The One You Feed

by Renee Miller

  PART FIVE

  For it was Adam who was first created, and then Eve. And it was not Adam who was deceived, but the woman being quite deceived, fell into transgression.

  Timothy 2:13-14 (NASB)

  CHAPTER 41

  Since Isabelle and Amy’s deaths, Ronny drank every day.

  He’d voiced his thoughts only once during that seven months, on the day of Isabelle’s funeral, when he’d called the coroner’s office, to tell them Amy had killed the baby. But he had no evidence. The officers countered they couldn’t prove it, so they’d have to rule it as SIDS—the only thing the evidence supported.

  The same night, Ronny told Dana about his conversation and mumbled, “I wish I could put a bullet in her head and save everyone the trouble,” before rolling away from her.

  She knew he regretted his words when they found Amy in the tub.

  Suicide…

  It just didn’t seem like something Amy would do. When Ronny mentioned how impossible drowning yourself in a bathtub seemed, the police told him it might have been if she’d been sober. During the autopsy, though, they’d found “considerably large” amounts of narcotics in Amy’s blood. It was possible she took the drugs so she’d pass out once her head was under the water.

  When Dana searched Hayley’s closet for the dress she’d worn to Isabelle’s funeral, she found a heap of wet clothes on the floor against the back wall. She pulled them out. Hayley’s sweatpants and t-shirt. The last time she’d worn them was…

  Dana stopped herself from thinking the worst. Could be a million reasons why the clothes were hidden there. Maybe she found Amy and was too afraid to say something. Maybe she…it could be anything.

  She tried not to think about the most likely scenario that caused Hayley to hide her wet clothes and focused on Ronny. He’d been in a rage that no amount of understanding could pull him out of. Twice he’d come home accusing her of sleeping around. He and Devon got into a scuffle a week ago, resulting in a sprained hand for Ronny and a dislocated shoulder for Devon.

  She finally reached her limit after a second fight between Devon and Ronny.

  “I’m leaving,” she’d told him when he came in, still reeking of alcohol he’d drank the night before, or maybe it was that morning. For lunch, probably.

  “Over your dead body,” Ronny countered. “Just who the fuck do you think you are? You don’t call the shots here.”

  She backed away from him until her back hit the counter.

  “I asked you a question.”

  She tried to stay calm. “Ronny, Jacob’s right there. You’ll scare him.”

  “I don’t give a shit who’s here. Who the fuck do you think you are?” Ronny slammed the cupboard next to her head with his fist.

  “Nobody. I’m nobody,” she whispered.

  He backhanded her, catching the ear that he’d already damaged. “That’s right, you’re nobody.”

  “My mind’s made up. You won’t scare me into staying again.”

  “I’m on to your game. You want to turn them all against me, don’t you? You want me dead.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do, then you can go whore as much as you want. You’ve wanted me and Amy gone for a long time. She’s gone, so now it’s my turn. Is that it?”

  “What’s Amy got to do with anything?”

  He tapped his head, his eyes wild and unfocused. “I know how you think.”

  Dana touched his arm. He yanked it back. He no longer made sense; the way he cracked his knuckles and paced the room terrified her.

  “I’m sorry, okay,” she said. “I don’t want to do this. Everything just got… I didn’t mean it. Let’s just go to bed.”

  “Oh, so you can take my kids while I’m sleeping? Fuck that. I’m going to make you pay for everything you put me through. I’m tired of you judging me. I’ll never meet your fucking standards. You wanted to die once, why not do it now?”

  A shiver crept up her spine. He would kill her. Something about the way he looked at her, the way his whole body seemed to vibrate, said that this time, he meant every word he said.

  “I said I’m sorry. You’ll regret this. You know you will.”

  He reached into his back pocket. Holding up his knife, the one he took hunting, he flipped it open and waved it in front of Dana’s face. “It’s your turn.”

  “No Dad,” Jacob’s voice, so small, came from under the table.

  “Ronny come on. This isn’t what you want.”

  “It’s what you want, and unlike you, I’ll do it right.”

  —

  As the newest employee at the restaurant, Hayley got the crappy hours. She worked the breakfast shift from six AM. Today a girl didn’t show up for the lunch rush, so Hayley stayed until it slowed down.

  Movement in the kitchen window made her pause as she opened the front door. She didn’t know why, but something felt wrong. When she walked inside, Hayley stared at the tableau across the room. The light caught the knife in her dad’s hand.

  A scraping sound drew her attention to the table. Jacob huddled underneath, shuffling his feet, trying to move farther back. No, this wasn’t happening. Her dad was not standing there with a knife. Her mother was not cowering, instead of fighting him off.

  “Ronny, stop it.” Her mom struggled to push his hand away—a hand that held a six-inch hunting knife; one her dad sharpened until it could slice anything with a flick of his wrist.

  “Fuck you. When I’m done, I’ll finish myself. Would that make you happy?” His voice sounded strange.

  “This is stupid.”

  “Stupid? I’ll give you stupid.”

  They struggled, her mom’s head banged against the cupboards behind, the sound setting off a bomb inside Hayley’s head.

  “Dad, stop it.” The calm clearness of her voice startled her.

  He didn’t turn around, and continued to try to restrain Dana’s hands, the knife coming closer to her throat. “Fuck off.”

  “I’m calling the cops,” Hayley warned.

  “I’ll be done by the time they get here.”

  Hayley looked around the room. A white and blue border surrounded the kitchen; happy little geese with frilly ribbons. There was nothing happy in this house. Her throat felt as though it were swelling shut. She couldn’t panic.

  “I mean it, Dad. You’re scaring Jacob.”

  He didn’t listen. His left hand held her mom’s throat, repeatedly slamming her head into the cupboard.

  “Fuck.” Hayley charged, ducking under his left arm and forcing him to let go of her mom’s throat.

  “I’ll knock your fucking teeth out!” he roared and held the knife up.

  “Do it!” Hayley yelled. “I dare you. Let’s see how you do with someone your own size, Daddy.”

  His face changed. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  The man in front of her no longer resembled her father; the man she’d have sworn would have laid down his life for her yesterday. A voice inside said she should be terrified, but she wasn’t. At that moment, she hated him with every fiber of her being. It wasn’t enough that she and her brothers had to suffer through these last months with Isabelle and Amy, now they had to endure their parents’ bullshit.

  He brought the knife so close to her cheek that it brushed the fine hairs. “I’m not kidding.”

  Her mother pushed at her back. “Hayley, take Jacob and go. I’ll be fine”

  “No, this shit ends today. You’ll have to kill me to get to her, and I don’t think you have the balls to do that.”

  He tilted the knife so the tip pressed into her chin. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “Christ, look at your son,” she said. “He’s terrified of you.”

  Dana shifted, slipping out from behind her. Hayley saw her opportunity and went for the knife, turning so her back was against her father, the knife in both of their hands now. He wrenched her arm to the side. Sparks of pain shot from her wrist to her elbow, but she held on.

 
; “You can’t win,” he said.

  “No one is winning, Dad. We can’t do this anymore.”

  Dana ran around them. Hayley assumed she went to Jacob and wrestled her father to the sink, hoping to find something useful in it, but it was empty. She heard a scuffling at the table behind them. Probably Jacob escaping to the living room.

  With all of her strength, Hayley slammed her dad’s hand on the edge of the counter. His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go of the knife. Finally, exhausted and praying her mother had the sense to get out of the house, she released his wrist and turned to face him.

  He laughed and circled, backing into the table. “Not so big now, are we?”

  “I hate you.” Hayley shoved him.

  Switching the knife to his left hand, he swung at her. The blow knocked her sideways into the fridge. She sunk to the floor, her face on fire. Shocked at the taste of her blood, she stared up at him. He actually hit her…

  “God.” Ronny dropped the knife. His chin trembled. “Oh shit, Hay I’m so sorry. Please, I—”

  “I called the cops,” her mom said from the living room.

  Hayley turned, her mother a hazy blob moving toward them.

  “I’m done, Ronny.”

  “It was an accident.” He sank to his knees, reaching for her.

  Hayley flinched.

  He made a strange choking sound and covered his face with his hands.

  “You’ve got to stop. All of it, the drinking, the anger; just stop.” Her jaw felt unhinged, excruciating to move.

  “I will. I promise.”

  “This isn’t like every other time, Dad. You really have to stop.”

  “I mean it. I’ll get help. Just don’t hate me.”

  Hayley allowed him to pick her up and sit her in the chair. He went to the fridge for ice and wrapped it in a towel that hung near the sink. Her mom stood at the door, wringing her hands.

  “Ronny,” she said again, “the cops are on their way. I didn’t want to call them, but you were out of your mind.”

  He hung his head. “I heard you. I deserve to go to jail. I can’t stop myself; I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  The fear and regret in her mother’s eyes moved Hayley. She wouldn’t compound his punishment by letting the police see what he’d done. She stood. “I’m going upstairs. They don’t have to know about this part. Come on, Jacob.”

  The room spun. She never imagined one punch could hurt so much and glanced at her mother with new respect. Hayley wouldn’t have lasted a week in the same situation.

  Jacob gripped her hand, glancing up at her several times as they went upstairs.

  “I’m okay. Dad needed a wakeup call.”

  “He’s a jerk,” he muttered.

  “They’re both messed up, buddy, but maybe this is the end of the bullshit.”

  CHAPTER 42

  September 1995

  Her stomach in knots, Hayley entered the building. She hadn’t intended to go to college and waited a year before giving in to her mother’s pleading. Now, taking in the students milling about in an atmosphere of stale air that reeked of dusty textbooks and fear, she wished she hadn’t agreed. Her old shyness, which she’d covered well around friends and family, crept up again.

  She searched for room 104: Introduction to Social Services. Deciding her future took time. Hayley wanted something secure, but also interesting enough to stick to. She’d always respected and admired Jane, Amy’s worker, so Children and Family services seemed the right choice.

  For the first time in her life, her parents no longer worried her. They were loving and happy. Her dad hadn’t had a drop of booze since the day the police took him away. Hayley was proud of him.

  To see them both smile—although every day was a struggle—made everything they’d endured worthwhile. Even Devon had noticed and changed his lifestyle. He worked, drank only occasionally, and talked about going back to school. His new girlfriend was supportive, and finally, he showed signs of being happy instead of resentful.

  Number 104 loomed ahead, its blue door ajar.

  It was now or never. She took a deep breath, walked to the open door, and went inside where only four students sat at a long, conference-like table: three older women and a young man about her age who tapped his pen against his books while staring out the window. Hayley’s gaze followed his, to rest on the barren branches of a withered old tree dancing in the wind, rapping at the glass now and then.

  Hayley sat next to a woman older than her mother.

  The woman smiled. “Hi, I’m Nadine.”

  “Hey, I’m Hayley. I thought there would be more people.”

  “The accelerated programs don’t bring in large numbers. Not many students want to complete a two-year course in less than one. Just us crazies.”

  “I suppose.” Hayley looked down at her books in a bid to still her trembling hands.

  Nadine turned a large ring with a pink stone around her finger. “I was so nervous about coming here. My husband died last year, and my kids encouraged me to do something for myself.”

  “And you chose school?”

  “Well, over the years I’ve fostered several children. It seemed logical for me to actually get my degree and turn it into a career.”

  She couldn’t imagine starting over at Nadine’s age. Suddenly, she felt silly for being so scared.

  A teacher breezed in the room, arms full of books, a pen dangling from his mouth. Hayley guessed he was about her father’s age: mid-forties and with dark hair graying at the temples. He set his pen down.

  “Welcome everyone, I’m Tom. I don’t believe in Mr. This or That, we’re peers here and first names seem appropriate. I’ll be your instructor for much of your time here. I’m the only teacher masochistic enough to force a handful of innocent souls through hours of work and study to put a few more caring people into the system.”

  Hayley smiled. His energy was contagious, his smile encouraging.

  He passed out a thick stack of pages to each of them as he spoke. “We’re small today, but the class usually doubles the first week in, so don’t get used to the intimacy. You won’t have me all to yourselves for too long. Heartbreaking, I know. Anyway, this is what we’ll be doing. I’ve listed reading material in here, as well as assignments, my expectations and school rules.”

  After glancing at the first pages, Hayley cringed. She suspected there would be a lot of work, but the sheer amount in the lists made her head spin. She’d be in class Monday through Friday, from eight to five and, judging by the assignment list, she’d be doing homework the rest of the time.

  “Okay, I want to do introductions before we begin,” Tom said. “So, I’ll start. Name and where you’re from, and if you’re feeling brave, a little something about you. I’m Tom, I live here at the school, I have a wife and a couple of kids, but I’ve forgotten where I left them.”

  They all laughed.

  When the young man, the only one in the class, took his turn, he began with, “I’m Connor, I’ve lived around here my whole life. I expected more guys, but I won’t complain about spending a year in a room full of beautiful women.” He smiled and his gaze fell on Hayley.

  Her cheeks felt warm. When her turn came, the words died in her throat. She hated speaking, even to a group this small. Taking a deep breath, she vomited an introduction. “I’m Hayley and there isn’t much else to tell.”

  Silence.

  She looked around at the expectant faces. If they were hoping for more, they’d wait a long time.

  “I doubt that, blue eyes,” Tom said, and chuckled. “Judging by the pink in your cheeks and the gorgeous freckles on your face, I’d say that you’re an Irish princess who has come to gift the commoners with the grace and honor of your beauty.”

  Hayley laughed, as she knew he wanted her to do; embarrassed and a little relieved that the awkward silence was gone. She sensed the heat of Connor’s eyes on her.

  Tom dove into their first discussion, asking what family meant
to them and Hayley relaxed. The rest of the morning flew by in a blur of books, questions, and growing anxiety. At lunch, she crossed the road to a little coffee shop Tom recommended; a place packed full of students. The aroma of coffee and baked goods sent a rumble through her stomach. Pushing through the crush of bodies milling about the entrance, Hayley made it to the counter and ordered her lunch, coffee and an éclair, and then found a small table in the corner next to the restroom.

  She observed the crowd. Mostly twenty-somethings, all in passionate discussions; some laughing, a few serious. Hayley felt very much alone, as she often did. Even among her friends, she didn’t feel part of the activity around her. Different. It wasn’t an unpleasant thing, but it made her wish she could be as outgoing and carefree as the rest of them. Someday she’d like to forget the ugliness of her childhood. Maybe she’d stop worrying over the meaning of every action, every word, or lying awake at night, rehashing conversations in her head. Sometimes she wished she didn’t know what it was like to kill someone or how easy it was.

  Sometimes…

  The door opened. Connor entered and their eyes met. He smiled. Her stomach buzzed. He was cute. Black hair cut short, but not short enough to hide its tendency to curl at the ends. His smile alone would have made up for a third eye or a hump on his back. He headed toward her with a cup of coffee. Shit. She’d prefer to watch him from afar.

  He stood over the table. “Can I sit with you?”

  “Sure.”

  Connor sat, his knees brushing hers under the tiny table. “So, did you think the class would be so small?”

  “No, I thought it would be like a regular class, but that’s okay.” She sipped her coffee.

  “I really wanted to go into Parole and Probation, but that’s full until next year and this one has a lot of the classes I need.” He traced imaginary lines in the scarred tabletop. “If a spot opens, I’ll just shift everything over to that.”