Every Shattered Thing (Come Alive) (15 page)

“Absolutely.” he says.

We walk down the street and turn on to the main drag before cutting off into a side alley we sometimes go when we need to be alone. I brace myself for his reaction, but I am relieved just knowing I will be able to tell someone.

“So. Emma took me on this incredible shopping trip yesterday. I got my hair cut, and new makeup and tons of clothes. I’ve never been on a shopping trip before and I came home completely overwhelmed. It was amazing, Kevin. I even met this incredible girl, Ashlee, who has this tattoo...” I stop myself before I get too caught up in side details and try and refocus myself. “That's another story, though.”

I glance at him and he’s focused only on me. I wish I wouldn’t have to tell him this, every time I’m with him I feel as though I take some of his innocence.

“Just tell me, Stephanie.” He notices my hesitation and I smile to reassure him.
I’m still me,
I think to myself.
No matter what I’m about to tell you —I’m still me. I promise.

I take a deep breath to center my thoughts and turn back to his eyes.

“My dad went batshit crazy when I got home with everything. He hated the fact that Emma got involved and bought me stuff. He was already upset though - already drunk by the time I got home. He was waiting for me in the kitchen. Someone from USC called the house yesterday asking for me and...”

“Wait. USC? Why was USC calling you?”

I look at him, the confusion etched into his lips, one side crinkled in question.
Oh.
I remember.

He doesn’t know about that, either.

I wave my hand and dismiss it. “That's another story. Needless to say, dad was upset because USC was calling and he thought I was going to try and leave and he said there was no way he was going to let me leave as long as I...” My voice cracks and I suddenly realize just how hard this is going to be. He squeezes my hand, encouraging me to continue. I look away and complete my thought. “He isn’t going to let me leave as long as I am bringing him business.”

Kevin’s face darkens and his knuckles go white with rage. I stare at him hesitantly and finally break the gaze to study the frayed cuffs of my jeans. I’m not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting, but this is something new. I’m still getting use to someone getting upset
on my behalf.
And he doesn’t even know the half of what happened.

He lets out a long breath and stabilizes himself before talking. “What in the actual fuck?” He starts pacing up and down the alleyway and I wonder if he’ll run off. I’ve never seen anyone this worked up before. No one’s ever been angry on my behalf.

He continues his pacing, beating his fist against his hand and shaking his head, “Fuck. How can anyone...
anyone....
treat a daughter like that? I mean...shit. How can anyone treat another
human being
like that?! You aren’t something to just be sold...and wait.” He looks at me, his chest heaving. “It hasn’t happened in awhile. What makes him think business is going to slow down? It’s been stagnant for years now.”

I just look at him, tears beginning to form. He places his hands on my shoulders and asks,

“Stephanie...be honest with me here. Has your dad traded you since that night when you were twelve?”

I nod. His hands fall to my arms.

“When was the last time?”

I clear my throat and whisper, barely audible.

“Last night.”

My breath catches.
Somehow, speaking it makes it more real.

Kevin closes his eyes for awhile and leans his forehead against mine. When he finally raises his head, I see tears running down his cheeks. He grabs me and just holds me until I break, the tears flowing and my heart cracking and my body convulsing with grief.

“You have to tell Jude.”

I turn away, glancing around to see if we’re being followed. I take his hand and keep walking, still unsure where my dad’s business partners hole up during the day. They could be anywhere, watching.

The thought sends chills to the places most deadened by abuse and pain. I tighten my grip on Kevin’s hand and he stops, placing his finger under my chin.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes.” I don’t want to answer further.

“Well? Don’t you agree? Don’t you think we should get someone else involved?”

“There’s more.”

He’s confused.

“What do you mean? There’s more? More to the story?”

“I’m not the only one, Kevin.”

“What?”

His voice raises an octave, I glance down at his fists, clenched and red at the knuckles. I debate whether to tell him what I know before I decide to go ahead. He’s the only person I know who I can talk to about anything.

“I’m not the only one. I thought I was the only one. I’m not. There are more girls.”

I study my fingernails for awhile, denying the pounding of my heart any attention and imagining the pictures still under my mattress. Closing my eyes, I see Valerie’s look inside my head. Lost. Hopeless.

Despair.

“I woke up in the shed this morning.” I whisper. He walks over to me and reaches for my hand and I pull away, turning my back to him. There’s no way I can look at him while telling the story.

“The guy last night stole my clothes. I was looking for something to wear and I found pictures.

Stuck in the back of my dad’s cabinet in his shed.”

“Shit.” I turn around and see Kevin raking his hands through his hair. I raise an eyebrow and bite my lip, allowing him time to process. Allowing myself time to swallow back my tears.

“Do you think...”

My voice trails off; I’m not sure I want to ask this question. I’m not sure I want to know.

“Do I think what?” His eyes look tired, older than his years.

I stumble through my words before steadying myself.

“You know how the football players pay the cheerleaders for sexual favors?”

Kevin hesitates. “...yes?”

“Do you think there’s any way these could be connected?”

He looks at me through squinted eyes. “Steph...you think your dad could pull something that organized? This has been going on for years. Everyone knows about it.”

“But do the cheerleaders really want to? Like...do you know for sure if they actually
want
it? Am I crazy for thinking they’re connected? What if they’re part of it, Kevin?”

My questions are making him uncomfortable. He’s pacing again.

“I can’t believe this...,” he mutters under his breath.

“Kev...I know my dad. I know what he’s capable of doing and the way his mind works. I also know how easy it is to pretend you’re okay or that you even want what’s coming because it’s all you can do to survive. I think they’re connected, Kevin. I think it’s all connected. I think it runs deep.”

He looks me in the eye then, pausing his pacing long enough to see how serious I am, and hurries over to where I’m standing. He grabs my arms with his hands and looks at me and it’s only then I notice the tears still falling.

“Stephanie, you have to tell someone about this. Please. You can’t let him do this.”

My hands fly to my face and I cover my eyes.

“Kevin, who do you suggest I tell? The police? We’ve been through this. They already know.

Hell. They’re his
customers.
It would take nothing for them to turn it around on me in some twisted way.”

Kevin chews on his lip.

“What about Emma?”

“Kev...”

“Stephanie.” Kevin places his finger on my mouth. “I have said this and will say it again. You have to say something or it’s going to continue to happen. This is fucked up. People can’t just sell other people. It’s not...human. Not right. And if this whole thing is connected like you think? Shit. I mean...the douche-canoe needs to pay. People need to pay. We’re talking dozens of kids here. Not just you.”

I remember the conversation with Ashlee and I begin to wonder just how many other girls are out there, alone and hurting with no one to talk to and no one to believe their stories, believe in them. I lean my head against Kevin’s shoulder and sigh.

“What is it? Was I too harsh?”

“No.” I squeeze his hand. “I was just thinking. That girl named Ashlee? Who did my hair? She had this huge bouquet of flowers tattooed on her arm. They were in the most beautiful and delicate shapes. It was absolutely breathtaking, and so I asked her about it.”

Kevin nodded, listening.

“Well, she started telling me this story about this brothel in southeast Asia that completely strips girls of everything they have, even their name. They’re brought there to live and work. This group of guys went on some type of undercover mission to expose the trafficking and they went to this brothel. As they were sitting in the waiting room, one girl, number 146, just stared at them through the window where the girls were held. All the other girls were completely lost in some mundane TV show, looking numb and soulless. Number 146 though, she had fight left in her.” I place my head in my hands and whisper.

“Sometimes I wonder...if I have enough fight left in me to see this nightmare end.”

Kevin places his arm around me and kisses me on the shoulder. Squeezing me close, he whispers.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Away from here,” he says. “Away from those memories and away from it all.” He looks at me, placing my hand in the crook of his arm. “At least for right now.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Away from here” turns out to be splitting a burger at the drive-thru. Walking out of the restaurant, I see the sky turning colors. I feel for my phone to check the time before remembering its demise.

“It’s about 5:00,” Kevin says, watching me as he sips his chocolate shake.

“Really?”

I glance at him in surprise. I think over the day—collapsing on my bed, avoiding my mother, escaping with Kevin...and it makes sense.

“I guess today was a bit busier than I imagined.”

Kevin wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses my temple.

“Not now, Steph. Those issues can be dealt with later. Right now? You need to remember
hope
.

Come on, I’m going to take you to one of my favorite spots.”

I follow as instructed. “Where are you taking me this time? It’s too early for a midnight light show.”

He turns around and lifts his cup at me in a toast “Hope is a revolutionary patience, Stephanie.

Remember that.”

I chuckle at his platitudes. Swatting him on the arm, I raise an eyebrow, “Don't even try and claim that as your own. Anne Lamott gets first dibs.”

He laughs, surprised. “You're an Anne Lamott junky? I pegged you as someone a little more brooding...Sylvia Plath maybe?”

I stare in mock horror and brush the hair out of my eyes, “Kind sir, even though yes—I do have daddy issues—my suicidal days are over.”

I get quiet and watch his reaction. I lift my sleeve and hold out my wrists, outlining scars from my razor.

“See? Healed.” I smile and take his hand. “Besides. I like to think that all of my writings start in the same category as everyone else's. Even the brilliant ones.”

Kevin looks at me, “What category is that?”

I sigh halfheartedly, a bit disappointed he doesn’t already know the answer.

“You aren’t as much of a Lamott junky I am, I guess.”

He raises an eyebrow and plays with his straw.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you read Lamott as much as you lead me to believe, you would know everyone, even the brilliant ones, start with shitty first drafts.”

He tilts his head at me, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you ever think about words? Like, how some words seem so foreign and others...natural?”

“Explain.”

“Brouhaha. Megalomania. Chimichanga. Loofa. All of those words seem...weird. Foreign.”

Megala-what? Where is he getting this stuff from?
I smile and listen, promising myself to look up some of the words when I get home.

“So, if those words sound foreign,” I ask, “which sound natural to you?”

He thinks for a moment before answering. “Water. Phone. Ball. You know—normal, everyday words.”

“I think there’s something to be said about those ‘natural’ words only having one syllable, but I’m not sure what it means.”

Only we would be conversing about words and enjoying ourselves.

Kevin chuckles and we turn the corner, walking through a lit path of trees and bushes. I notice the greenery becoming more prevalent and the pavement becoming more scarce. Kevin stops talking and focuses intently on his steps, leading me to believe we’re almost at our destination. We reach a clearing and Kevin pauses. I look at him, shielding my eyes from the setting sun, and press my lips together in confusion.

“Is uh...this our destination?”

Kevin smiles. “Nope. But
that
is.”

He points and I follow his gaze toward the town lake and the dam blocking the city from flood waters. He starts walking again toward the dam and I follow—content to be away, if just for a little while, to forget and just be here with him.

We reach the dam and climb the stairs to the top, which overlooks the lake and the city. Sitting down on the cement wall, I breathe deep and relax. The ball of pain still still sits square in my chest, but everything seems so distant for now, so other-worldly. Smiling at Kevin, sitting down next to me, I lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

“Thanks. I needed this.”

He picks an eyelash off my cheek and holds it in front of me to blow off his finger. I close my eyes and make a wish.

For new beginnings.

When I open my eyes, the eyelash is gone. Kevin grins.

“This is my haven. I come here whenever I need to get away.”

I look at him and ask. “What do you need to get away from? You have a perfect family.”

He lowers his head and touches the hole forming in his jeans before glancing back at me, a sad smile on his lips.

“My life isn’t perfect, Stephanie. I don’t deal with what you have to deal with; I don’t have men buying me for sex against my will or a father who hits me with a fist, but I still have demons. There are still ghosts lurking around the corner threatening to take over again.”