Chapter 20 #2
I go around the side of the bed and reach down, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him out of bed. Daryl’s not a tall guy but he is big and stocky and built like a bull and yet I’m able to get him out of bed, to his feet.
I don’t know what my plan is.
I don’t have time to think about what my plan is.
“Who do you think you are,” Daryl is saying pushing me back. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
I’m pushing him back, one hard shove that sends him back into the wall. “You fucking hurt my mother. You’re going to pay for that!”
“Like you suddenly give a shit!” he growls back. “Your mother provoked me. She got in my way.”
“You were going to hit your son!”
“He is not my son!” he yells, louder, as if he wants Noah to hear him. “He is nothing to me, no son of mine dresses like a girl, wears makeup. It’s disgusting and he should know better, have more respect than to do something like that. I’m his father! He owes me!”
“No one owes their father anything!”
“Oh fuck off, Laz,” he snarls and in the dark I can see the beady glint of his eyes. “What would you know about having a father anyway? I know he left you. Can’t say I fucking blame him.”
I don’t think.
I just swing.
Hit Daryl right in the jaw.
My fist cries out in pain.
He goes flying back against the wall, bumping into the bedside table and knocking over yet another picture frame that shatters into thick shards when it smashes against the tiles.
I’m tense, ready for what he’s going to do next.
He comes at me, but he goes low, tackling me at the waist.
He brings me down to the floor in a heap, the back of my head smacking the tiles.
Stars explode behind my eyes.
A fist fight ensues.
I throw punches up.
He throws them down.
We’re both fighting dirty. Both bloody.
I’m fueled by decades of rage and resentment over my father, I’m fueled by a protectiveness over Noah and my mother.
He’s fueled by nothing but fear and loss of pride. Fear that he will lose everything when this fight is over, because I will make sure he does. Loss of pride because it’s shameful to lose face in front of his stepson and wife.
I think I might just win.
With a loud roar, I flip over and start pounding him in the face. His hands go up to protect himself from the blows. I can’t feel anything anymore. I can only hear my heart in my ears, a constant heavy thud.
I am a monster.
Just like my father.
It’s enough to make me pause and during that pause, Daryl gets me with an uppercut, hard enough to make me fly back onto the floor again.
Then there is screaming.
My mother screaming for us to stop.
Noah yelling that the cops are on the way.
The light comes on and I can barely see through my swollen eyes. The room starts to spin.
Daryl is on the floor beside me, in bloodied pajama pants, ready to come at me and keep fighting. He’s picked up a shard of broken glass, wielding it like a knife, not caring that blood is pouring from his palm.
I need to get up but everything is working so slowly, my limbs like they’re stuck in quicksand.
Noah picks up a vase from the dresser and with a blood curdling scream, comes running across the bedroom, slams the vase down on Daryl’s head, shattering it.
My mother screams again.
Daryl staggers and then collapses, passing out cold.
Holy shit.
“I’m so sorry!” Noah cries out, hands to his mouth. “Oh my god, did I kill him? I killed him! I’m so sorry!”
“You didn’t kill him,” I manage to say, my mouth tasting like blood. I get on my knees and crawl over to Daryl just as my mother takes Noah back by the shoulders, pulling him away.
I feel for a pulse. He has one. It’s strong. His back rises and falls, breathing deeply.
I glance up at Noah and wince. “You didn’t kill him. He’s just knocked out. He’ll wake up with a wicked headache and probably need stitches for that hand, but that’s about it.”
“He’ll wake up in jail,” my mother says flatly and I can’t tell if she’s forlorn by that or not.
“You’re right,” I say, staring at her. “He will wake up in jail. I might be in jail with him.”
“You were only defending yourself,” Noah says.
Technically I was defending Noah. But I did punch Daryl first. When he comes to, there’s no doubt he’ll tell them what I did. I am not innocent here.
“You’re not going to jail, Laz,” my mother says. “I’ll tell the cops what he did to us. I’ll tell them you defended us.”
I know I shouldn’t be surprised that my mother is taking my side over Daryl’s but I am.
I’m even more surprised to hear it for myself later when the cops are questioning us in the kitchen. Daryl woke up just in time and was placed in handcuffs before being hauled to the hospital.
The same medics that worked on him, did a quick once over on me. My lip is split and I’ll have a black eye but other than that, I came out of it okay.
“Thanks,” I tell my mother after they leave. “For that.”
She nods, rubbing her frail hands together. “I should have done that a long time ago with your father.”
She looks so…alone.
My heart pinches.
I get up from my chair and walk over to her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s never too late to start again.”
She wraps her arms around me and quietly cries. I don’t know how long we stand there like that. Our relationship will always be damaged, always be tainted by our past. But maybe, just maybe, there can be another phase of it, where we are better versions of our past selves.
“Laz,” Noah says.
Still holding onto my mother I look over at him in the doorway. “Yah?”
A tiny smile tugs at his lips. “Your ride is here.”
I frown. “My ride? Noah, I have a car.”
“And you aren’t driving in your condition,” my mother says.
“Then I’ll stay overnight here, sleep in my old room,” I tell her.
“But your ride is here,” Noah says again. Then he jerks his head toward the front door.
What the fuck is going on?
I let go of my mother and walk through the kitchen all the way through the foyer to the front door.
I open it.
A yellow VW bug with a bee decal on the side is parked in the driveway, engine running.
Bloody hell.
I look behind at Noah.
“Why is she here?”
“I called her,” he says, now with a bit of a smirk.
“Why?”
“Because she’s your best friend, isn’t she? And your best friend should be there for you. I told her what happened and she said she was coming right over.”
I have a hard time believing that and yet here she is.
My heart starts to skip.
“Noah...”
“Hey, don’t get all mushy with me. Go home.”
“You did the right thing in calling me, you know?”
“I know. Now go. We’ll be okay.”
“I don’t want to leave you both.”
He pushes at my shoulder. “We’ll be okay. I’ll take care of Sarah.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“We aren’t. We have each other. Got it?”
I nod reluctantly. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”
“Okay. Can you bring some In-N-Out?”
I smile. “Of course.”
Then I gather up my courage and head down the steps to the car.