Chapter Thirteen:
Therapy
I saw a plane today. I happened to walk to the window and looked up, and there it was—a little white dot spearing through the clouds. It triggered something that had been buried deep inside me: a fading memory of that other world, the one that must still have existed beyond the sweeping forest, beyond the hidden farm, beyond Cameron. The house in the slums of Callister, the closet-sized bedroom, the cycles of school and work and surviving … I wondered at which point that life had started to feel like someone else’s. I wondered how long it had been since I had left that other person’s life—the days, the weeks were becoming blurry to me. I wondered if anyone from the outside even noticed that I was gone.
I slowly—very slowly—climbed down the stairs, attempting to drag out the inevitable. I was still horribly, utterly mortified by my banshee screaming episode of the previous night. Foregoing sleep, I had spent a good chunk of the dark hours concocting stories that would better explain my wimpy reaction to Cameron’s confessions. The rest of the night was burned up searching for ways to make myself look and sound convincing when I would have to lie to Cameron’s face. All I could hope for was that Cameron had forgotten; but from the wounded expression on his face before he ran out on me—a picture that was now cruelly engrained in my brain—hope was fruitless.
I let Meatball out of the house. He raced full speed away from my misery while music pulsated in the distance. Griff, who was standing guard at his usual spot on the property, looked as miserable as I did. I considered further delaying the inevitable, going out there and merging our gloom. But I didn’t. It was too hot outside, I was entangled in enough turmoil, and Griff had glowered even more the second he had noticed me standing in the doorway.
The drama boiling in the kitchen only firmed up my decision to not deal with Griff, postponing another unavoidable. I closed the door and followed Rocco’s loud and agitated voice into the kitchen.
“This is stupid. I’m not doing it!” I heard Rocco yell.
“As long as you stay here, you will do what you’re told.” It had sounded like Cameron, except that the tone was unforgiving.
I shivered and stepped through the threshold just as Rocco was whizzing by, almost crashing into me.
He halted in front of me, his eyes slit.
“You put him up to this,” he accused me.
While the list of things that I could have done to wrong Rocco ran through my head, my eyes sought silent assistance from Cameron, who was sitting at the large table, absorbed in the paperwork in front of him.
He glanced up, barely looking in my direction, and went back to his papers. “Emily had nothing to do with this, Rocco. You will do this. End of discussion.”
Rocco stood affronted and huffed. I stood recovering from Cameron’s use of Emily versus Emmy.
Rocco stomped down the hall, slamming his bedroom door.
I gathered the papers strewn by Rocco’s recently vacated seat—forms of some sort.
“Did I miss something?” I was surprised by how quiet my voice sounded—like my vocal cords were walking on eggshells.
“I did some research while I was gone—Rocco’s fifteen years old and dropped out of school a month before coming here,” Cameron told me, his voice, his expression still bland.
“Yikes! You mean he’s not even close to being full grown yet? He’ll be a monster by the time he’s eighteen. Are you sure you can afford to keep feeding him?” I tried a little harder.
I thought I had seen Cameron’s lips bending up; but whatever semblance of a smile might have been coming, it was gone by the time he lifted his eyes; in its place was a cold stare.
“He’s getting his GED if he’s going to stay here. I won’t have him spend his days rotting in front of the TV and doing nothing good with his life.”
I swallowed hard while he collected his papers.
“I could help him,” I offered uneasily. “With homework and stuff.”
He pushed his chair back. “Whatever keeps you busy.”
I felt the sting.
“Cameron, about last night—” I started, making a split-second decision on which story I would go with, but his daggered eyes interrupted me.
I lost my voice; he looked over my shoulder. Spider and Carly were in the kitchen doorway with files in their arms.
“What is it?” Cameron snapped.
“We’re ready,” Spider said to him, completely impervious to Cameron’s mood—unlike me, and unlike Carly. Her eyes veered between Cameron and me, and she gave me a weighted smile. I couldn’t manage to give her anything back.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do. This will have to wait,” Cameron said to me in passing, never actually looking at me.
They left me standing, battered in the middle of the kitchen. After an intense session of staring down my bowl of cereal, I fiercely pushed it down the table—it tipped and spilled over. I went to the kitchen to get a dishrag. When I got there, I kept walking.
Outside, the morning sun was already steaming the waterlogged lawn, making the air stifling. No wind blew through the trees. No birds chirped. I could see Griff’s shape blinking in the waves of heat, like a mirage, and I was sweating before I had even reached the halfway point between us, soaked by the time I actually reached him. The scowl on his face hadn’t improved since I’d last seen him.
“You’re making it really difficult for me to ignore you,” he grumbled.
“Oh? Were you trying to ignore me? I hadn’t noticed,” I retorted, sarcasm heavy.
Griff rolled his eyes and scanned the scene, a valiant effort to continue to ignore me. He looked cool.
This irritated me even more.
“You know you have no right to be angry at me for getting in trouble with Spider for not doing your job while they were gone,” I told him.
“Who said I was angry at you?”
“You just admitted that you were trying to ignore me.”
“Ignore, yes. Angry, no—never with you,” he said with sincerity.
“Same difference,” I snapped.
“Huge difference. I’m just trying to protect you.” This seemed to be the common explanation for everything that aggravated me. “I’ve been told to stay away from you, or it’s lights out for me.” Griff put his hand to his throat and pretended to slice his neck from ear to ear. “I figure I can’t keep you safe if I’m dead. So I’ll stay away and keep an eye on you from here.”
“I think the only way Spider can convince you to do your job is by threatening you,” I reasoned, still amped for war. “Anyway, I can protect myself. You don’t need to protect me from anyone, and you definitely don’t need to use me as your excuse for not working. There’s no need to be overdramatic about this. Spider’s just doing his job.” Cameron’s words echoed through my voice.
“I’m being overdramatic?” he repeated incredulously. “What world do you live in? These guys have killed better people than me without even blinking. So far, they seem to like to have you around. But, believe me, once they have what they want or they get sick of you, you’ll be in big trouble too.” Griff looked around and lightly grabbed my arm, tugging himself toward me and whispering, “I won’t let them do anything to you. They’ll all die before they hurt you.”
He let go of my arm and took a step back, his eyes flicking over the grounds.
Of the few guards that I could see through the heat waves, all seemed as preoccupied as I was with keeping cool.
“So you’ll just keep ignoring me. And then what?” I asked, my irritation evaporating. Griff was genuinely scared. I couldn’t be angry with him for that—though I was slightly disappointed that I wouldn’t get the chance to air out my frustrations.
“I don’t know,” he admitted wearily. “I haven’t figured that out yet. Do you know why they’re keeping you alive?”
I wondered if Griff noticed that I didn’t flinch while we discussed my life—and death. I had no reason to be scared. I wanted to tell Griff about Cameron, but I couldn’t. I wanted to tell Griff about Bill, but I didn’t. I was suddenly afraid that he would see me differently. So I simply shook my head in response.
“Do your parents have a lot of money?” he asked me.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I said, my irritation surfacing again, for different reasons.
He shrugged. “I thought maybe these guys were trying to collect ransom in exchange for you.”
His voice trailed, suddenly distracted. A silver Mercedes had driven up the road and was stopped at the entrance. One of the guards had his arm coolly resting on top of the car and chatted through the downed window. The other guard stood closely behind him, at times standing on his tippy toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the car’s occupant.
From the stupid grins on the guards’ faces, I guessed who was in the car—a guess that was confirmed as I glimpsed a flip of the occupant’s blond hair.
Frances eventually drove through the male barriers and got out of her car.
“Looks like long-legs is back.” Griff exhaled.
“Long-legs?” Only a tinge of jealousy colored my tone.
Frances strolled toward Griff and me. She was wearing a short cotton white summer dress and cowboy boots. The air was stifling and stagnant. Her golden hair seemed to have found imaginary wind—it, along with other noticeable parts, bounced with every step. She looked like she was walking off a country music video. Another strand of my carrot hair grudgingly frizzed out of my tight ponytail.
“We didn’t get the chance to meet last time I was here. I’m Frances. You’re Emily, right?”
I smiled weakly.
Griff practically knocked me over extending his own hand to Frances. “I’m Griffin.”
Griff-in? I mouthed to myself.
Frances shook his hand. “Where is everyone?”
Griff had forgotten how to speak.
“Working,” I responded for both of us.
“Well, I guess it’s just us then. Griffin, mind if I steal Emily for a bit?” Frances checked as she looped her arm around mine. Griff just grinned and nodded.
“See you later, Griff-in,” I emphasized and threw him a glare.
He sheepishly smiled back, his cheeks glowing red, not because of the sun.
Frances’s empty Mercedes sparkled in the sunlight.
“Where’s my nephew?” I blurted.
She was a little shocked.
“Cameron told me about you and Bill,” I explained.
She eyed me and shook her head in disbelief. “I’m very surprised he would have told you that.”
“I overheard the two of you talking,” I admitted.
“Ah,” she grasped and answered, “My mom is watching Daniel.”
We ended up sitting by the pool. Some of the guards who were supposed to keep watch over the clearing behind the pool house took turns promenading closer inland. The stupid grin outbreak had spread to them too—a pandemic was surging. While they were trying to catch Frances’s attention, her eyes were partly fixed on me.
“It’s weird finally meeting you. I’ve heard so much about you from Bill,” she gushed. I was coming up smiling until she added, “You don’t look anything like I thought you would.” While I busied myself with watching the pool water leak down my skinny white legs, I imagined her blue eyes making their way to my hair.
“You just don’t look anything like your brother is what I meant …” She was trying to make small talk, and amends. Her voice was hushed and sweet, like a morning dove cooing.
“How did you meet Bill?” I asked her, still looking at my wet feet.
“Gosh, that was such a long time ago.” From the corner of my eye, I could see a smile coming to her lips. “We met in high school after he moved to Callister.”
“How long were you together … dating?”
“The first time, just a few months.”
My eyes shot up. “The first time?”
She reddened. “We broke up in high school. He dropped out, and I didn’t hear from him for a long time. Then I ran into him on the street a couple of years later …” She stopped and took a breath. “I didn’t know about Carly. Bill never told me he had a girlfriend … I had never met her … I thought … he told me they were just friends.”
Although there was another flash of extreme disappointment in my brother, I knew that this was really none of my business. “Did he tell you he was taking drugs?” One of the questions that was bugging me most.
“He didn’t need to tell me,” she stressed. “Your brother was always using, Emily. He was using even when we were in high school. Everyone who knew him well enough knew that.”
“Cameron didn’t,” I blurted. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her … I just didn’t want to believe her.
“Is that what he told you?” she hissed under her breath, her knuckles clenched tightly to the side of the pool.
I noticed that she kept a distant eye on the loitering guards. She smiled at one of them, artificially; he was elated with her attention.
“I guess Cameron is just trying to protect you. The truth is hard to swallow.” Her voice was sweet again.
“It must be difficult for you to have to keep coming to Cameron for money,” I said.
Frances sneered. “I don’t need to come here and I certainly don’t need their money … Bill had opened a bank account for Daniel and I before he died.” She half-turned her head to me, never fully taking her eyes off the guards.
“You know how much money your brother had when he died,” she stated in passing.
When I shrugged, she raised her eyebrows.
“Didn’t you get Bill’s money after he died?”
I shook my head in response.
Frances became somber, pensive. The guards had finally gotten sunstroked from watching us and went back to rest in the shade of the trees down the property line.
“Why do you come all the way here if you don’t really need—”
She interrupted me by turning her attention completely to me and leaning in very close. “We don’t have a lot of time,” she whispered. “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” I answered awkwardly. “Has who hurt me?”
“Cameron, for one—”
“Of course not!” I immediately said.
With a wield of the hand, she shushed me and glanced around erratically. When she was reassured of our seclusion, she brought her blue eyes back to me.
“Cameron is … very nice,” I whispered, trying to find a descriptor that wouldn’t make me flush. It was pointless. The blood was already climbing up my neck in a ladder of red blotches.
She paused long enough to catch sight of my ruddiness.
“Cameron is handsome …” she ventured with awareness, watching my expression.
I went back to watching my feet splash in the water.
She exhaled very deeply. “Emily, you need to be extremely careful around Cameron. He’s young … too young to be a boss, too young to be doing what he’s doing.” There was a resentful edge to her voice. “He’s charming and very smart, which is why he has managed to keep himself alive for so long, but he’s immature. When he gets bored, or when things start to get too hard for him … bad things start to happen.” She seemed rushed. “Am I making any sense?”
I shook my head.
“He’s not like that,” I assured her confidently, even though my voice was the squeak of a mouse.
She put her hand on my shoulder, willing me to look at her.
“Your brother was a terrific boss,” she cooed. “Cameron always looked up to him. They were like brothers. Spider was very jealous of Bill because of that. When Bill died, he tried to take over the business. But the other bosses wouldn’t have it. They didn’t trust him, didn’t think that he was smart enough to manage the business for them and make them money. They picked Cameron.” Her voice was bitter, and she shifted in her seat. “Spider knows that Cameron is too young to make the tough decisions, and he uses this to get what he wants … to control the business … to control Cameron.”
I shook my head, trying to find the words to explain to her that Cameron wasn’t the fickle monster she was making him out to be, but she wasn’t done.
“From what I saw the last time I was here, Cameron seems to be taken with you. You’re like a new, expensive toy to him … but this won’t last. I’ll help you get out of here, but I have to find a safe place for Daniel and my mom, somewhere they can’t find them. You need to keep Cameron happy until I can come get you out.”
“Frances, really, I’m fine,” I insisted. “Everyone has been nothing but nice to me—”
“There’s nothing nice about these people—”
“Frances,” interrupted a stern voice from behind us. We simultaneously wheeled around.
Spider was standing by the basement doorway, glaring. Frances looked momentarily terrified, but she quickly regained her self-assurance and her cheerful smile to replace the fear on her face. She got up and strolled toward Spider. Unlike the guards, Spider’s mood did not improve as she approached him.
“It was very nice to meet you, Emily.” Frances disappeared into the house, closely followed by Spider.
Frances was wrong. Griff was wrong. They didn’t see what was under the surface. I knew what Cameron looked like to everyone else—cold, scary. I had unwillingly seen this side of him—this morning for example—and I didn’t like it either. But when the hard surface melted and Cameron reappeared, he was magnificent. It infuriated me that I couldn’t let anyone else in on this secret. They were all wrong.
By the time I made it back to the front of the house, Frances was rushing out with a paper bag in her hand.
“Take care of yourself, Emily,” she whispered intently as she passed by and speed walked to her car.
Spider followed her out and stood in the driveway until her Mercedes rushed out of sight. After a fierce look at me, he made his way toward the garage.
Griff was still standing by the tree line. I purposefully ignored him and smugly walked into the cool, air-conditioned house.
Rocco was slouched at the kitchen table with two empty frozen dinner cartons in front of him and a third one well on its way. I copied him and threw a frozen cardboard in the microwave.
Out of everything and everyone, Rocco being upset with me, even if it was for absolutely no reason, seemed the worst of all.
“I didn’t say anything to Cameron about your age. I didn’t even know that he was going to make you do this,” I told him while the microwave counted down.
“I know. I wasn’t mad at you. Not really anyway. I just really hate school,” he said and shoveled rubberized meat in his mouth.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard and too boring and it’s a waste of time. I don’t need school to work for Cameron.”
“Hmmm …” I thought out loud, “You know, you could use this to your advantage.” With his interest piqued, Rocco looked up and listened. I continued my train of thought. “You could tell Cameron that you’ll do the homework and get your GED if he takes you along when he goes to work.”
“Like blackmail?” he asked with hesitance.
“Call it a negotiation tactic.”
Rocco enthusiastically chewed over this and grinned to his ears.
“Negotiation tactic … I like it.”
“I’ll even help you do the homework, if you want. It’ll be easy, you’ll see. Before you know it, you’ll have your GED and won’t ever have to think about it again,” I proposed, to seal the deal.
Rocco gave me a heartwarming smile. “Thanks, Emmy.”
I peeled the lid off my steaming TV dinner and burned two fingers.
Rocco looked up questioningly. “Did you and Cameron have a fight or something?”
“Not really,” I said with a mouthful of burnt fingers. I wasn’t sure if Cameron thinking that I was a hopeless coward counted as us fighting. Then I wondered if Cameron has said something to his kid brother. “Why do you ask?”
Rocco shrugged. “He was in a really bad mood this morning. I haven’t seen him in a mood like that since you got here.”
“How was he before I got here?” I was all ears.
“I don’t know. Mad, I guess.” He then decided to pull back a bit to defend his brother. “I rarely saw him. He worked. All the time.”
“Doing what?”
“Beats me,” he muttered. “I never get to go along, remember?”
Rocco brought his empty cartons into the kitchen and sat back down at the table, watching me finish my cardboard meal and breathing loudly.
“I’m bored,” he finally admitted. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
I looked over at the forms that were still on the table where I had neatly stacked them earlier that morning. Rocco let his head fall back in despair as he understood my meaning.
“No time like the present,” I told him brightly. And, to annoy him a little bit more, I added, “We should probably get started on the laundry too … since we both lost at poker.” Technically, he had lost two seconds before me—but who was keeping track?
I thought Rocco was going to start crying after my last suggestion.
It had been a lovely afternoon of filling out forms, struggling over homework assignments and never-ending piles of laundry to wash and fold. We had barely made a dent in the laundry room when the clock neared dinnertime. Music thumped in the distance again.
By the time the troops started making their way downstairs for dinner, Rocco and I were finishing up a load of bath towels. He kept eying the kitchen doorway, antsy to show his big brother the work that he had done and commence the negotiation round.
Dinner came and went. Cameron never walked through the doorway. Disappointed, Rocco went to the couch. The two of us lounged in front of the TV for the rest of the night and eventually fell asleep on the couch. We were awoken at midnight when Cameron finally dragged himself in and pilfered through the kitchen cupboards.
Rocco waited impatiently for Cameron to make his way to the table and got up, picking up the work that he had strategically lain next to him. He dropped the papers on the table in front of Cameron. I smiled after him—his unfettered excitement made me excited for him.
Cameron sighed, his eyes small and lifeless. “Not tonight, Rocco.”
Rocco looked jittery as he willed his brother to look at the documents. “But I want to talk to you about this. Look I’ve done all of this work—”
“I said not tonight,” Cameron snapped.
Rocco and I both jumped. He looked at me despairingly. I didn’t know what to say.
He glared at Cameron and then flung the papers on the table. He stomped back to his room and slammed the door behind him. It was a déjà vu from this morning.
Cameron continued absentmindedly picking at his food. I scowled, but he didn’t notice.
I got up and decided to let him brood in peace.
“You were talking to Frances today?” he called out as I reached the doorway.
“Yes,” I responded, refusing to look at him.
“What did you talk about?” he asked evenly.
I spun on my heels.
“Why?” I said, attempting to mimic his coldness.
“Because I have a right to know what goes on under my roof.”
“We were outside,” I snipped back.
Cameron fixed his stare, waiting for an answer.
“We talked about Bill,” I finally conceded.
“Anything else?” he probed
“Nope. What else is there?” I fumed. That was a lie, but I figured that my rage would hide any traces of it.
Cameron didn’t answer and took a bite of his food as he stared me down.
The fact that he was still angry with me, that he had taken his anger out on his little brother suddenly made me furious. My blood boiled, and my breath felt like it was going to spew fire. I wasn’t holding anything back this time.
“Cameron Hillard, I know that you’re still upset with me because of last night, but you have no right to take it out on Rocco. Rocco worked really hard today, and he was excited to show you what he did. You just blew him off like he’s one of your foot soldiers. He’s your brother,” I almost spelled out for him. “Your brother is a really great kid, who deserves better than to be ordered around like a maid. And Frances and I didn’t talk about much, but if I wanted to talk to her some more, I would. This might be your house, but you don’t control me or what I do. I will talk to whoever I want, whenever I want.”
By the end of my speech, I was seething and panting.
Cameron was frozen at the table, his eyes the size of a shot glass. I turned around and calmly walked upstairs. I gently closed the door behind me and sniffed a bit, but did not cry.
Downstairs, I heard Cameron’s chair fiercely pull out and the clinging of a bowl getting pitched into the sink. I was afraid that he was going to come running after me and that I would have to think of a new speech.
He never came. After a few stomped footsteps, the house was dead quiet once again.
The release of fury must have been therapeutic, because I slept quite well that night. I was awoken only once by the usual sound of scratching and whining at my bedroom door. I drowsily got up and let Meatball in for his bedtime.
I had never grown up with a dog—it was definitely strange to have Meatball sleep next to me at first. But I was surprised by how quickly I got accustomed to the brute being there. It was appeasing, even if, deep down, I knew that whatever the reason he slept in the same bed, it was not out of any sense of duty to me.