by Jen Stevens
I knew better than to fall for his bullshit smokescreen. He renewed every contract that was shoved in his direction to get away from Ma and me, so he didn’t have to spend too much time looking at the faces of the people he disappointed on a daily basis.
By the time we moved to The Hollow, I’d given up fighting it. I let them all think what they wanted, never speaking ill of him so long as he stayed as far away from us as possible. And he had. Until I left for college and Ma’s mental health started to deteriorate.
He wanted to put her in a home. I had adamantly opposed. We fought about it for four years, until he died in his sleep the night before my college graduation.
Was I sad? Sure. No one wants to lose a parent, regardless of the fact that the mailman treated them with more care and respect. Suddenly, the decision to move on from The Hollow and pursue a life thousands of miles away from this shithole was ripped out from under me. I packed up my family and our tiny apartment and moved back into my parents' house a week later, taking a job a couple of towns over so me and Emma could help Ma while her health continued to get worse.
The most disappointing part was coming back after years of being away and finding that not a single thing had changed. As if the entire town had sat on pause while I was away. And call me crazy, but I don’t think anything restarted when I got back, either. I think I just nestled back into the desolate community with the rest of them, my life sitting still while we all waited for something to shake us back awake.
Then, it had.
She had—my daughter. But I blinked, and she was gone, leaving me behind in the nothingness as a hollowed-out shell, just like the rest of the poor suckers who were stuck here. I'm willing to bet that's where the town's name originated. We all have a different version of the same sob story.
But not the girl who went eighteen years being ignored by the only place she’d ever known and took off the first chance she got. Mouse may not have been loved outwardly like Denise or Marnie; she never attracted the sort of attention or adoration they had with their physical attributes. Never exploited herself to get something she wanted. No, Mouse operated on an entirely different level than her family always had, and it only served her better in the long run.
She had volunteered for bake sales when the town needed a little extra cash. She’d worked overtime at the diner during most of our high school events, so that the other waitresses could take the night off to attend or capture pictures of their children. She’d picked up the garbage that everyone stepped over on the sidewalk. She’d checked in on the elderly to make sure they were still kicking.
She was a severely underappreciated angel sent to The Hollow from the big man himself and we collectively took advantage of her and squeezed her dry until she had nothing left to give. Until she had to choose between herself and a group of low-life individuals. Spoiler alert: she chose herself and it was the best fucking decision she could have ever made.
But the town suffered. Businesses closed. Elderly people died, their bodies sitting in their homes for days, sometimes weeks before anyone discovered them. Everyone became just a little more selfish, and everything went to shit.
I’m not saying it’s her fault but it’s also not a coincidence. The only ray of light shining down on this place moved on and we were covered in nothing but darkness.
So, it was only right that we all waited in limbo for our angel to reappear and save us. To splash color onto our bleak, gray walls and breathe life back into our pathetic, docile community. The problem was that she had no intention of ever doing that. She’d wanted to get in and get out before anyone even noticed. She wanted to rid herself of the cancer that was The Hollow before any of it spread to her.
Seven years.
I had gone seven years without seeing her shining, smiling face every morning. Seven years without my muse; the girl who always managed to take my mind off whatever trivial thing I had going on and refocus it onto bigger, better things. Seven years since I threw myself on the line for her, only to be left in the dust, watching her back as she ran as far away as she could from all of us.
Well, I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen again. This time, I’m not going to let our little Mouse scurry away.
Chapter 18
Lyla
“We have a meeting scheduled this Friday to touch base with Hank about the details of the new contract. I thought we’d have more time to go over it beforehand, but you decided to take a sabbatical to the worst place on Earth instead,” Natalie jabs over the phone, her tough-love agent cap firmly in place.
I roll my eyes toward the cracked ceiling in Marnie’s dining room, noting the familiar watermarks that had been there back when I was just a lonely teenager writing stories that I assumed no one would ever see.
“I think we’re going to need to reschedule Hank for next week or…” I let my voice die off, a nervous smirk forming on my lips as Natalie lets out an exasperated growl from the other end of the line.
“Or what, Lyla? How can I make a schedule if I have no idea when you’ll be back?”
She’s frustrated with me. I get it. But she isn’t my parent, and sometimes the line between friend and agent gets so blurred between us, she forgets that her salary comes from my earnings, not the other way around. If I don’t want to write or make a meeting, I don’t have to. For the most part.
Anyway, it’s not like I do this all the time. Writing is my life. Work is my life. I’ve dedicated years to my career, never shutting it off so that I don’t disappoint the people who hold me accountable. Sure, Natalie is a huge player in my success and I’m eternally grateful for everything she does, but it doesn’t mean I have to bow down to her every demand.
I sigh into the phone as I doodle around my notes from our call. “It’s just not a good time for me to leave my family right now, Nat. You know I wouldn’t push this if it weren’t important. Let’s schedule a Skype meeting in the next couple of days for me and you to go over the contract. Once we do that, we can get Hank in on a conference call and discuss it with him. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“Fine,” she relents, clicking around on her keyboard. My phone pings in my ear and I know she’s already sent the invite. “Not everything can be done remotely, though. You have to come back at some point.”
“That’s the beauty of my career, isn’t it? I can do it from anywhere.” I smile, knowing she can’t argue.
Natalie is a face-to-face kind of person. It used to bother me that she always insisted I come in for meetings that could have easily been handled through the phone. I’ve grown used to it now. The only people I truly owe my time and attention to are my readers, my fans. The people who take risks on me every day by purchasing and reading the inner workings of my mind and supporting a career I never thought I was capable of having. Natalie never seems to get that part.
“Brad has been asking about you, you know. He’s getting restless. Have you even bothered picking up the phone and talking things through?”
Natalie introduced me to Brad. She thinks it’s a huge career move to be seen dating a movie star, even if he couldn’t quite break into the mainstream field yet. She had been dating one of his friends at the time and practically salivated at the opportunity to set her lonely author friend up. She and the friend lasted for a few weeks before she grew bored of him. I, on the other hand, am apparently chained to Brad for the rest of my life.
I shake my head, knowing she can’t see the millionth eye-roll I just gave her. Her meddling into my relationships has gotten out of hand.
“No, I haven’t. I’m not talking about it with you, though, so you can go ahead and drop it right now.”
“Lyla,” she whines. “He’s a good guy and he’s willing to put up with your little quirks. You shouldn't throw away this opportunity.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Ugh, fine. I’ll send you the invite for Hank when I get confirmation from his girl. Answer your damn phone more often and hurry up and get home
!” she screams as I let out a long and dramatic, “bye!” before hanging up.
I didn’t want to be stuck in The Hollow this long. I just feel like there isn’t much of a choice for me with Marnie spiraling deeper into her depression with each passing day.
I’m not sure how she’s dealt with the kind of pressure that comes from being the sole provider for her family for so long, but it seems to finally be taking its toll. Leaving her now would be one of the most selfish things I could do, even if every fiber of my being is screaming to get out. I texted Natalie with the news that my stay was indefinite this morning and she insisted on immediately having a meeting where she shamelessly begged me to reconsider.
She pulled out all the stops: threatening my career, throwing promises in my face, and bringing up every nasty detail I’d ever told her about The Hollow in the past.
None of it is going to work. When it comes to my family, there’s nothing more important. I never want Marnie, the girls, or even my mother to feel the same worthlessness I have felt my entire life. And leaving them in the middle of a crisis felt exactly like that’s what I would be doing: showing them how much less important they are to me than my career, which clearly isn't the case.
Although, I will admit that after my dinner with Eli a few nights ago, I was ready to pack up and leave on the next redeye. Hell, I would have driven back if I had to. But then I stepped through the front door and heard it—the sobbing. It was coming from Marnie’s room again and when I rounded the corner and saw the girls quietly sitting in front of the TV, their eyes glossy, stomachs growling, and hair a complete mess from the day they’d had, I knew the decision had already been made for me.
I fixed them dinner, got them ready for sleep, and then crawled in next to Marnie once they were securely tucked into their own beds. She barely acknowledged me, but her sobs quieted down once I wrapped my arms around her and let her know I was there for her. No matter what.
My love doesn’t have conditions or limitations. I’m not capable of leaving it in one place and coming back to it later. It’s inescapable. Ever-present. Commanding.
I may give it to people who haven’t always necessarily deserved it, but it wouldn’t be love if I got to pick and choose who received it and when.
“Thank you,” Marnie mumbles quietly from the bottom step of the staircase behind me once I set my phone back down on the table. I spin around to look at her and my heart drops at the sight.
Wrapped tightly in her comforter, hair piled at the top of her head, and eyes sunken and dark, she looks like the picture of grief. Only, I don’t think she’s just grieving her relationship with Josh. Not necessarily. I think she’s grieving the potential for a normal life for her children. Of the reality that they had been stripped of a father who would have given them the love and care that they needed. That they deserved as innocent, perfect little humans.
“What are you doing up so early? You should be getting some rest. You had a long night.”
I stand and rush over to her, attempting to corral her back up the stairs and into bed while the girls are still at daycare. I want her to have some energy when they get home so they don’t have to look as panicked as they had this morning when Marnie couldn’t even open her swollen eyes to bid them goodbye.
Her hand sweeps against my own and lightly brushes it off as she pushes past me toward the kitchen. “I’m not going to be able to sleep for a while. I need to drink some coffee and bring myself back to life for a minute. Where are the girls?”
She talks as I follow her into the kitchen, where she robotically grabs the coffee pot and begins filling it with water. I step back to give her space, leaning against the counter on the opposite end of the room.
“I took them to daycare. I figured they could use a break from being inside the house.”
She looks back at me, shame filling her pale face with dark reds.
“I haven’t had a chance to settle the bill with her yet,” she admits, turning away to busy herself with scooping coffee grounds into the filter.
I discovered that Marnie’s daycare bill was two months behind when I arrived at the house and was almost instantly turned away. Ginger, a woman who graduated from Hollow High a few years before us ran it out of her home and she swore up and down that she was not watching Marnie’s kids for another minute without being paid for the last two months of time she’d dedicated to them. Thankfully, she said all of this once the girls were inside and out of earshot, sparing them the embarrassment. I begged her to let them stay while I headed over to the nearest ATM, and then paid her the money Marnie owed on top of another month so Marnie wouldn’t have to worry about it.
“I took care of it,” I assure my sister, careful not to dwell on it too long before she gets embarrassed and lashes out again. “I have some shopping I need to do today. I was thinking I could stop and pick up some things for the house from the grocery store while I’m out. Do you need anything?”
It’s starting to get difficult to maintain the cleanliness of the three days’ worth of clothing I brought along with me and now that my stay has officially been deemed indefinite, it’s time to grab some of the necessities. I could always borrow Marnie’s clothes, but I’m in desperate need for some new socks and underwear to cycle into the rotation.
“I can come with you,” she offers, her eyes fixed on the brown liquid as it drips into the pot.
“Sounds good,” I exclaim, happy that she’s already willing to leave the house. I should have known Marnie would be better than to hole up in solitary for too long. She isn’t Denise. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
***
Marnie drags her feet through three different stores trying to convince me to buy clothing that I’d never wear, especially in a place like The Hollow. She’s a nightmare to shop with. I’ve somehow let myself forget that in the time between our last visit, when she ran me through two separate malls to find an outfit for a signing she was helping me with. Today, I’m trying my best to go along with her antics out of pity for her situation, but my patience is wearing thin.
“You never told me how your dinner with Eli went,” she comments from the other side of a shirt rack as I admire a pair of shorts on clearance.
“Yes, well there isn’t much to say.” And there isn’t. Not if I want to say anything nice.
“I highly doubt that,” she scoffs, raising her eyes to me. “Come on, I need to live vicariously through someone for a minute.”
“Trust me, there’s nothing about our dinner that’ll make you want to live through me. He was crass. And rude. And just... different.”
For the first time, I allow myself to think back to that night openly. To how Eli made me feel things I haven’t allowed anyone to make me feel since I left. To his promise.
Marnie’s brows squeeze together, her eyes narrowing into slits as she mumbles, “I can’t believe him,” under her breath.
“Right? I didn’t think so either. He is not the same person he was before; I can promise you that.”
I hold up a tank top and scoff at the price, neatly setting it back into place.
“Well, of course he isn’t, Mouse. None of us are. But Eli’s been through a lot since high school. You can’t expect him to be the same happy-go-lucky guy he was after all that.”
I lean away from the display tables to face her cold expression. It has me surprised for a moment, but I try my best not to let it show. “I never said I expected him to be the same person.” At least, not out loud. I silently hoped he might be, though.
“I’ll talk to him. Just don’t give up on him yet.”
“It’s really not a big deal. I’m just here for you and the girls.”
“How’s Brad?” she asks, quickly pivoting the subject.
I dodge her stare, busying myself with a crooked sale sign.
“Fine, I guess. We haven’t talked much since we broke up.”
“You broke up?” she quietly screeches, placing her hands on her hips. “Why?”
She gapes, her eyes wide with disbelief. “And? What did you say?”
“I didn’t say much. He asked right before I left to come here. It wasn’t fair, really.”
“So, you never talked about wanting to move in with him before? And when he finally brings it up, you bail?” She watches me with a look that screams "I told you so." I ignore it, fidgeting with the clothes on the rack in front of me to avoid her stare and end the conversation.
She was right, though, and that’s the problem I kept running into with Brad. I make up romances for a living and I couldn’t seem to find all those fluffy feelings with him that I write about in all my stories. Or with anyone, for that matter.
At least, anyone but Eli. But that was an eternity ago, and this new version of Eli is one hundred percent off limits.
Marnie doesn't bring my failure of a relationship with Brad up again. We finish with our clothing and I pick out a few new outfits for the girls. I noticed the other day that their clothes were looking a little threadbare, especially Ally’s. When we check out, I insist the cashier put everything on one bill, which earns a lot of pushback from Marnie, but she eventually gives in. On the way home, we pick up the girls and quickly whip up something for them to eat while they model their new clothes for us.
It’s such a simple thing. Just a quiet night in with my favorite people in my world, but it ends up being one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. When the girls settle down and head up to bed, leaving Marnie and me alone in the living room to wind down and watch TV, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m making the right choice by staying.
Chapter 19
Eli
“Eli, clean up this mess. Your father should be home any minute,” Ma bellows up the stairs from her recliner in the living room.