Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  I lean over and hug him, breathing in his comforting smell, holding on to him tight, and willing the old dad to come back now. It’s okay, Dad. We’re gonna be okay.

  “So when can you come back to school?” I ask as he kisses the top of my head and ruffles Tucker’s hair.

  “I’m going to call Eduardo right now and find out,” he says, grabbing his cell phone off the counter and walking up to his study. He’s back down in a few minutes and smiles.

  “The county called Eduardo and set up a meeting for us tomorrow,” he says. “Let’s go out to eat.”

  Tucker and I both perk up and run to the door to get our shoes. We haven’t gone out for food since before this whole thing started. Mom said it was just easier; the less people that saw us, the more people would forget about Dad’s involvement—or lack thereof—so we’ve been staying pretty incognito. We started doing our grocery shopping in the next town over and avoided all public get-togethers in general. I’m ready to get back into the Tilden life. I’m ready for my town to bring me that same warm, cozy feeling it always has. The one that says, “Relax. You’re home.”

  We get to Jenny’s, our favorite diner in the center of town, and my dad already seems like he’s back to being his old self. He’s smiling at the wait staff, and so far, nothing has reminded us of why it’s taken us so long to get back here.

  We’re sharing a huge plate of fries when a family walks in and is seated at the booth adjacent to ours.

  I’m not sure if it’s just me being observant, or if it’s the sensitivity to the subject I’ve come to acquire, but I feel their eyes on us over and over. Finally, I turn my head and make eye contact with the mother, who’s staring at us with narrowed eyes.

  She whispers something to her husband who also looks up at us. Her two kids, who I recognize from school, look over at us then look back down at their plates.

  I stand up from the booth. My mother pulls on my hand, but I ignore her.

  “Mare, sit down,” Dad whispers. “Just ignore it.”

  But I’m done ignoring it. It’s been too goddamn long. Too much bad press. Too many panned shots of our house on the news. Too many instances of my dad’s name being dragged through the mud. Shit’s getting old.

  “Can we help you?” I ask, my voice loud and booming through the small diner. Everything around us gets eerily quiet. My mother ducks her head on the table, shielding her eyes. My father scoots closer to the edge of the booth, getting ready to pounce.

  The woman at the table crosses her arms over her chest and leans back, rolling her eyes in my direction.

  “No, I think your family has done quite enough to this town, thank you,” she says, spinning around to unfold her napkin and lay it on her lap.

  “Excuse me?” I say, feeling every inch of me begin to shake with anger.

  “You heard me, girlie,” she says.

  “He had nothing to do with it,” I say behind clenched teeth. “You’ll be interested to know that he has officially been cleared as a suspect.”

  She looks past me, at my dad, then back to the table.

  “Humph,” she says. “I’ll believe that when—”

  “When what? When you hear it on TV? Real reliable,” I say. “Do you know my dad? Has he taught your children?”

  “No, thank goodness,” she says.

  “That’s enough, Maryn, let it go,” my dad says.

  “Yeah, let it go,” the woman says. She waves her waitress over. “We’d like to change tables. I don’t need my kids near this man.”

  The waitress looks back at us with shame in her eyes then nods her head and obliges. The woman leans in toward our table as they walk past.

  “You might want to keep your own kids away from him, too,” she says to my mother. I can’t hold myself back. I lunge after her just as my dad stands up and wraps his arms around me, holding me back and squeezing me.

  “Fuck you, lady!” I cry, and I hear my mother gasp.

  Dad turns to our waiter.

  “We’ll take our food to go,” he says, defeat in his voice.

  My mother has tears streaming down her face, and Tucker is staring blankly ahead.

  We shouldn’t have come out.

  I’m crying. Mom’s crying. And Dad’s seconds away from losing his shit.

  We’re in the car, driving home, and Dad reaches his hand back and squeezes mine.

  “We’re gonna be okay, kid,” he says. I squeeze his hand back.

  “They can’t say things about you,” I say, wiping the tears from my face. “They aren’t true.”

  “I know, kid. I know. Truth is, they can say whatever they want. We just have the power not to listen,” he says.

  I nod and rest my head against my window.

  The next day, I’m anxiously checking my phone in seventh period, waiting for the good news. I can’t wait for Dad to get back to work. I can’t wait for life to get back to normal. To shove it in all those people’s faces who doubted him.

  My phone buzzes, and I look down to see a message from Mom.

  Call me when you’re done.

  No emoji, no smiley, nothing.

  Not good.

  I raise my hand and ask to go to the bathroom. I scurry out into the hall and dial her.

  “What is it? When can he come back?” I ask before she can even say hello. Mom sighs into the phone.

  “I’m coming to get you.”

  No. No, no, no, no. Not again. My stomach is turning and flipping on itself, making me feel queasier by the minute.

  I walk back into my classroom and gather my books, dumping them into my backpack. I walk out of the room without saying a word, Mr. Patterson calling my name and staring after me as I walk away.

  Mom signs me out again then grabs my bookbag and carries it to the car. She shuts the door, and I turn to her.

  “When can he come back?” I ask her again.

  She drops her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. Then, she looks up at me.

  “He’s not,” she says.

  “What?” I ask, my throat burning.

  “The county called him in today to tell him that they can no longer employ him,” Mom says.

  “H-how? He was cleared!”

  “I know, hon. We all know. But they claim it’s bad press for the county to have someone working with students who was involved in a case like this.”

  “But he wasn’t involved! He was just going to the goddamn grocery store!” I cry out, the tears already streaming down my face. The sharp breaths I’m taking are burning my insides.

  “I know, baby, I know,” she says, and I see her lip trembling. “They’ve offered him an admin job at the central county office until the end of the school year. Then, he will need to find something else.”

  “What? Fuck that! He’s a teacher! He wants to teach! This makes no sense. Who can we talk to? He didn’t. Do. Anything!” I say, screaming now. Mom just lets me go. She lets me cry, tears streaming down both of our faces. She takes my hand after a moment and squeezes it.

  “He’s going to be okay,” she says. “Don’t worry. We will all be okay.”

  “We keep telling ourselves that,” I say, “but what are we going to do? How can any of this be okay? He’s cleared as a suspect, yet they still fired him? And what about Dad? He spends the rest of his life behind a desk? And then what? All he wants to do...all he can do is teach! How is this fair for anyone?”

  “It’s not, honey,” Mom says. “It’s not.”

  “So is he going to take the admin job?” I ask, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

  “He doesn’t have much of a choice,” Mom says. “No other county will hire him right now. Not after this case. We need the money, and unfortunately, there’s not much else he can do with a teaching degree. I’m hoping by the end of the school year, he can find something else.”

  I think for a minute.

  “Let’s move,” I say. Mom lets out a chuckle and strokes my hair.

  “Believe me, we’ve thought
about it,” she says. “But I can’t do that to Tucker. He’s still in school; he’s so young. His friends are here. We can’t let them take away everything.”

  I nod, but it feels like they pretty much already have.

  Later that night, Dad’s sitting on the reclining chair, scrolling on his laptop.

  “Whatcha doing, Dad?” I ask gently, as if I’m going to startle him by speaking. He looks up at me for a moment, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.

  “My resume,” he says, putting them back on. I raise an eyebrow.

  “Are you applying for something else?” I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  “No. The county is making me reapply for that admin job,” he says with a sigh. I nod slowly. Those fuckers. They already have all his information. He’s worked for them for 25 goddamn years. Does he really need to go through all this?

  I scoot closer to him and squeeze his hand. He stops typing for a minute and looks up at me.

  “Didn’t think that I’d be looking for a new career at fifty years old,” he says with a sad chuckle.

  “I know, Dad,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

  He squeezes my hand back.

  “I know, kid,” he says, “but you’ve got to worry about you. You’ve got exams to worry about, graduation, and college to worry about. You’ve got so much ahead of you.”

  I nod. As much as I don’t want to leave my family in a few months, I am actually really looking forward to college. I haven’t had anything to look forward to in a while. I decided on Melladon, after all. It’s the farthest away from all of this, and I know distance is just what I need.

  I flip through the channels as Dad works away, but I stop when I see a new headline at the bottom of the news screen.

  Body found in Martonsville could be missing Tilden girl.

  21

  Wyatt

  Oh, fuck.

  I haven’t seen Mr. Porter in five years. Not since the day I saw him leaving a flower on Willa’s grave.

  He had looked so sad, and I remember feeling so guilty. He lost a student, one he actually cared about, after he got blamed for—and eventually cleared—for her abduction.

  After he lost everything.

  And now, he has that same look on his face. He doesn’t look angry; he doesn’t look mad. He looks really, really fucking sad. I let my arm slide off of Maryn’s shoulders.

  “Dad,” she says, standing straight up and staring him right in the eyes. I can feel how fast her heart is racing just by standing this close to her. I’d never want to leave her, but right now, I think it would be better for all parties involved if I had the ability to vanish into thin air.

  Mr. Porter doesn’t say anything. He just drops his head and walks past us. She looks up to me.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, and I shake my head and hold my hand out.

  “No, no, go, we’ll catch up later,” I say. I watch as she trails out after him, catching up to him as he jogs down the stairs. I stare at the apartment door in front of me. I’ve still never been inside.

  Seeing the sadness in his eyes, it hits me with this wave of guilt.

  My family and I…we went through hell. But I also ruined Mr. Porter’s life, his reputation, his career in the process.

  I can’t blame myself. To this day, I know I was desperate. I know I was reaching for a reason, for someone to blame. And I know I had a pretty good excuse. But it wasn’t him.

  And now I’m on the verge of falling in love with his daughter.

  Shit.

  I walk back down the steps and pull my phone out of my pocket.

  “Ma?” I say when she answers.

  “Hey, hon,” she says. “What are you up to?”

  “Not a whole lot. Are you and Dad around? I was thinking of coming into town.”

  I can practically hear the smile on her face. I don’t go home a lot. There’s a lot of heaviness left there.

  “Yep, we’re home,” she says, “and we would love to see you.”

  I take a cab out to Tilden and pay the fare as I stare up at my childhood house. Tilden was a good place to grow up. Everyone knew everyone; the streets were normally safe—until Willa. People didn’t seem to care that my parents were an interracial couple, and the race issues that we heard about were never a real issue here for Willa and me.

  But after she was gone, it felt like a totally different place to me. It didn’t feel like home. It felt like the place my sister was taken from. It felt like a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. My parents didn’t feel the same. This house didn’t feel the same. I didn’t feel the same.

  I take in a deep breath and make my way up the walk.

  “Hey, boy,” my dad says from his chair on the front porch. I almost didn’t notice him.“Oh, hey, pop,” I say. “Mom inside?”

  “Nah, she ran up to the store to get some things for lunch. Not every day you come home to see us.”

  I scratch the back of my neck and sit down next to him.

  “Yeah, I know, Dad. Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be sorry, boy. It doesn’t have to be your home just because it’s ours,” he says. I nod. “So what brings you in today?”

  I swallow. I’m not exactly sure why I’m home, but I know I came back for something. My dad leans forward, closer to me. He raises an eyebrow.

  “What’s eatin’ you?” he asks. I smile. We might not be as close as we once were, but my dad still knows me.

  “I’m sort of seeing this girl,” I say nervously, like a teenage kid about to ask his dad about condoms or something. Dad smiles.

  “Oh, really?” I nod. I take in a deep breath and rub my hands down my knees. I guess now’s as good of a time as any.

  “Dad, I’m sort of seeing Maryn Porter,” I say. I wait for the exasperation, the crazy look in his eyes, anything. But he pauses for a moment then nods his head.

  “Well, alright then,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

  I’m staring at him blankly.

  “‘Alright, then’? That’s it?” I say. He chuckles.

  “What did you want me to say?”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t know. I guess I just thought you’d have more of a reaction.”

  “I have no problem with the Porters, son, you know that,” he says. “I’m not so sure they feel the same way.”

  This makes me laugh.

  “You have no idea,” I say, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my head. “Her dad caught us together today. He didn’t look as, uh, laid back as you do about it.”

  My dad nods his head, and he scratches at his goatee.

  “That man went through a lot,” Dad says. I nod.

  “Because of me.”

  Dad shakes his head.

  “No, Wyatt, not because of you. Because of bad timing. And because you were just a boy trying to find his sister and would have done anything to bring her home.”

  My dad leans forward and squeezes my hand.

  “Wyatt, if that happened again today, I’d expect you to do the same thing. We were all trying to be detectives, trying to look for the missing piece, trying to bring our girl home. You did what anyone would do. You saw that man, and you told the truth about it. And that’s all there is to it.”

  I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, thinking back to that first night when I said his name at the precinct.

  “He lost his job,” I say, more to myself than him.

  “He did,” Dad says.

  “His reputation went to shit,” I say.

  “It did,” Dad says.

  “And Willa still never came home.”

  Dad sits up again and leans into me, knocking me gently with his shoulder.

  “No, son, she didn’t.”

  I feel this tightness in my chest. I feel like a pot about to boil over. All these years, all this time, and I’ve never really talked to my parents about Willa. I’ve never really let it
out. I’ve never gotten over my role in all of it.

  “I miss her,” I say, and my lip actually starts to quiver, like I’m a five year old. My dad scoots forward on his chair and wraps his big arms around me. His skin is the darkest it is all year round, and I know it’s from his gardening. He pulls me in tight, and suddenly, I’m bawling on his shoulder.

  “I do, too, Wyatt. We all do,” he says. “But, son, it’s not your fault. None of it.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face into my father’s shoulder.

  “I should have gone inside with her, Dad. Why didn’t I go inside?”

  Dad lets me cry for a few more moments before pushing back and looking at me. His hands are on both of my shoulders, holding me steady.

  “Because you never could have imagined the world could be so ugly, son,” he says quietly. I catch my breath and nod my head. He’s damn right about that.

  We sit quietly for a little while, just rocking back and forth on the porch.

  “What’s she like?” he finally asks. I look over to him.

  “Maryn? She’s…” I think for a minute. God, what isn’t she? “She’s a lot of things I didn’t know I was missing,” I say, thinking about the way it felt to wake up to her this morning. I already can’t wait to see her again. To watch her eyes light up when she sees food, or to hear her laugh in the office. To smell her hair again the next time she’s in my bed. “She’s tough. She doesn’t beat around the bush. She loves her family pretty fiercely.”

  Dad’s smiling.

  “Well, all of that sounds like a pretty good choice,” Dad says. I nod and look down at the ground. Her family. But like always, he reads my mind. “Son, her family will come around. You and this girl…you two need to worry about you two. No one else.”

  I nod, and we sit in silence again. Then Dad lets out a chuckle.

  “What?”

  “Nothin’. Just a crazy universe we live in that Maryn Porter and you found each other again.”

  I smile to myself. Yeah, it is crazy. But this time, I don’t intend to ruin her life, or let her go.