Cole

 

Sitting in the restaurant waiting for Belle, I can’t help but think of Katy. She was adorable, two years younger and my partner in crime. She was this little tomboy running around with her hair always falling out of a ponytail, picking up worms, skipping rocks. If I was playing in the mud, so was she. If she wanted to play with her Barbies, I did that, too… even though I complained. With our mom working so much, we were always with a sitter, so Katy was all I had. She was my best friend.

 

She was cute when she was little, but when she became a teenager, she was beautiful. She learned how to deal with her long dark hair, so it no longer escaped the grip of a ponytail holder. She had the clearest skin with freckles across her nose. Her blue eyes were so expressive, they gave away every thought she had. She hated how I could always tell when she was lying. When the boys started noticing just how beautiful she had become, I took my protector roll to a new level. She said she always felt like I hid her away, but I knew what those teenage boys were thinking. Hell, I was a horny teenage boy, and I’d be damned if they were going to have those same thoughts about my little sister.

 

I thought I was protecting her by keeping her away from boys. Little did I know I kept her in with a monster. When I stood up for myself, I never thought Stan would move on to Katy. I thought boys were his thing, so she and Belle were safe. Thinking back, I knew when things changed, when the sparkle in her eyes dulled, when she began to shut me out, but in the moment, I just thought she was being a moody teenager. I kept my eye on Stan, but obviously not as closely as I thought I did. If she had just told me, if I had paid more attention, I wouldn’t be sitting here fourteen years later wishing I could change it all.

 

Sitting at the table by the window, I watch Belle walk up. She looks so much like Katy, it sometimes hurts to look at her. Her long dark hair swings behind her as she walks to the door. I mask my expression as I stand to hug her and she throws her arms around my waist, holding on tightly. Belle always has a rough time on the anniversary. She idolized Katy. From the time she could walk, she followed her big sister around. Belle was so young when Katy died, she never completely understood what happened. Why I went away for a while, why Katy was dead, why her dad was beaten to within an inch of his life. When she was about sixteen, I sat her down and tried to explain everything. I told her what her father had done to me and Katy, telling her that he was the ultimate reason for Katy’s death. What I never could explain was why our mother took his side, why she chose to live with a child molester. She chose that monster over her children. Our mother blames me for Katy’s death, for making up “stories” about her husband. She doesn’t see what is right in front of her face. I saw my mom once while I sat in prison. She came to visit and said Stan needed her. Apparently, the beating I gave him had lasting effects. He needed her and we were grown. Just thinking of that woman pisses me off.

 

The relationship I had with Belle was hard, but I fought to make it right between us. We are now tighter than ever. She understands why I did what I did.

 

I run my hand over the back of her head, feeling her tremble. “Monkey…” She sniffs when she pulls her head away from my chest. “Oh, Monkey. It’s okay.” I wipe the tears falling from her red-rimmed eyes.

 

When she takes the seat across from me, she wipes more tears away. “Why doesn’t this ever get any easier?”

 

“I don’t know if it ever will.”

 

“It’s been fourteen years. I’ve lived more of my life without her than I did with her, but it still feels like yesterday. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her.”

 

“I know. Me, too.”

 

She cocks her head at me. “Cole, you are going to drown in that guilt you carry. It wasn’t your fault. It was Stan’s.” After Belle found out what her father had done, she refused to call him “Dad”. He was just Stan.

 

She’s also refused to talk to our mother at all. Our aunt, Patty, our mother’s sister, came to visit me while I was in prison. I only remember seeing her a handful of times growing up. The relationship between my mom and her was never close. I would call it strained, at best. She wanted details, saying she followed the trial and wanted to know why, after everything, my mom supported Stan and not me. Everything about the abuse was put out there. Aunt Patty wanted answers. After she talked to me, I begged her to take Belle away from them. She promised she would. I had no idea how she was going to accomplish that, but she told me to trust her. I did. What other choice did I have? Aunt Patty confronted my mom and Stan, telling them she wanted Belle to come live with her. She used the excuse that Stan needed my mom’s extra attention, which she wouldn’t have if Belle was around. She agreed, handing her over when she was seven.

 

Belle is now a psychology major at the university, specializing in the sexual abuse of children. Her hope is to help people like me and Katy before it’s too late. I tried to explain how hard the field was going to be, but she refused to listen to me. She’s working her internship at the Center for Abused Women and Children a couple towns over. She loves what she does and is making a difference. Seeing her now, I know she is so much stronger than I give her credit for.

 

“It’s my cross to bear, Belle. Please, let’s not have this same argument again. I can’t fucking do it.” Picking up my menu, I hope she sees the subject is closed. Apparently, she doesn’t take the hint.

 

“Cole, I love you. I have lost so much to this. I can’t lose you, too. Please, just consider talking to someone. I think it will help.”

 

“Belle, damn it. That’s enough,” I warn in a harsh tone. We have been having this argument for years. I can’t see how sitting in someone’s posh office and telling them all my deep, dark secrets will help. This is my punishment for not being able to save Katy. I know that. I don’t deserve to live a better life.

“Fine, but don’t think I will ever stop trying.”

 

I nod, knowing she won’t ever let the subject drop completely. She will never stop trying to “fix” me.

 

She smiles at me knowingly, picking up her menu. “All right. Tell me about this new job. What’s it like?”

 

“It’s good. Most of the people are nice. It’s a good fit.” I really do love being at Z’s and think I fit in well.

 

She looks up from the menu and raises an eyebrow. “Most of the people are nice?”

 

Closing my menu and placing it on the table, I meet her stare. “Yeah. Darren, the owner, is a tough son of a bitch, but he’s a fair guy. The other mechanics are pretty cool. They do this big ‘family’ dinner thing at Darren’s house once a month. Everyone goes, bringing their kids and wives. They are like a tight family. Not really big on outsiders.”

 

“Why? You are a great guy.” She looks around and lowers her voice. “Is it because you were in prison?”

 

“Who knows? As long as I’m getting honest pay for the work I do, I can deal with it. It’s fine.”

 

“But you’re my big brother. I hate that someone’s judging you for your past. You just did what you had to.”

 

I reach for her hand. “Belle, look at me.” When her eyes meet mine, I see pity there. It pisses me off. That is the one thing I hate. I don’t want her feeling bad for me. She is right, though. I did what I had to do. If I had to do it all over again, I would. I would just do it a hell of a lot sooner. With my voice a little sharper, I say, “I am fine. Please, don’t waste your time worrying about me.”

 

Thankfully, the waitress comes to take our orders and interrupts anything Belle is going to say.  

 

“How’s Aunt Patty?” I ask after the waitress walks away, folding my hands on the table.

 

“Oh, you know Aunt Patty. She’s good. She just started seeing someone new.” Belle takes a sip of water. “I feel bad, though. I’m living a thousand miles away from her. I hope she’s not lonely.”

 

I smile at her. This girl has a huge heart. “I’m sure Aunt Patty isn’t lonely. She has a steady stream of men after her weekly.”

 

She laughs. “Cole, that’s not nice. I can’t think of the woman who raised me like that. I know she’s only in her sixties and not dead, but the thought of her having boyfriends and sex…” She shakes her head and makes a face, “just grosses me out.”

 

Patty is the town fox. She works at a chiropractor’s office and is very popular with the opposite sex. I am so grateful to her for stepping up and taking care of Belle, for visiting me, for getting me a better lawyer. She’s the mom I wish I had. When Belle went to live there, I was under the assumption our mom was going to take her back one day, but she never did. I always wondered if it was because she thought Stan really was guilty and this was for the best, or if she was just so damn self-absorbed, she didn’t have time to be a mother anymore. It may be the pessimist side of me, but I believed it to be the latter.

 

We finish lunch, neither one of us letting the conversation get to heavy. I know this day wrecks Belle emotionally, so I never want to add to that.

 

The closer we get to the cemetery, the quieter Belle becomes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her playing with the tissue in her hands while staring out the window. I wish there were something I could do or say to make this easier for her. I hate seeing her like this. It breaks me. I know she doesn’t blame me, but I blame myself. The guilt is pretty fucking heavy. It’s always there. Do I feel guilty for almost killing Stan? Absolutely not. The only thing that upsets me is that I didn’t kill him. I would have gladly taken a life sentence if I knew that smug bastard wasn’t walking this earth. Death would have been too easy for him, though, too quick. I want that motherfucker to suffer every day for the rest of his life…like I suffered, like Katy suffered. I want him to have a daily reminder of what he did, what he took—my innocence, Katy’s innocence, Katy’s life.

 

I pull up to the curb and put my truck in park. Belle looks over at me with red-rimmed eyes. She releases her seat belt as she bends to pick up the flowers from the floor. Belle goes all out for Katy. She always has. When she was younger, my aunt would pay for whatever flowers Belle wanted to get. Belle has been bringing two dozen yellow roses, Katy’s favorite, to the cemetery for the last fourteen years.

 

Silently, we walk through the headstones to the far corner where Katy is laid to rest. Belle busies herself with removing the dead flowers from the vase that sits in the middle of the marble stone with brass name plate, while I stand there watching. She arranges the new roses, then cleans the grass and leaves off the stone. She stands back up and I wrap my arms around her, both of us looking down at it.

 

Katy Lynn Masters

March 15, 1985 – September 26, 2000

 

“God, Cole. I miss her so much. I wish I knew what she would have become. Would she be married? Would she have kids? I imagine so many things for her, but in everything I ever see, I know she would have been so successful.” She turns her face into my chest and sobs. I just hold her, placing my cheek on her head and shutting my eyes.

 

“I know, Monkey. She was my best friend. I miss her every day.” So much, it fucking hurts. We stand this way for what seems like hours. She grips the back of my shirt and cries. There is nothing else we can do. Just be there for each other.

When we get back into the truck, she rests her head back, her eyes closed. “He called me, you know.” I want to ask who, but I know exactly who she is talking about. I squeeze the steering wheel, tightening the muscles in my jaw. Just when I think she won’t say any more, she rolls her head until she is facing me. “He said he wants me to know his side, that he isn’t the monster you made him out to be.” She grabs my hand on the wheel. “Cole, I told him there was nothing to explain. I know exactly what kind of man he is. I know what he has done, and I will work every day for the rest of my life fighting for children who can’t defend themselves against someone like him. He is a monster of the worst kind.”

 

When she stops talking, I flick my eyes in her direction. “When?”

 

“Maybe a month ago.”

 

“What the fuck, Belle. A month? Why wouldn’t you tell me before now?”

 

“I wasn’t going to have this conversation over the phone. It needed to be in person.”

 

“What did you think I was going to do? I can’t do a fucking thing. He has a restraining order against me. I can’t go anywhere near him or I will violate parole. Do you actually think I would risk everything for him? I have less than six months left on my parole. If I didn’t kill him back then, I damn sure wouldn’t do it now.” I see Belle cringe. I know she hates when I bring up what I did, but damn. She has to know I am not that guy anymore. I could be. It would be very easy to be that man. I’d just have to drive up to their house and finally end him. Trust me. I’ve thought about it. But if I did that, I would be no better than him.

 

“No, Cole. I didn’t think you would go after him. I wanted you to look into my eyes and know that I am serious when I say I am done with him. I may carry that man’s DNA, but that’s it. I am done with both of them. Mom made her choice, and it wasn’t us.”

 

I reach across the seat and grab her hand. “Belle, I’m serious. Do not accept any more fucking phone calls from either one of them. Nothing good can come from it.”

 

The rest of the ride back to her car is silent. I am so pissed. What the hell is he trying to do? Why now? I believe that Belle doesn’t want anything to do with them, but she has such a big heart. If they give her the right sob story, they could have her changing her mind about seeing them. I have never told her not to have anything to do with them. It’s always been her choice. But I don’t trust them at all. For a mother to choose a child molester over her own children is repulsive.

 

Being at the cemetery and the conversation about Stan, I can’t help but think about the day I found her. That was the worst day of my life.

 

When I got home from school, I can sense something is wrong. That morning, Katy had said she didn’t feel good and stayed home. I walk to the fridge and grab the gallon of iced tea, ready to pour myself a glass. If Katy were as sick as she said, maybe she needed a drink, too. I set the gallon on the counter and climb up the steps to her room, knocking softly on the closed door. When she doesn’t answer, I slowly open it, thinking maybe she is sleeping. When I see her room is spotless, the bed made, I know something is off. Katy’s room is never clean. There are usually piles of clothes on her floor at all times, but not today. It is perfect.

 

I walk in and look around. I see an envelope with my name on it propped up on the lamp on her nightstand. I pick it up, knowing the course of my life is about to change. How I know this, I have no idea, but I do. My hands shake as I rip into the envelope.

 

Cole,

I’m so tired. I can’t do it anymore. This is the only way to get away from it.

Protect Belle. Don’t let him tarnish her.

I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.

I love you.

Katy

 

I start screaming her name, running through the house, checking every room. I look everywhere…under beds, in the tub, in closets. I know she is here somewhere. I must get to her.

 

I run out to the garage, seeing both cars gone. My mom is doing some PTA thing for Belle’s class today and won’t be home until later, and Stan’s usually at work until at least five o’clock every day. We live on a larger lot and the houses are spaced pretty far apart. You can’t see the neighbor from our house, and there is nothing except woods behind us.

 

I run around the garage and come to a skidding halt. She lay parallel to the garage, the gun still in her hand, her face distorted. I run to her and drop to my knees in the blood surrounding her body. I bring my shaking hand to her cheek. Ice cold. I know she is gone. I lay my head on her chest and cry. What am I supposed to do? I know I need to call the police, an ambulance, my mom, somebody. Instead, I just cry.

 

“Cole.” Belle pulls me from that hell as I pull up to her car. I don’t even really know how I got here. I look over at her. “I love you, big brother. Think about what I said about talking to someone.”

 

“I love you, Monkey. Be careful on your way home. Text me when you get there,” I say, not even acknowledging her comment about talking to someone.

 

As I drive away, I know I need to head back to the shop, but it’s not even four o’clock yet. Plus, I’m exhausted. Not sleeping last night and dealing with today is taking its toll on me. I pull into my driveway, hoping to get a nap before I head back in to finish that plow. That way, I can wait until everybody leaves for the day. I know I am not going to be someone anyone wants to be around right now. I definitely think being alone at the moment is for the best.