CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
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LAKE
Wrap Angel’s golden blonde hair around my fingers, looping it in circles. I let my hand get used to the soft texture before I unravel the strands. Then I repeat, while I listen to her tender snores as she breathes. In and out. Gentle.
Serenity, my wife, is asleep in my bed. She’s curled up in my blanket that she stole everything but a corner of, and her head is on my pillow. There’s sunlight sparkling over her pale skin. She looks bright, even with the baby frown she has when she sleeps.
I cooked Chicken Alfredo the other day, and she bursted into tears. I could’ve sworn someone shot me in my chest three times when I saw her cry. Sure felt like that anyway.
It was another moment I struggled and failed to not have feelings for her. I kissed her like I’d been kissing her forever, and I brought her into my room so that whatever she was crying over, I could fight it off while she slept. Then the same thing happened last night, because she took me on a date to get my first tattoo.
It’s itchy as hell, but it’s great. My day with her was even greater. This sweet angel makes me grin so damn much. That sounds stupid as hell, but she knows how to make my day vivid. She planned a whole date for me, like I’m worthy of it.
So I brought her into my bed again—in case the insomnia would help me fight off any bad dreams that tried to reach her—and now I can’t stop questioning what I’m doing. Those spaced out thoughts are expanding and overcrowding my head. I told her I’m trying. I can’t promise it’ll ever be enough.
I drag my arm away from her waist.
Serenity deserves a good life, I wanna give it to her. I know I’m a work in progress. It isn’t simple, but I’m trying my hardest.
Keep telling yourself that.
I roll my body away from hers and lie flat on my back, looking up at the smooth ceiling.
Sometimes I question why I never stick with people. My parents were messed, still are, but my dad was a wall, and my mum was fresh wallpaper. They stuck, and they never budged.
Dad often went to jail for his drunken stupidity, nothing too wild. Until I got to highschool and his usual bar fights turned into assault with a deadly weapon. My ma would clap her hands and grin every time he got released, welcoming him back into our lives with open arms. Never understood that, because every time he got locked up, she’d be outraged.
She’d sit me, Brooks and River on a cigarette-holed couch and tell us she was done. Her nails would scratch at her brunette scalp, and she’d ramble about how tired she was of him calling her names, that she does a lot and should be appreciated. Her head would lift from the floor to our broken faces, and she’d add one last point, that she didn’t want our father beating on us anymore.
I still can’t tell if she was sober or out of her mind when she spewed that bullshit.
Her speeches gave us hope when were little, though. We’d have beaming grins on our faces, racing to the back of the trailer to pack our bags, thinking we were close to being free from our shitty lives, but we’d wake up on the same thin mattress.
We stopped packing our bags. My siblings and I would squeeze onto the sofa and listen to Ma’s same rants every few months. Nod along with blank expressions on our faces. New wounds, both emotional and physical, sat and stayed with us on that couch.
We grew older and physically fled the trailer, but for me, I don’t think I ever actually left.
How can I be enough for my wife when I’m stuck and haunted?
I keep my eyes on the ceiling and raise my hand to my forehead. I slide it up through my hairline until I can feel the scar. Jagged and rough. If my hair was any thinner, it would stick out like a sore thumb, but because it’s hidden, I haven’t told my wife about it.
I remember River hitting the ground with a slap. Her palms flat on the crusty kitchen tile. It’s been years since Brooks left. His absence doesn’t change what goes on at home.
I go stagnant. My body always picks flight. It happens when dad is mad. So River’ll come at full speed to save me. My gut fills with guilt each time she does.
Today, though, something is different. She’s come to my rescue, but I hear her thud on the tile, and the noise snaps something in me. My nails crush into my palms, and I’m not frozen. I’m moving.
Dad draws back his hand, but he stops, wide-eyed.
I stand in River’s place. “Don’t hit her!”
I push out my chest at my father. I’m still a foot shorter than him, but while he registers what the hell I’m doing, I check on River over my shoulder, and I’ll never forget the look on her face.
Her bottom lip separates from her top one. The blood on her cheek isn’t what scares me. It’s the horror in her eyes, but she’s glued to me, not our father.
River spent her whole life protecting me. She covered my ears at any fighting, hid me under blankets and in dark corners, closed the blinds when parties throughout the trailer park got scary. She barricaded doors with her withered body and swiped off residue from surfaces.
That never changes. She always tries to shield me. But here, she understands I want to show her how grateful I am, and I gained enough strength to repay her favors.
Dad yells, “get the fuck out of the way!”
I step to the left as dad does, taking her cover. My eyebrows lower on my face. “She’s just a little girl.”
She breaks into an ear-piercing cry when I speak those words. Couldn’t say where they came from, but they’re true. My older sister is just a kid, like me.
I hold my ground, with my arms far out around me, prepping myself to wrestle my dad in the tiny, molded kitchen. River weeps behind me. I’ll let her hug me later. Just not now. I can’t let Dad get to her. I won’t let him.
My father grins. His cracked lips look painful to stretch that far. He sets his hands on his knees, bending to level his eyes with mine.
The twinkle in his gaze makes me want to vomit.
“And what are you then, Lake?” He reaches forward, cuffing my chin into his hand, pressing enough for it to hurt.
I would live. I’d survive for her.
“A man?” He snickers.
I swing my hand out, latching it onto his wrist, and squeezing until my arm shakes. “I am more a man than you’ll ever be.”
End up on the ground after that. The only thing I can hear over the ringing in my ears is River yelling at him to leave me alone.
Just as he goes to grab me, the front door squeaks open. “Baby! Baby! I got so many tips today!” Ma squeals.
Her face sinks at the sight in front of her. Me lying between the kitchen tile and living room floor. River backed up into the cupboards. My dad over me.
Through my blurred vision, I watch Ma’s shoulders droop. “What did they do now?”
Yeah. What did we do?
I pull my hand away from the scar and grab onto my phone.
Brooks told me not to do this. He made me delete her socials so I couldn’t see or contact Ma, but it’s so damn tempting. I hit download on the app, pause for a second and I turn to check on Serenity. Still asleep, always peaceful.
I should start breakfast instead of doing this, should focus on myself, on her, but curiosity. The sheer faith I hold Ma will be screaming through tons of typos that my dad dropped dead. Something, anything, to make mine and River’s childhood worth it.
I can’t forget how I grew up. I hope for one shitty experience, so my parents can feel a fraction of what River and I went through.
My teeth sink into my cheek, and I bring my attention back to my phone and click on my ma’s profile. She texted me two days ago. The damn message swallows me whole.
Dad’s out of jail again. He misses me, apparently. What a damn lie that is. Ma is so happy he’s out and she’s asking me to come visit. Never an apology. Never an acknowledgement. Just a fucked son they take no credit for.
It’s not worth it. I know it isn’t worth it. Wish I could let go of it. Move the fuck on, but here I am again. Crawling back for my childhood, like I’m searching for the parts of me that never seem to leave that trailer.
I crash, becoming unaware of Serenity’s little snores. My life engulfs me. My brain jumps right back to square one, but like that pivotal moment where I stepped in for River, something is different. Something’s weird. My thoughts are mixing instead of being pure dread. Think something fucked up, and it’s followed by a lesson I learned at rehab. I think about my old ways, and Serenity's features drown it out.
Falling backwards is so damn easy, but I’m trying not to trip.
I want to give the girl next to me a healthy life. I want to show her and my brother I can do that, but as much as Serenity’s pretty face is flooding my head, my thoughts and doubts are quick to multiply. So it hurts deep in me as the self-sabotage takes hold of my body, typing out the familiar digits right beside my wife.
I’m sure my dealer missed me, but not as much as I missed him.
***
Walk into Brooks’ office in my wedding shirt and dress pants. I didn’t realize until I was getting ready that it’s the only business-casual thing I own. I’m not like Brooks. I can’t live in a suit every day.
“There’s my brother,” he grumbles, giving his attention back to his laptop.
His office is fancier than I expected. Clean polished tables. Everything looks mopped with citrus chemicals, even the walls are shiny. There’s dark marble everywhere, real leather seats and an expensive-ass security system that almost made me miss this.
That, and I questioned showing up.
“Hey.” I drop into a chair. “What do you want me to do?”
I roll back my sleeve and scratch at my wrist.
“Relax, Lake, gotta finish this. It’ll only take a minute.”
He says relax and my legs bounce. Relaxing isn’t something I’m ever doing. Even if I’m asleep, promise my brain is going a thousand miles an hour. Probably why I don’t sleep much in the first place.
It’s far harder to relax when I got an unanswered text from my dealer waiting for me in my pocket, and I don’t know what I wanna do about it.
“Alright.” Brooks checks his watch. “You’re on time.”
I start squinting. “Of course I’m on time.”
“Whatever.” His face is stern. “Starting for today, you’re gonna be scheduling inspections and helping some of the crew with potential listings for their clients.”
He goes to lean back in his chair, but the freshly redone twists on his head make him sit tall and straight. “I mostly want you to recall what we were doing in college. There’s a package for you to take home for homework.” He waves his hand around. “I’ll keep training you for a few weeks, and once you’re ready, you’ll start coming with me.”
I tap my finger on the arm of the chair. “Going where?”
The two seconds of silence make me way out the pros and cons. Get my sister’s letters, Brooks’ approval, and keep my wife, or relapse. Relapse and I won’t need to remember how unworthy I am of the pros. Don’t relapse, maybe struggle and relapse anyway later down the line, so it doesn’t matter, anyway.
I tap faster. My head is spinning, and I gotta keep it on the low.
He rubs his fingers on his forehead. “Listings. Meeting clients, and the expansion team.”
“You training me to become an actual agent?”
Brooks sighs. “Training you to become my best agent. Idiot.”
Someone knocks on the door. It’s a fragile ass knock. Brooks curses under his breath. “Yes?” he shouts.
A man comes in, clutching a stack of papers right up against his chest. His eyes are slicked with fear. “Sir, Mr. Caszer is threatening to back out of the offer again. His wife isn’t sure about making such a tedious investment.”
“Tedious?” Brooks spits. I swear I see him blow steam from his nose. Never seen him so pissed. I recognize nothing happening with his face. It’s all contorted and weird.
The man gulps. “I’m not sure what to do.”
“How about you do your job?” Brooks’ eye twitches. “I’m busy at an interview right now. I told you to keep the client.”
Interview? What a liar. I’m like a nepo baby.
He threatens the man. “Don’t lose the client.”
“Yes. Sorry. Sorry, boss.” Sweat drips from his forehead. He’s shaking in the doorway, waiting for Brooks’ answer.
My brother flicks his hand, and the man scurries out, quietly shutting the door.
“Are you about to make my life a living hell?” I ask.
That snaps him out of it. He smirks. “Oh Lakey, you better keep your shit together.”
That’s for damn sure.
I can’t let Brooks know I texted my dealer, or anything about Ma. Can’t let Brooks know I’m sitting in his office, wondering if I’m going to throw this opportunity out of the window. I’m already beating myself up for sending a text. The self-hatred isn’t a helpful tool in keeping me sober. Relapse. It sounds simpler.
“Go follow Rodney after this. He’s the fool you just met, and keep the damn client, please.”
Brooks reaches into a desk drawer, missing my half-nod. “No problem.”
There’s the old version of me. It’s trying to split me in half, begging me to finish this, so I can meet with my dealer. The sober thoughts of my childhood are getting worse and worse. I just wanna forget, like I always do.
Then there’s this new life I’m seeing, with things I never imagined I could get. A girl I never should’ve gotten. It’s not out of reach anymore, it’s in my fucking hands, but I’m stuck questioning if there’ll ever be a point where shit just feels final. Done with. Moved on from. I’m getting more than I ever wanted, but it’s not any fucking easier.
Brooks slides a stapled document across his desk. “That’s company stuff and, more importantly, your salary.”
I take the thick document into my palm and give Brooks a look. He doesn’t respond at all.
“A hundred and fifteen thousand a year?” I nearly go blind at the idea of making that much money. “I just got here, Brooksie.”
He snickers. “Buddy, that’s quarterly.”
That truth is supposed to scare me, and it kind of does, but then I get a glimpse of upgrading that ring on my angel’s finger. I close my mouth instead of questioning how my brother got so elite right under my nose, and I think about how cushy of a life I could give my wife.
“So, just under half a million a year, if you do your job right.” He adds, “that should keep you busy.”
Keep me busy. I look up from the dream of money in front of me, and I give my brother another nod. “Okay. I’ll go stop Rodney’s spiral.”
My phone stops burning in my pocket, and I force my legs to stop jittering.
When it comes to answers, I got none, but maybe if I keep myself busy for her, I’ll forget about everything else. I’ll forget about the slip-up. Forget that dad is walking free. Life, or relapse.
I’ll keep trying, Serenity.