CHAPTER 6 | Dallas
?CHAPTER 6
Dallas
T he sidewalk out front is the only semi-quiet area at this party. The bass of the speakers still manages to make it roadside. Huddles of people on the lawn make it difficult to find any solitude for a personal conversation.
Rose’s cry on the other end of the phone is enough to make me pause and wonder if I truly want to know the answer to my parents’ fighting. With a deep breath, I brace myself for impact. “Okay, lay it on me.”
She doesn’t answer right away as she takes a moment to gather herself enough to recite the sentence she’s probably rehearsed over and over in her head since she found out only a few minutes ago. She said Mom had sat her down alone to explain what the dilemma has been for the last few weeks. “Okay,” she sighs. I hear her heavy breath through the phone. “So, I guess Dad has been cheating ...” she trails off, the sobbing taking over again.
It takes me a minute to process her words. Cheating? He cheated? I swallow past the knot in my throat. “The fuck? With who?” I snap. The anger seems to touch every bone in my body. My nails dig into the palm of my hand as my fist tightens at my side.
“I’m not sure. Mom doesn’t know her, but she said it’s someone he works with.”
Trying to keep myself in check so I don’t freak out in public, I turn my attention toward the one who is probably hurting the most through all of this. “How is Mom taking it?” I ask as calmly as I can muster.
“I mean, she’s pissed. That much is obvious, but she’s also been processing this for a month now, so it’s not as fresh for her as it is for us. But she’s hurt. I can still read her like a map.”
“I just ... I don’t even know what to say, what to think. I want to wring his God damn neck,” I growl. My jaw hurts from clenching it so hard, but it’s the only thing that keeps me from screaming. “So, what now? Is he moving out? He’s the one who fucked up. He should be the one moving out.”
“Yeah, I guess he moved out the day he told Mom. He’s renting an apartment close to campus.”
“I swear to God if he’s living anywhere near me, he’s going to wish he weren’t.”
“Dallas, come on. I’m mad, too, but take some time to clear your head.” She pauses. “Can I come over for the weekend? I feel like I need to get out of this house.”
I take a deep breath, stretching my fingers out from their balled fists. “Of course,” I breathe, willing the anger to go with it.
“Okay.” I hear her sigh as if the relief of getting out of there is the best gift she’s ever received. “We can talk more when I get there. It’ll probably be late, like one or two in the morning.”
“That’s okay. I’m at a party right now anyway.” However, due to what I’ve now learned, I wish I were anywhere but here. “I’ll talk to you later. If you beat me there, just give me a call. It’s a quick drive home from here. Drive safe.” My phone almost flies from my hands when the desperate cry of a girl’s voice cuts through the cool midnight air.
I spin around to see the commotion. A girl struggles to stay upright as a blonde guy drags her down the stairs, a firm grip on her arm. The guy's face is a portrait of rage.
“Stop, Sam! Stop, please,” she begs. Abby begs. The painful plea burns my ears. Her tight grip on the handrail screams in fear of what might come next.
A sharp noise pierces the air. The back of Sam’s hand meets its mark as Abby falls to the ground, clinging to her cheek.
I cross the lawn quickly, shoving Sam backward. He stumbles but keeps himself upright. I turn to check on Abby. She looks up at me. Only fear stares back. Pain washes over the side of my head as Sam’s fist meets my temple. I stumble sideways a few feet but regain my balance.
“This is not your fight, man. Back off,” Sam asserts far too calmly for the situation at hand.
I hold my hand up in surrender to take a breath. I need to figure out what the hell is going on. I chance a glance at Sam to make sure he’s honoring my retreat. When he doesn’t make a move toward me, I look back at Abby. Her hair is dripping wet. A shiny glaze of salty tears and black makeup cover her cheeks. She’s holding her shirt shut as if the tie came undone. A perfectly formed red handprint mars her cheek.
My blood reaches its boiling point, a rage so fierce I swear I could throw fire. My jaw clenches and my fists ball tightly. I turn back to Sam, who looks more annoyed than anything. “You just made it my fight.” I charge at Sam like a safety defending the end zone. A right hook connects with his jaw, sending him backward into the gathered crowd.
Bright lights of cell phones circle us. Students point and gasp. Some even laugh. I can’t let this continue. My luck grows when Logan runs out of the house and stands between Sam and me. He holds both hands out in either direction, forcing the fight to stop.
“Get the girl,” Logan hisses, now forcefully holding Sam back, who’s fighting to get to Abby.
“Don’t you dare touch her!” Sam yells over Logan’s shoulder.
To my surprise, Abby speaks up this time, her voice a heavy slur. “Fuck you, Sam! We’re done!” she wails through breathy sobs.
“The hell we are!” he yells back, trying to push past Logan. “You don’t get to make that decision!”
“Dude, don’t even try,” Logan warns, grabbing a fist full of his shirt and pushing him back farther.
Once I know Logan has a handle on Sam, I kneel next to Abby, offering a hand. She flinches, turning her head and squeezing her eyes shut. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She turns her head back, glancing at me, then at Sam. “I’m so sorry,” she mutters, meeting my eyes.
I can tell she’s tired. Not just from the drinking and the late night, but a deep exhaustion forcing its way out. Her blue eyes make it impossible to look away. “Don’t apologize,” I say calmly, but Sam pulls me out of my trance.
“You better be sorry, bitch!” Sam yells, getting antsy again. He takes another step in our direction.
“You need to leave,” Logan says sternly, shoving Sam backward again. “Go home.”
I sigh heavily before standing up and marching over to Sam. He takes a step back but doesn’t back down. “Go. The fuck. Home.”
Sam shakes his head but inevitably turns to leave, a sly smile playing on his face. He holds his hands out wide. “You know what? Fuck you all. And fuck you, Abby. You’ll come crawling back. You always do!” But he’s not done there. He turns to address Logan, then looks directly at me, his pompous smile making him look like a lunatic now. “Have fun with her. She’s a nutcase.” And with that, he leaves, storming down the sidewalk. A moment later, tires squeal on the asphalt past the house.
We go back to where Abby sits on the grass after we’re sure Sam is gone for good. The crowd slowly disperses, whispers taking over the sound of the music seeping from the house. “Are you okay?” I ask, kneeling next to her.
Her sobbing slows as she gathers herself. She takes short sharp breaths in between exhales. “Yeah.”
“Can you stand up?” I ask, offering a hand again.
She takes it softly. “Yeah.” She grips my hand harder as she shifts her weight.
Logan grabs her other arm and helps me stand her up. She wobbles a little, leaning heavily against Logan. “Woah, take it easy. How much have you had to drink?” Logan asks.
“What ‘r you, cop?” she stutters.
Logan chuckles and shoots me a glance. “No, ma’am. But I’ll take it you’ve had plenty.”
“Issa party. What’u espec?”
“Let’s get you sat down on a step,” I offer as Logan and I lead her to the front steps. She leans her head against the railing and closes her eyes, taking a long deep breath.
Logan watches her momentarily before we walk a short distance away out of her earshot. “First of all, what the hell was all that about?” he hisses. “And second of all, do you even know her?”
“I don’t know what that was about, but I’m not going to just stand around and watch it happen. Dude didn’t look like he was going to leave her after one hit. And no, not really, but I bumped into her earlier and spilled her drink all over her. I showed her a bathroom that no one uses so she didn’t have to wait in line.”
“What a gentleman,” he quips, shaking his head. “So, what now?” He glances back at Abby, who seems to have fallen asleep.
I rub the back of my head. “I don’t know. But I do know that if she lives with him, she can’t go home to that guy.” I pause, taking a moment to breathe. “Are you okay to drive?”
Logan looks at me confused. “Yeah? Why?”
“Can you go get the car?”
“Dude, she’s piss drunk. You can’t just take a random girl home,” he tries to reason with me.
“Logan, go get the car. Or stay here with her and I will,” I insist.
“I’ll get the car, but I’m not leaving. I’m heading to the hotel later.” He storms off toward the car, disappearing down the sidewalk.
I take a deep breath, letting my head fall back and stare at the clear starry sky. What am I doing? When I return to Abby, she’s passed out, breathing deeply. She grips her core as if she’s still frightened. When Logan gets back, he helps me get her into the passenger seat. She wakes up enough to do most of the work but with how much she’s staggering, there’s no way she’d be able to get herself home.
“I don’t like this, Dal,” Logan says, leaning through the passenger side window. I start the car up anyway. “That guy did not seem like good news, and I really don’t want you to get stuck in the middle of whatever this mess is.” He waves his arms wildly around him.
I sigh. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
He shakes his head, pushes away from the car, and walks back to the party. The entire drive home is surreal. My thoughts race faster than I can keep up with. My family drama, baseball, college graduation right around the corner, and now Abby. I think I might implode.
“Abby?” I say, rubbing her shoulder a little. She moans softly but doesn’t wake up. “Abby? Let’s get you upstairs so you can sleep.”
Still, she doesn’t move. She’s out. I guess I carry her? I move to her side of the car and carefully lift her bridal style. She shifts a little in my arms and nuzzles her head into my neck. She doesn’t weigh much. I didn’t expect her to. With a small frame, she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds.
I get up the flight of stairs and slightly struggle to open my door with her in my arms, but I can’t fathom waking her up at this point. When I place her down on my bed, she barely moves. I cover her with a soft blanket, hoping she won’t get cold from not being under the comforter. Her hair is nearly dry at this point. My best guess is she went swimming. I shouldn’t let her sleep in damp clothes, but I am not going to be the one to get her out of them.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I watch the rise and fall of her chest. I finish tying the black strings by her pierced belly button that holds the corset top together. I move the strand of hair that has fallen across her face and tuck it lightly behind her ear, revealing several silver hoops trailing their way up the curve of her cartilage. The dark eye makeup runs down her cheeks in heavy dark streaks. If I’ve learned anything from my sister, it’s to never go to bed with makeup on.
Instinctively, I get up to wet a washcloth before sitting by her on the bed again. “Abby?” She doesn’t stir. “Abby, I’m going to get some of that makeup off.” Nothing again.
I hope this washcloth is warm enough not to startle her. I lightly run it down the side of her cheek, opposite the side she was hit. She doesn’t stir, so I wipe carefully under her eye. With the right side clean enough, I wipe the other side even lighter. I can’t imagine getting hit by the one I love though, at that point, they didn’t seem like they loved each other. The handprint has disappeared, but a pink hue still lingers.
A calm washes over me as I watch her sleep. She looks drained like she hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in ages. I can’t help but wonder if the abuse is a regular occurrence. Does she need help? Do I report this? Should I have called the cops? A million questions run through my head as I listen to her paced breathing.
I’m not sure how much time goes by before I finally pull myself from my thoughts. I don’t want to be the creep that watches her sleep all night. One thing I know for sure, I am not sleeping in here. I’ll sleep on the couch with Rose.
I’m half asleep when I hear the click of the lock, my arm splayed over my brows. Rose walks in, followed by Logan. They’re laughing at something, but Logan stops the second he sees me.
“Look who I found wandering the streets.” He eyes me curiously, raising an eyebrow, waiting for me to divulge whether I brought her home or not. I nod toward my room. He shakes his head before disappearing into his room and reemerging. “I just forgot my wallet. I’m heading out now.” He doesn’t say goodbye as he leaves the apartment.
Rose shoots me a confused look. I sit up on the couch to make room for her to join me. She takes a seat and leans back against the cushion. “What’s that all about? He seems upset with you.”
“He is,” I sigh. “It’s been an interesting evening ...” I trail off, my gaze on the floor to figure out how to explain the night's events to her.
“Okay?” She stands up, grabs her duffle bag, and starts making her way toward my bedroom.
“I ... wouldn’t go in there,” I warn.
She stops in her tracks, looks at the door, then back at me. “Um, why?” When I don’t answer right away, she fully turns to me and drops her bag on the floor at her feet. She’s learned a thing or two from Mom. That glare could kill, the way she tilts her head, her arms crossed over her chest. Her voice stern, she asks, “Dallas, what did you do?”