Chapter 36 #2
Sweat was pooling behind my knees and under my arms, as I sat crouched in the corner of the hot and smokey living room.
The familiar smell of burning heroin and marijuana made its way through my lungs as I watched my dad blow rings of smoke out of his mouth.
His arm was hung loosely on the back of the couch as Poncho, Kush, and Pedro focused on the TV that was playing a soccer game.
“Pedro, suba el volumen,” my dad said slowly, as if saying each word was taking every cell of energy he had.
Or maybe my brain was having trouble processing the words. I couldn’t remember, but maybe I’d also taken a hit from the pipe being passed around.
Pedro turned his head to me and asked me to turn the volume up.
I scrunched up my face and looked down, noticing the remote control on the floor beside me.
When I reached for it, I noticed something dried and red on my fingers, so I flipped my hand over and studied the reddish-brown substance that coated my palm.
I rubbed it against my leg, and it began to flake off, dusting my shoes and the floor.
“?Qué es esto?” I asked no one in particular as I held my palm towards the group of men.
Kush flipped his lighter closed and placed the heroin-covered foil he was burning on the coffee table. He pointed to something behind me with a wicked smile that sent a chill over my body despite how hot it was. My stomach clenched with apprehension as I slowly turned my head to the left.
Lying on the floor was a black trash bag wrapped in tape. I looked back at Kush with confusion. I watched as he sucked smoke through a straw, his brow raised as if tempting me to see what was inside the large trash bag.
I crawled on all fours towards the black bag that seemed to be begging for me to open it. I hesitantly held my hands over the slick material before I ripped it open.
Clothes. The hole I’d made revealed a piece of gray material. I looked back over my shoulder. All four men were watching me now. My dad motioned with his head for me to keep opening the bag, so I turned around and continued tearing the bag apart until something familiar came into view.
I gasped and fell back onto my butt, staring at the inked hand that had ‘PAIN’ across the knuckles. My stomach was churning as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. I cautiously reached out for my brother’s hand, his cold, rigid fingers unfamiliar feeling as I gripped them.
“Mataste Javier,” my dad said behind me. His voice was slow and lazy sounding, without a trace of contempt as if he was simply stating a fact—like, I had red hair.
Maté Javier. Yo maté Javier.
I woke with my heart racing and an uncomfortable weight on my chest. My legs were trapped, and I kicked out aggressively. I was sticky and damp with sweat, but I needed to assure myself it wasn’t his blood as I wrestled out of the comforter and body weight that were trapping me.
“Shiloh?”
Fuck. Fucking fuck.
My hands were shaking, and I spun around as the room suddenly illuminated. Enoch was rubbing his eyes, squinting at me.
“What’s wrong?”
My hair was sticking to the back of my neck and the shirt I was wearing was absolutely soaked. I clawed the shirt off my body roughly examining it for signs of blood, but of course it was just sweat.
The metallic taste in my mouth sent my hand covering my mouth.
Oh god, I’m gonna puke.
I raced across the hall, my legs trembling, and just made it into the bathroom before the gagging began. My knees hit the tiled floor with a sharp rattle through my bones. I squeezed my eyes tight.
Fuck.
There was nothing I could do but white-knuckle grip the toilet seat violently retching again and again and again.
My whole body was shaking, teeth chattering and sweat tickling my hairline as it trickled down my face.
I flinched away from the hands on my back, my hair being secured behind my head.
I spat into the bowl and tugged at the toilet paper roll beside me, blowing my nose.
I gagged again when I realized I had vomit in my nose too and tried to ignore the burning taste of it as I attempted to remove it.
The toilet flushed for me, and I leaned away, still shaking and clammy. I shuddered, the cool siding of the tub-shower felt heavenly against my bare back, and I focused on trying to take even breaths. Goosebumps spread across my skin with the drying sweat and I realized I was half naked.
“Fuck.”
I hastily covered my naked chest with my legs and glanced over at Enoch.
He sat on the edge of the tub beside me and reached out to tuck some loose hair behind my ear. “You want to take a cool shower? Or you still need to be over the toilet?”
Of course he wouldn’t mention the fact that I was literally half naked with my tits out in front of him. Ever the fucking perfect gentleman. My stomach was still queasy, and I didn’t think I could hold my own body weight to stand in the shower. But fuck did I want to feel clean. I sighed.
My eyes were burning and throbbing from the involuntary tears that I had shed while puking, and I couldn’t even muster the energy to give him a nonverbal response. Was this it? My fate. To always embarrass myself and puke every time I was around Enoch and his family.
Fucking hell. It sure fucking felt like it was. If I had just fucking gone home, I could’ve avoided all of this. With one more pitiful breath, I forced myself to push off the tub to stand.
“Shit,” Enoch mumbled. His hands on my waist were the only reason I was still upright. My legs were like fucking Jello.
“Let me help you get into the tub.”
I didn’t object, just let him hold me steady, until I was standing inside only clothed from the waist down. Another wave of painful chattering overtook my jaw and I tried to cover my breasts so that I wasn’t exposed.
“Be back in just a minute. Lean against the wall or sit down so you don’t fall over.”
Enoch shut the door behind him and the silence in the room left me hyper aware of my teeth chattering and panting breaths. I took his advice and leaned against the wall unsure of what the hell he was doing or what he planned to do with me once he came back.
Was he going to try and bathe me? Oh god. I’ve hit a new fucking low.
The door slowly opened, and I straightened up in confusion at the sight of his mom in a long robe and slippers.
“Hey there. Feelin' sick, huh?” She stepped inside and closed the bathroom door behind her.
I was stunned in silence. Why the hell did he have to get his mom? Fuck my life. This. This is my new low.
“Let’s get ya nice and fresh, and then back into bed.”
I tried to search her face for signs of annoyance or disgust, but she just powered on over to the tub, grabbing my wrist and motioning for me to remove the rest of my clothes.
It took me a moment, but I awkwardly removed my arm covering my chest and used her support to push down my shorts and underwear.
She guided my hands to her shoulders and lowered herself to retrieve the clothes as I stepped out of them.
Fuck this is so goddamn embarrassing. Butt-ass naked in front of the guy I like’s mom.
“Sit down and I’ll grab a washcloth.”
I did as I was told, cringing as I watched her grab a towel and a kid’s bath cup from the linen cabinet in the wall opposite. Is that what I am to her? A little kid she has to take care of?
She turned the tap on, taking a seat on the closed toilet, her fingers under the water as she adjusted the temperature. I flinched as the cool water lapped against my thighs and butt. She didn’t plug the drain but grabbed what I assumed was Esther’s body soap and lathered it into the washcloth.
“You wash your body, and I’ll do your hair.”
I took the cloth with a forced smile and quickly began scrubbing at my neck and chest. I twisted so my back was to her and tipped my head back at her indication of light pressure on my forehead.
She filled the cup, and I shuddered as the warm water flowed down my scalp and back.
She repeatedly wet my hair until I heard the shampoo bottle being pumped.
It was awkward, and I tried to tell her I could manage it myself, but she simply redirected me to finish cleaning myself.
“All this gorgeous, long, thick hair,” she spoke softly.
“I’ve missed doin' this. Esther hates her hair being' touched and little Ruthie don't have much hair yet. But I’m hopeful she’ll let me play with her hair like I did with Eden when she was little. It’s so relaxin'. Of course for the other person, but for me as well. Maybe I should’ve been a hairdresser,” she chuckled softly.
Her fingers massaged the soap into my scalp, and I realized that this was the first time a woman, a mother, had probably ever washed my hair for me.
I wondered what that would’ve been like if I’d had a mother in my life to do this kind of stuff for me.
As much as I hated being weak, I couldn’t resist relaxing under her gentle soothing touch as she rinsed my hair and then coated the ends in conditioner.
By the time she was done I felt like a limp noodle, ready to fall asleep.
She let me rinse myself with the cup and turned her back to give me privacy while I washed my privates.
I shut the water off, and she was ready and waiting with a towel.
Again, she helped me to stand and step out of the tub after I had wrapped my body in the towel.
“I’ll go grab you some clean clothes. Sit down if you need to.”
I managed to nod and when she returned with a pile of clothes, she stood by, letting me know she’d catch me if I lost my balance.
The pajamas weren’t Enoch’s. Sleep shorts and a loose sleep shirt.
Even a clean pair of soft cotton underwear.
I praised God that I didn’t require any more of her help to dress and was relieved when she took a step back, giving me space once I was clothed.
She reached for the drawer under the sink and pulled out a hairbrush and some sort of spray.
Shelby opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out of the room and into the dark hallway. I followed her until we were in Enoch’s room. He shot up to a standing position from the bed that I noticed had been stripped, the sheets lying in a pile on the floor.
“Hey. I got you water, Gatorade, and some crackers. How are you feeling?”
“Bet—” I had to clear my throat, the words catching in my hoarse throat. “Better. Thank you.”
He nodded with a soft smile, giving me a once over before beckoning me to the bed.
“I got it mom,” he said, gesturing for the hair hairbrush.
“Alright,” she nodded. She rubbed a hand on my back. “Trashcan if ya need it,” she pointed to beside the bed. “Come get me, Enoch. I mean it.”
He gave her a serious nod, and she gave me a kiss on the head before dropping her hand from my back and leaving us alone.
The action brought tears to my eyes, and I quickly blinked them away, hoping Enoch hadn’t noticed.
Had my mother ever kissed me? Or had she hated me from the moment I was born until the moment she tried to kill me?
I followed his command and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
He guided me with his hands on my hips until I was sitting with my back to him, and he got to work spraying my hair with an unfamiliar hair product.
I closed my eyes, swaying slightly as I relaxed with the hairbrush working through my hair.
“I didn’t realize you had so much curl in your hair,” he muttered, combing his fingers through my scalp.
I shrugged, never having paid much attention to the texture of my hair. I guessed it was slightly wavy but not as noticeable as his hair. I realized he was braiding my hair and bit my cheek to stave off the urge to cry. Why do they have to be so caring and kind?
Enoch signaled he was finished with a pat on my back, and I popped my eyes open just long enough to flop down onto my side of the bed.
I was ready to sleep but he nudged me with the Gatorade bottle.
I groaned before pushing up just enough to take a sip without spilling.
I was grateful to replace the lingering taste in my mouth with the cold berry flavor of the drink.
I handed it back to Enoch and flopped back onto the pillow.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask anything else of me before turning off the lights and climbing into bed behind me.
“Just wake me up if you need anything, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Enoch’s hand made a lulling rhythm of strokes from the crown of my head to my lower back, and I selfishly wished I could stay with him forever.