Tortured

  “Mom forgot her swimsuit. You look like you’re doing enough swimming for the both of us.” I waved at him from my folding chair propped in the sand where I’d spent the last six hours just … relaxing. I think that was what it was. Doing nothing, lounging, not checking the time every few minutes. It had been so long since I hadn’t lived my days checking over my shoulder, tiptoeing through life, that this had taken me a while to adjust to. Relaxing. It was nice.

  “They had some in the gift shop. Go buy one of those.” Keenan swam closer to the shore.

  “I don’t think they had any in my size.” I smiled and checked behind me, where the two cabins Brecken had rented were. The used truck he’d recently purchased wasn’t there yet. He’d said he probably wouldn’t be back until after dinner, but it was already seven.

  “Mom,” Keenan whined, dragging one syllable into five.

  I glanced down at what I was wearing. Jeans, a long-sleeve blouse, and a camisole under that. Oh, and a sunhat to attempt to disguise the bruise forming around the gash bandaged at my hairline. I won the most dressed award at the beach today. It had been a warm day and I’d been sweating like crazy in my layers, but there wasn’t an alternative. If I pranced around in a bathing suit with the way my body looked, I’d scare everyone, including my son.

  “Come on, Mom. We haven’t been to the beach in …” Keenan paused to think, his eyes going skyward as he did. “Ever. Swim with me. Swim with me!” He was splashing water all around now, jumping up and down to create more of a splash.

  I’d taught him to swim at the public pool in Medford, but he was right; I couldn’t recall a time we’d been to the beach. Crew didn’t like sand getting everywhere, and he said open water was a deathtrap for young children. It wasn’t scary though. Not at all. Keenan was having the time of his life, and I hadn’t and wouldn’t take my eyes off of him.

  “You want Mom to come swimming?” I rose out of the chair and moved until the water was lapping at my toes.

  Keenan stopped splashing, looking at me like he was trying to figure out if I was being serious. “Yes!”

  “Okay.” I lifted my arms out at my sides. “I guess I’ll just have to go swimming then.”

  As I stepped into the water, Keenan’s eyes went round when he noticed my jeans getting wet. The next look he gave me suggested he was worried I’d lost my mind.

  “But you’re coming with me!” Grabbing him, I lunged deeper into the water until I was up past my waist, then I bobbed up and down until the water was splashing around our faces.

  Keenan was shrieking in delight, waving his arms to disrupt more water. I hadn’t realized I was laughing with him until he stopped. His head tipped, and he gave me a thoughtful look as my bobs slowed.

  His arms tied around my neck. “I like your laugh, Mom. It’s nice.”

  He smiled right before leaning in to kiss my cheek. Then he wiggled out of my arms and swam toward the shore. He paused when he was halfway back to see if I was following him, but I was still in the same place.

  My laugh. It was such a strange thing for a five-year-old to comment on—liking his mom’s laugh. I knew why he’d mentioned it though. It was because he’d heard it so infrequently. Even when it was just him and me, I carried around a sadness that didn’t leave a lot of space for laughter. It wasn’t something I’d been aware of until just now, how much my secret abuse had trickled into the rest of my life. Keenan didn’t know why I didn’t smile and laugh often, but I wasn’t sure that was a comfort when I’d just had to witness my son stare at me with wonder as I shared a laugh with him.

  I’d managed to hide the truth from him so far, but not the repercussions of that truth. I thought I’d been protecting him, but now I just felt like I was depriving him. Of myself. Of joy. Of laughter.

  Instead of second-guessing the past or worrying about the future, I made a decision right there, my toes buried in the sandy loam of Upper Klamath Lake, the water lapping at my chest as I watched my son drag a shark floatie into the water—I was going to live in the now. The day. The moment. The past wasn’t going to haunt me, and the future wasn’t going to daunt me. This was what mattered. Now. This breath.

  “Mom!” Keenan shouted, rolling off his floatie. “Brecken’s back!” He broke out of the water, dropping his shark, and sprinted toward the old truck that had just lumbered up between the two cabins.

  “He’s had a long day! Give him a minute to unwind before you attack him.”

  Keenan was too far away to hear me, and I realized I was recycling a statement from my survival warning bank. Crew had had long days. Crew had needed time to unwind before dealing with a five-year-old wanting to play.

  Crew wasn’t Brecken.

  Although I supposed the significant distinction was that Brecken wasn’t Crew.

  As I made my way out of the water, dripping wet and smiling, I didn’t miss the way Brecken dealt with Keenan flying toward him. Open arms. An expression that was welcoming instead of annoyed. Throwing him up on his shoulders instead of waving him off. Striding down toward the beach to join us instead of disappearing behind a closed door to be alone.

  I couldn’t stop watching the two of them as Brecken lumbered down the beach, still wearing his khakis and dress shirt from the interview. The slacks were wrinkled now and the shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow, but he looked good. Having Keenan on his shoulders made his limp more pronounced, especially when he made it to the sand. By the time they’d made it to the stretch of towels and toys, I’d emerged from the water.

  Brecken took one look at me, his grin stretching. “Nice suit.”

  Keenan laughed with him, looking like he was on top of the world when sitting on Brecken’s shoulders.

  “I knew you’d like it.” I wrung out my hair, moving a few steps closer. “Want a hug?”

  When I held my arms out and moved closer, Brecken backed up. “No, thanks. I’m good. I’m already nice and wet from the shoulders up.” He glanced up at where Keenan was, dripping down on him.

  “I think you need a hug. A nice warm, dripping-wet one.”

  Keenan started clapping while Brecken gave me a warning look. “I’ve got your son on my shoulders. I can’t run away from you.”

  I gave an overdone smile then lunged. “Exactly,” I exclaimed, winding my arms around him and wiggling the rest of my wet self against him.

  Brecken let out a drawn-out groan, but he stood there and took it, hanging on to Keenan while I hung on to him. “Mature. So mature.” He sighed all dramatic-like. “Wonderful example you’re setting for your son here.”

  I tipped my head up, eyebrow raised. “This coming from the man who mixed Frosted Flakes and Cocoa Puffs this morning?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “I’m setting the example of how to behave like a proper five-year-old. You’re the parent. You get to set the parental example.”

  I was quiet for a minute after that, having nothing else to say—having everything else to say. Instead, I stood there looking up at the two of them. Brecken’s face above mine, Keenan’s above us both. The sun was breaking behind them, pulling out the golden shades in their hair. Keenan’s nose was speckled with a few freckles from spending a day in the sun, water drops running from his lashes whenever he blinked. If happiness was having exactly what you wanted, if only for one fleeting moment, then I’d found it. I had it. No matter what came, I’d always carry this with me.

  “Can we still go fishing, Brecken?” Keenan glanced at one of the rental fishing boats tied up at the main dock.

  “It’s late,” I started.

  Brecken lifted his wrist from behind my back to check his watch. “Night-fishing is the best kind of fishing in my opinion.”

  “Night-fishing?” I repeated.

  “No sun baking down on you, and they bite better at night.” He shrugged like it was obvious.

  “And how many times have you been fishing? Outdoor sportsman?” I stepped back and propped a hand on my hip, trying not to smile when I saw the dark, we
t outline of where I’d just draped myself around him.

  “Lots of times,” he said, feigning outrage that I’d question him. But he lifted his fingers a moment later, where Keenan couldn’t see. “Two times,” he mouthed.

  I covered my mouth to muffle my laugh. “So should I plan on cooking fish for dinner tonight? Or should I have a backup to be safe?”

  Brecken shot me another appalled look. “I will not dignify that question with a response,” he announced, looking up at Keenan and shaking his head. As he started toward the rental shed, he spun around, mouthing, “Have a backup.”

  This time, I didn’t muffle the laugh.

  “Doesn’t Mom have a nice laugh?” Keenan said as they lumbered down the beach.

  Brecken’s answer came instantly. “She’s got the best laugh in the whole world.”

  It was after nine by the time the fishing boat came back, the full moon illuminating the dark lake just enough for me to see them. “Backup” dinner had been cold for an hour, and I didn’t care. It was after Keenan’s bedtime, and I didn’t care. He was getting to be a kid, getting to go fishing like he’d always wanted. That was what mattered.

  Crew had fished plenty of times growing up, but could never seem to be inconvenienced to take Keenan out for a few hours, despite the begging. Brecken had fished twice in his life, and it had probably been at some carnival where they baited and caught the fish pretty much for you. I doubted they’d caught anything, but I knew that wouldn’t bother Keenan.

  Today, he got to fish. It was a good day.

  Shoving out of the rocker on the porch, I wandered down to meet them. Brecken was carrying a couple of fishing poles and a tackle box in one hand, and in his other hand was Keenan. When I started down the dock toward him, I realized why he was carrying him.

  “When this kid goes out, he goes out,” Brecken said softly, letting me take the poles and box.

  “I don’t know anyone else like that,” I said, nudging him.

  Keenan was almost snoring he was breathing so loudly, still zipped up in his life jacket.

  “Well? Did you catch anything?”

  “Does seaweed count?”

  I smiled at the dock. “You should have brought some back. We could have made sushi.”

  Brecken snorted. “We got a few bites, but that was about it. And I managed to hook my thumbs a couple of times. Pretty successful first attempt, I think.”

  “Thanks for taking him out. He’s been dying to go fishing.”

  Brecken nodded as we headed for the cabins. “He’s a good kid.”

  I gave Keenan’s hand hanging down Brecken’s arm a little squeeze. “Well, he takes after his mom.”

  Brecken grunted. “Lucky kid.”

  As we walked up the steps of my cabin, I glanced at the dark one beside us. Brecken had rented two to keep things simple for Keenan. He’d been worried what Keenan might think if the three of us shared the same cabin. I appreciated the extra thought—and expense—he’d put into it, but I doubted it would have even crossed Keenan’s mind. He was five and wouldn’t have the first clue why it would be inappropriate for his mom to share a cabin with a former boyfriend while her husband was away. Innocent intentions or not. Which made me wonder if the second cabin had more to do with Brecken’s benefit than Keenan’s.

  Had he accepted what I’d been trying to tell him? Had he embraced the impossibility of us? Circumstances being what they were?

  The thought made me relieved as much as it made me depressed.

  “What time do you have to leave tomorrow morning?” I asked.

  He was about to answer when a boom sounded, echoing across the lake. Brecken stiffened for half a second, then he was a swirl of motion. I found myself pinned against the wall of the cabin, Keenan cradled against my chest, while Brecken stationed his body around us. Almost like he was shielding us from something.

  It took me a moment to realize what had happened. It took me another to say it out loud.

  “Fireworks,” I said softly, wiggling off of the wall. Then I pointed across the lake where I could just make out the last few green sparks drifting out of the sky. “It was just fireworks.”

  Brecken didn’t move at first—I wasn’t sure he was breathing—but after I lifted my hand to his face, the lines in his forehead started to erase. His shoulders relaxed some as an uneven exhale spilled from his lips. Once he realized what had happened, his eyes dropped to Keenan, still in his arms, asleep. Another exhale, this one more sigh than breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his brows pulling together as he glanced back at where the boom had come from.

  I leaned in a little closer so he’d know I wasn’t afraid. My other hand formed around his face so I could turn it around to face me. Then I waited for him to look at me. “It’s okay.” My thumbs slid down his cheeks. “It’s oh-kay.”

  He didn’t look convinced, instead allowing his eyes to swim with guilt. When the next firework cracked across the lake, he didn’t throw himself around the two of us again, but I didn’t miss the quiver that ran down his back—like he was restraining himself.

  “Where do you want me to put him?” Brecken cleared his throat and moved toward the screen door. He was avoiding looking at me.

  “We made out the futon in the living room earlier. He wanted to camp out on his own instead of snuggle with his mom.”

  He didn’t smile as he moved inside, the screen door screeching closed behind us. He moved across the room quickly, setting Keenan on the futon in the same rushed fashion. He was acting like he was dangerous, a threat, capable of breaking us if he wasn’t careful.

  “I experience the same type of thing, you know? Well, it’s different … what sets me off, the triggers …” As I spoke, his jaw stiffened and he stared at Keenan. “But it results in the same thing.”

  “What result is that?”

  “Doubting myself. Questioning if I’m going to hurt the people I care about. Wondering if I even deserve to be cared about in the first place.” I tucked my jacket around me tighter. “I know what you’re feeling.”

  “No. You don’t.” Brecken’s head turned before his body. Then he started for the door. “Because if you did, you’d know I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I slumped in place where I was, eyeing the table I’d set for dinner. He probably wasn’t hungry. He probably didn’t want to talk.

  Too damn bad.

  Grabbing the plate I’d made for him, I threw it in the microwave to warm it up before I took it outside. He was probably in his cabin, but I’d bang the door down if I had to. I knew the retreat-from-the-world technique, and it never helped. It only made things worse.

  Instead, I found him standing outside our cabin, staring at the dark lake.

  “I brought you out dinner. Backup dinner.” When I held out the plate for him, he took it, but he didn’t really see it. I slipped off my sandals and took a seat at the top of the stairs. “How was the interview today?”

  “Fine.”

  Rolling my feet from heel to toe, I searched for what to say next. “What types of questions did they ask you?”

  “All kinds.”

  My back slouched as I blinked at him. “I’m trying to have a conversation here. Kind of hard when all I’m getting in return is one- and two-word responses.”

  Finally, his eyes drifted down to me. Whatever he saw crouched on the stairs below him cleared the brooding expression. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were trying to have a conversation. I thought you were more going for interrogation.”

  My hands lifted. “We can talk about whatever you want. You take the lead.”

  Before taking a seat beside me, he snagged a towel hanging over the rail. “Here. That wood looks hard.” He set his plate down to fold the towel, then he scooted it behind my back, waiting for me to sit up. When I did, he slid it under me.

  “That wood was hard.” I smiled, shifting to get comfortable on the folds of the towel.

  Brecken set the plate on his lap
and picked up the fork, but he didn’t move to take a bite. “They asked me questions about what actually happened once I was captured.” The skin between his brows folded together. “What they did to me, if I remembered their names, what the conditions were like. That kind of stuff.”

  I nodded, but I stayed quiet.

  “Then they asked me what I remember thinking about when I realized I was being rescued.”

  “Relief that you were still alive?”

  “You.” He set down his fork, his head turning toward me. “That was all I thought about when I was rescued, that was all I thought about during the six years I was there. You.” He slid a wisp of hair behind my ear. “You were what kept me alive in that hell. And you’re what will keep me alive in this one.”

  “You’re free. Alive. How is this hell?”

  “It might not be a wall of metal bars and a half a world of distance, but there’s still something keeping me separated from you.” He set the plate down beside him and glared at the world like it had betrayed him. “It’s hell to go from loving someone, thinking of them every minute of every day and thinking you’d never see them again, only to make it home and see them and realize they aren’t yours to love anymore.” His back stiffened as he continued. “But instead of baring my soul to those people today, you want to know what I told them? You want to know how I answered their question as to what was the first thought that went through my head when I’d been rescued?”

  I didn’t answer him.

  “A cheeseburger,” he barked, rolling his neck. “A fucking cheeseburger.”

  “I’m sorry, Brecken.” My head lowered as I stared at my hands in my lap. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I am too.” He paused, his head twisting my way. “But sorry doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”

  My nails dug into my palms. I wasn’t sure what the look in his eyes was. It might not have been an accusation, but I felt like the accused. I felt guilty and wrong, and mostly, pissed off at the whole entire world.

  “You know what?” I said, my voice already trembling. “I do know what it’s like. I do know what it’s like to love someone, to think of them every second of every day, thinking I’d never see them again, only to see them and have to accept they aren’t mine to love anymore.” I glanced inside the cabin to make sure I hadn’t woken Keenan with my tirade. Then my eyes flashed to Brecken again, fire burning in them. “I do know what that feels like, so stop acting like you’re the only one hurting here. Because you know why we can’t go back to that, you know what’s at stake. Him. That little boy’s life inside there.” My arm flew toward the cabin, my finger pointing inside. “You’ve made sacrifices. Well, so have I.”