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Chapter Eighteen
Nala
The week after Christmas, Liza no-shows at group.
I mark it down, and then push my worry to the back and focus on the other girls. They’re all quiet at the beginning, heads hung and eyes glued to something other than each other, which isn’t unusual. Holidays are not happy times for many people. Nora lost her mom last year, and this is the first Christmas that she and her brother and father are spending without her. Like Thanksgiving, it was hard.
“Dad just worked the entire day…and then he came home and went into his study. My brother found him there in the morning, passed out at his desk.”
“My dad does that sometimes, too,” Cassie says. “After…after I tried to commit suicide.” She pauses, a trembling hand swiping over her mouth, and we all wait, because it’s the first time she has said it like that. And it feels like the first step toward power for Cassie—admitting what she did, not glossing over it or ignoring it. “My dad, he couldn’t really look at me. My mom goes into Mrs. Fix-It mode, and wears this really creepy smile that never goes away, while she chirps like a Disney character.”
“Jesus, I’d want to kill myself, too.”
“Mya,” I scold.
She rolls her eyes, but mumbles, “Sorry.”
Cassie looks from her to me, and then at her board. “Go ahead, Cassie. We’re here.”
“It just…I thought my dad was spending so much time in his office because he was mad at me. But then…then he came and sat in my room every night when he thought I was asleep. Not like creepy or anything,” she adds when Mya opens her mouth again. “But, like he needed to check on me, needed, I don’t know, to see me or something.” She shrugs. “After I knew that, I figured maybe he didn’t spend a lot of time with me because he didn’t know what to say. Maybe your dad is the same way.”
Nora nods, finally looking away from Cassie. “Maybe. I just wish he knew I don’t know what to say or do either, and I’m scared he’s going to leave, too.”
Each girl shares after that, and the mood stays quiet through the end of our session. I hope it’s because they’re lost in their thoughts, not just because they are lost. Malcolm pops into my mind, his story similar in ways to all of these girls. I’ve never thought of him as someone who was scared, but listening to Nora explain that she was afraid her dad was going to leave, too, that the loss of her mother is so strong, she can’t always fight the fear that she’ll lose someone else, I wonder if that’s how Malcolm feels. He was too young to really remember his biological mother, though he’s mentioned memories of her, hearing her cry, hearing her scream. And then the woman who married his father when he wasn’t even a teenager, one who seemed to fill him with hope that he could have one parent figure who loved him—she left before he entered high school.
And then his dad—the man who abused him for the majority of his life, left him last.
Other than Brooks and Hunter, Mal’s been left by everyone who has ever claimed to love him. Even me.
That thought does not sit well. Did I leave Malcolm, or did he reject me? The distinction seems important now.
“Hey, there, pretty lady, want a ride home?”
Speaking of. I look up from my feet, and there is Malcolm, leaning against the side of the borrowed work truck, his smile bright, his hair as unruly as ever, his persona managing to exude cockiness even with the crutches. Next to him is Teo Rojas, looking equally confident and adorable.
“Well this is a surprise.” I walk the rest of the way over, reaching my hand out to tap the brim of Teo’s hat—Malcolm’s brand, which Mal gave to him for Christmas, along with a proper skating helmet, and elbow and knee pads to go with the skateboard Hunter and Isa gave him.
“What are you two doing?”
“Shorty here is on winter break, and since I’m on a break myself, and everyone else is working, I kidnapped him so we could go do something fun.”
It’s girly, and so pathetic, but my heart melts a little at the idea of the big, dark man playing games with the beautiful little boy. “I thought you were going to build with Isa and Hunter today,” I say, looking at Teo.
“I was with Isa when Mal had to call her to fix his shower.” Teo’s grin gets just a hint more mischievous. “Cause he tried to do it himself and broke it badder.”
“Badder’s not a word,” Mal shoots back, a slight redness creeping up his neck. “And I didn’t make it worse, I just tried something that didn’t fix it.”
“Isa said it was a simple fix until you picked up a hammer.”
“Isa said,” Mal mimics. And then be grabs Teo and lifts him off the ground and tickles him so hard that when he finally puts him back down, Teo’s face is red, and he’s breathing hard. But his smile is so wide I can count every tooth.
“What do you say, Nala, you want to hang with me and the rugrat today? We were gonna go down to the pier, play some games, maybe let him body surf.” Mal offers me one of those smiles—the ones that are full of fun, without any shadows or darkness. “Want to come play?”
Even if I was a monster, there is little way to resist two smiling boys with just a hint of mischief in them. “I have a class at the Y in fifteen minutes. But I could meet you after,” I say, and both faces light up.
“How about you teach your class and meet us at my house? We can all walk down together.”
I can’t help myself. “Should you be walking that far?”
