by Aly Stiles
At 7:30, I turn off the car. I’m so angry, the blue sign around Cathy’s Café is now tinged with red. My hope that he’d show has transformed into a hope to God that he doesn’t because I don’t want to spend the night in jail. Naomi needs me to keep my head, and I need her to not have to deal with another fucking blow to her heart.
“He’s not coming,” she says quietly, her voice wavering.
I look over, catching the reflection of the neon sign in her misty eyes. This is my fault too. I’m the one who gave him a chance. I’m the one who thought for just one second life would toss us a break.
I don’t even know what to say as the silence stifles the car like toxic air. I could throw out platitudes about how it’s his loss or blatant lies about how he’s probably stuck in traffic. There’s a ton of things I could say, but she’s too smart for that shit, lived through too much heartache to be forced to listen to it anymore.
Please stay. I need you for the better days.
That lyric grinds at me again, taunting at the worst possible moment. The better days. What a joke.
I take her hand again and stare at a laughing mother through the window. Her toddler has chocolate melted all over his face and keeps sticking his tongue out trying to reach it. They don’t know they’re sitting at a table that just shattered another little girl’s heart.
“You want ice cream?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Can I… can I get a root beer float?”
“I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”
I squeeze her hand as she wipes her other sleeve across her eyes.
Can you do me a favor and stay with Naomi for a while?
I text Hadley the second we get home. Naomi heads straight to her room, and I let her go, knowing she needs time to process what just happened. I do too, but my processing is typically of a different nature. Sure enough, the music is blasting the second her door clicks shut.
Hadley: Sure. Everything okay?
Me: Fine. I just need to run out for a sec.
Hadley: I’ll be up in five minutes.
I wait impatiently after shoving my phone in my pocket, resisting the urge to check on Naomi. I don’t want her to see me like this. She’ll know I’m primed to do something stupid, and right now she has to believe one of us still has it together.
I grip my keys in my hand as I pace the foyer, checking the peephole every few seconds just in case I missed her knock. Finally, she shows up, and I yank open the door before she can even make contact.
“Hi?” she says, her fist still hovering in mid-air.
“Thanks for doing this.” I rush past her into the hallway. “She’s in her room and might need some time alone. You can feel her out.”
“Um… okay. I take it things didn’t go well with her father tonight?”
“No.”
I’m halfway down the hall when she calls out, “Wait!”
I turn and stare at her.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Nowhere. Don’t worry about it,” I call back.
“Julian! Wait! Just—” I don’t hear the rest as I push through the fire door and into the stairwell. This hanging “just” is on me.
I take the stairs two at a time, crashing through the door to the outside and jogging to my car. Shoving my keys in the ignition, I force in a long, deep breath. I need to stay calm. Focused. I need to remember I’m on a mission for Naomi’s welfare, not for revenge. Just get the papers and leave. Simple enough. I back out of the space and rip through the parking lot onto the street.
The drive to Sunset Crest Mobile Home Park is a blur. I bought this place for my sister and Naomi once I had enough money saved up from my Eastern Crush days. As the contract rhythm guitarist with no writing credits or original stake in the band, I wasn’t exactly rolling in it, even in our prime, but my expenses were mostly covered and I’ve never needed much to get by. Within a couple years I had enough to get my sister and her kid out of the shithole they were living in since they’d moved to L.A. years before.
The doublewide was certainly no mansion, but it was brand new, clean, and in a much better park than her previous home. She acted like it was heaven itself when I dropped the keys in her hand. From my visit a couple of weeks ago, Allan did a fantastic job of trashing the place this past year. My stomach is sick thinking Naomi may have been living in those conditions. I hate myself for not getting involved in their situation sooner.
Thing is, I was a mess too. The brunt of the Eastern Crush collapse happened around the same time as Ashley’s death, sending me into a tailspin. I wasted months drowning alone as a shadow of a human being in my downgraded apartment, living off the little money I had left.
Ashley had moved across the country for a job opportunity after I turned eighteen and she was confident I could fend for myself. Naomi was around five at the time, and I saw her maybe twice for brief visits after the move. It wasn’t until I also moved out to L.A. after the Eastern Crush thing took off that having any kind of real relationship with my niece would have been plausible. But by then I was touring and living the rockstar life. The last thing on my mind was my sister and her kid I barely knew. The true reality of Naomi’s existence didn’t settle in until Ashley’s death.
When Allan stepped up to take over his daughter’s care, I thought nothing of it. I’d helped with the funeral arrangements, given the girl a hug at the service, and that was that. He moved into the trailer and everything seemed under control. I never knew him well and Ashley never said a mean word about anyone, not even her absent ex. I had no idea how bad it was. Honestly, I don’t think I truly understood until he showed up on my doorstep just over a month ago.
Now? If I could kick my own ass for being so ignorant and selfish, I would. Yes, this aggressive protectiveness of Naomi is as much guilt as it is love.
Love?
Do I love her?
I’m not sure I’ve ever loved anyone except my sister, but as I pull into the parking space near Ashley’s home, I realize I would do anything for that little girl. Anything. I would give up the little I have to give her a better future. Trade my life for hers in a heartbeat. Is that love? I don’t know, but I do know in a lifetime of being knocked down and scarred, none of it hurt as much as her tears when her father didn’t show tonight. I’ve become an entirely different person over this past month.
And yes, I’m starting to like that person.
I don’t knock. If Allan is at home I don’t want to give him advance notice I’m here. The home and property is still in my name so technically I’m breaking into my own trailer. I slide open the master bedroom window, shuddering at how easy it is to get into this place under Allan’s care. Ashley was manic about making sure the doors and windows were locked at all times. Now I know it’s probably because she was worried about Allan showing up unexpectedly to disrupt their lives.
The bedroom is dark, and I don’t see any sign of life. After hoisting myself through the open window, I roll onto the floor and freeze for a moment to listen. There are no sounds that indicate another person is home, and I pull out my phone to use the flashlight. I scan the room slowly, taking in every pile of clothes and mound of garbage. This room is even worse than the rest of the house I saw last time I was here.
I force away my disgust and thoroughly examine every inch of the space in search of something that looks like it could be her papers. The image he texted showed the birth certificate on a blanket, and I recognize the pattern of the one strewn over the bed. He was definitely in this room when he took that picture which means… bingo.
Perched on a stack of ratty magazines on a nightstand is a manila folder that looks promising. I rush over and grab it, my heart racing as I pull it open. Right on top is the birth certificate from the photo, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s intact and in good condition, exactly what I was hoping for. Beneath it, I find a photocopy of her social security card. A quick flip through the rest of the file doesn’t produce the actual card,
though. Hmm, not ideal but it’s better than nothing. There must be a way to apply for a replacement card if we need one.
Next is a medical receipt from a doctor’s visit two years ago, which at least gives me a place to start in figuring out her healthcare status. Don’t kids need immunizations and stuff? I’ll have to call this place and get her in. Maybe they can help me with the insurance situation as well.
There’s a thicker stapled packet behind the bill, and my pulse quickens when I catch a glimpse of the document heading. Oh shit. Ashley had a life insurance policy? If this is legit, this could be a gamechanger for Naomi.
I scan the paragraphs of small text, not an easy task in the dark with my little flashlight. Every second I spend in this room feels like an hour but I can’t let this go. My gaze catches a name, and I almost choke when I see I’m listed as the beneficiary and custodian for Naomi, not Allan. Ashley obviously intended for me to use the money to take care of Naomi if anything happened to her. Allan would have known that, that bastard. He’s been sitting on what could be thousands of dollars for Naomi and—
“Don’t move.”
I freeze at the command coming from the open door behind me.
“Turn slowly with your hands in the air,” Allan growls.
My blood pounds as I grip the folder and do what he says, going numb at the sight of the handgun pointed at my chest. “What are you doing in my house?”
I swallow, the papers in my hand suddenly feeling like a vault of gold. Am I willing to die for this file? I don’t know. My head spins. All I know is that I can’t let him take these from me.
“Whoa, hey. Just came to check on you, Allan,” I say as evenly as possible. My voice sounds steady even though my insides are twisted chaos. “You didn’t show tonight. We waited for an hour.”
His gaze flickers to the folder in my hand.
“You think I’m an idiot? You came for the documents. Those belong to me. Hand them over.” He holds out one hand, his other still leveling the gun at me.
“They belong to Naomi, and since she’s with me, they now belong to me.” I pull in a breath, the first in several seconds. Oh god, I’m going to die tonight. Sweat breaks out over my body as I stare at the lowest form of humanity. A man who let this world break him to the point where he’s willing to break everyone around him.
He steps forward, his hand still outstretched.
“Give me the folder, Julian.”
Fear rushes to every recess of my body, coating my brain and my tongue, but still I manage to shake my head. “No. I’m not leaving without these.”
He takes another step, jerking the gun once for emphasis. “If you want to leave here at all you will give me the damn folder right now!”
I shake my head again, my legs suddenly weak, my arms trembling. Still, I use every ounce of strength I have to stay calm. I refuse to let him see my terror.
“Are you really going to shoot me, Allan? Over what? Some papers that mean nothing to you now? I saw them. I’m listed on the life insurance policy. I’m guessing I’m listed as the designated custodian on whatever the other papers in here are as well.”
His hand trembles, and I swallow the rising lump in my throat. I feel like I’m choking as I count down the seconds to my death. But just when I think the fear is about to win, a sudden resolve steels my legs for just a second longer. My spine straightens again. I stand tall as I stare him down.
“Allan, I know part of you still cares about your daughter. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have left her with me hoping she’d have a better life. You can kill me, but where does that leave you and Naomi?”
He winces, and I drag in a deep breath. Here goes nothing. This will end tonight one way or another.
“According to the state of California, I have to give all interested parties notice of my intention to apply for guardianship of Naomi. Consider this my pre-notice, Allan. You can fight me on it but know that I have a ton of resources and will fight back with everything I have. That’s how much I love her.”
I take a step forward, and he stiffens. I lower my arms enough to hold them out at my side instead, presenting my chest. “She’s being cared for by a guy who’s willing to take a bullet for her, so think long and hard about how much trouble you want to cause for a girl who’s already experienced a lifetime’s worth. How much more are you going to make her suffer?”
We stare at each other for several long seconds. A wall clock ticks loudly in the distance. The only light comes from the phone flashlight currently pointed at the floor with my hands extended out. I lower my arms to my sides. If I’m going to die, I’ll do it standing tall.
Allan cocks the gun at my adjustment, his hand trembling.
They say your life flashes before your eyes in the moment before your death. Thank god mine doesn’t as he grips the gun and I close my eyes. No, all I see is an eleven-year-old girl who uprooted my life and made it worth living, even if it was just for a short time. She gave me purpose, meaning, enriched my world to the point where I can’t imagine continuing without her.
I hold my breath, bracing for the moment of impact. Praying it won’t hurt as much as I think it will. For a brief second I consider charging him and at least trying to save my life, but that will also guarantee he fires.
“Go,” he barks suddenly.
Stunned, I open my eyes and stare at him.
“Go!” he shouts waving the gun toward the open window I came through.
I immediately turn and rush to the window. Even as I dive through it, I’m expecting the impact of a bullet in my back. It would be just like him to prefer shooting his victim like a coward instead of facing his mistakes head on. But soon I’m falling, crashing through a bush and landing on the ground with a thud. I know I’m cut up pretty bad, but I feel nothing as I run to my car and lock myself inside. Throwing it into reverse, I peel out and start the short drive home.
It’s not until I’m standing in my foyer, folder in hand, staring into Hadley’s shocked face that the reality of what just happened takes over.
CHAPTER 14
HADLEY
“Julian?” I approach him slowly, concerned by his disheveled appearance, but even more so by the vacant look in his eyes. He stands frozen in front of the open doorway like an apparition that just learned it’s dead. Thankfully, Naomi is in her room and has made it clear she has no intentions of leaving it tonight. For once, preteen angst is working in our favor.
He doesn’t even look at me as I reach around him to close the door. I lock it as well in case whatever left him in this state is still out there. It’s his hands that start trembling first, then his legs, and soon his entire body seems gripped by some strange fear. He clutches a folder in his hand. That’s shaking too.
I gently guide him to the couch, perching on the coffee table in front of him so we’re facing each other. Our knees touch, and I reach out to relieve him of the folder.
“No,” he hisses, drawing it to his chest.
I pull back, startled, and he crosses his arms over it.
“Julian, what happened?”
He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not fine.”
Thin streaks of blood cover his face and arms, scratches as if he fell against an abrasive surface. And the folder. What’s with that? I stare at it for a moment, as if somehow it will reveal itself to me in the silence.
He closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling in exaggerated breaths like he’s trying to control his breathing.
“Julian, please tell me what’s going on. Where were you just now? What’s in that folder?”
He doesn’t look at me, the breaths coming in faster intervals now. He’s losing the fight with himself. I sense a change in his state, a weakening that makes me think it’s safe to try again. This time when I reach for the folder, he lets me pull it from his arms.
I open it carefully, nervous about what I’ll find. What could possibly send one of the most fearless people I know in
to this state? I’m surprised to discover ordinary looking documents.
“Naomi’s birth certificate?” I ask, looking up at him.
He nods, trembling again but in a different way. This seems more about holding something in rather than letting something out. A weight presses on my chest as I watch him fight. So hard. I can see the battle raging in the wild look in his eyes, the violent clench of his fists. His entire body seems coiled in resistance to some unseen adversary.
I can’t take it anymore and move to the couch beside him. He doesn’t look at me, just releases his fists so he can lean forward and clench them in his hair instead. His eyes close as his elbows rest on his knees, his knuckles white from the strain of the pull of his hair. He’s still shaking. Breathing shallow breaths.
This is a man who’s about to shatter.
“Julian.” My voice is soft and stern at the same time, all the complex feelings I have for him cramming into that one word. I reach my arms around him and hold on as tight as I can, resting my cheek on his shoulder. It’s like holding an iron statue in an earthquake. Until it’s not.
Like an implosion, he suddenly goes limp in my arms. Hidden tears burst out in broken sobs as he splinters in front of me.
“I can’t,” he cries out, pulling at his hair. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
I pull him tighter. There are no words for this. No actions except to hold together what’s left of him while he sheds the pain he can’t control anymore. His sobs are guttural, angry and saturated as if there’s an entire lifetime’s worth pouring out at once. When’s the last time he’s cried? Ever? His body doesn’t even know how to cry as he wheezes in desperate breaths through the tears.
I pull him tighter still.
We sit like this for a long time, the distant thump of Naomi’s music mixing with the whimpering remains of the emotional onslaught. My own eyes burn when I close them, his raw pain too much for them to handle. Tears harden into a knot in my chest, pressing on my heart. But I can’t let them free. Not now. They’re for him anyway. For Naomi and this whole situation that I still don’t entirely understand but is somehow changing my world too.