by Rosa Sophia
“What? Seriously?” He was taken aback, and she tilted her head in question. “I live on Grizzly Lane.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He slumped back, looking out at the gray day. “You know that house on the corner, by the empty lot? The broken-down one with the old Chevy pick-up parked out front?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s my house.”
“Oh, wow. I can’t believe we live on the same street.”
“Me, either.” He smirked. “It’s nice to think I’m so…close to you.”
Her eyes widened for a split second, her cheeks turning a brighter red, before she slipped off the hood of the car and glanced at her watch. “Oh, uh, I gotta go. I have to study for my GED.”
He jumped off the hood as well. “If you need any help—”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.” She froze for a moment. “Um, so, I guess I’ll see ya.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you,” he mumbled.
Within seconds, she was gone. Shit. What did I say?
He hurriedly covered his face with a scarf and the hood of his jacket, knowing he’d have to start doing it regularly. A sudden bout of pain nearly made him forget Tammy’s harried disappearance, and he spent the rest of his day off in bed, wishing he could die but knowing he would only fail.
13
Chapter Thirteen
Tammy felt the mattress sink beside her. She didn’t open her eyes right away, knowing it was morning and she didn’t want to get up. Autumn chill was quick to arrive in Wyoming, and it felt too warm and cozy under the covers to even consider moving.
But she’d told Orion she wanted to hang out with him at the shop while he worked, and she was looking forward to it.
“Tammy?”
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled as Clara wrapped her hand around the fingers of Tammy’s left hand. Tammy gently squeezed back. “What’s up?”
“I heard you crying out last night. Another nightmare?”
“Yes. Every night.” She curled into a ball, all of a sudden wishing she could shrivel into nothing.
“I’m sorry. I know some people you can talk to who’ve helped me and—”
“No. No, I can’t.” She rolled to her side, opening her eyes to find her cousin sitting there, clad in a pair of slacks and a blouse.
“Okay. I have to head to the library in a few, but I wanted to talk to you.”
“Get to the point,” she grumbled. “I don’t want to get up.”
“Aunt Nan…I mean, your mom called. She wanted to know why you haven’t been answering your phone. She says it goes straight to voicemail.”
“Oops.” Tammy widened her eyes, then dragged herself up into a sitting position. “I forgot about it the last day or so. I’m just not used to having it.”
“I thought so.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. She said Uncle Harris’s health isn’t so good.”
Clara’s tone was edged with discomfort. Both of them had suffered abuse at his hands, and half the time, he never remembered it because he was too drunk. The news that he wasn’t doing well was met with apathy from both girls.
“Well, so?” Tammy retorted, her tone brusque as she climbed out of bed and began picking out her clothes for the day from the dresser across the room. “It’s probably from all the drinking he does.”
“Actually, I don’t know about that.” Clara tugged her legs against her chest, leaning back against the headboard. “Remember how Grandpa Pendleton died?”
“Yeah.” Tammy stopped digging through her dresser. She turned on her heel, holding a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of underwear. “You’re not saying that—”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Clara’s expression was cold, steely-eyed.
“Oh.” Tammy had never seen her appear so empty of emotion. The distant look on her face was chilling, mostly because she recognized it. She’d seen it many times in her own eyes whenever she looked in the mirror.
Clara interlocked her fingers over her legs. “Uncle Harris has a brain tumor. And it’s bad.”
* * *
Tammy thought back to when she’d left home. She hadn’t been able to enjoy the warm, sunny day, not when all she could think about was getting as far away from her father as possible. At the same time, whenever she looked at her mother puttering around in the kitchen, seeming unaware of everything that had gone on under her own roof, guilt roiled within her, nearly causing a breakdown.
She’d been so sure for so long that something was wrong with her. That she was being punished. Now, everything she knew was crumbling. Her mother, whom she’d once regarded as an adoring parent she could go to whenever she needed advice or support, had suddenly appeared different in her mind as she began to wonder what secrets Nan was hiding. What did she know that she wasn’t discussing?
Most of all, Tammy had wondered if her mother knew what Daddy did to her. How he touched her. She wasn’t certain she could trust Mom.
Her heart ached, and she decided she couldn’t trust anyone.
The sights and the people of Clearwater were overwhelming to her. She’d barely ever left home before moving to Grizzly Lane, and though she was glad to be on the other side of town and farther away from her father, her fears only increased because she was around so many people she barely knew. People who were interested in her, who treated her like anyone else.
They didn’t know. They couldn’t possibly understand that whenever she spoke to them, her stomach was turning and terror was rising up within her, making her throat dry.
Especially Orion. He made her uncomfortable, but in a different way. She was less afraid of him, but he stirred something within her she’d never felt before.
“Orion?” She sat down beside him in the break room at Pete’s Service Station.
“Yes.” He looked up from whatever he was writing in his notebook, surveying her with an expression of admiration and compassion that made her blush.
“I’m sorry I walked off on you the other day. I just…I get nervous. I’m not…I’m not very good around people.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” He returned to writing, and for a long while, they remained silent. The only sound was the pen scratching on paper.
“What’re you writing?”
Orion was bent over a notebook. He quickly shut it. “Just…poems.”
“Poems? Really?” She clasped her hands in her lap.
“Sure.” He grabbed a potato chip from his lunch bag and popped it into his mouth. He offered her a chip, and she shook her head. “I’ve always liked writing poetry, but it’s something I keep to myself.”
Tammy thought of the notebook she kept by her bedside table. “Me, too,” she admitted, her voice low.
“Don’t worry, we’re alone. You can say it louder than that,” he teased.
“I’m not embarrassed by it,” she muttered, but she could feel her cheeks heating. She nodded toward his notebook. “Can I read one?”
He appeared uncertain for a moment. Then he opened the notebook to a particular page and slid it across the table. She read it slowly, realizing she was sweating despite the chill.
Sit with me, lean against me
let me run my fingers through your hair
thread my arm around yours
interlock our hands
just sit with me
this moment, all alone
will twirl about my mind
for days and years to come
She looked up, her hand on the crinkled notebook paper, and realized he was staring at her, the corners of his lips quirking upward.
“Wow. Um.” She cleared her throat, averting her eyes, but it seemed as if no matter what she did, her gaze returned to him. “That’s…it’s pretty.”
She slid the notebook back toward him. She didn’t want to ask him about the poem, but she couldn’t help herself. It was obvious he had a girlfriend, a woman in his life he was enamored with. For some reason, the very thou
ght bothered her, and she wasn’t sure why. “So, who’s it about?”
He chuckled, leaning back in the wooden chair. She realized she was holding her breath. He ran a hand through his hair as if nervous.
“You, Tammy. It’s about you.”
14
Chapter Fourteen
The house, including his bedroom, smelled like his mother’s stale cigarettes. Orion clambered out of bed, his face aching. It had been a cold night, and the chill had penetrated. The cold aggravated his nerves, worsening the pain. As it increased, electric shocks pulsing across the right side of his face, he knew right away he wouldn’t be able to go to work.
Thankfully, Pete had Danny at the shop, and his boss was understanding. He knew about Orion’s condition. Talking could be painful, so rather than call, he sent a text message to Pete.
Pain coming. 15 minutes I will be in agony. Cannot come in. So sorry.
His phone buzzed a moment later as he sat on his bed, gritting his teeth. He read the text from Pete:
Please take care. Go to hospital if needed.
Orion didn’t bother to reply. By this point, he was already clenching his fists and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He had tried to kill himself once from the pain. He wouldn’t attempt it again. He was a different person than he’d been at fourteen, a stronger man.
He had decided he would never give up. Trigeminal neuralgia would not win.
I have to eat something before it gets worse.
Rising to his feet, he staggered into the kitchen in his pajamas, his right eye twisted shut, his jaw clenched reflexively. He leaned against the counter, taking a moment to attempt to relax every muscle in his face. Sometimes, it helped. This time, it alleviated the pain only slightly. He knew he was in for a terrible attack as he dug through the cabinet and tugged down a box of cereal, then poured some into a bowl and soaked it with milk.
He shoveled the food into his mouth despite the pain of chewing, finishing it just as his father walked in from doing some yard work out back. Alvin Bennett was a man of average height, with very little hair left on his head, and an almost perpetual stern expression on his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” He shut the door behind him and eyed Orion with obvious disappointment.
“Pain attack,” Orion supplied, not wanting to go into detail. As the pain worsened, even talking hurt, and he couldn’t handle his father berating him. Not now.
“It’s all in your head. One of these days, you’ll realize it. Call out of work again, eh?”
Orion wanted to scream, but instead, he placed his empty cereal bowl in the sink and screwed his mouth shut.
His father continued as he slipped out of his coat and hung it on the rack. “You need to toughen up, kid. My father, your grandpa, went through hell when he was younger, but he still worked every day and did what he had to for his family.” His father took the bottle of Orion’s medication and tossed it in the trash. “You don’t need that shit. Get over it.”
Fury swam with the misery inside him as Orion snatched the bottle from the trash, wrapped his arms around his body, and groaned as a stabbing lanced through his face.
“You don’t understand,” he bit out, before vaulting toward his bedroom and curling up on disheveled blankets. He rolled to the side, then gasped when the right side of his face touched the pillow. It was so wrong that touching his face had to hurt, and even more wrong that this pain was for nothing.
It meant nothing.
It had no purpose. It couldn’t kill him. It could only destroy his soul if he let it.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if it would hurt to kiss Tammy. The thought made him crazy and he shrieked in pain as another stab made it seem as if someone were gouging out his face with a rusty knife. He bucked on the bed like a man who’d been hooked up to electrodes and screamed, clawing at his skin and wishing he could tear his face off and become a new person. Sometimes, he remained silent because moving and making noise made the pain worse. But other times, he reasoned if he could push himself to the threshold of absolute agony, then it couldn’t get worse.
His father had seen this before.
Seen it with his own eyes.
Yet, he still believed it was psychosomatic, that Orion created it to get attention.
He had nothing, no one. Oh God. I fucking wish I were fucking dead. He barely heard the door to his bedroom open.
He extended bitterness toward anything around him that failed to help him—even the furniture. It just sat there, existing, frozen in place, while he writhed in pain and wished, prayed, that he would one day have the privilege to just sit, to do nothing more than exist. And then not exist.
The mattress sank down beside him.
“Oh, God,” Orion mumbled. “Oh God oh God oh God.”
A firm, warm hand landed on his bare arm. “Son.”
Orion made a pathetic sound in reply. To an outsider, it might have seemed like the cry of a dying animal. He couldn’t open his eyes to look at his father because the pain was too great. And even if it weren’t, he didn’t care to set his gaze upon the man who’d just disregarded his condition and tossed his medication in the trash can. Fury boiled within him, making the pain worse. Beneath his skin, his veins pounded, and slices of intense horror crossed his face like a knife making constant incisions, back and forth, back and forth—
“Son.” His father’s voice broke, and he began to weep. Orion could hear it, but he almost didn’t believe it. “I’m so…so sorry. Your mother. It’s her I’m angry with, not you. This constant battle with her. Dumping out the alcohol, looking for it…trying to find anything…” He sobbed. “Anything she brings home. I don’t know what to do. For every hiding spot I find, she gets another one. Fuck, look at me. A grown man sitting here crying. Forgive me, Orion, please forgive me.”
He opened his left eye as he slammed his fist into the mattress, and in the midst of his pain—his attempt to distract himself by punching the blankets—he saw his father’s shoulders shuddering in a different kind of pain, tears wetting his face as he leaned forward and shook his head in sorrow.
Right now, Orion didn’t care. He couldn’t. Nothing mattered. When the pain came, the person he was disappeared. He would never be the same.
15
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Tammy’s phone buzzed with a text message. She had given her number to Orion, and her excitement surprised her when she saw it was him. Goose bumps rose on her flesh, and she bounced slightly on her heels. She was glad Clara wasn’t home to see how silly she was being.
Hey, would you like to go out with me this evening after I get out of work?
She slumped down on her bed, unable to believe he was asking her out. A million thoughts overwhelmed her. I’ve never been on a date. What do I do? Is it like in the books I’ve read?
She had learned about life more from books than from her parents, who’d sheltered her until they couldn’t anymore. She hoped she wouldn’t do anything wrong, because she had no idea how to proceed. She stared at his message for a long time before sending her reply.
Sure. Where?
He suggested they walk, and meet near the corner of Grizzly Lane and Main Street. She almost asked why they couldn’t just meet at his house, since she had to go by his place, anyway, but she decided not to, because she wasn’t sure if it would go against the lines of proper dating etiquette—whatever that was.
After setting aside her phone, which she now looked at more often than usual because Orion had her number, she spent a few hours studying for her GED. She hoped her score would be high enough to award her the equivalent of a high school diploma.
Alone in her bedroom, she was glad she had taken this route. She wasn’t ready to meet a lot of people as Clara was doing for her studies. She was proud of her cousin, who had an easier time adapting than she did. In a way, she was jealous of her.
Then she thought of the shop, Orion, and her desire to become a mechanic.
&n
bsp; She knew she would get where she needed to be, even if it took her a bit longer than it took Clara.
By the time she had finished reading another chapter in her study book and taken notes, the morning had dwindled away into nothing.
Craving fresh air, she got herself together and went out into Clearwater, where the sun was shining and puffy clouds drifted through the sky.
Just don’t think about tonight, she warned herself.
She knew it was impossible. She would worry about their date no matter how hard she tried not to. Especially since her first instinct was to cancel, and then find a way to avoid talking to him ever again.
She couldn’t stop her fears. But she knew she couldn’t let fear stop her from living.
* * *
She walked past the cars parked on the street, stepping around a sleek Harley Davidson. The library welcomed her like an old friend. At her parents’ house, books had been her only companions. The Pendleton library in the old family homestead brimmed with books, and despite her father’s bad qualities, he’d allowed her and Clara full access. Tammy read constantly, and it provided the escape she needed.
Now, she knew Clearwater Public Library would become her haven, the one place she felt most comfortable.
Heading in to grab a book, she spotted the town historian, Alex Monrow, standing to the right of the entrance in the lobby. She watched as the slim, delicate-looking woman tugged a black motorcycle helmet off her head and ran her hand through her hair to smooth it.
“Hey!” Alex turned, spotting her. “Tammy, how are you?”
“Fine, but…” She glanced out the window, seeing the bike in full view. “Is that yours?” she asked, nodding toward it.
“Oh, yes. That’s my baby.” Alex grinned, her helmet under her arm. The leather of her jacket creaked, and the buckles on her motorcycle boots glimmered in the sunlight that streamed in the wide windows. She nodded toward her office. “Come on in with me, if you like.”