Eve
It's Friday and thank fuck for that. Risa leaves tomorrow for California, which means I get to work from home next week. No Cy. No Everett. No craziness. Well, to be fair, everything has been quiet since dinner the other night. I haven't seen either of them and I'm grateful. Just Risa and I. Or just me, for that matter. I came back from picking up her dry cleaning and dropping off mail at the post office to find she's not anywhere to be found. There's nothing strange about that, though. It's her home. She sometimes disappears, and I just keep plugging away. I have plenty to keep me busy.
I'm flipping through the mail I picked up at the post office when I hear shouting. Then, more shouting. I lean to the right a little to try and get a glimpse of what is going on, but I can't see anything. Maybe it's just Cy and Everett fighting again. All I can make out is a male voice. Everett comes home sometimes for lunch, since he doesn’t work too far from home.
"I'm done, Risa. He's beyond spoiled!" Everett yells. I lean back in hopes of no one seeing me trying to eavesdrop.
"Where are you going?" she cries.
"Out."
"Don't leave. Not like this," she pleads with such emotion in her voice. I've never heard her sound like this before. Instantly, I’m worried.
He doesn't respond. The next sound I hear is a door slamming in the distance. He must have left through the garage. Risa sniffles then runs back through the house––her heels clicking quickly over the tile floor. I get up from my desk and follow her. Something happened. Maybe I can help. Or maybe I'm just being nosy and want to know what's going on.
I slowly walk through the house to the back sliding door off the living room. The screen door is the only thing shut. Shouting reaches me. Shouting coming from Cy. I stay near the wall, so no one can see me.
"You just proved your point!" Cy yells at Risa.
"Me? He left because of you."
"You would take his side, wouldn't you? Never mind. You've made it clear from day one he is more important than me."
Her hands are balled into fists by her side. I've never seen her this angry. In fact, I've never heard her yell at all. "You're my son! I always put you first."
Cy barks out a humorless laugh. "I'm third, if not lower, on your priority list. Your job is first. Then Everett. Shit, I think Evie even ranks higher than me." Why the hell am I being brought in to this? I have nothing to do with their fight.
I slowly move forward until they’re both in my view. They are standing on the back patio next to their infinity edge pool.
"Stop it. She has nothing to do with this."
"You're right," he responds. "This is about me, you, and that asshole of a husband you have."
"I can't keep doing this with you. It's the same argument over and over."
Cy drops his head. His grey t-shirt is slightly billowing in the breeze. His dark hair hangs onto his forehead, instead of being brushed back like it usually is. The sides of his head and around the back are all shaved close to his head. His arms hang limply by his side.
"You're right," he says solemnly. "It needs to end." He reaches into the back waistband of jeans and withdrawals a black handgun. Whoa. Where did Cy get a gun from? A nine millimeter, at that.
My dad used to keep one at home, just in case. When I was older, he would take me to the shooting range, teach me how to handle a gun properly, and how to shoot it. He didn't want me to fear guns but to be knowledgeable. And the gun Cy is currently holding already has a magazine clip loaded into it. Once he put the clip in, a round went into the chamber. One pull of the trigger is all it will take to fire.
"What are you doing?" Risa gasps. "Why do you have a gun?"
"I knew it would come to this."
Cy drops to his knees on the stone pavers. He slowly brings the barrel of the gun to his head, pointing it straight at his right temple. His finger hovers over the trigger. I step forward on instinct, wanting to help, but Risa’s voice halts me in my tracks.
"Stop!" Risa yells. "Please don't do this."
"You knew," Cy's voice cracks with emotion as his eyes hold hers. "For years, I told you what he was doing, and you did nothing. You pretended it wasn't happening. How could you? I'm your son! Your fucking blood and you let him put his hands on me. You let him abuse me." A tear runs down Cy's cheek.
Risa's hand flies to her mouth as a muffled sob leaves her lips. "I didn't...there was nothing..."
"Bullshit! You knew! I was twelve when I first told you. You blew me off. Then I told you at least once, every single year, until it stopped when I turned eighteen. He had a special birthday gift for me that year. You could have called the police. You could have kicked him out! But you didn’t. No, you sided with him. Telling me I was lying and your precious husband would never do that to me. I showed you the bruises! I showed you the blood!" He presses the gun harder to the side of his head.
My mind spins with all I'm hearing. Everett had been abusing Cy and Risa knew, yet did nothing? How could she? Cy is her son, and she picked her husband over him. His word over her own child’s.
Risa cries harder. She sits down on a chair and puts her head in her hands.
"I can't take it anymore," Cy chokes out. "Six years I endured his torture. Then I dealt with six years of him threatening me. He said he would do it again. Every time I stepped out of line, he would tell me he'd visit my bedroom and teach me a lesson. Luckily, he hasn't set foot in there since I became an adult. No more! I can't live like this." The finger he hovers over the trigger moves.
"No!" I cry as I rush from the house. I can't stand here and do nothing. I can't watch him end his life.
Cy turns toward me, the gun still pressed to his head. "Evie?"
I drop to the ground in front of him. My skirt rides up as the stone pavers dig into my knees, but I don't care. Nothing matters except getting Cy to drop the gun.
"Please give me the gun,” I plead and hold out my palm. I've never dealt with anything like this before. I'm moving and talking on pure instinct. I don't want anything happening to Cy. Everything in our past is forgotten. None of it matters now. Only him. Only saving his life.
"Go," he tells me. "Please." The emotion in his voice has me blinking back tears. I hate seeing him like this. He's always been so confident. Never broken. But then again, I didn't know him all too well.
"No. I won't leave you," I say firmly.
"I don't want you mixed up in this."
"And I don't want you to take your life."
"Leave and let me do this, Evie." He squeezes his eyes shut and a couple of tears fall. I hear Risa behind me crying still. If I weren't worried about Cy, I'd get up and backhand her for being such a poor excuse for a mother. She isn't the person I thought she was.
"I can't leave you, Cy. Please," I beg as emotion creeps its way into my throat, giving away how the situation is affecting me. "Give me the gun. I don't want to lose you."
His eyes open at my words and hold me in his gaze. "I'm no one. I'm not worth your attention."
"You're worth it and so much more." I hesitantly reach out to take his free hand in mine. He grips me hard like I'm his lifeline; the only tether he has to this world. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm exactly who he needs to show him he's worth saving.
"Evie, please."
"Give me the gun, Cy, and we'll leave. I'll take you from here. Just us. No one else."
"Why are you doing this? After all I've done to you. Go. Get out of here. Let me stop the pain. Let me put an end to the nightmares. I can't do this anymore. Can't you see that? It hurts so fucking bad."
I bring my free hand to his chest right above his heart. "This heart of yours, I can feel it beating. It's strong and full of life. A life not over. Don't end it all now. Not when you have so much ahead of you. Come with me, Cy. Let me show you what's out there. What life is like when you have someone who cares about you."
"You're that person? You care about me? How could you when I spent every day making your life a living hell?"
"Because your life is worth more than my hurt feelings. Because as much as you don't think so, you matter to me. Give me the gun, Cy." Every word I've spoken so far has been nothing but the truth. I might not have thought much of him before this, but I know how I feel when I'm in his presence. When his eyes hold mine and my body comes alive.
"I don't know if I can. I've thought about doing this ever since he came into my room that first night. I thought about what it would be like to finally have some peace. To not have to worry about what tomorrow would bring. He might not be touching me anymore, but the threat is always there. Grant me that peace. Let me go." He closes his eyes again. Panic races through me. At any moment, he could pull the trigger and end his life.
"Open your eyes! Look at me!" He does. "All you have to do is give me the gun, then we can grab my keys and get the fuck out of here."
"You're going to take me to the hospital. I don't want to go there. I don't want to be drugged to the point I'm not even conscious. I don't want doctors hovering over me, asking me about my feelings and why I want to kill myself."
"No, I won’t." I shake my head. "I promise." I should take him to the hospital. He needs more help than I can provide, but at this point, I'll settle for him releasing the gun and letting me get him away from his toxic family.
"I can't come back here, Evie. Not while he lives here. Not while the memories assault me every time I enter my room."
"You won't have to. It'll just be you and me."
His eyes widen ever so slightly and the tiniest bit of hope is evident in them. He slowly brings the gun down, his hand trembling as he does so. I reach up and take it from him, the metal of the grip warm from being held by his large hand.
"Thank you," I tell him. I remove the clip from the gun. I don't trust him enough not to try and take it again. Now that I got it away from him, I need to ensure he never gets it back.
I stand and offer him my hand. My other hand holds the clip and the gun. He looks up at me, and for a moment, I don't think he's going to let me help him up. Yes, he can stand on his own, but me offering my hand is more than just a hand to help lift him. It's me asking him to trust me. His palm touches mine. Warmth spreads through my body at the contact. He stands and peers down at me. There's a good five-inch difference in our height and that's with me wearing three-inch heels.
I lace my fingers with his. "Let's go." Before we walk into the house, I turn to a still sobbing Risa and say, "I quit. I'll leave my laptop here. The rest of my things, which you provided for me to use while working from home, will be sent back to you."
"Wait," she cries. "Both of you. Don't do this."
"There is no way I can stay working for you, knowing what you did, or in reality, didn't do. How could you? You're his mother.”
Cy's hand grips mine hard. I turn from Risa. We go into the house, past the stairs, and into the office. I open the bottom left drawer of my desk, pull out my purse, and drop the gun and clip into my bag. My purse is the only thing of mine I have here that I want. The cell phone in it is mine, although Risa reimburses me monthly for the bill. I find my keys in my bag, and we are out the garage door in less than thirty seconds. Cy’s GMC pickup is sitting next to my red Jetta, but no way is he driving anywhere. He doesn't even ask.
I open the passenger side door of my car for him. Watching him climb inside is interesting to say the least. He's too tall, but somehow, he fits with the seat all the way back. I get in and quickly put his home in my rearview mirror as I drive the hell away from the nightmare he's been living for far too long.
We don't talk as I make the short drive across town. His phone chimes in his pocket, but he ignores it. I didn't even realize he had it on him, but then again, why wouldn't he? No one goes anywhere without their phone anymore. I chance a glance at him and notice he has his head tipped back on the seat, his eyes are closed, his mouth drawn down in a frown. I focus back on the road.
I still can't believe he let me take the gun from him. The thought of him pulling the trigger, of ending his life right before me, causes bile to rise up my throat. What if I hadn't been there? What if I hadn't eavesdropped and inserted myself into their argument? I'd like to think he wouldn't have gone through with it, but deep down, I know he was ready to. There was nothing stopping him. Risa wouldn’t have been able to keep him from doing it; not when she had something to do with his reason behind it.
It changes how I feel about him, about everything that happened between us in high school. Sure, he was awful to me. He had the entire school laughing at me daily, but what he endured at the hands of his stepfather was far worse than anything he dished out to me. Truth be told, all those days of being picked on by him made me strong. He helped make me into the woman I am today. The one who takes no one's shit. Without going through what I did, who knows how different I would be now.
My hand is resting on the gearshift when I feel his fingers inch over mine. Looking at him again, I see his eyes are still closed. He lifts my hand and brings it to his chest to rest there beneath his palm. I don't want to pull away, so I don't. If he finds any comfort by me being with him, then I’ll gladly be here.
There is no way I can begin to imagine what he's been through. So many years of abuse. Of no one coming to his rescue. My soul weeps for all he lost growing up: his innocence, the love and security of his family. I still can't fully wrap my head around everything.
I concentrate on the road before me and try to drown out the sorrow, which is quickly filling me. I can't think about what's already happened to him. Right now, I have to focus on the man beside me and how I can help him heal, if that’s even possible after all this time.