I wasn’t sure what to say. “Did you love him?”
“Did I love him?” She twisted the diamond around her finger, not looking at me. “Maybe. I don’t know. Hard to say, I guess. I mean, it wasn’t like in those romance movies.” She glanced up at me then, a sly look on her face, the most direct emotion I’d seen in years. “You in love with a girl, Jason?”
I pushed the bits of chicken around on my plate. “There’s a girl. Not sure if it’s love, but I like her a lot.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling her this, where this was coming from.
She was quiet for a while. “Well, just be careful, I guess. It can be tricky.” She met my eyes. “Wish I could meet her, but I’d understand why you wouldn’t want to bring her around here.”
I looked away. “Yeah. That’s not a great idea. Dad wouldn’t understand.”
“She know? About your dad?”
I shifted uncomfortably, wishing I was in my truck, away from all this, wishing I’d never opened this up. “Yeah.”
“She gonna tell?” Mom’s voice was soft, but sharp.
I shook my head. “Probably not.”
Mom didn’t respond to that. She got up and cleared her plate, finished her tea and set the glass in the sink, then spoke while staring out the window over the sink. “I’m sorry you were born into this, Jason. You’re a good kid.”
I had no idea what to say.
“Did you ever think about leaving?” The question popped out unbidden.
Mom shook her head. “Wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is. Nowhere to go, anyway. I’ve never lived anywhere but here, wouldn’t know where to go, especially with a little boy to take care of.” She flipped her ponytail back over her shoulder with a hand, glanced at me. “Now you’re almost grown. You’ll be gone soon, and all this will be a bad memory.”
“You’ll stay when I’m gone?”
“Of course,” she said, as if it were obvious. “Don’t worry about me. Just…focus on your grades and your ball game.”
A secret dared its way up and out. “What if I didn’t want to play ball anymore?”
She spun in place and stared at me in fear. “Don’t say that. Go to college. Play ball on a scholarship. Decide later. Don’t cross him now, Jason. Less than two years left now.” The fear faded, replaced by curiosity. “What would you do instead?”
I shrugged. “I like photography.”
“Really?” She nodded. “Well, I wouldn’t tell your dad that. You know how he is.”
A phrase to explain away everything: You know how your dad is.
Neither of us had heard him come in from the garage. “Don’t tell me what?” His voice was low and hard and slightly slurred. He’d stopped at the bar, then. I could hear the alcohol in his words, see it in the narrow glare of his eyes.
I stood up as calmly as I could, hit the reheat button for the plate I’d set in the microwave, then cleared my place. I glanced at Mom, but she was gone, the door to her craft room closing with a snick that was loud in the silence. I hunted for something to say.
“Oh, nothing. Just…I…a quiz, in biology. I got C. But it wasn’t worth much, so it won’t matter.” It was a lie; I’d gotten an A on that quiz, but it was better than the alternative.
He took a few steps toward me, and I forced myself to stay in place, lift my chin, and meet his gaze. I tried to convince myself that what I’d said was the truth so he’d see the belief in my eyes. I had my mother’s eyes, but I was all Dad physically, broad in the shoulder, close-cropped blond hair, deep-set eyes, brown where mine were green, but our builds were identical. I was shorter, stockier than Dad, broader through the chest, and my cheekbones were higher and sharper than his, courtesy of Mom’s quarter-Cherokee heritage.
He stared down at me, standing several inches taller than me, six-two to my five-eleven. “Don’t you know any better than to lie to a cop, son?” Another step, this one for pure threat value. “And how am I?”
I knew better than to answer. I kept mouth shut and stared up at him, scared shitless but unable to show it. I never failed to be afraid, at least at first, even after a lifetime of this. The microwave beeped in the background, three beeps in the tense silence.
He struck hard and fast, knocked the breath from me with two lightning jabs to the kidneys. I took them, waited till he drew back for another, and struck back. I’d aimed for his jaw, but he dodged the wrong way and took it on the nose, which broke in a spray of blood. I’d never done that before, made him bleed. He stumbled back, wiping his nose in disbelief. I didn’t let him get his balance, though. I hit him again, getting his jaw this time, and then he was upright and I didn’t have a chance. He didn’t hold back this time.
He cracked me on the jaw, hooked a right to my cheek, splitting it open, and then another right to my face, releasing a sluice of blood from my nose. I stumbled back against the counter, swiping at my face with my forearm. He came at me with a straight left, and I ducked under it, slugging him in the gut hard enough to double him over.
I darted past him, snatched my keys off the counter, and ran out the back door. The screen slammed closed behind me, only to creak back open as Dad lurched after me. I made it to my truck, scrambled in, gunned the engine. Gravel sprayed as the back tires skidded sideways, pointing my hood at the road. I glanced in the rearview mirror, watching Dad’s figure diminish, one arm across his stomach, the other wiping at his nose.
I caught myself in the process of the exact same action, right wrist bent down, back of my forearm sliding under my nose. Just like him. I swore under my breath, then cranked the radio and screamed, slamming my palms on the steering wheel. My chest grew sticky, my chin warm and thick with blood. I didn’t care. I wasn’t sure where I was going. I just drove. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find myself at the entrance to Becca’s sub.
Can you get away right now? I sent the text before I could second-guess myself.
Give me a few min I’ll try.
I wiped at my chin, then saw my forearm was crusted with tacky blood and gave up. He didn’t often let himself hit my face, because that always raised questions. I wiggled my jaw, testing it for soreness. He’d gotten me good on the jaw, so it was sore, but thankfully not broken or anything. I’d never had a broken jaw, but I didn’t think it’d be fun, or real easy to explain.