

  “Is the shower over already?” Like clockwork Vic walked into the apartment. The living room looked like a battlefield. Ribbons and torn wrapping paper littered the floor like the shell casings of an old war while the unopened presents sat as ghosts of the party.

  “Margaret went into labor early,” Lennox explained. “So Zoe and Lissie had to run to the hospital to meet her.”

  As Lennox and Vic talked, that familiar ache in my belly sounded. I’d thought I could handle the baby shower and everything that went with it, but at the mention of Zoe and Lissie’s new baby, I felt like crumbling. Even months later, it was still too soon.

  “What were you two talking about?” Vic asked casually as he unloaded groceries.

  “Tying my tubes,” Lennox said just as casually. Vic stopped unloading, his hand still inside the grocery bag.

  “What?” Vic’s voice edged on dangerous.