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Bass eased himself back from his desk and waited, watching me. “Well, good. I want to see that fire applied to yourself. Get back out there, Griffin, and make shit happen. Be the man she needs, but, more importantly, the manyouwant to become.”
I’d spent the last several months out of prison still carrying that feeling that I would make a mistake at any moment, too afraid to make any real changes for myself in case I screwed that up, too. For the last couple of weeks, I wasted time wallowing in self-pity. If I had any chance with Essa, I’d need to get myself back on track.
When I got back into the car, Adon asked, “How’d it go?”
“I’m going to register for classes next fall. Get that business degree.”
He drove off. A few miles down the road, he said, “Good.”
More important than my future, I needed to find out what happened in the past—on the night I shot Pete Monti.
ChapterFifteen
ESSA
The only way I could avoid the tormenting pain of being used by a murderer was to focus on my schoolwork. When I was in class or studying, I could concentrate on something other than my utter sadness. Piper helped, too, by coming by every moment she could to spend a lot of evenings with me, making dinner, watchingBuffywith me, and painting our nails while talking about anything other than boys. Usually about plants, which I had zero interest in, but it kept my mind from tunneling down a very dark path.
Her being in that room my father was murdered helped keep me from remembering those crime scene pictures. When she wasn’t there with me, I never went into the den anymore. It felt too horrid to think about what had happened just underneath the coffee table.
Hell took over as soon as she left for the evening. When I would peel myself away from the flashes on the television screen, I’d try to wear myself out by reading a textbook in bed. Lucky nights, I’d fall asleep with one on my chest. Others, I sobbed until I couldn’t breathe, pulling my knees to my chest and begging aloud to no one,“Why?”
The worst was when I went looking for our video online and watched it for a few seconds before slamming the laptop closed as if I’d been stabbed. Eli’s soft and caring face was something I couldn’t handle. It was easier to remember his look of guilt and betrayal from the last time we spoke. That picture didn’t make me want to drive to his place and beg him to be with me again.
Why did Eli get involved with me in the first place? Did he ever really care? I couldn’t sort out the mixture of feelings of having a man who gave me life die at the hands of someone I thought I loved. Who Idid stilllove, which was the worst part.
I was in love with a murderer.
Evil thoughts would plague my mind at times like,maybe Pete deserved itorhow bad could murder really be?A fantasy that it was all a lie and Eli would rush back into my life to be my daddy, to care for me like he once did, constantly played on my screens behind my eyes, but as the days wore on, it became less realistic.
A hardness settled in the pit of my stomach as the days turned to weeks.
* * *
Being an adult was hard. I was a seasoned pro at making doctor’s appointments, cooking, and scheduling my car’s oil changes. But when it came to caring for an entire house? Tidying up a whole overgrown yard? I was entirely out of my league. I was naïve to think it would be easy.
Spring was breaking, and I was glad to have a week off from classes to sort out my life. Now that I didn’t have anything to study for, I needed to channel my simmering rage and pain into another project.
Glenda caught me one day when I was carrying groceries in from my car to the side door of the house. Her bluish-white hair gleamed in the bright afternoon sun. The pink paisley pants she wore were difficult to look at without my eyes hurting.
“Darling, your shrubs really will need to be trimmed this spring. Otherwise, the city may cite you. Those fines can get pretty expensive, especially if they add up. Not that I would know. Or that I would ever call the city on you, but Eddie might… Evan, a little boy from the down the road? He comes and helps me with my yard. I can send him your way if you’d like. He plays football for the public high school. Good kid and his mother—”
“I’ll get it done myself, Glenda. Thank you for reminding me.” I rushed inside before she kept me for another twenty minutes, gossiping about everyone in our neighborhood.
On a sunny day at the end of February, about three weeks since I went to Rhodes’s—not that I was counting every single day and hour and second since I’d last seen Eli—I scoured through my dilapidated garage and found a rickety lawnmower and rusted hedge trimmers. Picking up some old gas cans, I loaded them into my car and filled them at the station.
Once back at home, I scanned the yard. It was a small lawn and was relatively flat. It should not have been difficult to mow it. After watching a video about it, I primed the mower and tugged the cord as hard as I could. Nothing happened. Several more tries later, and I found myself crying on the stoop in defeat.
Why did I miss Eli so much? He wouldn’t have any trouble with the mower, I was sure. I shouldn’t have wanted him. Hemurderedmy father! Maybe I was some sick joke to him, seeking me out to write letters, making me care about him. Was the porn video part of his agenda, too? Had he been trying to humiliate me? Destroy me? If so, it felt like he succeeded. The only things I had left were broken.
“Sweetheart, you okay?”
Eddie approached while I was sitting in a pool of despair on my front stoop.
Clearing my throat, the sadness was suddenly swept aside for a bout of irritation. “Um, yeah. I’m fine.” Determination flooded over me, along with my tears, and I marched back to the mower, resolved to get the machine to start.
“Here, sweetie. Let me.” Eddie checked over the deck, flipping it over, inspecting the blades, cleaning out some old grass, then pointed out a small hole I hadn’t seen before. “You need oil in here; I’ll be right back.”
Eddie ambled to his shed and returned with a small plastic bottle, then showed me how to fill it and check the line. A simple pull on the cord, and he was able to start the engine easily. Over the next half hour, he demonstrated how to cut lines in the grass properly. When I took over, he used his edger to cut the weeds in the front yard. After I finished the front lawn, trepidatious gratitude filled me. His neighborly advice had been quite helpful; the house was looking less like a shanty and more like a shelter.
