Chapter 10 Tash
Tash
The boxes in my bedroom had multiplied overnight.
One side of the room was covered. Moving boxes, half-unpacked books, stacks of paperwork, and the world's saddest collection of frames that still hadn't made it to the wall.
My skin still held a faint buzz I couldn't shake.
No matter how many times I told myself to forget the incident at the creek, forget the stupid slip on the rocks, forget the man who had caught me like he'd been waiting seventeen years to do it. My body wasn't listening.
The twins' school photos peeked out from a manila envelope on the dresser, angled like they were judging the disaster zone. I could almost hear my grandmother saying, "Now, Natasha, take pride in your home," and it made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
The phone rang. Not a text, not a reminder. My actual ringtone, the one that sounded like an old rotary phone mixed with a tornado siren. Only my best friend Gerty would set her contact to something that obnoxious.
I answered without checking. "Hey," I said, sidestepping a box full of coffee mugs I'd been meaning to unpack.
Instant chaos. Beth's voice cut through, already wound tight. "He's at it again. He wants a million dollars, Tash. He's not even pretending to be reasonable anymore."
I stopped cold. "Please tell me you're not talking about the world's worst husband."
On cue, Gerty's laugh joined the call, dry as vermouth. "Has Beth ever had another husband? Or is this the same walking embodiment of toxic waste in designer loafers?"
Beth made a strangled sound. "He's threatening to drag out the divorce for years unless I pay. Like I have that kind of money lying around."
I put the call on speaker and set it on the nearest box. "Wait, what happened? I thought his lawyer ghosted yours last month."
"He came back." Beth's words tumbled over each other. "He called this morning, all fake nice, and said he'd sign away parental rights, for one million dollars." She stifled a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "He might as well ask for the cure for cancer."
I could picture her. Hunched on the edge of her bed, worrying the crescent moon necklace we'd bought her after graduation. Beth never called unless things were truly off the rails. She preferred texting.
I reached for the envelope with the twins' photos and shuffled through it, just to give my hands something to do.
Pacing usually calmed me, but today it only churned that heat sitting low in my stomach.
Every few steps, my mind flashed back to the creek, to the exact moment I'd looked up and seen him, eyes locked on me like I'd never left his memory.
"He's a snake, Beth. Didn't he get that stockbroker job last year?
Isn't he living in a two-story rental with a pool? "
Gerty snorted. "Oh, he's got money. He just can't stand Beth being happy without him. Or anybody else, for that matter."
Beth let her silence answer. I tried to refocus on her words, but I kept feeling that ghost of a hand at my waist, steady and warm, pulling me upright before I hit the water. The memory wasn't welcome. I shoved it back down, hard.
Gerty, as always, couldn't let the moment breathe. "If it comes down to it, we could always find a nice deep hole in the mountains in the eastern part of the state where no one would ever find him. I hear there's a thriving ecosystem of black bears and bad decisions up there."
I nearly choked on a laugh. "That might be illegal."
Gerty cackled. "Only if you get caught."
Beth tried to laugh, too. "Even if I pay, what are the odds he stays gone? He threatened to take the kids if I went to court."
Gerty pounced. "Of course, he won't disappear. Cockroaches always find their way back."
I pressed my palm to my forehead, pinching at the headache that was already forming. "Beth, he doesn't have a case. You have documentation. Years of it."
Beth's energy was all panic and static. "My lawyer says it's impossible to force him out unless he wants to go. The buyout's the only leverage. It's a million or nothing."
I bit my lip, staring at the mess around me. The twins' baby photo landed on top of the stack. Fifi had her whole fist in her mouth, and Mere looked like she was plotting my assassination. "This is insane. Does he even care about the kids?"
Beth let out a sound like her chest was collapsing. "No. He never did. He just likes control."
Gerty's sarcasm went from simmer to boil. "Typical. All power, no substance. He probably sits in his kitchen, sipping bottom-shelf whiskey, telling himself he's the hero."
I shifted, pacing a slow circle around the boxes. I didn't want the girls to hear this, even though I knew they were lost in homework or music. Thank goodness. They adored Aunt Beth and her kids.
Then Gerty got practical. "Just give me the account number. I'll wire the money, and he can ride off into the sunset with his cheap cologne and last-season loafers."
Beth's answer was immediate. "Absolutely not. No. I didn't call to beg for money."
Gerty snorted. "Who said anything about begging? You don't need the stress. Think of it as a business write-off."
Beth made a little desperate noise. "No, Gerty, I'm serious. If you go behind my back—"
Gerty's tone softened, but only by a millimeter. "I wouldn't. Promise."
I knew her too well. She said it so quickly, I'd bet my last dollar it was a lie.
The way she let Beth's refusal stand with zero fight back was another big hint. Gerty only did that when she had a plan. "Gerty, seriously," Beth said in her best mom voice.
"I'm not doing anything," she said, all wounded innocence. "But if you change your mind, it's yours."
Beth wasn't buying it, but her voice frayed at the edges. "I'm not taking a million dollars."
I sat on the step, legs folded up. "Beth, if you need to get out, you get out. That's the only thing that matters. Everything else can be fixed later."
She sniffed, regaining some resolve. "How do I raise them alone, though? Three kids. No support. I barely keep up as it is."
Gerty snorted like she couldn't believe the question. "Honey, you've been a single parent all along. The only difference is you won't have an overgrown man-child to babysit anymore."
That actually got a laugh out of Beth.
I hooked a photo out of the envelope and studied it. Beth's daughter, Eliza, aged five, grinning with both front teeth missing. "Did he ever do anything for them? Even once?"
Beth exhaled. "Sometimes, but it was always for show. Like the matching rain boots fiasco, remember that?"
I did, actually. He bought all three kids matching boots, then had a fit when they got covered in mud. "He's never going to change."
Beth went quiet. Then her voice got shaky, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed.
"Honestly, my biggest fear isn't him. It's me.
What if I mess up? What if I can't keep them safe?
I'm worried most about Eliza. She's acting out more than usual for her age.
She had a total meltdown in the shoe section at Target yesterday.
Screamed when I wouldn't buy the glitter boots.
Told me I was ruining her life." Beth laughed, weak but real.
"How do you do it, Gerty? Seriously. You grew up with all the money in the world, but you never turned into a brat. What's the secret?"
Gerty's reply came fast. "My paternal grandmother.
She was a war bride from Ireland. Married a man with family money, but never forgot what it meant to be poor.
She'd hand me a twenty for the mall, then put me to work at the homeless shelter the next day, scooping soup.
" Gerty paused, like she was remembering the kitchen's tinny smell and the clatter of plastic trays.
"She said money was a responsibility, not just a privilege.
Few things cure entitlement faster than serving meals to people who have nothing. She made sure I got the message."
Beth hummed, considering it. "Maybe that's what we need. As soon as I get my feet under me, I'm signing us up to volunteer. Think Eliza will forgive me?"
The mental image made me smile. Eliza in a soup kitchen, sulking her way through charity. It was almost enough to believe things would turn out okay.
The silence stretched a long beat, then Beth filled it with raw honesty. "Thanks, both of you. I, God, I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd survive," said Gerty, absolute certainty in her words. "You've done more on less, girl. We just help smooth the bumps."
Beth's breathing evened out. "You guys make it sound easy."
I stood up and started unpacking another box, just to keep moving. "Nothing about parenting is easy. But you keep them safe, that's enough."
The silence on Beth's end was thicker now, but steadier. "I'm still worried about what he'll do."
"I'm working on a plan," said Gerty, reverting to her default setting of deflect and conquer.
Beth was stubborn. "Gerty, if you interfere—"
Gerty interrupted with a sigh. "I promise, I won't. Pinky swear. But that doesn't mean I'm not researching industrial-strength repellent."
I snorted. "You're going to end up on a watch list, Gerty."
"Too late," she deadpanned. "After my last gallery showing, I'm pretty sure the FBI already has a folder on me."
That reminded me. "Speaking of which, how's the stalker situation?"
Gerty shrugged it off, but she hated admitting fear. "He's still out there, but I've been working from home. The gallery is fine with it, so I don't have to step foot in public unless I want to."
"You're safe?"
She snorted. "Please. He's a keyboard warrior at best. I'm more worried about running out of coffee. Besides, my security system has more cameras than Fort Knox. If he shows up again, I'll catch him on tape, and the cops will do their thing."
Beth sounded skeptical. "He broke into your house, Gerty. That's not keyboard warrior territory."
"He broke a window. He scared himself more than he scared me. But if it ever gets bad, I know exactly where to go." Laughter bubbled in Gerty's voice. "I'd just show up at Tash's place with a bottle of wine and a week's worth of laundry."
That was my cue. "Beth, if you do need to get out in a hurry, come here. There's a couch and plenty of space if you don't mind kids and chaos."
Beth tried to protest. "You and the twins barely have room for yourselves."
I looked around at the disaster of the wall of boxes. "What's a few more?" I asked. "Seriously. You're always welcome. It'll help me get unpacked."
Gerty snorted. "See? That's why we love you, Tash."
Beth managed a real laugh this time. "You guys are the best."
"We try," I answered. "We're also very persistent. Just say the word."
She went quiet, then said, "Thank you. Really. I'll keep you posted."
There wasn't much more to say after that. The conversation drifted back to kid stuff until we said our goodbyes and hung up.
I was left staring at another of the twins' baby photos, thumb pressed over Fifi's wild curls, and the house was so quiet I could hear a branch tapping on one of the windows.
Once the photos were safe in several frames, I drifted downstairs.
That's when I saw her.
Fifi was curled up sideways on the couch, one bare foot hanging off, hair smashed into a pillow.
Next to her, Huey sprawled the way only dogs can, his whole body pressed against her side.
He was acting as a fuzzy thunder blanket, nose tucked tight to her ribs, a low snore vibrating through his belly.
They looked fused, almost, like he'd grown out of her instead of just being her best comfort.
I stopped on the threshold, every muscle in my chest going soft.
Fifi breathed steadily. Sometimes she twitched.
Maybe chasing something in her dreams, maybe just working out old anxiety, but she didn't wake.
Her shoulders rose and fell, perfectly even, and the lines in her forehead had finally gone smooth.
No nightmares. No voices. Just honest rest. Thank goodness.
It made my heart ache, seeing her this peaceful. With everything she carried, sometimes I forgot what she looked like when nothing was wrong.
I didn't dare move closer. Even the sound of my socks on the hardwood seemed loud, so I just stood there and watched.
Huey snuffled and flopped a paw on top of her arm, like he was telling the world to stay back. I grinned at the sight.
All the stress and worry about Beth, about every dumb box I hadn't unpacked got pushed to the background. The only thing I wanted was to freeze this moment. Bottle it, if I could.
I reached for my phone and snapped a picture. The lighting was terrible, and Fifi would be mortified if she saw it, but I didn't care.
Everything else could wait. This was enough.