“I was high.” I defend myself, although if I’m being honest, I still don’t know if I’m really the kind of girl who’s built for casual sex.
“You were being honest then, and for some reason, you’re lying to yourself now.” He’s annoyingly intuitive for someone who has been absent from my life for the last eight years, but then again, I never could lie to him.
“It isn’t that I need the time or a lot of attention,” I begin. “I’ve spent the majority of my life alone. I guess what I’m looking for is a casual relationship. Just enough strings attached so I know that whoever it is I’m giving myself to won’t just up and abandon me.” I blow out a breath. “Wow, now that’s pathetic.”
Dev shakes his head, running his finger down the bridge of my nose, bringing it around to tip up my chin. “It’s real. I feel like we all need that reassurance sometimes.”
I lean into him, my forehead presses against his. We stare at each other for a moment. Neither of us speak. The only sound in the room is the muffled noise drifting up from the party downstairs.
His hand cups my neck and he pulls me lower, his mouth inches from mine. “Do you trust me?” he breaths.
“Do I have a choice?” The moment the words leave my lips his mouth descends on mine, and I part for him. He wastes no time, licking his way inside my mouth. His movements are slow and measured, like he’s savoring me. My hands rest on his shoulders, and my head turns. Following his lead, I kiss him back. When he finally breaks the kiss, I exhale. “Was that because you’re pissed at her?”
“No.” He presses another small kiss to my nose. “That was because he doesn’t get to have all your firsts.”
Roni, age 9
Daddy get’s home a little after seven. His tired eyes find mine as he pushes his way inside Devin’s house. I drop the controller and run into his arms. “Daddy! How much longer until Momma gets done with work??”
“I don’t know. We can call her when we get home.” He smiles down at me. He’s standing at the door. His eyes are rimmed red and his breath smells like the nasty brown stuff he puts in his coffee, which means he stopped at the bar on the way to pick me up. Momma won’t be happy if she finds out, but I’ll keep his secret.
I shoulder my backpack and wrap my hand in his, happy to see his face. Ms. Maisie has been acting weird since we got home from school and it’s making me nervous.
“Night, Dev.” I wave as we walk out the door.
Our house is dark, which makes sense because no one is home, but it doesn’t make my tummy feel any better. My chest hurts and I slap at the wall, desperate to turn the lights on. After a few tries, I find the switch. Everything looks the same. Relieved, I push out a breath. I don’t know why I thought I’d find Momma’s body or something. Maybe because Dev was talking about kidnapping earlier? Yeah, that’s gotta be it.
“Can I have a snack?” I ask. I hadn’t been able to eat all day, first at school because I wasn’t feeling well, then Ms. Maisie was acting all weird and I’d been worried about Momma.
“Sure, baby girl. I’m gonna change out of these clothes, then we can call your Momma, then we’ll figure out what we’re gonna do for dinner.”
I make my way into the kitchen, flipping on that switch too, just in case. I grab a bag of chips from the pantry, then head to the fridge for a juice. There’s a note. Momma’s handwriting smudged with water stains.
Ray,
This isn’t the life I signed up for. This isn’t the life you promised me. You said if I kept the baby, we’d be happy. Well, I haven’t been happy in ten years. You sold me lies, and I wasted my best years on you because I believed them. I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving you.
-Willow.
I blink. Tears fill my eyes, and I read the letter again, trying to make sense of the words on the page. From upstairs, I hear Daddy cursing. Their bedroom door crashes against the wall and his heavy footsteps clump down the stairs. “Your Momma’s clothes are gone.” His dark eyes are wild as he glances around the kitchen. “What’s in your hand?”
I hold out the page with shaky hands. He takes it from me. His eyes trace the lines and curves of her fancy handwriting over and over again. “I-it’s a joke, right?” My voice sounds scratchy, like how I sound when I’m sick. “Momma’s coming home, right? She’s gotta come home. She’s just joking.”
“Baby girl.” Daddy’s voice sounds strange too. I stop my pacing and turn to look at him. He’s crying too. I’ve never seen him cry. Not one time in my entire life. My Daddy is too strong for tears, yet here he is, standing in the kitchen with Momma’s rose petal stationary crumbled in his hand. “I don’t think she’s coming back, sweetheart.”
I shake my head back and forth. “No.” I swallow back the tears. Momma may not walk me to the school bus in the mornings like Chloe’s mom. And she might not like that all my shirts have paint stains on them or that all my jeans have holes in the knees, but she loves me and she wouldn’t leave me. “Maybe she was kidnapped?” I toss out in desperation. “Maybe they forced her to write that note.” I run to the phone and snatch it off the cradle.
“Veronica…” Daddy’s voice deepens. He takes the phone from my hand and wraps me into a big bear hug.
Normally, I love Daddy’s hugs, but we don't have time. “We have to call the police.”
I panic and reach for the phone again, but Daddy holds it in the air. “She’s not kidnapped, Roni, and she’s not coming back. I’m so sorry.”
I press my lips together to try and keep the feelings out of my voice, but as soon as I open my mouth they spew all over the place. “She’s gone because of me.” Trembles rack my body. “She’s gone because I’m a bad daughter.”
“No, Roni, listen to me.” Daddy cups my cheeks and forces my attention on him. “She’s gone because of me.”
“But the note—” I start to disagree because I read the note and I’m not stupid. I’m the baby she never wanted, but Daddy squeezes my face so I can’t talk.
“This is my fault—” His voice cracks. I don’t know how to handle seeing my daddy cry with tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s always so strong. “It’s me. This is because of me.”
I think back over the last month. Momma and Daddy always fought, but it had gotten worse lately. What he’s saying makes sense, but there’s one thing I just don’t understand. I blink up at him, my eyes, the same sad shade as his. “But why didn’t she take me with her?”
8
Chapter 8
Devin, age 18
One eyelid peels open, and I stare at the stained popcorn ceiling above my head. The house is quiet. From my window, I hear Ray’s truck rumble to life and I know it’s almost time for me to get my ass out of bed, even though I only went to sleep a few hours ago.
I wish I could just say fuck it, and spend the morning in, lying around, nursing my hangover, but then my alarm blares to life, ending that pipe dream before it could even begin.