Charming (5 page)

“Someone’s at the door.” Such a gorgeous, happy smile lit Joce’s blue eyes. She wore her hair down, little braids stretching from each temple and clipped at the back of her head. “For
you
. Though I can’t imagine why.”

Haley caught a glimpse in the mirror of the wild, blonde hair sitting atop her head. Not even a hint of a bruise on her cheekbone. She rolled out of bed and made her way for the door.

“Oh, no way. You can’t go out there like that.” Jocelyn shoved a cream v-neck sweater and dark blue skinny jeans into Haley’s hands. “Put these on, tame your hair, and, for the love of all things holy, please, brush your teeth. You cannot screw this up.”

Whoever waited outside the door, they had to be rich to make Joce act this way. Though she’d melded into “normal” life well, she still preferred all things Brand. She still visited her old friends, many of them now enrolled in the Academy, still splurged on expensive clothes and handbags when Dad was nice enough to dish out money, only to her.

Following her sister’s orders in a hurry, Haley straightened the sweater as she headed to the front door—only to find Chris Charming standing on the other side of the screen with a bright grin curving all the way up to his eyes. He wore a black beanie, wisps of brown hair darting out from beneath, and a gray long-sleeved Henley. The thing stretched tight over his thick, muscular arms and well-defined abs. What would running a hand over those feel like? What would his arms feel like wrapped around—

Haley turned and marched back to her room, passing a gaping Jocelyn. “Tell him to get lost.”

Five minutes later, the hinges to Haley’s door croaked out a horrid sound. Jocelyn poked her head around, hand squeezing the side, a passive-aggressive attempt to make a stand, to prevent Haley from kicking the door closed.

“May I come in?”

Haley waved from her spot on the hardwood floor where she’d pulled out her secret stash of pictures of Mom and Dad, back when life was happy, when Dad smiled and tossed a wiffle ball at his daughters waiting eagerly with tiny, pink gloves. Back when they’d spend all evening outside, chasing away the sun, chasing each other, hugging, laughing. Back before the fall, before, before, before. “You’re already here. Might as well come in the rest of the way.”

“Are those pictures of Mom?” Joce took a seat next to Haley, then yanked the plain white comforter off the bed and wrapped the downy softness around her shoulders. “And Dad. Wow. Where’d you find these?”

Joce picked one up, dragging a finger across the photograph. She and Haley wore Mom’s clothes and had their hair pulled back in a bun. Mom sat between them, wearing a gob of bright pink and blue makeup her daughters had slathered all over her face. They were all smiling and happy, best friends.

“When I was six, Dad bought me a point and shoot camera. They took me to Wal-Mart once a week to have the film developed. These were in a box underneath blankets and pillows, shoved in the back of my closet. Guess Dad forgot they existed when he trashed everything else.” Haley laughed silently. “
I’d
forgotten they existed until I went on a rampage and decided everything I owned needed to be thrown away. That is until I came across these.”

Joce opened her mouth to say something, snapped it closed, then muttered, “You should be nicer to guests.”

“Why?”

“Because you only have one friend, the worst kind of friend. And when I find you doing things like this, it makes me wonder if there’s more to you than you want me to know.”

Haley didn’t defend Christine. The words would be lost on deaf ears. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

Joce rolled her eyes and dropped the blanket. “Oh, and Chris offered to take you skydiving with him. If you change your mind, they’re leaving in twenty minutes. You can text him.” She passed a small white card to Haley, then made her way to the door. “I think you’re nuts if you don’t call. Return to the land of the living, Hales.”

Wow. Joce must have spent time around Amanda last night as well as Thursday. They’d known each other since second grade and probably shared everything the way Haley and Christine did. But for reasons unknown, Amanda never seemed to run out of support for Haley.

She crumpled Chris’s number and tossed it into the trashcan by her dresser. She wouldn’t return to the land of the living today. Not with him, especially not with him.

Besides, Haley had to clean the house before Dad woke up. Anything to avoid a yelling fit.

She donned yellow latex gloves that stretched up to her elbows, grabbed her chemical caddy, then got to work on the small bathroom she shared with Jocelyn: soaking the toilet with bleach, scrubbing the hard water ring, disinfecting the seat with a wipe. She stuck in ear buds and listened to music to help pass the time. Haley moved on from the bathroom, swept, mopped all the floors, and vacuumed the shag rug in the den.

Yeah. Wish Amanda could talk Jocelyn into helping out around the house. Four hours cleaning other people’s shit. Four hours coming to terms with the realization that Dad would never allow Jocelyn to help. She had soccer, student council meetings, band. And what did Haley have? Pothead friends. That’s what.

How had her father morphed into this man? This monster? She missed the man from the pictures, ached for him. But Haley knew he was dead. Just like his father was dead, a man who he’d never allow the girls to be around before his accident, a man unworthy of this family’s presence.

The floorboards quaked under the weight of Dad’s steps. He drifted down the hall, the stench of body odor and liquor greeting Haley before he did, before he brushed past her without a word to go into the kitchen and make himself breakfast.

One more mess she’d have to clean.

Yeah, that man was definitely dead.

Haley returned the caddy to its place under the sink and then followed Dad’s every move, wiping the counter behind him, returning the toaster to its place in the cabinet, sticking his plate in the dishwasher. He barely glanced her way and definitely didn’t mumble a thank you, and Haley didn’t stick around and wait for one.

She hurried down the hall, grabbed some non-bleach-smelling clothes from her room, then doubled back for the bathroom to get ready for the day.

“Where d’ya think you’re goin’?” Dad asked, stumbling over his words, twenty minutes later, beer in hand, two empty bottles already on the table beside him.

Showered and dressed, Haley stopped at the screen door, hand on the frame, ready to push out and escape the closed-in space of
home
. “For a walk.”

For a walk to the cemetery to talk to Mom.

A white cable van pulled up and parked in front of the house, brakes squeaking. Of course. There were only three things Dad would spend money on: beer, cable, and Joce.

“Do you know the rules, or should I give you another reminder?” Dad didn’t bother meeting her eyes. He held the remote in front of him and pointed it at the TV, cursing at the blank screen. “Damn cable company. Better not be late this time. I don’t care if the technician was murdered. They have to have more than one employee.”

Haley glanced outside. The man rooted around the back of the van, legs resting against the bumper, upper body hidden behind the open doors. “Looks like help has arrived.”

Dad parted the curtain and squinted into the bright light of day, his hand trembling.

“I’ll see you later, and I promise to be home before curfew.” She bailed before he could say another word, hurrying each step before he changed his mind and decided she should stay home, or before the cable tech could stop and ask her any questions. Besides, she didn’t want anyone to notice the gardening tools in her grasp.

Haley preferred spending time in the cemetery at dark, but after the physical contact from Dad last night, she needed to talk, to get the pain off her chest before she screamed at someone or did something stupid, like actually call Chris Charming and take him up on his offer. Although, she couldn’t imagine jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.

“Hey.” Haley clipped off the dead heads of the mums and checked over her shoulder to make sure no other mourners were within listening distance. “Dad hit me last night. Not as hard as that one time, but hard enough. Hard enough, Mom. I know I was wrong—thirty minutes late—but for once, I wish he could remember who he used to be, what he swore he’d never become. I remember you telling me about him, how adamantly he wanted to protect this family from what his dad put him through. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. He’s dead, I realized. Long dead. Much longer than the two years you’ve been in the ground.”

A middle-aged couple cut through the jagged rows of headstones, making their way toward Haley with a fresh bouquet of pink flowers. She recognized them. They loved someone next to Mom. Someone young, the years spanning her life less than a third of Haley’s. They nodded, recognition. Pain felt lonely, but no one suffers alone. People all over the world, every second of every day, feel pain.

Haley ducked, avoiding their eyes. “Chris Charming asked me out again. He won’t leave me be. He never paid any attention when I was at DA, never. I know I was with Niles, but still, Chris didn’t even look my way. Now that I’m a loser and he’s got everything I used to have, now he, like, wants to be best friends. I told him no, of course. He probably wants to embarrass me or something; I’ve heard so many rumors.”

The woman with the graying brown hair glanced Haley’s way and frowned. She looked on with pity, pity for this poor child talking to her dead mother.

Don’t want it, lady. Focus on yourself
.

Zipping her lips, she dug small holes with a spade and planted tulip bulbs, beautiful things that would bloom in the spring, flowers that wouldn’t die in a day or two without water or proper refrigeration.

Why do people put dying things on the dead? Why don’t they plant living, growing, breathing things?

The middle-aged couple made their way back to their car, heads down and arms wrapped around each other. Finally alone, Haley leaned against Mom’s headstone and closed her eyes.

“You have to stir harder, sweetheart.” Mom held the plastic mixing bowl for Haley, smiling patiently. “The chocolate doesn’t blend into the dough on its own.”

“I’m trying, Mommy.” Trying, trying, trying to make her proud. “My arm hurts. Can we use the mixer?”

Mom shook her head, stray strands of hair falling from her messy ponytail. “No. The best things in life come to us through hard work. Think of how much sweeter these cookies will taste when you bite into one.”

“I’ll probably be asleep.”

Laughing, Mom placed her hand around Haley’s, supporting her. “If you needed help, all you had to do was ask.”

Haley startled out of her memory of Mom, chills racing along her arms, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck. She checked out the cemetery to make sure no one was watching. So many people here at this time of day. So many people whispering things, touching stones, mourning. One man looked up at Haley, then quickly bowed his head again.

She shuddered. “Time to go, Mom. Love you.”

Haley walked, walked, walked along Route 10, people laying on their horns as they passed in their cars, warnings that she was on a street without sidewalks, an unsafe place, but she didn’t care; she kept going. The trees sported bright orange and yellow leaves rustling in a gentle, warm breeze with hints of summer clinging for dear life. The grass was still emerald green here, sweeping out endlessly along rolling hills dotted with farmhouses, barns, cattle.

Upon reaching civilization again, she aimlessly walked around the Historic District of Deerfield, taking in the buildings that had withstood weather and time. She gazed at people, tourists in heavier jackets than necessary for those used to the colder climate. She inhaled the fresh smells of popcorn, of pizza, of roasting chicken, of old wood.

Sometimes, watching other people smile and go through life made Haley feel a little better.

She stopped at Richardson’s Candy Kitchen, the parking lot full of customers looking for their fill of assorted chocolates.

“Haley!” Jocelyn’s friend Amanda called, tugging her little brother Tanner along by his small hand. She wore skinny jeans and a form-hugging cream sweater, her brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail—a look she always sported when dragging her brother around.

He stared with wide, gleaming eyes at the barn-red building, biting his lower lip.

“Hey, Amanda.”

Amanda checked over her shoulder, then looked back at Haley. “You here by yourself?”

“Yep, as usual.”

“Amanda, can we go in now?” Little Tanner asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Amanda smiled, her kind brown eyes twinkling. “Want to help us pick out chocolate?”

“Sure.” Haley ran her fingers through Tanner’s shaggy brown hair. “What are you guys in the mood for?”

“Pretzels,” the boy proclaimed, jumping.

Laughing, she said, “Then pretzels we shall find.”

They pressed fingers to the glass counters of the candy shop, reading labels, taking samples, overstuffing the poor child’s round belly.