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Dad takes a deep pull off his cigar; it must’ve burned his hand because he let it go hurriedly, and it falls to the ground. I see him pull out another from the carton on the table and light it. Mom puts a hand on my cheek and looks me straight in the eyes. She rarely touches me. Her icy blue eyes remind me of Deanna’s but without the warmth.
“We need whatever we can get against him for the judge to grant us custody. It is not enough for him to be a former alcoholic. We need concrete proof that he’s still just as bad as he was. Concrete proof that he’s not fit to be Ruby’s guardian.”
I nod slowly, Mom’s hand staying on my cheek. “I understand.” I know mom will remove her hand soon, so I savor the few moments of affection she’s showing me.
“I’m glad you do.”
Mom stands and removes her hand from my cheek. I watch her walk towards the sidebar. She grabs a bottle of whiskey, and I’m instantly transported to the last time I drank whiskey. It’s still hard for me to reconcile the person I slept with that night to the image of Tristan I have in my mind.
He was charming that night, and the sex was glorious. although it bothered me, I couldn’t help but wish I could freeze that night in time.…. I’d told him the truth about what happened to me as vaguely as I could, and he’d seemed sincere with words.
Was it all a lie? Was he a different person when he had the mask on?
“Does he have any idea who you are?” Mom asks, still at the sidebar.
“No. He asked where I went to high school and if I knew Deanna, but we anticipated that.”
“That we did. He also doesn’t know you as Erin, does he?”
“No, I gave him my middle name, Layla. So, if he asks how Layla and Deanna are involved in town, no one can tell him anything worthwhile.”
“That’s my girl.”
Despite myself, I feel good when Ellen praises me, even though I know she was just using me. I can’t help fighting for my parents’ admiration and attention, especially with Deanna gone. Deep down, I’m still that kid longing for a loving mom and dad.
Dad coughs some more, deep, throaty coughs that boom through the room and scare me. I’ve tried to tell him to quit smoking—we all have, but he refuses. I sit, waiting patiently for whatever Mom wants to say to me. I couldn’t wait to be out of the house. The dead animals, the coughing, the smell of bleach—it’s all too much for me.
“I think it’s time to hasten things along,” Mom says as she walks towards me with the bottle of whiskey. “Give this to him as a gift for breaking ground on the construction site. I’m sure he won’t be able to help himself.”
“And how did I hear about that?”
“It’s a small town, people talk.”
I hesitate, guilt weighing on me. I have no qualms about catching Tristan being a piece of shit, but this feels like I’m setting him up for failure. She notices my discomfort as I squirm in my seat with an uncomfortable look of anxiety on my face.
“Remember what he did to you, what he did to Deanna. We can’t let Ruby become another victim.”
My fingers wrap around the neck of the heavy bottle as I collect it. It weighs almost as heavy as my guilt. I clear my throat and try to justify my actions to myself.
He’s a piece of shit, and he deserves this, I say to myself, but it rings hollow.
Mom finally attempts a smile. “Remember to take pictures if you can. That’s the best-case scenario, but being called as a witness to testify to him drinking would do nicely, too.”
I’m back in my Prius in a few minutes, driving to Tristan’s home. A brown calf races beside the car as I drive. It eventually gives up and slows down, unable to keep up with the machine. I drive in contemplative silence, the whiskey sitting in my backseat quietly, waiting to be used like a pawn in a chess game.
Should I read the hit piece?
I decide against it. I already have enough reasons to be against Tristan Jackson. I don’t need more.
Deep inside me, I couldn't shake the nagging thought that I didn't want to see more reasons to hate him.
Shit.
After college, I returned to New Brooks but didn’t return home. I opened an antique store with my savings and rented a place. Ellen was finally glad to have me out of the house, and my dad was happy he no longer had to endure his wife’s unending complaints.
Then, two months ago, I had to move back home after Tristan purchased my business's land and forced me out. It was an open secret at home that my parents always hated Tristan. They believed he stole Deanna away from them because she eloped with him. I had never met Tristan, either. All Deanna had told me the last time I saw her was that she had met the love of her life in college and was leaving with him.
“Now, what if he does the same thing to Ruby? Turn her against us the way he did to Deanna.” Mom’s voice quivered in the dim light of my room that day. “We couldn’t protect our Deanna because he had his hooks in her.”
