Cy
I pick up the piece from the floor and let it roll to the palm of my hand. My mouth sets in a hard line as I walk out my bedroom to the boxes on the floor. Opening each one up, it’s the second one, which holds the glass dinosaurs my father had given me when I was little. I remember lining them up along the windowsill so the sun would stream through them and cast different colors into the room. My private rainbow.
I used to love playing with them, but when I was about ten, I decided to pack them away. I didn’t want my friends teasing me for playing with dinosaurs. They are some of my most prized possessions.
I know what I'm going to find when I open it and lift the cloth, but I do so anyway. Lifting the cloth I used to wrap around them, I discover each one has been shattered into hundreds of glass shards.
Evie kneels beside me. "What is that?"
My throat suddenly feels too tight. I try swallowing until I’m finally able to choke down the emotion that has risen. "Dinosaurs. They were dinosaurs my father gave me."
Standing abruptly, I stride back into my room and find the bat bag I have on the floor of my closet. At one point, as a teenager, I played baseball in an effort to be out of the house longer. It didn't work. I would just get it twice as bad at night. Everett would say I was a terrible player and talk down to me while he hurt me. He never went to a single game.
I open the bag and retrieve one of the aluminum bats I have inside. Then I stride to the bedroom my mom shared with Everett. I'm keenly aware of Evie following my every move. Inside their bedroom, I go to his dresser, but realize all his stuff is gone. When my mom made him leave, he must have taken everything with him.
I walk back to my room, needing to take my anger out on something. I start with my bed. The place I would sleep. The place where Everett would force himself onto me when he snuck into my room in the middle of the night. I drop the bat for a moment to flip the bed on its side. Picking up the bat again, I knock off all four wooden feet then walk around to the other side. I use all my might to pry the headboard from the frame and do the same with the footboard.
With the bed in pieces, I move on to the armoire. I open the doors and rip them from their hinges. One hard shove and the armoire is pushed to the floor, splintering into bits when it lands.
The large, flat screen television is next to go. A few swings of the bat and the screen is shattered. I open the bathroom door and swing hard at the mirror and the glass shower door. Pieces of glass rain down around me, but I'm above caring. I use my hands to rip the towel holder from the wall.
When there is nothing left for me to destroy, I stand in the middle of my bedroom, my chest heaving with each breath.
"Did it help?" Evie asks from the doorway. In my destructive rage, I forgot she was here.
I nod, still holding the bat, and go into my closet to retrieve my old bat bag. Once I slip the bat inside, I zip it up and drop it next to the boxes. "This is coming, too."
"Is there anything else you want? Your mom's jewelry, any collectibles she might have had?"
I open my mouth to say no, but then I remember something. "She has a safe."
I pile the boxes on top of one another and pick them up. Evie grabs the two duffel bags, even though I tell her to leave them and I'll come back up for them. She doesn't listen, not that I thought she would. My Evie does what she wants.
We drop the stuff off by the garage door and go back for the rest. We then move to the pantry. I place my hands on the side of one of the shelves of food and pull it out from the wall. A black safe door is there, built into the wall. It's about a foot by a foot in size and has a keypad to unlock it.
"How did you know this was here?" Evie asks.
"My mom had to have surgery on her wrist when I was about sixteen. She couldn’t move the wall so I did it for her. She made me promise never to tell anyone, including Everett. Then about six months ago, she asked me to help one day again when he was at work. She didn't access it often, but I know she kept stuff in here she didn't want him to see."
"Do you know the combination?"
I nod. "It's my dad's birth date."
I enter the date and pull the door open. Inside are folders and two boxes. "I've never looked inside before. I always let her do what she needed to and put the shelf back. She told me the code, though. She said in case anything ever happened to her, she wanted me to have it."
I take out the folders and flip through them before handing them to Evie. In them are my birth certificate, social security card, some baby pictures of me with my dad, and other things she kept for me. The two boxes are about the size of shoeboxes. They are stacked on top of one another, each sealed with packing tape. I withdraw them from the safe. The box on top has my name scrolled across it in black marker. It's written in my mother's handwriting. The second box has Evie's name written on it. I hand her the box with her name on it.
She looks down at the box and then to me. "What's in it?"
I shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"Should we open them here?"
"No, let's go to the cabin and open them there. I want to get out of here."
She nods. I close the safe and lock it, even though nothing is inside. Then I pull the wall back over the front of it. I know the house will be torn down, but she obviously meant this for Evie and me. I don't need anyone snooping around during the estate sale.
After we load everything into my truck, we drive back to Parker's. I still call it his house, even though it's ours as well. I'm not sure how long we'll stay there. The thought of trying to find a new place to live right now is too daunting. One thing at a time. Finding Evie and I a new home isn't at the top of the list yet. I'm sure it will move up, but only after some other things get taken care of.
Parker comes outside when we get back to help us bring everything inside. Then we all sit on the couch and stare at the two boxes with Evie's and my names on them. Both of us hold them on our laps.
Parker takes mine and shakes it gently. No noise is heard, not even a rustle. "What do you think is inside?"
"Only one way to find out," I mumble.
I pick away at the end of the tape with my finger and lift it, pulling it from the box. Taking a deep breath, I open the two cardboard flaps and find a light blue, worn piece of cloth. Unfolding it, I reveal a glass triceratops. One I've never seen before. Lifting it, I hold it up to the light streaming in the window in front of me. The spine and tail are a light blue and the head and body are swirls of red, orange, and yellow. Looking back into the box, I find a folded note. Opening it, I read it aloud.
"Cy, if you've opened this box, it means something has happened to me. I don't know why I thought I'd be leaving soon. Call it intuition or a gut feeling. I heard, and then saw, Everett smashing your collection of dinosaurs. He didn't know I was watching him. I remembered how much they meant to you as a child. I found this one and bought it for you. I wanted you to have a piece of your father still, even if it wasn't one he bought you himself. If he were still here, he would have given you every one he could find.
“In recent years, I became afraid of Everett. He never hit me or gave me any real reason to fear him, other than seeing him lose his temper. I was scared to say anything for fear of upsetting him. You stayed away from both of us, so I thought if I did nothing to anger him, he'd leave us alone.
“One night, after you had moved out, he put his hand around my throat, and well, you don't need to know the details. Let's just say I believe you now. I believe Everett is capable of all the things you said he did to you.
“I have regrets. One is that I didn't spend more time with you as a child and as an adult. Another is that I didn't believe you. Even thinking about it now brings tears to my eyes and pain to my heart. But my biggest regret is ever marrying Everett. If it weren't for me bringing him into our lives, you wouldn't have gone through the pain you did, and we would still be a family. I let work take most of my time and didn't pay attention to what was going on around me. You told me. The signs were all there. I didn't see them until you were gone and it was far too late.
“Also in this box is your baby blanket. It's the one I wrapped around you the first day your father and I brought you home. You had this blanket with you night and day. After your father had died, you told me to throw it out. You didn't want it anymore. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I thought you should have it.
“I'm sorry for all of the pain I've caused you. Nothing I can say or do will ever make up for it. Hopefully, these two items will bring you some comfort in your darkest days. Please know that your father loved you dearly. You were his pride and joy. I love you, too, Cy. I should have shown you more often and spoken the words aloud to you. One day you're going to make an amazing husband and father, and I'll be there looking down upon you smiling, proud of the man you've become. Love, Mom.”
A drop of water hits the page and it's then I realize I'm crying. I lift the blanket from the box and brush my finger over my name embroidered in dark blue on one corner. The blanket is tattered and has a few tiny holes. It's small, only meant for a baby. But it's mine. I forgot about it and how I used to take it everywhere with me.
A hand touches my arm and I'm startled out of my memories. I look up and see Evie beside me; her eyes hold so much love and sorrow in them for me.
"Oh, Cy," she says. "I'm so sorry." I nod. There's nothing I can say.
No, the note and the items inside the box don't make up for what happened, but at least I know my mom finally believed me. I'm only sorry it took her death for me to find out.
We all sit together on the couch in silence. Evie's head on my shoulder, Parker holding her hand. These two are all I have left. My family.