by A. K. Evans
Wren wasn’t like me. She didn’t get herself involved in a bunch of organized sports. She didn’t care about playing with a group of friends outside in the summer. She was happiest caring for her animals and playing with them. Where most girls her age were into cheerleading, dance classes, and sleepovers, Wren was outside rolling around in the grass with the dogs, cleaning the guinea pig and hamster cages, feeding the fish, or searching for new animals in need.
That’s why I knew I’d pretend that this abandoned kitten was going to be my heart’s deepest desire. Because it would make Wren happy. And there was nothing better in the world than the sound of Wren’s laughter.
“Fine,” I agreed. “But it’s only going to be this one. Not only do I not want eight animals of my own, but I’m also pretty sure our parents aren’t going to allow it.”
“You’ll change your mind,” she announced, saying it in a way that indicated she had no doubt about me doing this for her again and again. “He’s right over here.”
Focusing my attention on where she was pointing, I saw the orange tabby kitten curled up behind the tire of a broken-down truck at the end of the road.
“He’s terrified,” Wren said.
“Maybe he’s waiting for his mom to come back,” I suggested.
She shook her head. “No, he’s not. I saw him here a few days ago,” she explained. “I wanted to make sure he didn’t run off, so I brought him some food. I’ve been watching, and there hasn’t been another cat here since then. He’s alone, and he’s not going to survive if we don’t help him.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
For the next few minutes, Wren and I worked to gain the kitten’s trust and get him inside the carrier. My sister did most of the work and really didn’t need my help. I might have acted like I didn’t want to come and help her, but the truth was that I really didn’t mind. It was something else to see her in her element.
“Thanks for helping,” she declared when we were on our way back home.
“You did all the work,” I said. “I’m just worried you’re going to be disappointed.”
“Why?”
“This makes nine animals, Wren,” I reminded her. “Mom and Dad might suggest dropping the kitten off at the shelter.”
Wren stopped in her tracks at the end of our driveway.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Terror was written all over her face. “Do you… you don’t think they’d do that, right?” she stammered.
I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But I think you should be prepared for that.”
She nervously bit her lip. “Nash, you have to help me hide him,” she pleaded. “Please. We can’t take him to a shelter. The shelters are already packed. I can’t bear to think of him alone and cold in a cage.”
“You can’t save them all either,” I told her.
Nodding, she insisted, “I can. I’m going to grow up and have a huge backyard with lots of animals. And I’m never going to send them off to the shelter.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You’re crazy.”
“Maybe, but I’m still going to do it,” she insisted. “Now, promise me you’ll help keep Timmy a secret.”
“Timmy?” I repeated.
Grinning, Wren replied, “That’s his name.”
I stared at her in silence.
“Please,” she begged. “I’ll do one of your chores next week.”
“No,” I said.
“Nash,” she whispered, the hurt in her voice undeniable.
“No, Wren, you’re not going to do one of my chores,” I started. “You’re going to have a kitten to take care of. You can’t possibly add more to your list of things to do. I should be taking over one of your chores to free up your time.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and half a second later, her body collided with mine. Wren wrapped her arms around my waist and cried, “Thank you, Nash. You really are the best brother ever.”
Since I still had Timmy in the carrier in one hand, I hugged Wren back with my free arm.
“You’re the best sister,” I returned.
Pulling her face back, she looked up at me and smiled. Her smile could light up the whole night sky.
“We better get back and get him settled before Mom and Dad get home from work,” I advised.
She nodded her agreement, and the two of us hurried back down the driveway to the house. For the next hour, we worked together to get Timmy cleaned, fed, and settled.
Suddenly, I was no longer there watching Wren prepare to take care of her new kitten.
A montage of images played before my face. All of them were her. Some with her bright and shining face. Others were just… others were too painful to see.
And then I felt like I was suffocating, unable to breathe from the ache in my chest. It was consuming me, drowning me, closing in. I was going… going to suffocate… going to die. For a brief moment, death became a wish because only then would the suffering end.
I shot up, gasping for breath, feeling disoriented and an overwhelming sense of grief.
Grief as ripe as it had been nineteen years ago. I swiped at the wetness on my cheeks as I continued to struggle for air.
This time of year was always a struggle for me. But I’d never experienced what I’d just experienced. For the first time, a happy memory—one I often recalled throughout the last nineteen years—invaded my mind as I slept, but this time it ended only with an overwhelming sense of longing and agony.
Resting my head back on the pillow, I turned to my side and let all the memories consume me. The pain of only having those memories left leaked from my eyes. And they did that until I heard my doorbell ring.
Grappling.
That was the only way to describe what was happening between my head and my heart. I felt like I was being torn apart by a million different emotions.
I stood there staring at the space where Parker had just been standing only moments ago.
Standing.
Until she was on the floor.
I closed my eyes as the vision invaded my mind again, the nagging suspicion of why she reacted the way she did too much to process.
I was already feeling so raw inside, which confused me beyond all belief considering it had been so many years, but now I had something else tugging at me.
Parker.
My beautiful Parker.
What I had just witnessed with her wasn’t right. It wasn’t sitting well with me. Why? Why did she react the way she just did?
I knew what it was.
It took me mere seconds to figure it out, and I felt an awful churning in my gut at what her reaction to me indicated.
A few weeks ago, she admitted to me that her last relationship ended eight years ago. It ended badly. I swallowed hard at the thought that the reason it ended was that her ex had taken his hands to her.
A new pain, the likes of which I hadn’t ever felt before now, tore through me at that realization.
Fuck.
If it were true, everything suddenly made sense. The reason she was so standoffish in the beginning. The way she fought for control in so many unnecessary situations.
She kept herself from finding happiness with someone else.
Then she met me.
And eight years after getting out of her last relationship, she found a way to trust someone. To trust me. I always knew she was special, but I hadn’t realized just how precious a gift she’d given me.
I just trashed it, too.
While I still knew it would never work out between us in the long run, if I had known what she had gone through, I would have found a way to deal with this situation differently.
She trusted me.
And now she didn’t.
That’s why she fell to the floor.
I should have seen it all along. The signs were there, and I ignored them. Memories with Parker flitted through my mind. Instances were Parker would back away from me, or she’d flinch when I brought my hand up to
her neck or her face.
She was cautious, but she’d been trying to open herself up to the possibility of trusting someone again. She succeeded in doing that, and I just showed her why she shouldn’t have.
Not once did I think she was reacting to a past trauma. And while I was only speculating now, it seemed entirely impossible that Parker would have reacted the way she just did in front of me if that wasn’t what had happened to her.
I let out a deep sigh.
I needed time to cope with what woke me up this morning, but I knew it would be useless. I’d be unsuccessful in accomplishing anything regarding Wren if I didn’t at least confirm that Parker was okay. My mind was too muddled by the thoughts of the woman who’d stolen my heart.
With my mind made up, I turned and walked back upstairs to get myself dressed.
Fifteen minutes after she ran out of my house, I was in my truck driving to Parker’s house.
Because I’d been so caught up in everything that had happened from even before I woke up, I hadn’t prepared myself for what I’d find when I arrived. It was like one kick to the gut after another when Parker opened her front door to me.
Tears had stained her cheeks while pain shone in her red-rimmed and puffy eyes. I put that there. I’d done that to her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. It was evident by her tone that Parker would rely on anger and determination to mask the pain she was feeling.
“Are you okay?”
Shaking her head, she clipped, “Look, Nash, if we’re done, just let it be done. Don’t do this.”
“Tell me why you reacted the way you did at my house before you ran out,” I urged.
“Excuse me?”
“Why did you cover your face and fall to the ground when I turned around?” I clarified my question.
Narrowing her eyes on me, she countered, “What makes you think you deserve to know? How I reacted is none of your business anymore.”
“So, it’s true then?” I pressed. “Your ex hurt you, but he didn’t just hurt your heart. He hurt you.”
I watched as the shield she’d put up faded a touch. The vulnerability only lasted a few seconds before her armor was back in place. Then she asked, “How dare you think you have a right to assume anything about me? You’ve got a lot of nerve to come here demanding answers from me when you don’t open up to me despite how much I have begged you.”
Staring into her beautiful eyes, I silently asked myself if I could do this. Could I tell her? Should I tell her? Keeping the truth from her seemed like a good idea before, when I knew that her inability to fix the issue would only hurt her more. But now I think she deserved that truth. It was the only way she’d be able to move on from this with as little damage as possible. And more than anything else, I wanted to do whatever I could to lessen the hurt she’d feel.
Apparently, I’d taken too long to decide how to respond to her because Parker spoke again. As she took half a step back behind her door, she said, “Goodbye, Nash.”
“You were born on the same day my sister died,” I blurted.
Parker froze.
“Not the same year, but the same day,” I clarified. “She was the same age as you, and she was twelve when she died.”
Parker’s lips parted, the shock of the news I’d just delivered clearly having the expected effect.
Several long moments of silence passed before she rasped, “It was my father.”
“What?”
“My father beat me,” she clarified. “And because I loved my little sister so much, I’d step in to protect her from him.”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her father.
The man who should have protected her from everything beat her.
“Parker, we need to talk,” I insisted. “We’re both hurting. I don’t want this to end like this with you.”
She hesitated a moment before she dipped her chin and stepped back to allow me to come inside.
When we were sitting comfortably on her couch, she lamented, “I’m so sorry to hear about your sister, Nash. I can’t even imagine.”
“I appreciate that,” I replied. “Tell me what happened to you.”
Parker was silent for so long I wasn’t sure she was going to respond. Just as I was about to reach out for her hand to offer her some silent support, she shared, “Living with my father was like living with a drill sergeant all the time. We didn’t do anything but go to school, do homework, and maintain a household. And by we, I mean Kaia and me. Our father worked and supported us financially, but that’s about all he did for us.”
“What about your mom?” I questioned her.
Parker’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “I don’t remember much about her,” she began. “She died when Kaia was born. I was only three.”
Damn it.
“So it was just you and your sister with him from the time you were three?” I pressed.
She shook her head. “No. Well, technically speaking, it was. But our grandmother was a savior. She was there day in and day out, taking care of us until she died. I was nine when she passed. And that’s when it became my job to do the laundry, cooking, and cleaning. Kaia was still too young, and I decided to take care of my sister. There was no other option because if those things didn’t get done, the punishments were harsh.”
My body went rigid. The thought of a nine-year-old little girl being beaten because she hadn’t maintained a household was ludicrous.
“I’m so sorry,” I remarked. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what her childhood was like for her. Wren and I never had to worry. Our parents had rules, and we were expected to do chores, but we never feared for our safety if they didn’t get completed.
“The minute I could get us out of there, I did,” she continued. “I didn’t care. I didn’t look back. I just knew I needed to do whatever it took to make sure Kaia was safe.”
“She’s lucky to have you,” I said.
“I’m lucky to have her,” she argued. “I wouldn’t be who I am if it hadn’t been for her. She is the reason I survived it.”
“I can understand that.”
“Were you close to your sister?” Parker asked.
I nodded. “She was my best friend. Three years younger than me, but that didn’t matter.”
She offered me a sympathetic look.
“I am who I am because of Wren,” I started. “She had such a short life, but it was so full. Wren could be the light and good in the world. I preferred to work on and ride my BMX bike. I was completely okay with that, though. I’d sit by and watch her shine. She was so positive all the time. No matter the situation, she found the good in it.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Parker replied. “I wish I could have known her.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “And when you arrived at my place this morning, I’d just woken from an awful dream. I want to call it a nightmare, but it feels wrong to call anything with Wren in it a nightmare.”
Parker’s head tipped to the side. “What happened?” she asked softly.
I took in a deep breath as I looked away from Parker. After giving myself a moment to rein in my emotions, I said, “It was mostly a recollection of my last significant memory with Wren before she died.” I went on to tell her about how my sister convinced me to help her save Timmy. After giving her the whole story about how I got roped into convincing our parents that Timmy was my rescue, I added, “Wren loved animals. And I know you don’t, but I swear it was almost comical that our house started looking like a farm. Over the days that followed the rescue of Timmy, my sister was in her glory. I loved seeing her like that. Nothing made her happier than helping animals. I had no doubt she’d do exactly as she had said and would grow up to have her very own animal farm. She knew what she wanted in life, and she was going to make a difference. She wanted to save them all. Unfortunately, three weeks after she saved Timmy, Wren’s light went out when she passed peacefully in her sleep. And I was stuck being able to do nothi
ng but care for the legacy she left behind.”
There was a long stretch of silence as Parker digested my story about Wren. Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so awful,” she eventually declared.
“What?”
“I told you that I’d never live with a cat,” she started. “Nash, I’m sorry. I knew you were passionate about having a cat all the time, but I never imagined that your reason was so you could feel connected to your sister.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “You like what you like. And as much as I was hoping to make it work between us, I didn’t expect you to change who you are for me.”
Parker looked out the window and rasped, “I had one.”
Confused, my brows furrowed, and I asked, “What?”
“There were moments, living with our father, that were enjoyable,” she began. “One year for Christmas, he got us a kitten. He made it clear that Daisy was our responsibility. We had no problem accepting that because it felt like we’d just had the best Christmas of our lives. But no matter how much Kaia and I both tried, Daisy was in her own little world, determined to do her own thing. We’d come home from school and find that she hadn’t used her litter box. It was always a mad dash to get home from school, clean up her messes, and get all of our other chores done before he got home.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Life should not have been this hard for her.
Parker must not have noticed the disgust on my face because she continued, “One day, we got home and noticed Daisy hadn’t used the litterbox. That wasn’t the problem. The issue was that she hadn’t gone to the bathroom in any of her other usual spots. I was terrified to tell my dad because the night before he’d gotten… angry with me. The last thing I wanted to do was get him angry again, but I was worried that Daisy needed to see the vet. Surprisingly, when he got home, and I explained my concerns, he went upstairs to change his clothes so we could take her to get checked out. And that day was the last day we saw her.”
Concerned and confused were just two of the immediate reactions I had. “What happened?”
“He changed his clothes and went to put on his sneakers. When he did, he stepped in a pile of shit. Daisy had shit in his shoes. He lost his mind and dumped her at a shelter. Then he came home and took his anger out on my sister and me,” she murmured.