With my heart beating loudly, crying out in pain, I rounded the corner toward my house and skidded to a stop. My boxers, jeans, shirts—every single item of clothing I owned—was scattered on my front lawn.
“Mom! What are you doing?” I stomped over to the ripped window screen and peered past the loose flap to find my mother on a rampage. Her head was barely visible, hidden in my closet. “Mom! Stop it!”
She turned around furiously, eyes flashing wildly. Her hair was a ball of frizz caked with dry food and dandruff. “I am so glad to finally get rid of you, you no good bastard! Go! Go to fucking Charleston and go ruin your daddy’s perfect new marriage while you’re at it.”
Something inside me finally snapped. Without thinking twice, I lunged toward the window, pulling against the nylon grid. “Stop blaming me for your bullshit! You wonder why your life is so fucked up? It’s not me who’s fucked up in the head, it’s you! You want somebody to love you? Then stop loving that fucking bottle! You want to have a marriage that works? Stop using your husband’s money to feed your addiction! Get some help, you worthless excuse for a mother!”
Mom’s pale lips trembled slightly, and even behind her bloodshot eyes I saw pain. Now, I may not have been perfect, and though I was hurt, I still found it in myself to feel a bit horrible. That guilt was short-lived.
“You son of a bitch!” she screamed back, chucking a pair of sneakers toward my face.
I dodged the rubber soles just in time and smacked my tongue in anger. I refrained from reminding her that technically, she would be the bitch in that situation, and kept my face cold. “Have fun taking care of yourself, you leech.”
“Don’t you even dare set foot into this house again! Stay away from me.” An audible sob escaped her throat as she turned back to wrecking more of my stuff.
Feeling emotionally exhausted, I finally lost all my will to fight back. Swallowing twice, I took a few steps away from the window and asked, “When’s Dad coming?”
Instead of answering, she pushed herself from my closet and walked toward my bedroom door. Turning at the threshold, she lifted her chin. “Goodbye, Jesse.”
I laughed, not knowing what else to do. “Goodbye indeed.”
***
A cold breeze traveled up the thin cotton of my shirt. Trying hard to fall asleep, I shivered and curled up tighter, burying myself in the scratchy dead grass of our lawn. I stared at the piles of clothing littering the yard, and though I was tempted to throw some on, my pride stopped me. I didn’t want any of that stuff. If Mom was keen on throwing me out, I didn’t want anything she touched.
I must have finally dozed off, because I didn’t hear him walk up beside me. In fact, I didn’t even wake up until I felt the toe of his shoe nudge me slightly against the shin. “Jesse? What the hell are you doing out here?”
It was as if Hades himself had manifested in front of me. I froze, debating on whether to pretend to continue sleeping or whether to jump to my feet and run away.
“Jesse?” he repeated curiously.
Deciding that it was probably better to bite the bullet, I pried my eyes open and pushed myself into a seated position. “You got here fast.”
“I rushed over once your mother called me. Needless to say, I am very disappointed in you.”
My blurry vision cleared to find a man who looked a bit older than the last time I’d seen him. Lines now bordered his lips and around the corners of his eyes…Wait a minute. Those new lines and wrinkles weren’t from old age—they were from happiness. Laugh lines, smile lines…Dad was happy. I didn’t know whether to feel angry, betrayed, or even jealous.
“Surprised you cared,” I muttered, tempted to lay back down to warm myself. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”
Dad took a deep breath and bent forward, grabbing onto my arm. “Let’s warm you up. You’re freezing cold.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. Instead of fighting back, I allowed myself to be led toward his car—a brand new SUV, which looked out of place along our beat-up street.
“Far cry from the old beater, eh?” I snorted.
“Jesse, don’t start,” Dad warned. “I’ve come into a lot of money considering my paycheck isn’t being used to fund a drug addiction.”
“You could have stopped that, you know,” I reminded him. I jumped into the front seat, and though I tried my hardest not to look too grateful, I couldn’t help myself. I let out a sigh of relief as the blast of the heater warmed my face. The feeling once again returned to my skin as my body thawed itself slowly—painfully.
“Same goes with you,” Dad snapped.
“I’m the child, remember? You should have acted like an adult for once instead of running away.”
Dad’s eyes shut tightly and his chest heaved up and down. His nostrils flared slightly, creating a wheezing noise as the air passed in and out.
I let out my own puff of air. “Feeling guilty, eh?”
Eyelids snapping open, he turned to me and scowled. “If you recall, I’ve been sending you some money. I’m guessing you never used any of it?”
I shook my head and smirked. “What would I do with blood money?”
Definitely not responding to my sarcasm well, Dad snapped, “Is it inside?”
I nodded. “All there. Under my mattress.”
His shoulders sagged forward with a groan. “Stay in the car. I’m going inside and getting it before your mom finds it. Don’t want the corner mini-mart to be bought out of liquor, do we?”
“Whatever.”
He shot me a look and begrudgingly stomped his way inside the house. Realizing I didn’t want to watch a train wreck happen, I looked away and grabbed my phone out of my pocket. I was no better than my father. I ran away from Rocky when shit hit the fan. No. I would not let it end like that. I needed her to know that I would keep my promise.
I’ll come back for you.
I quickly hit send and held my breath, waiting for Rocky’s reply. Unfortunately, I was met with nothing but silence.
“They probably took away her phone…or maybe they’re arguing…or…” It didn’t matter how many excuses I could make up in my head. Deep down I knew it really was the beginning of the end.
“Get out of my house, you asshole!” Mom’s shrill voice cut through the silent night, momentarily distracting me. Like a banshee’s war cry, her voice bounced through the street, ricocheting between the houses. Hell, I was surprised the cops hadn’t been called yet.
Dad stomped angrily toward the car, dead grass crunching under his heavy soled boots with each step. Jumping into his seat he shoved a wad of bills into my chest. “I’d appreciate it if you understood the value of money.”
“I do,” I replied blankly. “Just not yours.”
He threw me an annoyed look and gestured toward the yard. “Grab your stuff and let’s go.”
I shook my head and frowned. “Leave it. I don’t want any of it.”
Dad opened his mouth as if to reply, and thinking better of it, buckled his seatbelt. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
As the car began to accelerate, I realized I still hadn’t received a text back. Feeling frantic, I asked, “Can we stop by Rocky’s house?”
“Rocky? As in Raquel Rossi?” He scratched his head and frowned.
“Yeah.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“And why is that?” I demanded.
Instead of answering, he turned up the dial on his car radio and turned the opposite direction. Though I wanted to kick, scream, and protest, I knew there was nothing I could do but bid Bethel Falls—and Rocky—goodbye.