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“Oh fuck. You’re serious.”
“I’m dead serious, yeah. She’s not exactly on the PTA committee. Never was.”
“Well, this sucks,” Alastair said. “Maybe we should call the cops?”
I stared at him. “And tell themwhat?”
He spread his hands. “That this manthreatenedyou.”
I shook my head. “That’s not how it works.”
“What do you mean? That’s how it’s supposed to work.”
I didn’t say anything, just sipped my tea and put my feet in Alastair’s lap. “I could use a foot massage.”
I think he realized I was changing the subject deliberately, but he could probably see how much I didn’t like this conversation. He peeled off one sock, then the other. Since I wore stockings at work, my socks were pretty clean and probably didn’t stink.
I wasn’t so sure about my feet.
“You don’t have to,” I said, pulling away, but he grabbed my ankles and held them fast, stroking the soles with his thumbs and just about making my eyes roll back in my head.
“Tell me about the time she broke your nose,” he said, as he squeezed and rubbed.
Alastair’s hands were literal works of art, bigger than mine and smooth—the hands of a man who worked on a computer all day. I agreed that there was something about a guy with calluses, but I liked my white-collar man. He was my first, and I hoped to keep him. But that meant that this wouldn’t be the last conversation we had about my past. I came from a different world than he did.
“I was fourteen, and I had a smart mouth. I called her a bitch, and she hauled off and punched me. Told me I was a dirty faggot and a useless son, and she couldn’t stand the sight of me. I mean, she was drunk out of her mind.”
“Jesus. Toby…” Alastair’s hands froze for a second but then resumed.
I shook my head because that wasn’t the whole story.
“I should probably tell you that I punched her once, too—and it wasn’t in self-defense.”
Alastair was silent. He watched me with sad eyes and rubbed my foot like it was his job.
“I was sixteen, so she could have charged me with assault. She’s been holding that over my head for years. I don’t know why she didn’t mention it when Esther brought up the nose incident.”
“Does Esther know about that?”
“About me punching my mom? Yeah. She always says she had it coming. Which, yeah, she did, but it was still assault. She wasn’t attacking me at the time.”
“What made you…lose your temper?” Alastair asked.
His soothing motions on my muscles were putting me into a kind of a trance, and I didn’t answer right away.
“You don’t have to tell me, Toby. It’s okay.”
“She let my kitten out,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“I had this kitten. I knew my mom wouldn’t approve, but I kept it in my room, with its litter box in my closet. I changed that damn box like three times a day so it wouldn’t stink. In those days she was hardly ever home anyway and out of it when she was there. I know I shouldn’t have done that. It was her house.” I shrugged. “I was sixteen, lonely and having issues at school. And this guy on my Instagram was giving away free kittens, so I got one.”
Alastair just watched me. I kept my gaze on his strong fingers as he rubbed my foot with the care and strength that I needed to absorb more than anything at that moment.
“She was all black, with a little white spot on her chest. I named her Star, and she was the—” I choked on an inhale and pushed the emotion down. “She was the sweetest thing.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I never let her outside. They tell you not to, because they kill birds and get run over, shit like that. But I came home that day, and she wasn’t in my room. And when I asked my mom if she’d let her out, she said, yeah.”
“Jeez.”
