Trix
The sun is dipping behind the Santa Cruz Mountains by the time we get the kitchen cleaned up after supper. Mom went all out for my homecoming, making a slow-cooked roast with all the trimmings. I can’t imagine how much the meal cost them, and they dished it out, helping after helping to all of us kids with leftovers to spare.
I shove a few more plastic containers of our dinner into the fridge and move to the back porch where my mom and dad are lounging on a swing. My mom’s eyes find mine and she grins. Even through her smile, I can tell she’s worn out. “You didn’t have to do that, Bea.” She scoots to put a spot between her and my dad.
I plop down between them, the three of us now crammed into the loveseat-sized swing. “I know, but you work too hard, Mama.”
“Taking care of my babies is never work.” A yawn falls from her lips. “Sheesh, maybe I’m more tired than I thought.”
“Honey, why don’t you go to bed? Bea and I will put the little ones down.” My dad nods toward the outdated metal swing set and slide out in the yard. It’s more like a stretch of dirt fenced in by towering redwoods. Leah, Aaron, and Zoe are laughing and arguing as they play Marco Polo.
“Yeah, Mom”—I grab her hand and squeeze it—“go take a hot bath before they all start fighting over the bathroom before bedtime.”
“Oh, a hot bath does sound nice.” She flashes a tired smile. “We can catch up some more in the morning?”
I already updated the family at dinner, sharing with them about some of the kids at the Youth Club, my new roommate, and an update on Gia. I left out talking about my job, but I always do, and they don’t seem to mind.
“Sure, but there’s really nothing more to talk about.”
She hoists herself off the swing and drops a kiss to my forehead. “So you’re saying that handsome boy who dropped you off is nothing?”
“Aggie, don’t go snooping.” The low rumble of my dad’s chuckle makes my mom gape.
“I’m not snooping. I just want to learn more about a man who would travel all the way from Las Vegas to San Jose just to escort our daughter home.” She unties her apron that I’m sure she forgot she was wearing until now, and folds it up.
“He came home to see his family too, Mama. It’s no biggie.” The words sour in my mouth. It’s a huge biggie. I like Mason more than I should, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same. The thought makes my tummy tumble and my chest flutter.
“Bea, sweetheart”—my dad turns his dark brown eyes to me—“that boy is crazy about you.”
I blink up at my dad. “How do you know?”
He shrugs and turns out to watch the kids as they launch off the swings in a contest to see who can jump farthest. “Because he’d be stupid not to be. He doesn’t look stupid to me.”
My mom rolls her eyes. “I better grab that bath while I can. And Bea, I’m sorry you’re stuck on the bunk beds with Leah and Zoe. We moved Isaac into your and Lana’s old room.”
Sadness pierces my chest, but I push it back and focus on the kids, pretending that speaking her name in this place doesn’t bring me to my emotional knees. “No problem. I’m happy to stay with the girls.”
She leans down and kisses my head. “I’m so happy you’re home.”
“Good night—oh! I forgot, I thought I’d take everyone to the beach tomorrow, if that’s alright with you guys.”
My parents share a lingering glance.
“I thought you could use a quiet day at home.”
“Sure, honey. That would be great.” My mom heads back inside. “And tell Mason he’s welcome to come over for dinner after the beach.”
I whip around just in time to see her disappear behind the closed door. How did she know?
My dad chuckles, apparently reading my shock. “She’s an observant woman, Bea.” He scratches his bearded cheek. “The Good Lord has blessed her with discernment like I’ve never seen.”
“It’s freaky.”
He chuckles and throws an arm over my shoulder. “It can be.”
We swing in silence for a few minutes, and the sun dips further behind the mountains. The air cools slightly, and the scent of pine soothes me along with the gentle sway of the swing and the safety of my dad’s arm.
“So . . .”
I know that tone and exactly where it’s going. Steeling my resolve, I blow out a long breath, and the sense of what’s coming weighs heavy in the air.
“Vegas is treating you well?”
Not again. “It’s alright, Daddy.”
“You find a church over there yet?”
“You know I haven’t stepped inside a church since the funeral.”
“Hmm . . .” The squeak of the swing fills the silence and mimics a countdown.
In five . . . four . . . three . . .
I squeeze closed my eyes. Please don’t ask, please don’t ask—
“Still dancing . . .” Blastoff! “I assume?” There’s no judgment in his voice, but there’s the unmistakable twang of disappointment, which is worse.
I don’t answer and keep my eyes forward. I can’t tell him the reasons why I’m there. He’ll tell me that I’m wasting my time, that Svetlana’s killers can’t run forever and eventually they’ll have to face the ultimate judgment and that alone will be enough.
I disagree.
I want whoever tortured and mutilated my sister to spend the rest of their breathing days in prison before they get to spend an eternity in hell.
But that’s me. I’m not nearly as forgiving as my dad.
“Beatriks . . . no one can worship both God and money.” He quotes the Bible in such an everyday way that proves he really lives by the word.
“I don’t do it for the money.” I do it for Svetlana.
He groans and squeezes me tighter in a way that feels like reassurance or possibly worry. “The Bible says our body is a temple for The Holy Spirit—”
“I know that, Dad.” The words come out harsher than I intend, but the fact that he insists on repeating things we’ve been over a hundred times is infuriating. Not to mention, he’s absolutely right. I focus on steady breathing and hope my voice doesn’t shake. “It’s just a job.”
“To you, it’s just a job. But there are men you dance for who are struggling in their marriages, dipping into pornography. You have to consider the stumbling block that your dancing is to—”
“That’s not my problem. Grown men are capable of making decisions for themselves.” I turn and look at him. “Free will, right? They want to screw their lives up, destroy their marriages; they have the right to do that. Don’t blame me for it.”
He nods and takes my hand in a gentle hold. “I don’t blame you. I just don’t want you to look back and wish you’d spent time doing something more with your life. Something that involves serving and helping others. That’s where true joy lives.”
Bitterness wells up in my gut and turns my stomach. Serving others. That’s what my parents have always preached to us. The joy in giving. The blessing in selflessness. But it doesn’t always work out for everyone, now does it?
“True joy?” I sit up and put down a foot to stop the swing. “Dad, it was Lana’s selflessness that got her killed.”
He blanches but recovers quickly. “No, it was the sin and the brokenness of man that killed your sister. It—”
“She pulled her car over to help. It was dark, and she knew if she drove by a person in need without stopping she’d be letting you down, letting God down. She’d never be able to look at herself in the mirror. That was Lana, Dad.”
“Honey—”
“She never should’ve stopped. If she never stopped, she’d be here.” And I wouldn’t be stripping! “She’d be sitting right here with us, but she’s not.” I push up from the swing.
“No, but she’s with our Father in heaven, and that’s better than—”
“Don’t.” I hold up my hand. “Please, don’t tell me that her being in heaven is better than her being here with us.”
He stands and studies me with a compassion that wrecks me. “I love you, Beatriks. You and Svetlana were the first children that God brought to us. You two were a package deal. Your sister refused to leave you even at a young age. I can only imagine how her death—”
“Murder.”
“Murder . . . must’ve affected you. Still affects you.” He steps forward and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got to let her go, Bea.”
“I can’t.” Not until whoever killed her pays for what he’s taken from me. “She refused to let me go, Dad. I’m doing the same.”
“She held onto you to keep you safe. Your holding onto her is poisoning the life you could have. The life you were fated to have.” He squints up at the sky and then back down at me. “Don’t you see, Bea? Her life’s purpose was your safety. Your happiness. Everything she did revolved around her protection of you. Honor her life and all she sacrificed by becoming all you can be. Don’t settle for simply being an”—he clears his throat—“exotic dancer.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “You don’t understand.”
“That’s probably true, but know this. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, you could do that would change my love for you. I don’t think any father dreams that his daughter becomes a dancer in Vegas, but if this is truly what makes you happy, that’s all I want for you.” As painful as the words must’ve been to say, I truly believe he means it.
The truth is it doesn’t make me happy. It hasn’t made me happy in a long time. Ever since my best lead took off to Mexico, everything else has led me to a dead end. Sure, I like to dance, but I get plenty of that at the Youth Club.
He pulls me in and wraps his arms around my shoulders. “I love you, sweetheart.”
I bury my face into his shoulder, fighting tears. “I love you too, Daddy.”
“Now, we better get these kids ready for bed.” He yells into the yard for the kids to come in. “Shouldn’t take longer than just a few minutes.”
Two hours and thirty-seven minutes later I’m lying on the top bunk bed in my little sisters’ room, my nose about a foot from the ceiling and the sound of two little girl snores coming from the bed below mine.
I can’t stop thinking about what my dad said earlier tonight. I’ve given up almost four years of my life to stripping, all in the hope of finding something that even the police were unable to find. What seemed so possible at one time now seems as impossible as lassoing the fog. How many more years of my life will I give up for my dead sister? One? Ten? Would I give up my life? If Svetlana were here right now, she’d tell me I’d already wasted too much time. Her interests were always me first, everything else second, and all I ever wanted was to give that back to her.
But she’s gone.
Dead.
I’m fighting for nothing more than a memory.
The last few years have been filled with sacrifice, and it never bothered me. At least, it never bothered me until Mason.
He’s the only person who has ever made me wonder what it would be like to leave all this behind. To hang up my search for revenge and go after a life worth living. A life of honor and respect. One my parents could be proud of.
One Svetlana would be proud of.
On a heavy sigh, I power up my phone. I scroll to Mason’s number and punch out a quick text.
In bed. Missing you. Can’t wait for tomorrow.
I stare at my phone, waiting. Nothing.
I scroll through my social media sites, watch a few funny cat videos without sound, and then check my text messages again.
Huh, still nothing.
Maybe he’s out with his mom?
I type out one more text.
We’ll be at Cowell bright and early. G’night.
Rather than turn my phone off, I tuck it under my pillow so I’ll feel it vibrate when he texts me back.