by Kai Juniper
"Too late, Mom."
It continues to ring and I decide to answer it. Why not add to this shitty day with a lecture from my mom, telling me how great it is that I'm getting all this time with my father?
"Hey, Mom," I say, my neck hurting with each word.
"Briggs, are you at the office?"
"No. Dad went without me." I clear my throat. "What do you need?"
"I wanted to check in. See how things are going."
"Great," I say, sarcastically.
She doesn't pick up on my tone. "That's good to hear! I knew you two would get along better if you just spent some time together. I don't know if he told you, but the last time I spoke with him, I asked him to ease up on you."
"Yeah. He told me."
And then beat the shit out of me. Thanks, Mom.
"Briggs, about what you said, about your father being rough with you, it's just who he is. He was that way with me too."
"He was?" I ask, surprised she'd admit that. I assumed he got physical with her too, but I thought she'd try to hide it.
"He limited it to when we were intimate. I didn't like it, but I put up with it, feeling it was my duty as his wife. Then one day I decided I'd had enough and it was time to leave."
"That's why you left? Because he abused you?"
"Your father didn't abuse me," she scolds. "He simply has trouble managing his frustrations."
"And that makes it okay for him to hit me?" I say, letting her hear my anger.
"Briggs, you're a strong young man. Your father can't hurt you unless you let him."
"You're telling me to fight back?"
"I'm telling you to do what you feel is best. If I were you, I'd let him relieve his frustrations without stirring up even more."
"What does that mean? Let him hit me and go along with it? Pretend I'm okay with it?"
"I can't tell you what to do. You need to decide for yourself. But as they always say, pick your battles. Some aren't worth winning. Now, on to other, more pleasant topics."
That's it? That's her advice? Just let him keep doing it? I guess if I think about it, that's what I'm already doing, and what I'd planned to do until I graduated. But that was before this morning, before he hit me with a fucking metal statue that could've killed me. Before it was a slap, or a punch, or shoving me against the wall. Today was different.
"How is school?" my mom asks.
"Good."
"How about that girl you were seeing? The model?"
"We broke up."
"Oh, that's a shame. She's such a beautiful girl. And you're still playing rugby?"
"Yes."
I'm sure she's annoyed with my short answers, but I really have nothing to say to her. Her questions are just attempts at polite conversation. She doesn't care about my life. If she did, she'd be here, protecting me from my father. Instead, she's one of the reasons he hits me.
"Mom, have you been talking to people about dad?"
"I talk to my friends, but what we talk about is none of your concern."
"I need you to stop doing it. Stop talking about him. It makes Dad...frustrated," I say, using her word to refer to his abuse.
"I see," she says. "I suppose I could tone it down a bit."
"You need to stop, not tone it down. Mom, I'm serious. If you saw how angry he got when he—"
"Yes," she says, sounding irritated. "I understand. Is there anything else, Briggs?"
"No."
"Then we'll talk again soon. Goodbye, Briggs."
I end the call and throw the phone down. Another great talk, Mom. I can always count on you to make me feel better. Your father's still beating the shit out of you? You'll be fine. He beat me up in the bedroom for years and look at me! I'm having the time of my life at some commune in India.
Forcing myself to get up, I slowly walk to the bathroom and find a bottle of pain meds. I down six of them, then go back to bed. The meds make me tired and I fall asleep.
When I wake up, my phone's ringing. It's Ella. I told her we'd meet up this afternoon. I check the clock. It's after three. Shit. I didn't think I'd sleep that long.
I answer the call. "Hey, Ella."
"Hey. Can I come in?"
"What do you mean? You're here?"
"I'm standing at your door."
"How'd you get past the gate?"
"I know the code. You gave it to me the first time I came here."
"What are you doing here?"
"You invited me last night. You texted me from the party. Don't you remember?"
I have no idea what she's talking about. I check my phone and see the text, asking her to come over at three. I must've been drunk when I sent that because I have no memory of doing it.
"Briggs?"
"Yeah, sorry. Hey, it's not a good time. Maybe we can see each other tomorrow."
"Why? What's going on?"
"Why aren't you at work?"
"I asked my dad if I could leave early. I didn't tell him why. Can you open the door? Oh, never mind. Are you in your room?"
"Wait—what? You're in the house?"
"The door was unlocked."
I hear her coming up the stairs. I race in the bathroom and look in the mirror. There's a bruise along my cheek and a big one on my neck. I'll just have to make up a story to explain them.
Ella knocks on my door. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah." I leave the bathroom and see her standing there, wearing ripped denim shorts and a tight t-shirt, her hair in a ponytail. She looks hot, and beautiful, and she's got this huge smile on her face. That smile's for me, but I don't deserve it. I've done nothing but hurt her, and things are about to get worse.
"Oh my God!" Her smile drops as she races up to me, her hand reaching up to my face. "What happened?"
I put my hand over the bruise on my neck. "I kind of got in a fight last night."
"With who?"
"Some guy from another school. I don't even know how it started. I was drunk and one of us threw a punch and next thing I know I'm in a fight."
She moves my hand off my neck. "This is a really bad bruise, and it's swelling up."
"It's fine." I go around her to the bed. "Ella, I know we had plans today, but I'm not feeling that great. I think I might be getting sick. I would've called to let you know, but I fell asleep."
She comes over to the bed, standing in front of me. "Can I do anything? I could you make you something. Are you hungry?"
It's sweet that she offered, but it only makes me feel worse about what I've done to her. I've ruined her life. Not only did I bully her all those years, but I'm the one who talked her into going with us when her truck broke down. If she hadn't, she wouldn't be part of this secret that will probably land us in jail. And now my father's going after her.
"I'm not hungry," I tell her.
She feels my forehead. "You don't feel hot. But this bruise on your face..." Her hand lowers to my cheek. "You need to put ice on this. Is it sore?"
"Not really," I say, but the truth is it's throbbing so bad it's giving me a headache.
"Did you take anything? Any pain medicine?"
"I did this morning."
"I'll get you more. Where do you keep it?"
"Ella, you don't need to do this. I'm good. Just go."
"I'm not leaving you. You're sick and some jerk beat you up."
I smile. "You think this is bad, you should've seen him."
"Where is it? Where's the medicine?"
I hear a noise. It sounds like the garage door opening. He's home. Shit! If my father finds Ella here, he'll lose it.
I thought this morning was bad? This will be a million times worse.
Chapter Sixteen
Ella
Briggs races out to the hall and looks out the window.
"What's going on?" I ask, meeting him in the hall.
"I thought I heard my dad coming home but I guess it was something else." Briggs turns to me, looking panicked, his hands planted on my shoulders. "You can't be her
e. You need to leave. My dad could be home any minute now."
"We'll just tell him we're doing our assignment."
"Ella, I'm serious, you need to go. If he finds out you're here, he'll be pissed. He was in a really bad mood this morning and when he's in a bad mood, he wants to be alone in the house. He didn't even want me here, so he definitely won't want you here."
His dad doesn't want Briggs in the house? Why would he care? The place is huge, and it's not like Briggs makes a lot of noise.
"We'll go to my house," I tell him. "My dad's going from work straight to Susan's place. We'll have the house to ourselves. You can rest on the couch and watch TV."
"I can't leave. I need to stay here."
"You just said your dad doesn't want you here."
He pauses, looking like he's trying to come up with another excuse. I don't know why he doesn't want to come over. It's better than being alone in his room, especially if he isn't feeling well.
"Okay, fine, but only for an hour," he says.
I take my truck and Briggs drives his car and we meet up at my house.
"Were you making something?" Briggs asks as we go inside. "It smells like a bakery in here."
"I made cookies. Susan bought the ingredients but didn't have time to make them, so I did." I take Briggs' arm and lead him to the couch. "Okay, just sit there and don't move."
"I can't move?"
"No. Every time you move it hurts, so don't move." I go to the kitchen and open the freezer, searching for the ice packs.
"How do you know it hurts?"
"Because you cringe when you walk." I bring him two ice packs. "Did he hit you in the stomach?"
"Yeah, the same spot I got hit at practice."
"Let me see." I lift his shirt and see a huge bruise along his abs. It looks swollen and painful, like barely touching it would cause pain. "Briggs, this is serious. You need to go to a doctor."
"I don't need a doctor." He lowers his shirt. "It's just a bruise."
"There could be damage under it. You could've hurt an organ."
"My organs are good." He puts his arm around me and pulls me against his side. "What do you want to watch?"
"You pick. You're the patient."
"I'll pick sports and you hate sports."
I grab the remote and turn the TV on. "How about this?"
It's a movie I've seen before with my dad. It has car chases, so seems like something Briggs would like.
"That's good."
"I'll go get some pain pills." I get up and go to the bathroom, then return with the bottle of pills. "Two?" I shake them out.
"Five or six."
"Here." I give him three.
"No, I'm serious. I need at least five. Just give me six."
"You can't take that many at once."
"I already did. I took six this morning and it barely did anything."
He took six and was still in pain? This is serious. He's trying to act like it's not, but that bruise on his stomach is really bad. The ones on his face and neck are bad too. I've seen guys get in fights before at parties, but I've never seen them look like this when it's over. The bruises on Briggs' face and neck don't even look like they came from a punch. They look like he was hit with something.
"Briggs, if it hurts that bad I'm taking you to a doctor."
"I don't need a doctor. I need water to take these pills." He starts to get up.
"Wait! Didn't I just tell you not to move?"
He smiles. "I don't take orders well."
"If you don't, I'm taking you to a hospital."
"Now it's the hospital?" he says with a laugh.
I get his water and bring it to him. "Don't kid around about this. You could have serious damage behind those bruises and not even know."
"Sit down." He pats the spot next to him.
I sit beside him.
"You don't need to worry about me. I can deal with pain. I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't have to deal with it."
"Stop worrying about me. I'm feeling better already."
I lay my head on his shoulder and feel him tense up. I lift my head. "He hit you there too?"
"Yeah," he mutters, staring at the TV.
"Who was this guy? And why didn't anyone stop him?"
"He's a football player. Linebacker. The guy is huge. Parker said he's already got recruiters trying to sign him."
"And what school does he go to?"
"I don't know. I can't remember."
I want to believe him, but I don't. If some guy started fighting Briggs at the party, people would've tried to stop it. Briggs is our best player. He wins us games. They can't risk him getting beat up to the point he can't play, and there's no way he could play in the condition he's in now. He cringes every time he moves, which tells me there are even more bruises than I can see.
What really happened? And why won't he tell me?
Briggs falls asleep on the couch and I cover him with a blanket. He wakes up two hours later and says he has to go.
"You sure you don't want to stay?" I ask as we stand by his car.
"I need to get home." He slips his hand around mine and leans down to kiss me. "Thanks for taking care of me."
"I didn't really do anything."
"You did more than most people would." He gets this sad, regretful look on his face. "I'm sorry, Ella."
"For what?"
"Everything." He looks at me a moment, then gets in his car and leaves.
What was that about? What did he mean?
All night I toss and turn, wondering what's going on with Briggs. He was different tonight, not the Briggs who bullied me and not the one I fell for. He was someone else. He was distant and sad and kept giving me this look like he wanted to apologize for something. And then he did, in the driveway, but he wouldn't explain.
I'm worried about him. Something's seriously wrong. Is it the accident? Did he find something out and not tell me? He would tell me. He wouldn't keep that from me. So then what was going on with him tonight?
The next morning I work with my dad, then we go home for lunch. As we're eating, he talks nonstop about Susan. The excitement in his voice almost makes me laugh. He's in love, which is something I didn't think would ever happen for him again. He was so in love with my mom, I didn't think he'd ever move on, but now he has, and I'm happy for him. I just wish his girlfriend wasn't trying to put me in jail. If that happens, will my dad stay with her, or would it end their relationship? My dad's really protective of me. Even if Susan's just doing her job, he may decide he doesn't want to be with her if she's the reason I no longer have a future.
"Ella?"
"Yeah." I look at my dad as he gets up from the table.
"Are you good with that?"
"With what?"
"I knew you weren't listening." He smiles as he puts his plate in the dishwasher. "I said I'm giving you the afternoon off. It's too hot for you to be out there sweeping and pulling weeds."
"But then you'll have to do it."
"I found someone else. He lives down the street from Susan. He's fifteen and wants some extra cash. He doesn't care about the heat, and if he does a good job, I might hire him for a few hours a week."
"He already said he'd do it?"
"Yes, so take the afternoon off. Stay cool."
It's really hot today, close to a hundred degrees. I was dripping sweat this morning and feeling lightheaded from not drinking enough water. My dad must've noticed.
"I'll see you tonight," he says, heading out to his truck.
When I hear the truck pull out on the road, I call up Briggs.
"Ella, I can't talk now," he says in a hushed tone.
"Are you with your dad?"
"Yeah, at the office."
"Oh. I was hoping we could do something. My dad gave me the afternoon off."
"I won't be home until later and then I have to study."
"Are you feeling better?"
"A little."
"Hey, any cha
nce you'd let me use your pool? A pool sounds really good in this heat."
He pauses. "When do you want to use it?"
"Right now."
"Okay, but you have to be out of there in an hour. And park in the gardener's shack. It's not locked. Just open the door and pull in. I don't think we'll be home until late, but just in case, I don't want my dad finding you there."
"I can just go through the back gate, right? To get to the pool?"
"Yeah, the towels are in the bin."
"Thanks! I'll talk to you tonight."
I change into my swimsuit, throw a long t-shirt over it, and go out to my truck. Before going to Briggs' house, I drive down to the gas station to get a bottle of soda to drink by the pool.
"You can add it to mine," a guy says, moving in front of me at the register. It's Parker. He whips out his credit card and hands it to the guy.
"Thanks," I say to Parker.
He ignores me as he signs his name on the credit card machine. I wait for him to finish, then follow him out.
"Decide to be nice to me?" I say in a kidding tone.
"You were taking too long," he says, walking fast to his car.
"Hey, wait."
He stops. "What? I'm in a hurry."
"Who was Briggs in a fight with Friday night?"
"What fight? What are you talking about?"
"Briggs said he was in a fight at the party. He's covered in bruises. Why didn't anyone stop it?"
"Because it never happened."
"Are you sure? He said the fight was with a guy from another school. A football player."
"He's lying. The only people there were from Devonshore."
"Why would he lie about that?"
"Who the fuck knows? I gotta go." He gets in his car and shuts the door.
If Briggs wasn't in a fight, how did he get those bruises?
When I get to his house, I park where he told me, then go through the gate to the pool. I grab a towel and lay it out on the lounger, then take off my t-shirt and jump in the pool. I swim to the other side, then back again. The water is perfect, not too cold and not too hot.
After a half hour of swimming laps, I lay on the lounger, letting the sun dry my skin. It's so relaxing I fall asleep.
I wake to the sound of someone yelling. "You saw nothing!"