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Well, okay. I guess not. It’s like she just responded directly to my thoughts.
“What about the car? Why did he bring it in?” She looks up at me as if a light bulb just switched on behind her eyes.
“Oh, well, that I do remember. He wanted it to be cleaned. Said he hit a deer and carried it into his trunk. It bled out… Wait.” I pause. Holy fuck. I have been fucking stupid, haven’t I? What if the blood was human? I’m still resisting the thought because I would prefer if this isn’t true. I don’t want to have to think about what would happen if we found out that he’s dangerous. I suppose we could send an anonymous tip to the cops probably, have them deal with it, providing that they wouldn’t just sweep it under the rug. And I know how Julissa feels about cops. If they did nothing, I’m afraid of what that would mean if Julissa took matters into her own hands.
So I’m leaning more toward the option of it being deer blood. I hope it’s fucking deer blood. Even if it turns out that he’s her actual father. Sure, that would change everything; the way I feel about him, that’s for sure. It would take great restraint on all of our parts to keep from bashing his skull in and punishing him for what he did to Julissa but at the same time, I think all four of us can still make a go of this new life if I do some things to change, stop doubting her and if I learn to trust us together as a team. So it benefits us both to know the truth now.
Besides, he’s an old bastard now anyway and from the looks of things, he’s tried to turn his life around. Looks like he went to rehab and shit. So if it turns out it is deer blood, I’m hoping we can just pretend he doesn’t fucking exist or maybe we’d even move to a new town without leaving another bloody trail behind us if it becomes too hard for Julissa to bear living around him. But we don’t have to kill the guy, as much as we may want to, especially if heisher father and wehaveto see him every fucking day remembering how he fucked up her life, imagining her as a helpless kid who he was supposed to protect. Even just thinking about it now is revving me up to turn around and go back there. I’m breathing heavier and I keep eyeing the woods. She notices.
“What are you thinking?” she asks me.
“That if I find out he’s your father, it’s gonna be pretty hard for either of us to restrain ourselves from killing the bastard,” I confess.
And she blushes. My heart leaps at that. “Yeah. Thanks,” she says in relief as if that’s all she’s been needing to hear from me all this time and I failed to bring her that comfort. To reassure her that she has my support.
“I’m really sorry,” I say again, my heart frowns in pain.
“But you still need proof, don’t you?” she asks.
“Yeah, because I don’t want to believe it. I’ll be honest,” I say to her, holding my hands up in surrender, “I’m resisting the idea because I don’t want this to be true. I want to hear he’s not your father, I want to hear it’s deer blood because if I don’t, it’s going to be hard to live here, knowing he’s just right there. And can I be even more honest?” I ask her and she nods with a slight smile. My heart bursts with gratitude as it seems that we’re getting somewhere with each other. “Even if my worst fear at the moment becomes a reality and I know for certain he is your father, I’m still going to try to fight it, to convince myself that at his age, he doesn’t pose a threat anymore. And I’d still be thinking that we should try to get by because he doesn’t recognize you. He didn’t react once when he saw you and maybe we should keep it that way.”
“Oh, I had no intention of giving him the pleasure of knowing I’m still alive, that I’m right here in the same community with him, watching his every move. I don’t want to give him any reason to have even more power over me. For him to find a way to taunt me. Of course, I don’t want him to know who I am until I have to do something because I’d like to be honest withyou,” she says and now my heart crashes into my stomach. “If I find out he’s still dangerous, I’m not just going to sit around and do nothing. I’m taking him down and if you have a problem with that, don’t hold back on saying something now because if I find out Harry Burns is still endangering others, I’m gonna fucking kill him,” she starts.
“Not now, not while I’m unsure but I have to know if I’m doing the right thing by leaving him alone because this isn’t just about me figuring out how to cope with my trauma. That’d be hard as it is but if he’s changed and not as fucked up as he once was, then I’ll let the fucker live and I’ll learn to cope with my fucking shit, no matter how fucking hard it is because that would be about me. But if I learn he’s fucking dangerous, then it’s no longer just a “me problem” and I’m gonna fuck him up. So let me know right now. Do you have a problem with that? And don’t say no if you do because I hate that shit,” she says.
I can’t lie to her. It’s difficult for me to let go of the need to protect ourselves and as selfish as it may sound, that’s my utmost priority. And she’s right, I do often just lie to smooth things over but I don’t want to fuck things up for us again. I don’t want to lose her. So I owe her the truth. Damn it. “Yeah,” that’s all I say.
She nods. “Thanks for being honest.” She turns toward her car.
“So wait, what does that mean? Does that mean you’re still leaving me? Or are you coming home?” I ask, sounding like a beggar, my voice trembling with uncertainty.
“You still want me back home, even after I said what I just did?” she asks me.
“Yes. Please. Stay,” I say. “I mean, as long as you can still live with me after I also said what I said.”
She waits and looks at me. Sighing, she asks, “What did you find in his car? Can you show them to me?”
“I haven’t started working on it yet,” I tell her and her eyes spark.
“Okay, here’s my offer. I’ll only come home if you promise that you can help me satisfy my need to know everything about him. That means if you agree to let me be with you while you work on his car so I can search it. So that we can figure out where that blood came from. Do you agree to let me do that?” she asks me.
And as terrified as I am of the truth right now, I know this is something she needs and I can’t run from it forever. If I truly love her, I can’t keep pretending that the man who is very likely her father, isn’t and I can’t force her to act like he doesn’t exist which means that I have to know the truth myself. “Yes.” I nod.
“Don’t agree now just to get me to come back home with you and then you fuck me over tomorrow and pull some bullshit because I swear Mikhail if you do, that will be the last straw. I am trusting you to stay true to your word, don’t betray my trust,” she warns me.
“I had no intention of doing that. I will prove to you that you can trust me again. I’m sorry.” I approach her for a hug.
She let me hug her but she doesn’t hug me back. She’s still weary and that’s my fault. I tried to control her process, a very necessary process for her to work through when she saw her father and something in my gut is telling me that when we look at his paperwork tomorrow, I’m going to learn that she is right and I’m not ready for that revelation. But it’s not my right to delay this process for her any longer. So as her hands hang limply at her side and she remains stiff in my arms, I resign myself to the fact that everything to do with Julissa from this day forward is outside of my control.
“Fine,” she says, waiting for me to release her from the hug that I prolonged, needing to know that we are okay. But we’re not, not completely. Not until she knows that I’m not going to turn into the man she doesn’t know, the man she can’t trust, the man that reminds her of the life she killed to escape. And there’s nothing I can do about that but stand by her if I don’t want to lose her.
Chapter 17
Julissa
I’mbackinthisdamn pink barney-looking dress and fucking clog shoes and I’m furious at my boss because she ruined my plans to meet up with Mikhail at lunchtime and go through with our plan to search Harry Burns’ car. But, since I missed work yesterday and ran off during my lunch break the day before, I have shifts to make up for so I’m not allowed to take lunch breaks for the rest of the week. And I can’t claim that she’s starving me since I work in a fucking restaurant and lunch is free. So I’m stuck here for the day and it’s working my fucking last nerve.
The stares and gossiping whispers today makes it hard for me to smile at those same customers when I want to slam their milkshakes up their fucking asses but I try with my might to conceal the rage behind my eyes and force a smile which I hope doesn’t give away the fact that I’m a murderous psychopath.
