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“Is in jail. Statesburg,” I added stupidly.
“Holy shit. Where were you when he, you know...?”
“Killed her? I was sitting on the couch.” I have no idea why I answered his question. I didn’t want to talk about it. But then I just kept...talking. “Eating a bowl of cereal and watching Power Rangers on TV.”
That old familiar weight of crushing guilt swept over me. Not sure how to combat it, I swiped a hand through my hair. “He came in one morning from being out somewhere, probably at some other woman’s place, and asked where she was. I just said she was in her room, didn’t bother to mention she wasn’t there alone. And I didn’t bother to run and warn her that he was home. It only got me into trouble whenever I involved myself in the shit those two stirred with each other. But, Jesus, I can’t help but wonder...if I’d only done something that morning instead of eating my breakfast and watching TV, things would’ve turned out a lot different.”
“How old were you?” Sticks asked quietly.
I shook my head. It didn’t matter. I’d been old enough to know they’d fight when he found her in bed with one of his drug-dealing partners. But I said, “Seven.”
“Jesus. What the hell were you supposed to do at seven?”
“I don’t know.” I stared at the wall, seeing nothing. “Something. When he finally went back there and found them together, I still did nothing. My dad started shouting and the other dude came running out of the room, pulling on his pants. Then Mom started shouting. I guess she packed a bag and threatened to leave because she came storming into the front room with a suitcase, clothes sticking out each end. When she tried to open the front door—”
“Wait. Did she just plan on leaving you there?” The shock in Remy’s eyes made me sniff in amusement.
“It wasn’t the first time. But she always came back for more shit to stuff up her nose, so I wasn’t too concerned about never seeing her again. When my dad slammed the front door to keep her fr
om leaving and then hit her, I still wasn’t surprised. They pounded on each other all the time. And if I tried to help either of them, the other would turn on me and pound on me, so I just continued to sit there like an idiot...as he killed her.”
“Fuck, Asher. What he did wasn’t your fault. You don’t really think you could’ve stopped him and saved her, do you? He would’ve just turned on you and killed you too.”
“I could’ve run and gotten help,” I argued. “But I just sat there and watched as he shoved her into the television and broke it. When it landed on top of her and shot sparks everywhere, she fucking screamed in pain and I just...I just watched. It wasn’t until she was already gone and her lifeless glassy eyes were staring up at the ceiling that I did anything. My dad looked at me with shock and panic, and I knew...I was next. I’d seen too much. So...finally, that’s when I ran.”
“¡Dios mío!” Sticks set his hand over his mouth. “Where did you go? Did he catch you?”
I shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable for sharing so much. “Just to a neighbor’s place. The old guy who lived there let me stick around until the police showed up, so no...my dad never caught me. I didn’t see either of them again that day. The next place I saw him was in the courtroom when I had to give my testimony.”
“Damn, that’s...intense.”
I cleared my throat and glanced at the papers he’d stopped sorting and was still holding fisted in his hand. “If you want, you can just take the box home with you. Bring it back later.”
I didn’t want to hang around here much longer, not after opening up the way I had.
“Huh?” Sticks glanced down at his hand and then jumped. “Oh, shit. Sorry. But yeah, sure. I’ll do that.” He started to stuff the sheets back into the box, but froze when he saw something already in there. “What...what is this?”
He pulled the single page closer to read it, his eyes growing bigger with each second. “Oh...fuck,” he whispered.
“What?” I asked, curious...but also relieved for a complete subject change.
Looking up with a dazed expression, he waved what looked like my hand-printed sheet music for one of our songs. “This isn’t...we don’t play this song. Where did this come from?”
I took it from his hand and immediately groaned. “Oh, Jesus. I need to burn this damn thing.”
“No!” Sticks hopped to his feet and snagged it from me, only to hold it protectively against his chest, gaping at me in horror. “You can’t. Just...what is it?”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat. Talking about this was almost as bad as telling him about what had happened between my parents. “It’s just a stupid song I wrote after seeing some girl sing on karaoke night at the bar.”
“Uh...this is more than just seeing a girl.” His gaze scanned the page. “You wanted to know everything about her, marry her and give her babies. Make her your one and only—”
“Okay, thank you!” I slapped the song out of his hand with a scowl. “You don’t have to read the lyrics back to me. I wrote them. I remember what I said...unfortunately.” When he gaped at me as if I was insane, I waved out my fingers, implying it was no big deal. “Look, it’s just a song some stranger I’d never met before or seen again inspired; doesn’t mean anything.”
Sticks squinted, letting me know he totally didn’t buy that. “Then why’re you being so touchy about it now?”
“Because.” I ground my teeth. “We happened to play it at Forbidden once. Once. One fucking time, and all these women went crazy, trying to convince me they were her. And you want to know the really crazy part? I don’t think I’d even recognize her if I ever did see her again. I saw her once, all the way across a room months ago for a total of like three minutes. And she had a boyfriend anyway, so I don’t know why everyone blew it out of proportion the way they did. It wasn’t love at first sight as all my friends tease me. I know that. It was just—”
“Lust?” Sticks guessed quietly.
