As I finish, I find my hand being squeezed way too tightly. I look up to find Tony’s jaw set, and I attempt to laugh it off. “Mom wasn’t a bad person, she just wasn’t very maternal and worked long hours to get away from Dad.” When his face doesn’t change, I add, “Oh, look, it’s not like he touched me or anything.”
“Abuse is abuse, babe. Doing it to your kid, though…that makes it ten times worse. He might not have put a hand on you. Doesn’t make it any less painful for the kid.”
And he is one-hundred percent right.
Abuse hurts regardless of the form.
I pluck at his fingers. “Tell me about what happened back there at the grocery store.”
“Only if you tell me about your time on the street.”
I immediately concede. “Deal.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah. Okay. So I was a street kid for a long time. Until I ended up in juvie. I did my fair share of shoplifting because, hey, I had to eat, right? All grocery stores remind me of being caught and feeling trapped. I hadn’t been to one in a long time and I forgot why. Until tonight.”
The thought of him feeling like a trapped animal makes my stomach clench. I wish I could take those memories away from him. I wish I could make it better somehow. It doesn’t justify his reaction to the young store clerk’s attendance, but I do understand it better.
Linking our fingers, I tell him, “Next time, I won’t leave you. Next time, we’ll shop together, and every time you feel like something’s sneaking up on you, you just tell me we need to leave and we’re gone. Okay?”
He doesn’t answer my question; instead, he changes the subject. “You on the street. Spill.”
I shrug. “Okay. I walked out of my home with fifty dollars in my pocket that I had stolen from my mom, and a backpack full of clothes. I wandered around, caught buses to wherever they were going, and spent a lot of time trying to be invisible. Somehow, I ended up in Chicago. It wasn’t all that bad. I met some great people on the street. A girl I became close with, Fran, would be a lookout while I would sneak into people’s yards and steal whatever we could use or sell for money to buy food. We did this for months without getting caught, and we became relaxed about it.” Looking at him pointedly, I tell him, “Way too relaxed. If you get what I mean.”
He smirks, “You got caught.”
I smile. “I did. I got busted. The old lady who owned the home called the cops because I was making so much noise. I didn’t notice them ‘til I was being read my rights and lead to the back of a police car. They knew I was underage. I didn’t say a word. Not a single word to the police. I was so scared they’d send me home. Back to the place I worked so hard to escape from. Suddenly, I’m being taken to a halfway house in the city and given a bed to sleep in ‘til they can find out some information about me.”
I chuckle humorlessly, “The thing about cops is that you don’t know how smart they are. They figured out who I really was. I spent a week in a halfway house completely grateful that I had a bed to sleep in and food to eat, that I was oblivious to what decisions were being made about my life in that time.” My face falls. “They contacted my mom.” Looking up at Twitch, I smile sadly, “She didn’t want me back.” My throat thickens and I cough to cover it. “A week passes by and the police visit me at the halfway house. The senior officer asks me if I would rather stay there,” my eyes tear up and I choke out, “or if I wanted to be someone’s daughter again.”
“I couldn’t believe someone wanted me. It seemed surreal that my own parents, my own blood, cared nothing for me or my brother, but someone I didn’t know wanted me. Wanted to take care of me. It was a no-brainer. I agreed to being fostered.” I smile a watery smile. “You wouldn’t believe it, but my new foster mom was the old lady that called the cops on me.” Turning to him, I laugh through my tears. “And she was a crazy woman in the best way. We ate pancakes for dinner. Had dessert for breakfast. She sent me back to school and helped me with my homework. We spent most of our nights watching lame TV or blasting music ‘til the early hours. She spent every day making sure I was cared for, cared about, and loved.”
“She was my mom. I had a mother before her, but she was the one who I loved and followed to Australia because the thought of living without her made me ill.” Wiping my nose with my sleeve, I shake my head. “She died a few years ago. Cancer. And I could’ve gone to work anywhere, but the thought of leaving Sydney makes me feel like I’m abandoning her. I can’t leave. I’ll live in Sydney ‘til the day I die.”
“Sounds like you had an adventure.”
I smile. “Yeah. I consider myself lucky. I got my happily ever after. Most don’t.” He doesn’t say a thing, and I’m officially over this conversation and the emotions being brought out of me. Turning to face him, I ask, “Hungry?”
He grins. “Starved.”
And we’re back to Lexi and Tony.
Just another night.
Cooking up a storm for my man.
Who knew Lexi could cook? From the contents of her refrigerator, you’d think she was such a bad cook that she could set fire to cereal.
After an incredible dinner of made-from-scratch lasagna with béchamel sauce and homemade pasta, I’m done. I’m so full after my third helping, that I won’t be surprised if I fall asleep in my chair. Happy decided to eat with us, but Ling declined. Smart girl. Happy sings Lexi’s praises with every f**king bite. “Damn, girl. You can cook for me anytime. And I mean anytime.”
Lexi smiles sweetly at him.
What a suck-ass.
Just as I open my mouth to tell him to shut his trap, my cell rings. Without looking at the display, I answer, “It’s after hours. You got business to discuss, you need to call tomorrow.”
Moving my finger to the end call button, I hear a familiar laugh. My finger stills. “Fuck off!” A smile spreads across my face. “Nox?”
Nox chuckles, “Oh no. This is a business call. I’ll have to call you tomorrow.”
It’s been a long time. “Damn, man. How long has it been?”
I can almost hear his brows rise in thought as he responds, “Uh. A few years. I think. It’s hard to keep track.”
Lexi looks confused, but smiles with me at my happy expression. Happy shrugs in question and I mouth, ‘Nox’. Happy smiles and gives me a thumbs up while shoving another forkful of food into his mouth.