OPENING THE LARGE FRONT DOOR, the familiar smell of jasmine and vanilla wrapped around me and soothed all my wrecked nerves. The exhaustion had set in and my legs trembled like they might just collapse underneath of me. My sole focus was ibuprofen and a soft pillow. I didn’t even make it to the floating stairs on the right before my mom stopped me.
“Hang on, honey, I wanted to talk to you about where you’re gonna stay. Dad and I were thinking it might be good for you to take the space above the garage out back,” she said from the open kitchen to the left of the front door. Most of the first floor was void of any obstructions. Straight ahead was the family room, it lined the back of the house with a wall of glass. Behind the kitchen sat the dining room, outfitted with a long wooden table, both informal and intimate.
“Huh?” I turned and stood behind the couch with the stairs to my back. The space above the attached garage was their bedroom. Surely, she couldn’t mean the open, un-drywalled loft above the detached garage in the back of the house.
“You know, since you’re used to living on your own and it’ll give you some freedom to come and go and not worry about waking us up.” She glanced up as she sliced the ripe, red tomato. “But if you wanna stay in your room, that’s fine, too.”
“Wait, Mom, there’s no furniture up there. Or a bathroom. Or even walls. And what about,” I started. I couldn’t believe they wanted me to live above the garage.
“Dad had it renovated about six months ago, when you said you were going to come back home after graduation,” she informed me with a proud smile, setting the knife down with a dull clank. “So, it has all of those things and more.” Her eye’s widened in excitement. “Dad wanted it to be perfect for you. But if you wanted to stay in here . . .”
“Wow,” I said, dropping my bags that felt as heavy as anvils. “Y’all didn’t have to do that. That’s a lot of money, Mom.”
“Don’t worry about that, honey. I’ll help you take your stuff out back then we can come back and have a tomato sandwich.” After only eating junk on the road, a fresh tomato sandwich sounded like heaven. My mouth watered at the thought.
“Sounds good. After that, I’m gonna sleep for a few hours. Ashton asked me to come over to the barn later,” I said, picking up my bags as Mom came through the open living room, around the sofa, and picked up my fourth bag and my purse. At the mention of Ashton, my heart ached for his dad. “Why didn’t you tell me about Scott?”
“Oh, honey,” she sighed with a sorrowful frown. “I didn’t realize it was that bad until a week or so ago. I’m sorry, I should have. Maria’s done a good job of playing her cards close to the vest. When I saw Scott the other day, I almost didn’t recognize him.” My parents were pretty tight with Ashton’s parents, it wasn’t uncommon for them to spend time together.
“How bad is it? I didn’t have the heart to ask Ashton.” I followed behind Mom, walking out the back sliding-glass doors, down the stairs, and out to the garage.
“They just called hospice in the other day, from what Maria said.” Mom frowned. “I promise I was going to tell you this weekend during our call. We would’ve gotten you home in time either way. Dad and I ran into Storm at the grocery store a few weeks ago. Storm and Cooper have been coming home on the weekends when they can.”
“I can’t believe Ashton didn’t call me. Or that he’s been dealing with this on his own. Why wouldn’t they be here helping more?” Once I paused for a breath, I realized how bitchy I sounded. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, honey. I know how close you are with the O’Loughlins and how . . . special your relationship with Ashton is,” Mom said, eyeing me for a reaction. She had always tried to push Ashton and me together. In the beginning, it bothered me, but after a few years I got used to it.
“We sorta lost touch over the last year or two,” I ashamedly admitted as we walked through the thick, green grass in the backyard heading toward the garage to the right. “We sort of talked on Facebook, but not really. Never anything too serious.”
“I’m no social media expert, but I don’t think that it would be appropriate to tell your best friend that your father’s dying across the computer.”
She had a point and once again, my cheeks burned with guilt and my chest tightened. I left for college and didn’t so much as keep in touch. I took for granted that the O’Loughlin’s would always be there. I took a lot of things for granted. I shivered thinking about the sound of his voice in my ear.
Once we reach the garage, I lead the way up the staircase on the side of the building. Climbing that in the dark might pose some problems, but knowing my dad, there were probably lights. .
At the top of the stairs was a small square landing with a solid wood door to the right, fitted with a locking doorknob and deadbolt.
“Go on in,” Mom directed. “It should be open. Dad came up this morning to turn the air conditioning on before he left for work.”
“’Kay.” With my free hand, I turned the knob and pushed open the door with the oversized Adidas duffel bag that slowly slipped off my left shoulder. My fatigued arms couldn’t even catch it before it hit the floor.
Even though the renovation had been completed months ago, the smell of fresh paint lingered subtly in the air.
“Wow.” My eyes widened. I had my very own place. While I was excited, I couldn’t help but feel a little scared. I gulped back the fear and decided to embrace my freedom. My safety.
Transformed from the space I remembered, the loft was magnificent. Dark gray wood floors, stainless steel kitchen, and completely furnished. My eyes bounced around the room, trying to soak it all up. Looking up, I said, “Dad left the ceilings open.”
“He did. Said he thought you’d like that better. That it would feel bigger,” Mom said, following me through the door and dropping the bags on the soft, taupe couch, a few feet inside the door.
“Oh, Mom, that kitchen is awesome.” I smiled back at her as I continued further in.
“The bathroom is just to the left, laundry across from that, and the bedroom is at the end.” She stood back and watched as I took it all in.
Walking past the kitchen island, I slid my hand along the cool, snow-white quartz countertop. I smiled, they were the same as the ones in my mother’s kitchen. Adrenaline rejuvenated my exhausted body as I explored my new space bounding from one thing to the next like a puppy in a new home. From the kitchen to the living room and back.
Turning right toward the short hallway, I continued toward the bedroom and found the door partially open. I gently pushed it open the rest of the way and took in the large room. It looked nothing like my bedroom in the house. No, it was decorated with more sophistication and style. In the center of the dresser sat a bamboo reed diffuser and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was my mother’s favorite scent, jasmine and vanilla.
“Mom,” I cried out my emotion, taking in the room, “it’s beautiful. I love it.”
“There’s a small walk-in closet and the bathroom is adjoined so you can access it from here or the hall,” Mom said leaning into the frame of the doorway I had just come through. “I even ran out this morning and stocked the fridge with some food for you.”
In the overwhelming excitement of having my own place, I let the real reason I had come home slip from my mind. It was nice to forget for a few moments, but it was just that, a few moments. My stomach rolled with dread. In the silence, I still heard the screams. My own screams being the most deafening.
“What time is Dad gonna be home?” I blurted out, my words rushed and almost indecipherable. It had only been Christmas break since I had seen him, but I missed him.
“He had a few client meetings that he couldn’t reschedule but he should be home around six or so.” She walked out of the bedroom and I followed her to the door.
I was supposed to meet Ashton at that time. I felt sort of guilty not being here when Dad got home but I knew better than to wait around. Growing up with a lawyer as a father, you learned pretty early on that things came up and were usually time sensitive.
My stomach’s grumbling noise pulled me from my thoughts.
“Sounds like someone is ready to eat.” She smiled. “I have tomatoes sliced and ready for sandwiches. I’ll let you freshen up, then I’ll see you at the house,” Mom said, patting my shoulder.
“Thanks, but suddenly I’m not so hungry. I’m really tired,” I said on a yawn.
She smiled, but it was her smile of placation. “Okay, honey. I’ll let you get some rest. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered as she exited. Watching her go was almost a relief which made me feel awful. I loved my mom, but I needed some space to sort through the shitstorm I had just come through. I knew she wanted to help, but I wasn’t even sure how I felt.
I had been scared at first, then relieved that I got away. Relief made way for the anger to seep in; I was pissed at myself for not taking precautions. I should have locked the door. Once the anger faded, I was back to being scared.
I sighed deeply then grabbed my luggage off the couch and took them into the bedroom. Not bothering to put them in the closet, I tossed them on the bed with the notion of putting them away later. Maybe the next day.
I entered the bathroom and went straight to the toilet. It had been at least two hours since I had peed and that last bottle of water I drank was starting to make me uncomfortable. Once I finished, I went to the sink and washed my hands with the lime and basil foaming hand soap, but refused to look up. Instead, I decided to shower then get some sleep. I couldn’t climb into bed feeling as grungy and dirty as I did.
After my shower, I found my shorts on the bathroom floor. Pulling my cell phone from the back pocket, I walked over and sat down on the foot of the bed. I knew there would be a few texts, but not eleven. Of course, Anna had sent six herself, one from Dad, two from Mom, one from Nicole, and one from a number I didn’t recognize.
Replying to Anna first, I told her I made it home and that I would call her after I had gotten some sleep but that I was okay. It wasn’t a complete and utter lie. She quickly texted me back and told me that she would be coming to visit as soon as she could. Anna was my closest friend from school, so her reply didn’t surprise me. When I left abruptly, she tried to convince me to wait so she could come with me, but I needed silence to reconcile what had happened to me.
I skipped over my parents’ text and Nicole’s to open the one from the unknown number that was the most recent. I tapped the screen with my thumb and the message appeared.
Unknown: You won’t get away with what you did to him. You will pay.
I dropped the phone like it had caught fire in my hand. Oh God. I started panicking. My heart slammed into my rib cage as I gasped and gulped for air. I broke out in a cold sweat as my hands trembled.
It had only been thirteen hours and already someone thought what had happened was my fault. Why would anyone think that? I didn’t do anything wrong. He had. I did what I had to in order to survive. I had bruises and scrapes. I had proof he tried to hurt me.
But then again, he is much worse than me now.
But what if . . . I allowed my mind to start down the dark path. What if I hadn’t fought back? Where would I be?
This is a nightmare that I can’t seem to wake from. And now, it was my word against his.