Even Wilder

by Bria Leigh

  “I am going to come with you.” She squeezed me tight. “Because this is more than just some dust. It’s your mother. And I can see you’re having a hard time with it.”

  “My hard time ended the night she died. It worked out for me,” I said, letting her go.

  The night she died, I didn’t have to think about her anymore—what she was doing to herself or Bing.

  “Wilder.” Lorna touched my face. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  “Who’s pretending?”

  “You are.”

  I laughed. I rubbed my face, tired of talking about Mom.

  “Let’s go,” Lorna said. She grabbed my car keys from the table by the front door and gave me a look to get my ass moving.

  “What about Bing?”

  “Bing?” She shouted.

  “Yeah?”

  “Stay here while we run an errand, alright?”

  “Yeah, fine,” he said, coming out into the hallway. “Can you pick up mountain dew?”

  Lorna nodded. “We will. Lock the door and don’t let anyone inside okay?”

  He nodded. I nodded in agreement and followed Lorna out the front door. She wasn’t going to let me get out of this.

  I took out my phone and texted Violet.

  Your mom is forcing me to pick up my mom’s dust.

  She replied right away.

  Good. Should I come back?

  It was selfish to need her, but if I was going to get through this shit with my mother, I needed Violet by my side.

  I need you to.

  Then that’s what I will do.

  LORNA WAS SITTING ACROSS from me, texting someone. Maybe Violet. Telling her I was wasted and losing my shit. I wasn’t sure, but that was my guess.

  I couldn’t keep my legs still. I just kept bouncing them, staring at the morbid fucking sign on the wall of the office we were sitting in. Nobody wanted kind words and fucking butterflies at a time like this.

  My stomach felt sicker every moment that ticked by on the clock on the wall. Why couldn’t this guy hurry up and hand her over?

  Were they hoping I was going to break down? Was it the reason for the room?

  “You need to learn how to relax,” Lorna informed me. She crossed her legs and went on texting. Hey Luna, as much as I am happy with your choice to date Wilder. I think he has serious mental issues, be careful—I imagined her saying.

  I didn’t know if the rum was a good idea anymore. I was about to launch it all over the room if this guy didn’t pick up the pace.

  Lorna pushed her red hair behind her ear and set her phone down on the seat next to her. “You okay?”

  I sat up, dropping my arms on my legs. “You talking to Vi?”

  She shook her head. “Garrett, actually.”

  Well, now I felt like a dumb ass. “How’s that going?”

  “Good. I never thought I would be so happy to connect with a man from my past. But I am. He’s just as great as he was back then.”

  “Looks like Violet did the right thing then,” I said, happy for the change of topic. “I wasn’t so sure at first. I figured this guy was some washed-up nobody. He seems like a good dude.”

  What I knew of him anyway, the death of my mother blotted out the rest of the night for me. I closed my eyes begging the vomit to stay put.

  It wasn’t listening as well as I would have liked.

  I STARED AT THE BOX in my lap as Lorna drove me back to the house. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was heavier and lighter than I expected it to be.

  And I just sat there worried it was going to spill on me if I didn’t hold onto it.

  I drummed up the last memory I had of my mother and imagined her being shoved into a hot oven and incinerated. I imagined the woman who gave birth to me all jammed in a box and tossed in a bag.

  I could barely remember the sound of her voice anymore. And I tried. I tried to remember how she sounded when she told me how much I inconvenienced her fucking life. How much I looked just like my father—even though I never met him. The way she would look at me after a fresh ass-kicking by her boyfriend. Resent maybe. I know it wasn’t sadness or pity.

  Her half-assed apologies for another bruise, scar, or fractured bone — a wadded-up towel when my nose was full of blood.

  Why didn’t she ever apologize?

  Just once, I wanted to hear it— any fucking answer for the poor choices that fucked me up. Anything was better than nothing.

  I just had scars and demons swirling around in my thoughts. The more I moved on, the harder they fought to drag me back to hell. I wanted to be a better person than her—a better person than all the men she let ruin everything.

  She was dead, and I was okay with it. And that made me feel as terrible as she used to be.

  Lorna pulled into the driveway. She parked the car and climbed out. She looked at me before deciding to leave me where I was and go inside.

  I finally raised my head, staring out the window. One single tear escaping down my cheek.

  Fucking trader. I wiped it away.

  LORNA TAPPED ON THE window of my car. “Are you going to come in?” It had been a couple of hours. I was sure she was thinking about calling for help.

  I got out, my body thanking me for the full stretch.

  “What am I going to say to Bing?” That’s all that I wanted to know at that moment. “Do I hand her over and tell him to have fun?”

  “You tell him you’re here for him. And if there is anything you can do to help, just let you know.”

  I sighed heavily. “I want to punt her back across the street.”

  Lorna bit her tongue. She wasn’t about to try and argue that I was wrong for feeling the way I did. She knew why I felt the way I did. She came to my rescue a lot over the years.

  I took a seat on the porch steps. I just wanted to put an end to that box of my fucking mother.

  I CAME THROUGH THE door with the box. And I set it down right on the coffee table. Welcome home, Mom. Nothing was further from the truth. She wasn’t welcome in my house. I never let her visit. I didn’t want her in my home, my one refuge since I was eighteen and able to free myself from her grip. I’d have moved to the other side of the planet, if not for Bing.

  “Bing. Get out here.” It was time to end the story of our mother. Time to move the fuck on. I told Lorna to go home. I wanted to deal with our mother in private—just Bing and me.

  Bing reluctantly came down the hallway. He knew something was up. Like I said, he wasn’t an idiot. He sat far away from the coffee table in my old recliner. And he avoided looking at the box.

  “Here she is,” I started. I hadn’t gone over it in my head. I didn’t know how to deal with a grieving twelve-year-old. I just knew how I would handle it. “Whatever you want to say, now is the time to say it.”

  I hadn’t prepared for the moment my little brother would have to see what happened when you lived a shitty life and the outcome of it. But there I was.

  He scratched his head, looking at me for help. He didn’t know what to do.

  I sat forward a little. “Like, what are you thinking?”

  “About what?”

  “About anything.” How the fuck did it make him feel?

  He shrugged, bracing his arms on the chair. “She liked the water. Sometimes she would take me to the lake, and we’d feed the birds.” He sat back in his seat.

  News to me. “Okay. Anything else?”

  “I think we should put her ashes there,” he said. “I think she would like that.”

  “She’s not here anymore. She’s not going to know she’s scattered in the lake.” I snapped. I knew I shouldn’t. I didn’t want to snap at the kid. This was what I was afraid would happen.

  He jumped up, screaming at me. Full of anger, his face red, and his fist balled. “That’s because you don’t care. You hate her. Even now when she’s dead. Throw her away then. Do whatever you want.”

  He shoved past me when I tried to stop him and went back to his room an
d slammed the door shut.

  I went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, cracked it open and took a sip leaning against the counter. I was such an asshole. I looked at the stack of mail on the counter. Lorna must have cleaned up earlier. I took the letter off the pile and tore it open.

  I read it twice just to make sure I wasn’t seeing shit. This wasn’t what I expected. I crumbled the paper into a tight ball and tossed it in the trash. And walked over and stomped it deep down inside so nobody could ever see it again.

  And then I pulled the bag out and tied it up and walked it outside to the trash bins. I tossed it in and slammed the lid shut.

  “Fuck!”

  Violet

  I DIDN’T GO HOME WHEN I got back. I parked in Wilder’s driveway and went right up the stairs to him. Mom said he was having a tough time. She said we could talk later.

  I didn’t knock on the door. I just went inside. The door was open. The house was quiet—too quiet. No television, no music. Nothing.

  A box of which I assumed were his mom’s ashes sat on the coffee table. I walked over and stared at them. Oh, the things I wanted to say to her for so many years. For all the things she put Wilder through. But it didn’t matter now because she was gone, and she couldn’t hurt him anymore.

  I walked down the hall and peeked into Bing’s room. He was passed out in his bed, laying over the covers instead of under them. I went in and took a blanket out of the closet and put it over him. He didn’t flinch or even notice. He was in a deep sleep.

  I went to Wilder’s room. And just like I thought, he was asleep on the bed, facedown in his pillow. I crawled across the bed and laid down next to him. I didn’t want to wake him up. But I wanted to be near him. I missed him.

  He was going through a lot. I put my hand on his back. I just laid there, feeling him breathe, his body rising and falling with every breath. His warm skin soothed me. Wilder felt like home. My safe place.

  I kissed the side of his face.

  He rolled over, coming real close. We were nose to nose.

  “Hi.” His voice was gruff, laced with sleep and stress. He smoothed my hair and moved in, snagging my lips with his.

  We silently worked ourselves out of our clothes in a hurry to connect. We both needed it. Wilder pulled me close, his body delicious and warm. He was ready for action.

  I kissed him hard, pressing him into his pillows. I let him know how much I missed him. I could taste the beer on him. It seemed he was still using other means of coping besides calling me. I didn’t blame him. His mother was in his living room, nothing but a pile of ash. I’d probably be mainlining street drugs if my mother were murdered. I couldn’t be mad at him. We all had to cope.

  He had me underneath him fast. His large frame looming, making me feel small and vulnerable. It was hot. And knowing he would never hurt me and only wanted to make me feel good, I welcomed all of him—every inch.

  This was the third time we had sex, and we hadn’t used any protection. I don’t know what was going on in his mind. But what we were doing was stupid. I didn’t want to be the stupid girl who ended up pregnant before she was ready. But another part of me didn’t care. I was all in with Wilder. Ready to handle anything and everything willing to come our way.

  Was he? I couldn’t say for sure. But I knew if he had to be a father, he would, and he would do it beautifully.

  I wanted every part of him. I didn’t want anything putting a barrier between what we felt for one another. I would probably regret it one day, but right now, I was living in the moment.

  That’s the kind of person I was. I believed whatever was meant to be would be. And no birth control would stop it. No condom would prevent it from happening if it was supposed to happen.

  He slid into me hard and fast, not stopping until I dug my nails into his backside. He fucked me until I had nothing left to give. Once I was satisfied, he took what he wanted, biting my neck, so he didn’t wake Bing up. And his hips stopped moving.

  He kissed me, still inside of me. He dipped his tongue past my lips, giving me a long hard kiss.

  He pulled out and laid next to me out of breath. “I needed that.” He took my hand, squeezing it. “How was the drive?”

  I looked over at him. “Not bad. I played sudoku on my phone the whole way here.”

  “Thank you for coming. I know you had classes.”

  “It’s not a problem. How’s Bing?” I rested my hands against my stomach.

  There was a tension in the air at the mention of Bing. I could feel it. The way he sat up in bed and pulled at his hair. Something was going on, and he didn’t know how to explain it.

  Something wasn’t right. I sat up too. We both stared at each other. Wilder looked me straight in the eyes when he delivered the news. “Bing’s dad wrote me a letter. He wants Bing to come live with him. He says he’s got his shit together, and Bing belongs with him.”

  I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. “Bing doesn’t even know him.”

  Wilder wasn’t arguing that. He knew what kind of person Bing’s father was in the past. The man never wanted anything to do with Bing. And now, after all of this, he was going to tear him away from the one family member he had. For what?

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “He’s not taking Bing.”

  Wilder’s eyes got big. He covered my mouth. “He’s across the hall. Be quiet.”

  “You’re not telling him, are you?”

  He shook his head. “He doesn’t need to know about some drug addict who suddenly decided he wants to be his dad. He’s got me. He’s got you and your mom.”

  “What if he finds out?”

  Wilder threw up his hands. “Stop. I’m not going to let anyone take Bing from me. It’s not going to happen.”

  I kept the rest of my thoughts to myself, drawing my knees up and wrapping my arms around them. I didn’t feel good about it. “Okay.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  “I just got here.”

  He got under the covers. “Big day tomorrow.”

  “What?” I got under the covers with him and rested my head against his chest.

  “Taking my mom to the lake. Bing wants to scatter her ashes there.”

  His heartbeat grew faster. I kissed his racing heart, and he held me tight.

  Wilder

  BING CLIMBED OUT THE back off my car when we pulled up to the lake. He was ready for the little celebration I promised. He even wore black and brushed his hair instead of the usual wild waves on his head.

  Violet was still in the car, on her phone. She was trying to explain the situation at home and why she was missing class — trying to arrange her life to suit mine.

  Looking at the water made me a bit sick. She never took me to the water. We never went anywhere. I wanted to be happy for my brother, but I was angry. She left me with not even one happy memory.

  Bing leaned against the car, staring at the water with me. “We should have brought bread.”

  I nodded, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “We did.”

  He grinned, looking up at me. “Are you serious?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, where is it?” He didn’t believe me. I went to the trunk and opened it up pulling out a loaf of bread and an entire picnic basket Violet put together for our moment.

  “You packed food?” His grin got even bigger.

  “Violet packed food. Sandwiches and chips and stuff.” She thought of everything to make the day special for Bing.

  “She wasn’t always so bad. Sometimes we made forts in the dining room and told ghost stories. We’d even fall asleep under the table.” Bing smiled, staring out at the water. “One time, she even roasted marshmallows on the stove for me.”

  I imagined our mother doing any of that — a genuine look of happiness on her face. Her living life and enjoying the time she spent with her kid—it was too hard to believe.

  But I was happy Bing had those moments. Bette
r to have something then to be like me living your life bitter and full of resentment. One day I prayed that I would get over all the bullshit. My heart was heavy and full of pain. And I didn’t know how to get rid of that pain.

  “Okay. Who wants a sandwich?” Violet said, coming up behind us. She took the picnic basket from me and walked it over to the picnic table by the water.

  “I’m hungry,” Bing admitted, he sat down next to her. They made it a big ordeal setting up the table and plates and putting out our drinks and silverware. I don’t know why she thought we even needed silverware. It just looked like a bunch of sandwiches and chips.

  “Wilder, come on,” she said, calling me over.

  I took the spot across from them and stared at the food on my plate.

  “What was your mom’s favorite food?” She looked at Bing and took a bite of her sandwich. She was smiling at him as he thought about it.

  “I want to say chicken noodle soup,” he told her.

  I chewed my food bitterly.

  I wanted to tell them how stupid it all was. Pound my fist on the table and ask them to stop talking about her. But I didn’t. I just kept on chewing my food. And I let Bing have his moment. He needed the moment.

  Bing sighed, the smile sliding off of his face. “I can’t believe Silas killed her.”

  The difference between the two of us, I could believe it. It was bound to happen. You couldn’t live your life with a bunch of violent assholes always around and expect a good outcome. Those were the facts. It killed her.

  He looked up, fighting the tears that were trying to get out. “Nobody can hurt her anymore.”

  Patience. Hold it together.

  I wanted to punch my fist through my sandwich and the picnic table. Bing was young. His life wasn’t supposed to be about trying to find the silver lining on the murder of his mother. He was supposed to be chasing girls after school and shooting hoops with his friends.

  “Just remember she’s always watching over you,” Violet told him.