His insides exploded as he pushed her gently down to the ground. Hovering over her, he said, “Are you sure,chérie? Because once I start I won’t be able to stop. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“I’ve never wanted something as much as this.Je t’aime. I fell in love with you when you handed me the mint chocolate in the park. Remember?”
He nodded. “I’ve loved you for a long time too. Why did we waste these past three years?”
“I don’t know, but we have the rest of our lives to make up for it.” She drew him down and kissed him passionately, and he responded with every ounce of energy he had. He’d dreamt about this for years, and right then everything came together for him. All the grief, bitterness, and anger he’d been carrying around melted away with each kiss and stroke she gave him. Life was finally good to him, and he savored the enormity of it.
***
Later that nighthe drove her home, tucking her under his arm as he maneuvered the car with one hand. Every few seconds, he’d brake and kiss her, the fifteen-minute drive to her house actually taking forty-five minutes.
He wanted to walk her to the door but they both agreed the risk of her mother or brother seeing them was too great. They’d deal with the logistics of her family the following day, but for that night, all that mattered was that she’d told him she loved him and he’d given her his heart.
On his way home, the realization that she’d saved herself for him hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d been shocked to learn she was a virgin. For these past several years, he’d been driving himself crazy thinking that she and Luc were doing it, but they weren’t; Roche was her first, and the thought of that pleased him a lot. He couldn’t wait to spend the following day with her. He’d told her he’d pick her up at eleven in the morning. Everything was all right. He loved her madly, and they’d found their way back into each other’s hearts and arms.
He switched off the ignition and jumped over the small hedge that bordered the front lawn of his home. When he stepped on the front porch, he stiffened—the door was wide open. Cautiously, he entered the house. It was dark, not a single light on—not even the nightlight his mother always turned on in the living room. Knowing that Henri was at the shack in the bayou and his sisters were at their cousins’ house in Abbeville for a slumber party, he wondered where his mother was. He was pretty sure his dad was out with one of his favorite street walkers.
“Maman?” he called out as he walked through the dining room to the kitchen. Low moans and whimpers came from it. When he entered the room, he stood still for a few seconds so his eyes could adjust to the darkness. The only light was the glow from the digital clock on the microwave. Scanning the room, he made out two forms on the floor. He switched on the overhead light and blinked several times. The horror of the scene in front of him remained the same: a huge pool of blood around his mother’s torso and neck. As it flowed, it filled in the cracks between the linoleum tiles on the floor. Gaping knife wounds covered her arms, stomach, and neck. Her limbs were grotesquely flung outward. Her face was swollen and bruised, and her exposed teeth made her look as if she were growling. Several squadrons of flies and gnats buzzed around her head. There was so much blood, the strong copper scent hung thickly over the room.
“Maman!” he cried, rushing over to her and kneeling down, his jeans soaking up her blood in a matter of seconds. When his warm hands touched her cool body, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, murmuring, “No,Maman. No.” His breath hitched and his chest felt as though it would crush his heart. All the feelings he could possibly feel were fighting together in his stomach, and he knew that the image of his mother’s body would forever be burned into his memory.
From the corner of the room he heard a grunt. He whipped around and saw his father lying on the ground, an empty bottle of moonshine on the floor and a butcher knife smeared in blood next to it. Roche’s ears pounded and his muscles tensed. A fire like molten lava bubbled inside him, rising steadily upward until it exploded, burning all his nerves, cells, and muscles.
“What the fuck have you done?” He rushed over to his father, who lifted his head and stared at him, his eyes hazy and unfocused. The smell of alcohol mixed in with the metallic odor of blood, and Roche had to swallow several times to keep from vomiting. “You killed her! It wasn’t enough to beat her. You had to kill her, you worthless piece ofmerde.”
As his father tried to lift himself off the floor, Roche grabbed him by the shirt and forced him up. He delivered the first blow against his dad’s cheek, the cracking of bones like music to his ears.
Then he lost control.
***
Red and bluelights created an eerie pattern on the front lawn as two paramedics rolled out a screaming and sobbing Roche, strapped down on a stretcher. Along the side and front of his house, he spotted the neighbors he grew up with, averting their gazes as the stretcher went past them. He saw his father’s badly beaten body loaded into another ambulance, and his heart shattered when two men put his mother’s body, encased in a body bag, in a black hearse. The door to his ambulance slammed shut and he was rushed to University Hospitals & Clinics. Still wired from the horror of it all, the emergency medical technician administered a sedative. In less than fifteen minutes, drowsiness set in and he closed his eyes, welcoming oblivion.
***
Five years later
As the metaldoors slammed behind him, Roche shuffled down the paved road without a backward glance. He had nothing to look at; five years of hell in one of Louisiana’s most notorious prisons was more than enough. He’d received the maximum sentence for beating the shit out of his father that fateful night. He thought it was a gift because his goal had been to kill the bastard the way he’d killed his mother, only the police intervened. The neighbors had called them when they heard his father’s cries and Roche’s angry words, cursing him in Cajun. For the past five years, he’d tortured himself for not being home when his father had killed his mother. He’d been with Clotille while his mother had choked on her own blood. And it blew his mind as to why none of the neighbors had heard his mother’s cries as she was hacked to death.
He squinted and spotted a car at the side of the road, a slender woman with dark curly hair waving at him as he neared. She ran up to him and hugged him tightly. “I’m so happy you’re safe and coming home.”
He nodded, pulling back a bit. His sister, Isa, looked beautiful and all grown up. She was the only one in his family who’d come to visit him. She’d also written to him regularly, and he loved her for it. His eyes lit up when he spotted her rounded belly. “When’s the baby coming?” he asked as he slid into the passenger seat.
“Not for another four months. You look good, considering what you’ve been through. You definitely got some muscle action going.”
“I didn’t have anything to do but work out. Had to make sure I could hold my own in there, you know?”
She nodded, a tear escaping. “It’s all over now. You can start living again. This is all behind you.”
He looked out the window as the countryside blurred by. It’d take a couple hours until he’d be back in Lafayette. His stomach twisted in a knot. So many memories, and he wasn’t ready for any of them. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
“Charlie said that he can get you a job at the factory. He’s the foreman, and they’re looking for help.”
“Not sure what I’m going to do.”
“You should jump right in and get busy. Charlie said the work is good and the pay is decent. They always have overtime, so that’s something, you know?”
“Does Clotille still live in Lafayette?” He immediately chastised himself for asking. He’d made a pact with himself that he wouldn’t ask anything about her, yet he wasn’t out even thirty minutes before he broke it.
