“Why are you upset?” Dylan turns in his chair to face me. I mimic his move.
“I shouldn’t involve you. It’s really not your problem. I feel so bad.”
“I see,” he says. “Tell me this. Do you love Tina?”
“So much.”
“If you could see into the future and see she’s involved in a car accident, would you warn her?”
“Warn her? I’d confiscate her car keys to make sure she doesn’t go.”
“Humans are creatures of habit. A lot don’t learn from their pasts, and they keep making the same mistakes over and over again. All I’m doing, is seeing if Preston’s past errors are worth knowing about.”
I hate feeling so conflicted about this. “I have to listen to my heart, and not my head.”
“You have to listen to both. But you also have to make the right choice for you and your sister’s relationship.”
“I just couldn’t live with myself if he keeps hurting her, and I could’ve stopped it. I’d rather her not talk to me for the rest of our lives, than experience the absolute worst outcome. I need to know he’s not some kind of control freak who’ll end up seriously hurting her.”
Dylan cloaks me in one of his generous hugs. He gives the best embraces. Not too tight, not constricting, but also not weak and unsupportive. I love being in his arms.
“I think you better get your dad. He’s probably staying away so we can talk.”
“Yeah, he does that. He doesn’t like to get involved in things that aren’t his business.” Standing, he walks over to the bathroom and knocks on the door. “Need help in there, old man? Maybe you’ve fallen into the toilet and we need to call a plumber to get you out?”
From the other side, his dad calls out, “You’re never too old for an ass-whupping, boy.”
I chuckle, and start eating a slice of the pizza. Dylan comes back, grabs a piece, folds it and shoves half of it into his mouth. “Good, huh?” he asks.
Mark joins us at the table. “Dylan’s pizzas are the best.
“Hmm,” I grumble. “It’s alright, I’ve had better,” I tease.
“Better? I don’t think so,” Dylan scolds me, his voice breaking on a high pitch.
“Oh no she didn’t,” Mark murmurs as he looks down at his plate.
“Oh yes she did!” Dylan playfully snaps. “Next time I’ll get you a store-bought pizza while Dad and I enjoy my own home-cooked one.”
“I’m surprised there’ll be a next time,” Mark says under his breath. He’s remaining on the quieter side so he doesn’t get in trouble with either Dylan or me.
I’m laughing quietly. The pizza is really good. It’s nothing like a store-bought pizza. The crust is light with a slight crunch. The sauce on it is homemade, because there’s still chunks of tomatoes that haven’t cooked all the way down. “I suppose it’s okay,” I say adding fuel to the fire.
“Suppose?” Dylan shrieks.
“Alright, alright. I admit…” I cover my mouth with my hand and add, “It’sreallygoodbuti’mnotadmittingit.” But the only sound they can hear is a cross between a mumble and a slur of incoherent words.
“What was that? I couldn’t understand you,” Dylan asks.
I shove pizza into my mouth, chew and point to my mouth. “Can’t talk,” I say through a mouth full of food.
“Yeah, thought so,” Dylan says, cracking a smile.
“She keeps you on your toes, doesn’t she?” Mark chuckles. Dylan nods, and I can’t help but return the huge smile. “I definitely like you, Molly. I hope my son’s bad cooking doesn’t scare you away.”
“Hey!” Dylan objects.
I finish chewing, then say, “It’s not the worst I’ve ever had. But, you know, he could improve.”
Dylan stands dramatically. “That’s it. Neither of you are invited back.” He heads into the kitchen to get another bottle of soda.
“You sure about that?” Mark teases.
Dylan returns, opens the bottle and tops up my glass. “I’ll have to rethink you having a key to my place, Dad. Give it to Molly, so she can come over any time she wants.”
My brows fly up in surprise. What? He’s joking, right?
Mark leans to the side, dips his hand in his pocket, and takes out his keys. “There, take them.” He crams more pizza in his mouth.
I sit very still, not sure how to react here. I don’t want his keys, we’re not ready for this yet. “Maybe I’ll get you out of my hair,” Dylan says.
“You’ll be bald soon, so it doesn’t really matter,” his dad counters.
Their sparring is quite amusing. They’re so comfortable with each other, and I love this. “No feeding you anymore.”
Mark flicks his hand defiantly at Dylan then jams the keys back in his pocket. “I’m not giving you the keys back. Instead I’ve decided to make sure I’m here every night waiting for you to cook.”
“You’re a pain in my ass,” Dylan retaliates.
Mark chuckles, and gives Dylan a thumbs up. These two antagonize each other for fun. And in the interim, they amuse me.
Sitting back, I sip on my drink. I like being here, it’s easy.
“Tina’s been really distant,” Mom says as we sit having our morning coffee. “She’s barely home.”
“Dylan’s cousin is checking out Preston’s family.”
“In a way, I hope he finds nothing, but I also want him to find something too, so we can get her away from that Preston.” Mom sips on her coffee. She clasps her mug in her hands, and looks distantly out to the rolling greenery of our yard.
“Dylan’s cousin is a she, not a he. I’m torn at what I’m hoping she finds. I have a bad feeling about it. I don’t want her to find anything, but she may. Ugh. Mom, why does this feel so wrong?”
“Because Tina’s judgement is off at the moment. We have to be her ears, and her brain, because her judgement is being hijacked by her heart, and by someone who knows how to play her.”
“I need a hug,” I say to Mom. Standing, I walk over to her and embrace her. Mom’s hugs will always beat everyone else’s, including Dylan’s. She’s soft and squishy, and she has the best, subtle smell of fresh-baked cupcakes. I don’t know what it is, but it’s comforting.
My phone rings, and I instantly regret having to let go of Mom to answer it. Dylan’s name flashes up on the screen. “Hi, beautiful,” he says when I answer.
He makes me smile. “Hi.”
“I’m on my way over to your house.”
“Aren’t you at work?”
“I am, but I need to come over. Are your parents home?”
My stomach tightens, and a ball of steel drops in my stomach. He’s found something, and he’s coming to tell us. “Is everything okay? Dad’s at work, but Mom’s still here.”
“Can you ask her to stay please? Gemma did some digging and found something. I need to show you, and talk to you about it.”
I look over at Mom, and nod. “He’s found something,” I say to Mom while still holding the phone to my ear. “Mom and I are here. How long will you be?”
“I’m about fifteen minutes away. I’ll see you soon.”
Hanging up, I place my phone on the counter. “Dylan will be here in about fifteen minutes.”
Mom looks down at her mis-matched pajamas, and stands. “I’ll go get changed.” She leaves the kitchen, and I’m left alone with my wild thoughts. Zhen trots over to me, and rubs his body up against my leg. “I know, boy,” I say to him as I scratch his stomach.
Nervously, I pace the kitchen, waiting for Dylan to arrive. With every sound my heart skips a beat as I stop and wait for the knock on the door.
“I’ve called your father,” Mom says when she enters the kitchen, dressed in whatever her hands touched first. She doesn’t look like the graceful, fully put-together woman she usually is. She’s wearing sweats, and a t-shirt. Not her usual elegant style. “He’s on his way home from work.”
We’re expecting the worst. Something sinister lies beneath the surface.
It’s bubbling away steadily, waiting to erupt.
I hear a car, and know it’s Dylan. Mom and I look to the door, and wait. There’s a knock. “Okay, it might not be bad,” I say to Mom.
“You’re right. Perhaps we’ve misjudged the boy, and…” she can’t finish the sentence.
“If we have, we’ll own up to it, and apologize for the intrusion into his personal life.”
“We will,” Mom says but her head is shaking.
I open the door. Zhen greets Dylan first. Dylan’s features are flat, and solemn. He has not come bearing good news. “Paris.” He gives Mom a curt head nod. “Sweetheart,” he says as he embraces me. He’s holding a tablet in his hand, and it brushes against me. It instantly feels like it’s made of hot iron, and weighs a thousand pounds, and all he’s doing is pressing the heat against my back while he hugs me. “I’m going to cut right to it. Can we sit?”
“In the dining room, Dylan,” Mom says as she walks ahead of him and takes a seat.
Dylan sits beside Mom, and indicates I should sit on the other side of him. “I’m not sure what Molly has told you, but my cousin, Gemma is a private investigator. She did a little digging and found some things on Preston and his family.” He taps the screen of the tablet, waking it. “I’ll give you a run down. First, Preston is an only child. His parents are lawyers, but their reputation isn’t as prestigious as Preston made out. Both his parents deal with the dubious kind of clients,” Dylan says grimacing.
I’m trying to read between the lines, but I’m not sure what he means. “As in… who?”
“As in people who contend they’re innocent, regardless of what they’ve done.”
“Aha,” Mom says, looking down at an image of Preston’s parents. His mom is in a pant-suit sipping a coffee, and his dad is walking beside her, dressed in nice slacks and a white button-down shirt.
“Now, Gemma found some information on Preston.”
“What information?” I eagerly ask.
“Two women have had restraining orders against him. Gemma tried to talk to them, but neither wanted to say anything against him. One is now living overseas in England, the other is on the opposite side of the country.”
I gulp, feeling sick to the stomach. “Why did they have a restraining order against him?” I’m not sure I’m prepared for the Dylan’s answer.
“He’s abusive.” He flicks to an image of one of the restraining orders.
“Abuse comes in many forms, what are we dealing with here?” Mom asks.
“Physical and mental. He degrades and hurts women.”
“Fuck,” Mom sighs as she covers her mouth in horror.
“Well, we have to get her away from him,” I say, trying to come up with a plan.
“Gemma also found some images of one of the women.” He flicks to a picture, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Vomit rises from my stomach. The various shades of blue and purple indicate fresh bruises, the enormous fat lip, the broken bone beneath the eyes. I can’t unsee the level of hatred he must have for this woman, whose face is virtually unrecognizable. “His parents are very good at getting him nothing more than a slap on the wrist.” I feel sick.
“I can’t deal with this,” I say as I look away from the horror of reality. “This is real. It’s not a damn movie, it’s real. And it’s my sister. Mom, we have to do something,” I plead.
“We will.” Mom looks distracted. I want to yell and scream, and lock Tina in her room until she comes to her senses. “Is there anything else?” Mom asks in a calm, almost subdued voice.
“Gemma’s going to keep digging. She’s going to try and ask the two women if she can hear their side of why they got a restraining order, but they’re not cooperating and for now, I don’t have anything else.” He takes a breath, powers down the tablet, and rubs his hand on my back. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such awful news.”
“Please, Dylan, the fact you did this for us is incredibly generous. But I insist we pay your cousin.”
Dylan shakes his head. “She was happy to help.”
“Mom, we have to do something.”
“We will, we will. We just need to have a clear head, so your father and I can figure out how to talk to Tina about this. We don’t want to drive her away.” Mom stands and gives Dylan a small smile. Her eyes are red, and she’s on the brink of a meltdown. “Please excuse me, I need to call your father.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, she walks out, and heads up to her room.
“I’m so sorry,” Dylan says as he hugs me tight to his body.
“I have so many feelings conflicting with each other. I don’t know how to feel. I’m confused. What do I do, Dylan?”
He lets out a deep breath. “I’m not sure. You need to talk to your parents, and come up with something to keep Tina safe.”
“He’s a predator,” I whisper.
“He’s a monster,” Dylan replies.
Dylan keeps me close to him for a long time. My frantic brain settles, and I try to think of something I can say to Tina so she will see the danger for herself. I’m frightened I’ll lose her to him, terrified she’ll choose him over us. She can’t, not with what we know. I play with the pendant she gave me on our birthday, twirling it around my fingers, praying I can try and figure out a way to break her out of this toxic relationship.
“Molly?”
“Hm?”
“I have to go back to work. I’m sorry. I’d stay if I could.” His grip on me tightens. I know he’d stay.
“It’s okay. I have to get ready to teach.”
He hesitantly lets me go, and steps back. His hands run gently up and down my arms. “I’m only a phone call away. If you need anything, call me.”
“I will.” I gather as much strength as I can as I smile. But my mind defeats me, playing that horrific image of his poor victim over and over again. “You’re at work early today.”
Dylan rolls his eyes as he lets out a frustrated groan. “I’ve got a problem I’m trying to solve. It’s taking up too much time and energy, but it has to get done.”
“Can I help? I’d welcome a distraction.”
“I can’t. It’s confidential.”
“I get it. You work for lawyers, and I can only imagine the things you see and have to deal with.”
“I have to go away for work again, but not until next week. It’s a quick trip, just overnight. Maybe, if you’d like, you can come with me?” he asks sheepishly.
“But you have to work.”
“I do. But the job shouldn’t take longer than four or five hours. It’s in Washington DC. Maybe you would like to go to one of the Smithsonian museums?”
“I’ve been wanting to go to the National Museum of American History. Maybe I’ll… actually, let me see what happens here. I might not be able to.”
“Of course. There’s no pressure at all.” He leans down, and gives me a kiss on the lips. “I have to go.”
“I wish you didn’t.”
“Trust me, I’d rather be with you than heading back to work. I’m hoping to have this sorted soon. However, in my line of work, when one problem ends, another begins. Part of the job.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
We walk to the front door, where I open it and watch as he leaves. But he stops, stands rooted to the spot for a moment before he spins and returns to me. Without a word, he laces his hands in my messy hair and leans down until our lips meet. With gentle hands, he tenderly trickles his fingertips down my neck, then back up to my hair. Pulling away, we lean our foreheads together. “I couldn’t leave without showing you how much you mean to me.”
“I don’t want you to go,” I whisper.
“Molly, you change the air I breathe.” He kisses my forehead. “But I have to go.” He quickly turns, and leaves, this time, not stopping until he gets to his car. He doesn’t even look back. Probably because he knows if he does, he won’t leave.
Tina didn’t come home for dinner, and this worries me. She’s been missing out on a lo
t of dinners, and a lot of family time.
The atmosphere was strained at the table. Mom and Dad both lost in the knowledge of what Preston is capable of.
I’m consumed with fear, absolutely terrified that we’re going to lose her to him, to the cycle of domestic abuse. Break her down, use her, beat her, then break her down some more.
Mom and Dad are watching TV, but I know they’re waiting for Tina to arrive home so we can talk to her. I’m in my room, trying to meditate so I can calm down enough to talk to her without losing my mind.
Zhen’s lying beside me. His head near me, his eyes closed as he sleeps.
I can’t clear my mind. I’m obsessing over Tina. I have to make sure she’s safe from him.
I hear the front door open, and I jump up, and run as fast as I can down the stairs, nearly falling when I reach the bottom. “You’re home,” I say to Tina as I run into her, hugging her tightly.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be.” She backs away from me.
“Oh my God!” I say as I step backward. “What’s happened?”
“What? Nothing.” Her hair flops over her face. I can see the concealer. The tell-tale signs of his fist is obvious.
“He’s hit you.” It’s not a question.
“Tina!” Both Mom and Dad come into the foyer.
“I’m going to bed, I’m tired,” Tina says, ducking her head down so our parents don’t see the bruise.
“No, you’re not. We need to talk,” Dad says in a deep, assertive voice.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Tina tries to get away, but I grab onto her hand, pulling her back.
“Back off!” she snaps at me and tries to pull her hand out of mine.
“We know he hits you. And it’s not the first time he’s done it,” Mom says. Tina stops. Her chin falling to her chest. “If you don’t walk away now, he’ll keep hurting you.”
“He loves me. He doesn’t mean to. I’m the one who says something stupid,” Tina defends him.
“This isn’t normal,” I say. “He put a woman in the hospital.”
“Oh, right, and that was his fault? Well, he told me what happened with her. She attacked him. She came at him with a baseball bat, because she was a junkie. Probably still is. Did you find that out too?” she spits angrily.
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