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“Make them how?”
“Any means necessary,” I tell him, using one of Tony’s favorite sayings.
“He hurt you.”
“Yeah,” I confirm, closing my eyes as the shame hits me.
“He hit you?”
“Oh, yeah,” I answer, and this time I do laugh—only there’s no joy in my laughter. It’s full of the dark bile that lives inside of me.
“Fuck,” Noah whispers and for some strange reason, I get the feeling that my answer bothers him. I’m not stupid enough to think he truly cares, but he’s bothered by it. Up until now, no one has much cared. Wasn’t it my own brother who told me that I needed to fall into line?
God, I hate my brother.
“It’s not the hitting that sticks with you, you know,” I whisper to him, my voice sounding dead even to my own ears.
“It’s not?”
“It’s the verbal blows that really hit the target. You can hit someone, but the bruises fade, the memories begin to distort the past over time and you allow yourself to forget—at least a little, but words… they open holes inside of you and they turn to poison, Noah. Poison that can destroy you from the inside out.”
“How long were you with him?” he asks, his voice sounding more intense now.
“Too damn long.”
“Why?” he asks and if he only knew how many times I asked myself that exact question. I could tell him everything, but I’m not proud of the person I was back then, so I don’t. Instead, I give him the truth—at least a portion of it.
“I had to find myself again.”
“Glad you found yourself, Rory,” he says.
“Me too,” I tell him, but I don’t tell him that there are times when I feel like I’m still lost.
“You think you can sleep now?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer.
“Then tell me something else,” he replies and I frown.
“Like what?”
“Give me your favorite memory, one Tony doesn’t live in.”
“Why?”
“Because if you remember good, when you go to sleep, the good will follow you.”
“Is this a proven fact?” I ask and oddly enough I do it smiling.
“Try it,” he dares me.
I have very few good memories, but there are a few I keep buried. I probably shouldn’t, but for some reason, I curl into my covers and I tell Noah about my grandmother. I tell him about living with her, making cookies with her and the way she used to brush my hair at night and tell me stories—beautiful stories that make me smile and just telling Noah about them helps me remember what it felt like to be cared for.
I fall asleep telling Noah about those stories, clutching the phone in my hand, holding it close to my ear and smiling…12Diesel“Dad can we have pizza tonight?”
“Ryan we’ve had pizza three nights this week already,” I mumble. I don’t know why I’m arguing. Anything beats trying to cook, but I really am getting tired of takeout pizza. Shit, I’m getting tired of a lot. Spending the night on the phone with Rory last night reminded me of things I had forgotten. It feels good to talk to an adult. Since we moved here, all I’ve had to talk to is Ryan. I like it. I wouldn’t give the world for the time I have with Ryan. My boy is something else, but damn, it felt good to talk with Rory. She’s not what I expected, which makes her more appealing—even if it shouldn’t.
“Please, Dad?” he asks and I shake my head.
Looks like I’m having pizza for supper again tonight.
“We’ll talk about it on the way to school. Hop in the truck before we’re late, Bub.”
“Okay,” he says grinning—probably because he knows he just won and we’ll get pizza again.
“Hey.” My head jerks to the right and I see Rory standing by her vehicle. She looks beautiful, her thick auburn hair pulled back in a thick ponytail. She’s wearing faded jeans and a pink t-shirt. She doesn’t even have makeup on, but she’s easily one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. I remember talking to her last night and how soft her voice got when she was talking about memories of her grandmother. There’s a part of me that wishes I’d met her years ago… before life changed me in ways I can never fix.
“Hey, Rory! I’m headed to school. We get to play kickball at P.E. today.”
“You do? That sounds like fun,” she says smiling so sweetly at my son that her eyes seem to sparkle.
I can feel this burning in my gut and I don’t like it.
I don’t like that I feel it and I really don’t like that look on my son’s face. He likes this woman and that makes her dangerous, because I’m already too preoccupied with her.
“It is. I’m really good at it and I usually get to pick the members on my team,” Ryan brags.
