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She couldn’t hurt me.
I turned so that my face was against a throw pillow. Different emotions slammed hard into me, stealing my breath and making all of me feel like a building explosion. The numbness that had consumed me for weeks melted away.
Letting the pillow be my muffler, I screamed out the relief, no longer able to hold it all in. All the tension fleeing along with it. When I finished, my body feeling exhausted, I smiled. It was like I’d taken my first breath in a long, long time, the air tasting all too much like what I thought freedom would be like. Clear, crisp, and safe.
I no longer needed to hide in the shadows.
This place wasmyhome. Mine. With renewed motivation, I jumped to my feet and stared at the boxes, trying to decide which one to open. The day was already halfway over and I still hadn’t unpacked a box. But now, I was more than happy, so I grabbed one that was off in the corner. I hadn’t cared when I packed up the old house. I didn’t even bother with proper labeling. I did the bare minimum, writing a number on each box. Every box in the living room had a one written on them. The twos were in the kitchen, the threes in my studio, and the fours in my bedroom.
Anything else went into the basement. That consisted of all of Lindie’s things and other items I’d rather stayed tucked away.
So it was a pleasant surprise when I opened up the box to see photos. This was one of the boxes I had pulled out of storage in the old house. The photos included my dad and me, photos of us at different competitions. His familiar face brought a smile to mine. I traced a photo of me at about the age of eight, holding up a participation certificate for performing at a concert.
I really did look like my dad. I had his honey-colored eyes, his light brown hair. My nose was smaller, more like Lindie’s, but my mouth was like Dad’s, wide and thin. I snickered when I realized we had the same cheekbones too. I was very much his daughter.
My heart ached, missing him, wishing he was around. But I understood. I did. I wouldn’t have stuck around if given the choice too. I just wished he’d taken me with him when he left. Instead, he had left me with Lindie. Within all the parts of me that missed him, there were a few pieces that were bitter too.
Blinking back tears, I glanced at the bare walls, planning where I was going to put up the photos. I stacked the frames carefully on the coffee table, making a mental note of everything I was going to have to buy to hang them. It could be my weekend project.
I dug out sticky notes from my studio and hung them on the wall with notes for which photo I wanted where. By the time I finished, the wall was covered in orange, yellow, and green sticky notes. I had a lot of photos that had been stored away for a long time, plus some new ones to hang up. If my memory was correct, there should have been three more boxes full of photos. My heart swelled with happiness at the idea of having them on display again.
While Dad loved music and teaching me, his second passion was photography. He’d taken a lot of pictures of people we’d met at concerts, old teachers, other competitors, judges, and some landscapes mixed in there. We’d met a few big name people, and he had signed photographs of them too.
I sat back down on the couch and stared at the wall. The longer I stared, the more of yesterday slipped into my thoughts. Calvin’s sweet face popped up first, quickly overshadowed by Paxon’s. The other two boys flashed through my mind too, but mainly it wavered between sweet Calvin and overprotective Paxon. When he’d come stalking toward us, I knew in moments that his anger had been displaced. He was probably more angry with himself than with Calvin for getting lost. Hating that it was still aimed at Calvin, I’d poked at Paxon’s weakness so he’d direct it toward me.
I was good like that.
Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath, ignoring the ache in my spine. My lips curved into a smile, remembering what Seth had said.
Mama bear, huh?
I wondered what that felt like, to have someone crazy for you, to protect you at all costs. I’d never had that, not even when I was a little girl and my family had been whole. Dad showed his love for us, but Lindie never did. After he left, our household was only about communication. No loving touches or anything remotely warm. We communicated, that was it. And most times, we barely had that.
Lindie had spent a lot of her time schmoozing with the rich, trying to pawn off my services for some quick bucks. On nights she came home drunk, I was safe. A drunk Lindie would be a bad thing in a normal dysfunctional family, but not for me. A drunk Lindie meant a distracted Lindie. She never raised her hand against me when she’d had one too many shots of vodka. Sometimes I thought she literally forgot I existed, lost in her own demons. Sober, though, had been a different story. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been drunk as often as I would have liked.
I used to always wish she’d be like those alcoholics who could never do anything without a bottle in their hand. She would have done me a favor for once in her life if she were like that. But no. She only got drunk once or twice a week. The only time I could find any peace and do whatever I wanted without her flipping out on me. She’d been too busy to notice if I were gone or not by locking herself up in her room, missing Dad, or even fucking some man she dragged home with her.
As if it were happening, my imagination ran wild and I could hear it. The opening of the door, her familiar drunken giggles. I would hold my breath to listen for anyone else, for my cue that she’d be out of it for the rest of the night. Then I’d hear her door slam shut and moments later, soft music permeating the walls. She’d be in for the night, and I’d be free to do whatever I wanted.
I shivered as I came out of those memories. It wasn’t like that anymore. I could easily leave now if I wanted and not have to worry about her demanding I get back to work. I didn’t need to creep down the stairs, on edge and worried she’d catch me.
I didn’t need to hide.
Grinning at this simple realization, I got up, grabbed my bag and iPod and walked out the front door. I made sure to slam the door, loving the sound of the loud thud as it banged closed. I even stomped purposefully across the porch. By the time I was off the porch, my headphones were on, and when I reached the sidewalk, I was lost in the world of music.
Deciding to explore the area, and feeling more relaxed than I had in a long while, I turned left and allowed the music to drown out the neighborhood noise. At one point, I even closed my eyes and enjoyed the warm, muggy breeze that caressed my skin. I had a few more hours before the rain would fall. The blend of the lyrics and rhythm had me moving at a slow pace, swaying my body to the beat. I bobbed my head, humming. I wasn’t fully dancing but if anyone looked at me, they knew I was very much enjoying the music.
Nothing bothered me. Not the ache in my spine. Not the heavy thoughts about my dad or Lindie. Not even the distraction of Calvin’s face. Or the guys who lost him. I just walked, keeping to myself, enjoying the freedom. Smiling even.
Freedom.
My past didn’t bother me at that moment.
Nor did the future.
I walked around for a good hour before heading back home, my stomach growling and demanding food. I made it about two houses down before a large, reddish-brown dog came at me, barking briefly before deciding sniffing me was more fun.
He was a large bullmastiff, standing just over two feet, and reaching up to my thighs. The thing looked like he weighed more than I did, but that wasn’t saying much. I weighed a hundred and fifteen pounds, only slightly underweight for my height. I only knew that because of my visit to the hospital and needing to reassure the doctor that I didn’t have any kind of eating disorder.
