Tony’s hand squeezes mine. I haven’t spoken about my dad in a long time. It feels good to get this off of my chest.
Losing myself in thought, I say bleakly, “I remember crying all night. All damn night. I was a mess. My dog was my best friend, apart from my brother. I was a child. Every child’s pet is their best friend.” Shaking my head as if to clear it, I continue, “The next night, I came home from school and Misty was wagging her tail at me like she’d always been there. And my heart broke all over again just from thinking she was gone forever. I cried and cried all over again. And there was Dad, smiling a cruel smile, knowing he’d broken a small piece of my spirit. When my brother started taking drugs to escape life at home, I knew I had to leave. Then my brother took off one night, and I had nothing to stay for anymore. So I left.”
As I finish, I find my hand being squeezed way too tightly. I look up to find Tony’s jaw set, and I attempt to laugh it off. “Mom wasn’t a bad person, she just wasn’t very maternal and worked long hours to get away from Dad.” When his face doesn’t change, I add, “Oh, look, it’s not like he touched me or anything.”
“Abuse is abuse, babe. Doing it to your kid, though…that makes it ten times worse. He might not have put a hand on you. Doesn’t make it any less painful for the kid.”
And he is one-hundred percent right.
Abuse hurts regardless of the form.
I pluck at his fingers. “Tell me about what happened back there at the grocery store.”
“Only if you tell me about your time on the street.”
I immediately concede. “Deal.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah. Okay. So I was a street kid for a long time. Until I ended up in juvie. I did my fair share of shoplifting because, hey, I had to eat, right? All grocery stores remind me of being caught and feeling trapped. I hadn’t been to one in a long time and I forgot why. Until tonight.”
The thought of him feeling like a trapped animal makes my stomach clench. I wish I could take those memories away from him. I wish I could make it better somehow. It doesn’t justify his reaction to the young store clerk’s attendance, but I do understand it better.
Linking our fingers, I tell him, “Next time, I won’t leave you. Next time, we’ll shop together, and every time you feel like something’s sneaking up on you, you just tell me we need to leave and we’re gone. Okay?”
He doesn’t answer my question; instead, he changes the subject. “You on the street. Spill.”
I shrug. “Okay. I walked out of my home with fifty dollars in my pocket that I had stolen from my mom, and a backpack full of clothes. I wandered around, caught buses to wherever they were going, and spent a lot of time trying to be invisible. Somehow, I ended up in Chicago. It wasn’t all that bad. I met some great people on the street. A girl I became close with, Fran, would be a lookout while I would sneak into people’s yards and steal whatever we could use or sell for money to buy food. We did this for months without getting caught, and we became relaxed about it.” Looking at him pointedly, I tell him, “Way too relaxed. If you get what I mean.”
He smirks, “You got caught.”
I smile. “I did. I got busted. The old lady who owned the home called the cops because I was making so much noise. I didn’t notice them ‘til I was being read my rights and lead to the back of a police car. They knew I was underage. I didn’t say a word. Not a single word to the police. I was so scared they’d send me home. Back to the place I worked so hard to escape from. Suddenly, I’m being taken to a halfway house in the city and given a bed to sleep in ‘til they can find out some information about me.”
I chuckle humorlessly, “The thing about cops is that you don’t know how smart they are. They figured out who I really was. I spent a week in a halfway house completely grateful that I had a bed to sleep in and food to eat, that I was oblivious to what decisions were being made about my life in that time.” My face falls. “They contacted my mom.” Looking up at Twitch, I smile sadly, “She didn’t want me back.” My throat thickens and I cough to cover it. “A week passes by and the police visit me at the halfway house. The senior officer asks me if I would rather stay there,” my eyes tear up and I choke out, “or if I wanted to be someone’s daughter again.”
“I couldn’t believe someone wanted me. It seemed surreal that my own parents, my own blood, cared nothing for me or my brother, but someone I didn’t know wanted me. Wanted to take care of me. It was a no-brainer. I agreed to being fostered.” I smile a watery smile. “You wouldn’t believe it, but my new foster mom was the old lady that called the cops on me.” Turning to him, I laugh through my tears. “And she was a crazy woman in the best way. We ate pancakes for dinner. Had dessert for breakfast. She sent me back to school and helped me with my homework. We spent most of our nights watching lame TV or blasting music ‘til the early hours. She spent every day making sure I was cared for, cared about, and loved.”
“She was my mom. I had a mother before her, but she was the one who I loved and followed to Australia because the thought of living without her made me ill.” Wiping my nose with my sleeve, I shake my head. “She died a few years ago. Cancer. And I could’ve gone to work anywhere, but the thought of leaving Sydney makes me feel like I’m abandoning her. I can’t leave. I’ll live in Sydney ‘til the day I die.”
“Sounds like you had an adventure.”
I smile. “Yeah. I consider myself lucky. I got my happily ever after. Most don’t.” He doesn’t say a thing, and I’m officially over this conversation and the emotions being brought out of me. Turning to face him, I ask, “Hungry?”
He grins. “Starved.”
And we’re back to Lexi and Tony.
Just another night.
Cooking up a storm for my man.
Who knew Lexi could cook? From the contents of her refrigerator, you’d think she was such a bad cook that she could set fire to cereal.
After an incredible dinner of made-from-scratch lasagna with béchamel sauce and homemade pasta, I’m done. I’m so full after my third helping, that I won’t be surprised if I fall asleep in my chair. Happy decided to eat with us, but Ling declined. Smart girl. Happy sings Lexi’s praises with every fucking bite. “Damn, girl. You can cook for me anytime. And I mean anytime.”
Lexi smiles sweetly at him.
What a suck-ass.
Just as I open my mouth to tell him to shut his trap, my cell rings. Without looking at the display, I answer, “It’s after hours. You got business to discuss, you need to call tomorrow.”
Moving my finger to the end call button, I hear a familiar laugh. My finger stills. “Fuck off!” A smile spreads across my face. “Nox?”
Nox chuckles, “Oh no. This is a business call. I’ll have to call you tomorrow.”
It’s been a long time. “Damn, man. How long has it been?”
I can almost hear his brows rise in thought as he responds, “Uh. A few years. I think. It’s hard to keep track.”
Lexi looks confused, but smiles with me at my happy expression. Happy shrugs in question and I mouth, ‘Nox’. Happy smiles and gives me a thumbs up while shoving another forkful of food into his mouth.
I sigh, “Too long, man. Way too long. What do you need?”
He stalls, “Nothin’ much. Just checking in. I hadn’t heard from you since you asked me to track down that girl. Just wanted to see if you reconnected.”
My face voids. Standing, I wink at Lexi and mouth, ‘important’ before taking off upstairs to my office. Once I close the office door behind me, I tell him honestly. “I did reconnect. She’s actually my girl now.”
Silence, then a restrained, “Glad it worked out.”
Sitting in my desk chair, my brow furrows at his tone, “What’s the problem here?”
Nox sighs, “Just…don’t get pissed, okay? But Julius called and…” Motherfuck! “And he might’ve mentioned that this girl was in danger.”
“From me, right?”
Pause. “Yeah, man. So you could sa
y I’m a little worried about her, seeing as you’ve claimed her.”
My blood pressure soars through the roof. I grit my teeth and count to ten.
Breathing deeply, I assure him, “Regardless of what Julius thinks, she’s my girl. And I’d kill for her.”
Nox sighs, “Julius doesn’t see it that way.”
I spit, “Julius needs to mind his own fucking business!”
Silence.
“Nox, don’t fuck this up for me. I’m in a good place. For the first time in…ever.”
Nox snorts in disbelief. “Your dumbass went and fell in love with her.” A statement.
“I’ve always loved her, in a really fucked up way. You know that saying there’s a thin line between love and hate? I hated her. But that line teetered when I met the real her, compared to my mind’s version of her.” Nox is a good guy, and one of the rare people I work with that I trust. I need him to know this. “Listen, bro. I’ll be honest here. I wanted to hurt her. I was going to hurt her.” His intake of breath lets me know he’s pissed at me. I continue quickly, “But you gotta understand that my obsession with her started a long time ago, when I was a kid, and the mind distorts things. Especially when you’re high most of your teenage years.” I say quietly, “She’s nothing of what I made her out to be.”
He says gently, “Sometimes you gotta walk away for the sake of the people you love.”
“Spent my life searching for more. Never had something so good. Finally got something I’m proud of, and you want me to give her up? Not likely. You can pry her from my cold, dead fingers, bro.”
“I’m worried you’ll hurt her without meaning to.”
My eye twitches.
Anger surges through me. “You don’t know me anymore. She changed me. She calms me.”
Pause. “Twitch, you’re my friend. I got an obligation here. I’m telling you something that you need to hear. Not just hear, but hear. Listen carefully.” Rolling my eyes, I grunt for him to go on. “You love her, then you need to tell her the truth. You need to tell her now. Because time’s gonna pass and that secret is gonna be a noose tightening around your neck. You’re gonna love her so much and do everything to keep her, and that noose will become so tight that you can’t breathe. But one day, she’s gonna find out. And that’s when you’re going to realize that you lost her and that you got hung. With a noose you put around your own neck.”
Thinking hard about what he said, I say quietly, “Noted.”
A squeal in my ear sounds, and Nox yells out, “Lily! He’s loose!”
What the fuck?
A woman calls back, “You know, he wasn’t the Immaculate Conception. He’s your son too!”
Nox attempts to cover the phone, but I hear every word. “Rocco, go see mama. Mama’s got cookies. You want a cookie? Good. Get daddy a cookie too.”
The woman calls out, “No cookies! Dinner will be ready soon.”
He calls back, “I want a cookie! I earned a cookie, dammit!”
The woman scoffs, “Oh yeah? What did you do to earn a cookie? All I remember was coming home to a messy son and an even messier husband!”
Nox scoffs, “He wanted to paint! What was I meant to do, princess? You know I can’t say no to him.” Suddenly, he shouts, “Rocco, come back with daddy’s leg!”
A few more scuffling noises, then he’s back, “Sorry about that. It gets a bit rowdy here at dinner and bedtime.”
“What happened to your leg?”
He chuckles, “It ran away.” I smile. Idiot. He explains solemnly, “Mission gone bad.”
“You got a boy?”
I hear his smile. “Sure do. I’m retired. Married too.”
I smile at that. “I heard. She sounds like she puts you to work.”
He barks a laugh. “Oh yeah. Lily was my last mission.” He doesn’t have to say it. She was the reason he lost his leg. He whispers, “She’s worth it, though.”
I ask in all seriousness, “And if someone asked you to give her up?”
Long pause. “It’s not the same.”
I return fiercely, “Love is love. It don’t discriminate. And it sure as fuck don’t wait ‘til you’re ready for it.”
He sighs, “I know it, man. I know.” The sound of things clattering, then, “Listen, man, I gotta go. Rocco’s playing Frisbee with dinner plates.” I chuckle. “Just think about what I said.”
Then my friend is gone.
I hear footsteps come up the stairs and stop typing. Lifting my head, I wait for them to come closer to me, but they stop halfway down the hall, by my office. My office, which is occupied by a tiny woman dressed in sweat pants and one of my tees.
Listening closer, I wait for my visitor to find me, and I’m already making excuses in my mind.
Can you believe that? Fucking excuses. As if I owe him an explanation. I slowly shake my head at my misplaced panic.
Finally, he comes looking for me, but by the time his silhouette shadows the door, I throw myself back into my work. If it looks as though I’m busy, he might leave me alone.
Keyword there: Might.
“There’s a sparrow sittin’ at your desk.”
Not looking up at him, I grunt. “She has work to do.”
Let it go, man. Let. It. Go.
As he takes a few steps into the room, I look up at my oldest friend. The man who most likely saved my life when he took me into his home and kept me under a hawk’s eye, making sure I was healing from…well…what life had dealt me. I’m not sure which one of us was dealt the worst hand, but I do know that my head is not programmed like other peoples’.
No.
I can tell you that I have issues. Issues I’m not proud of. Issues I’m trying to overcome.
As usual, Julius looks like he just stepped out of an Armani photo-shoot. Wearing a tan suit that contrasts his mocha-colored skin, his dark hair – which we affectionately call ‘nappy hair’ – neatly cut and styled, and his incredulous face set on mine. The only man I know with darker skin that has light blue eyes. Those eyes see more than they should.
He repeats himself, slower this time, “There’s a sparrow…sittin’ at your desk.” When I don’t respond, he pushes, “A sparrow, Twitch.” Remaining silent, he adds, “A sparrow at your motherfuckin’ desk. Using your fuckin’ computer. The computer that holds all your information on it. A computer that holds all of my fuckin’ information on it, brother.”
He’s pissed. No doubt. But he doesn’t know, Lexi. So it’s warranted.
Lifting my hand in a dismissive wave, I tell him distractedly, “I switched users. She’s got no access.”
“Who is she?”
“She is who she is,” I say in dismissal.
Stepping closer to me on the sofa, he asks slowly and almost threateningly, “I said, who is she?”
No answer. There’s no point. He’ll just go explore anyways. Just as I knew he would, without another word, he retreats and I sigh. He always did stick his nose where it didn’t belong. Standing from the sofa, I close my laptop and set it down on the mantle before I trudge after him.
Nosey motherfucker.
He’s already at the office door staring in when I reach him. A small smile pulls at his lips. And I can’t help but shake my head at Lexi. The ‘sparrow’ can’t sing for shit. But she doesn’t care. She likes to sing. So let her sing.
Approaching with slow steps, his head turns a little towards me, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Lexi. “She for reals?”
My lip twitches, but I don’t respond. Moving closer, I stand by my friend and watch Lexi from the door. She looks so small at my desk, in my throne of a chair. I’m sure her feet aren’t even touching the ground.
I take her in.
Even wearing what she’s wearing – which I do not approve of – she looks like she belongs on a magazine cover.
Singing (more like squawking) Marry You by Bruno Mars without a care in the world, she bounces in her chair but types away before stopping suddenly and leaning back to
look at her work. Confusion written all her face, she stares at the computer screen and scratches her head. “Hey, Twitch,” she calls out.
“Yeah?” I answer from the door. She yelps in fright, her hand flying to her chest, “Don’t do that! I hate when you sneak. Or creep. Or skulk.” Her face scrunched in annoyance, she says, “No more skulking, dammit!”
Then she lifts her head to find the both of us looking at her through wide smiles. Her face pinks and the lady comes out of her. Standing slowly, she brushes down the backs of her sweats and my grey tee – which looks ridiculously huge on her – then reaches up to her messy bun as her eyes widen in what I think is shame at being caught out in an outfit like the one she’s wearing.
Serves her right.
Approaching the man by my side, she puts on an easy smile and holds out her hand to him. As he looks down at her with narrowed eyes and a small smile, she explains softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Taking her small pale hand in his mocha one, he shakes her hand gently and smiles, “I didn’t want to interrupt the show you were putting on.” Her face flames further and he chuckles, “I’m Julius.”
Nervous Lexi decides to make an appearance, and she rambles, “Like Doctor Hibbert. You know that strange doctor from The Simpsons?” Her eyes widen. “Not that you’re strange! He is! Doctor Hibbert, that is. You are not. I mean, you may be, but I don’t know you. Doctor Hibbert does that thing where he laughs at all the wrong times at things that aren’t funny, and it’s really awkward.” Julius looks down at her rambling self with a creased brow as if he’s not sure if she’s for real, and Lexi adds quietly, “Just like I’m making this conversation right now...” She trails off.
But Julius put her out of her misery with a grin, “I love The Simpsons. I still watch it to this day.”