Chapter 10 Lex
Lex
“ Get off me, you son of a bitch.” Her words are razor blades between her teeth. “Stop it, please. Mortimer…goddammit, our child is in the next room!”
She doesn’t know I’m here.
She doesn’t know I’m in the closet, peeking through the cracked door. I came in here to play with my race cars. Mom’s closet is a little hideaway, created just for me. It’s filled with pretty things. Colorful dresses, sparkly shoes, and handbags made of gold. It’s quiet in here.
But not right now.
Dad came home from work late. Whenever he gets home late, he’s in a really bad mood.
He yells at Mom and says mean words like “fuck” and “whore.” I usually hide in my room and pretend to be a sleeping lump under the covers, but I didn’t have time to make my escape before Mom’s bedroom door busted open and Dad was ripping his belt from his trousers.
He has her pinned to the bed.
She’s fighting and kicking. Clawing at him with her red fingernails.
I don’t know what to do.
My hand is clamped over my mouth to keep the shrieky sounds inside. If Dad knows I’m hiding in here, he’ll beat me with his belt or maybe even his fists. I know it’ll hurt. I hate being a wimp, and I want to protect my mom, but I’m scared.
“Stop it…stop!” Mom pulls his hair from the roots as he climbs on top of her, his back to me.
Dad lifts up and shoves his pants down his thighs until I’m staring at his naked butt. I squeeze my eyes closed and tighten the hand around my mouth. I don’t want to watch. I don’t want to—
“No!” Mom’s screams fade out, turning into tiny whimpers. She sounds smaller than me. Almost like she’s dying. “No, please…”
One eyeball wrenches open, the other too afraid to look. Part of me is curious, and the other part wants to hide, so I do both.
Dad ignores her cries. He just makes awful grunting sounds and wiggles his hips. It looks like he’s stabbing her with something, but only his body moves, his hands holding her down by the wrists as his hair sticks up in every direction.
Mom is quiet now. She just lies there, and I wonder if she really did die.
The thought has my heart doing somersaults in my chest, and my lungs feel like they’re shrinking or bursting.
I can’t tell which. My pulse thunders in my ears as I watch the mattress bounce up and down and listen to the squeaky sounds echoing through the room.
Dad keeps grunting. He moves faster and faster.
The bed squeaks louder.
Squeak, squeak, squeak—
The scene morphs into something else. My father dissolves, my mother’s image replaced by a different face. Shiny black hair and a come-hither smile. Bianca. She’s naked on the bed, hooking an index finger at me. “Come, Lex. I want to play with you.”
Techno music pounds. The closet morphs into a dark room. I glance down, and I’m not a little boy anymore.
I feel drunk, confused, out of my head.
Bianca sneers, cackling with glee as she throws her head back.
I can’t find my clothes.
I can’t find my—
I jolt awake.
There’s a fly buzzing around my face. Blinking myself back to reality, I swat at it as it whirs near my ear, then skitters out the open window and into the golden afternoon.
Sounds of nature guide me to the present moment as I glance around at my surroundings, realizing I must’ve dozed off while sitting in my car in front of Stevie’s house.
My drive-thru coffee is half-tipped over in my lap, leaving a brown puddle near my crotch. Excellent. Blowing out a breath, I jam the plastic cup in the cupholder and swipe at the wet stain, shaking away the residual itch creeping across my skin.
I fall asleep for five goddamn minutes, and that’s what I get.
Nightmares invading me like uninvited guests who refuse to leave.
I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror, noting the bruise is nearly gone, or maybe it’s just camouflaged by the dark circles under my eyes. Either way, it’s a step up from two weeks ago when it looked like I’d walked out of a boxing match I had no desire to be in and clearly lost.
Feeling rattled and out of sorts, I turn my car off and hop out, then double back to chug the rest of my espresso before tossing the empty cup in the passenger’s seat.
Slamming the door shut, I make my way across the now-familiar lot and glance around for Stevie.
It’s so quiet out here. The October breeze feels like a refreshing embrace as it coasts across my skin.
When I don’t see Stevie anywhere, I decide to explore the property before knocking on her front door.
I could text her that I’m here, but that’s no fun.
I like showing up unannounced, catching her in a real moment when she’s dappled in dirt stains, prancing around the kitchen in an apron, or bent over the garden with flushed cheeks and beads of sweat rolling down her temples.
Mom needs four-point-two hours to primp for guests: curls in her hair, fifteen outfit changes, and makeup that fills every crease and shadow. There’s nothing real about that.
As I wind my way around the house in search of nothing in particular, I stop in my tracks when I spot a giant cow grazing the pasture.
I blink.
A fucking cow.
Its coat is a mix of clean black patches and white, sleek and shiny as the sun beats down. It’s munching on grass, eyeing me as I stand there gawking at it like it’s an alien being zapped from space in a beam of green and glittery light.
Swallowing, I glance down at my expensive leather boots.
It moos.
I can’t tell if it’s judging me or if it’s kind of impressed. They’re nice boots.
“She won’t hurt you.”
Spinning around, I come face-to-face with a woman who looks to be around fifty, with mild crow’s-feet, sun-dappled skin, and a nurturing smile—Stevie’s mom. “Oh, uh…I know.”
“Her name is Emmy. She’s very gentle,” the woman says. “You can pet her if you’d like.”
My hands immediately slip into my pockets. “I’m good. She looks skittish.”
“You look skittish.” Stevie joins us at the side of the house, peeling a banana. There’s an amused grin flickering on her lips as she approaches. “Are you scared of our cow?”
“What? No.” That’s ridiculous. It’s a cow, and just because it’s staring at me with scathing eyes, gearing up to charge doesn’t mean I’m scared. “Just cautious,” I cover. “I’m not around animals much anymore.”
Stevie takes a bite of the banana, her expression laced with playfulness. “That explains a lot.”
“I’m Chrissy. Stevie’s mother.” The woman extends her hand to me, and we shake. “You must be Lexington.”
Her touch is a warm blanket as she embraces my cold, clammy palm. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’ve seen you coming around a lot. Stevie tells us you’re practicing for the play?”
“Yeah. It’s opening in early December, so we have a lot of work to do.”
She smiles, glancing between the two of us. “My daughter says you’re very talented.”
“Mom.” Stevie interjects, her cheeks turning pink as she snags me by the wrist and ushers me away. “We need to get started. Joplin’s in charge of dinner tonight.”
“Lexington, you should join us for supper,” her mother offers. “We’re having meat loaf.”
“Um…” I glance at the cow. “Homemade?”
“Of course.”
Yikes. “Thanks, but I can’t stay long.”
Stevie’s fingers are still loosely linked around my wrist as she gives me a light tug. “We don’t kill our cows, if that’s what you’re getting at. We buy our meat from the local butcher.”
If she were anyone else, I’d be pulling away right now. There’d be fire ants crawling all over my skin, voices in my head screaming at me to disengage, to bolt, to take cover and hide. I don’t like being touched. Touch has always resulted in deep wounds, both mental and physical.
But it’s Stevie.
And I’ve come to realize that her touch is…different.
My body unstiffens, my muscles turning to putty. I follow her away from the field and send a glance over my shoulder to her mother, who smiles kindly, then goes back to her cow tending or whatever it is farmer types do.
When Stevie releases my wrist, she leaves a tickle behind.
I scratch at the tingly patch of skin. “Your mom seems cool.”
“She is.” Stevie finishes her banana and tosses the peel into what looks to be a compost pile. “My dad is less cool.”
The back of my neck prickles. “He’s mean?”
“Oh, jeez, no.” Her eyes bug out as she glances at me, awareness glowing in her gaze. “I didn’t mean it like that. He’s just a big dork.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
“I guess it’s not. He’s the kind of dad who lives to embarrass his daughters.”
Jealousy nibbles its way through me. “Sounds terrible.”
She looks away, a sad smile teasing her mouth. “Yeah.”
We enter her house that smells like the exact opposite of mine—a home. Vanilla-sugar candles, a trace of must, and half-baked meat loaf. If love had a scent, it would be this house. I think that’s why I keep coming back here.
We make our way to the staircase, and I catch sight of a petite brunette messing with the stove burners from the kitchen. The girl turns to glance at us.
“Oh, hey!” Swiping her palms along a muddy brown apron, she smiles brightly. “You’re Lex.”
Stevie clears her throat, glancing up at me. “This is Joplin, my younger sister. I don’t think you two have met yet.”
“I’ve seen him in the hallways at school,” Joplin says, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “Stevie has been all sneaky, hiding you in her bedroom, so we have yet to be formally introduced. Dad is sure to give you a lecture soon.”
“Yay.” Stevie’s face reddens against the muted yellow light. “We’re going to practice some lines. I’ll be down for dinner in an hour.”
I shake her sister’s hand and quickly pull away, clearing my throat. “Smells good in here.”
“You should stay for dinner.”