Splintered (7 page)

“Yeah. Her car smells like oranges.”

“Why didn’t you ride home with George?”

“He’s sick today. Anyway, Natalie’s much prettier than George.”

Hank choked out a laugh, barely able to keep down his swallow of beer. “I gotta give you that.” When faced with the decision of accepting a ride with a twenty-year-old blonde or an overweight, middle-aged man, the choice seemed easy.

“Hank, what’s fell . . . fellatio?”

“Where the hell did you hear that?”

“Natalie told me when a girl really liked a guy, she showed it by giving him fellatio. Is that some sort of gift? Like a hamster or something? Because I know Natalie likes me. Maybe she’ll give me a fellatio tomorrow.”

“Daniel—”

“If she does, can we keep it? Can we?”

“Listen a minute, would ya? Fellatio is not an animal, it’s a blow job.”

Daniel’s eyes grew large.

Hank grew angry at the thought of the little tramp trying to embarrass his brother. He’d seen it before. A hypersexualized nymph getting a kick from priming “the retard” with sexual terms he wouldn’t understand but that she knew he would be likely to repeat. Hank would have to keep an eye on Daniel’s interest in this girl, make sure he didn’t take it too far this time.

A goofy grin spread across Daniel’s face. “That’s even better than a hamster.”

Hank clapped Daniel on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s put this pizza in the oven before the baseball game starts.”

Sitting on the couch with their full plates, Hank found it difficult to keep his mind on the Rays game even though they were winning 4–3. His mind was stuck in a loop, thinking about that little grocery store blonde sucking him off. He thought maybe he should take a trip down to Nebraska Avenue, where the prostitutes hung out, and pick up a girl willing to help him out for twenty bucks.

At the moment, Hank was between girlfriends. Truth be told, he didn’t have much interest in maintaining anything long term—he found women too demanding.

Always nagging about what they weren’t getting, always expecting to be wooed before they’ll spread their legs. Who has the time? Or the energy?

He found women his age to be master manipulators. They all seemed to either want his money or an engagement ring. And most of them weren’t remotely interested in living in a house with two men. Dating Hank was a package deal. Kind of like a two-for-one, with Daniel as the bonus.

Hank had never dated much in high school either. While his buddies were out boozing it up with girls, he had stayed at home to keep one eye on Daniel and the other on his dad. Hank never resented Daniel for it—his brother had turned out to be the only person who’d ever loved him unconditionally. Hank knew he was a hero in Daniel’s eyes. They shared a deep bond over their shared past. They knew each other’s flaws and still loved each other anyway.

He stole a glance at his brother, who was staring at the shiny box. When the TV was turned on, nothing else could get Daniel’s attention. Hank rubbed the dark hairs of his goatee, wondering again, for the thousandth time, whether he should find Daniel professional help. What Hank thought had been an innocent interest in girls seemed to have transformed over the past year.

Lord knows Daniel has lived through enough hell to need a therapist. We both have.

When they were kids, Hank tried to intercede between Daniel and their dad before the old man’s temper erupted. He would watch Earl’s face, could read it like it was a thermometer with a red line creeping up. The deep color would start at the base of his dad’s neck, and Hank knew there’d be trouble if it reached his hairline. Even the tips of his ears seemed aflame when he was in a rage.

That was the thing about Daniel—he had never been able to read their dad’s nonverbal cues. The boy would push and push until the old man exploded, turning his rage on whoever happened to be closest to him. Hank would step in the middle and force Earl’s attention away. He could take the physical pain of a beating more than he could endure the emotional pain of watching his brother take any punches.

It had always surprised Hank that no one noticed the bruises on the Fry brothers. Then again, they never went to school after the worst of the beatings. The boys grew up on a farm in Plant City, about twenty miles east of Temple Terrace. It wasn’t unusual for kids to miss class when parents needed help in the fields. The Frys grew fruits and vegetables that they’d sell at a large stand in the city. Of course, living in the strawberry capital of the world, their most profitable crop was their winter strawberries. Most of the other months were pretty lean.

So no one ever mentioned the black-and-blue marks on the boys’ arms. Although twenty years earlier society had had more of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy when it came to parenting. Neighbors didn’t stick their noses in one another’s business like they do today. Back then, parents were allowed to raise their kids how they saw fit. Nowadays, Hank knew one little swat on the butt could land a parent in jail.

On one hand, Hank wanted to get his brother help. He thought if he could keep Daniel pure and innocent, something good could come out of such a bad upbringing. On the other hand, Daniel wasn’t much for discretion. Hank couldn’t afford for all the family skeletons to fall out of the closet. Anyway, those head doctors always wanted to bring the entire family into the sessions. Wanted to “heal the whole unit,” or something like that, Hank had heard an afternoon TV shrink spouting off one day. No way in hell was Hank going to talk to some stranger about his childhood.

He could hear the snooty voice in his head saying, “Tell me about your mother.”

Hank smiled, wondering if his words would shock the doctor: “She was a coward who was happy to watch her boys take a beating if it meant her husband would leave
her
alone. The woman was pathetic and weak, and chose the easy way out. I found her hanging from the ceiling fan when I was only sixteen.”

When Lily Eastin got home, she peeked in on her daughter and found her stretched out on her bed, listening to music. Maddy noticed her and, without a word, rolled over to face the wall. Lily backed away and closed the door. After such a long day at work, she almost welcomed Maddy’s cold shoulder. She couldn’t have handled another heated confrontation, or playing another round of “Who’s the Worst Mother in the World.” It had been all she could do to make it through the day’s grind at the craft store.

Lily stretched her back, rubbing the sore muscles near her spine. The large garden bathtub in her old house would have been nice to slip into right about now. She nearly moaned at the thought of sinking into a steaming hot pool of water, her favorite bath beads filling the room with the scent of lavender. Their new house only had a tiny box of a shower to spray off in—not conducive to enjoying a long, leisurely soak. She’d have to settle for her footbath tonight.

It had been an anniversary present from Tom. A portable water basin with two open slots for her feet and a built-in massager. When Lily had opened the present, she’d feigned delight and gone on about how thoughtful it was, all the while silently wondering what had possessed him to buy such a ridiculous gift. It seemed indulgent, something she would never use. It had sat unopened until she came across it packed away in one of her moving boxes. Now she knew what kind of woman needed a footbath—one stuck working on her feet all day. One who lived in a house with no bathtub.

Lily decided to skip dinner. Her low-level nausea had turned into stomach cramps, and the thought of food made her belly seize. From the mess in the kitchen, Lily could tell Maddy had already heated up a Hot Pocket for herself. Not the most nutritious of dinners, but Lily could tell from the apple peel sitting beside the empty plastic wrapper that her daughter had at least had a piece of fruit. That would have to be good enough.

Standing at the kitchen sink, Lily waited for the footbath to fill up. Her thoughts drifted to Tom and the mess he’d left her with. The same thoughts that had plagued her all day. For some reason, she couldn’t get her mind off the merry-go-round of negativity.

I’m tired of taking care of everyone else’s needs. What about me?

Lily had no one she could turn to. She had ended up pushing all of her friends away. Instead of turning to them for support when she and Tom were having difficulties, she’d put up a wall so she wouldn’t have to admit to them that she had a less-than-perfect life. An only child, she had no siblings to call, and talking to her mother was out of the question.

She yanked the footbath out from under the faucet, barely registering that she sloshed some water onto the linoleum. She walked over to the couch, set the machine on the floor, and plugged it in. It began to hum loudly.

I don’t even have a proper bedroom to hide away in.

When Tom walked out, Lily and Maddy had stayed in the house until she realized the rent was too much for her meager earnings. All she could afford now was this place. Lily knew how hard the divorce had been on Maddy, so she gladly gave up the one bedroom. But Lily didn’t know how much more of the lumpy couch she could take. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since they’d moved in. Soon even a palate of blankets on the floor would look like five-star accommodations to her.

Not for the first time, Lily wondered what the course of her life would’ve been if she’d turned down Tom’s proposal of marriage. He’d surprised her when he bent down on one knee, asking for her hand less than a week after she’d told him about the pregnancy. Lily thought Tom truly loved her, that she’d finally found someone who would be by her side forever. But Tom had proposed out of a sense of duty. Tom’s father hadn’t been there for him growing up, and he had said he couldn’t stand the thought of his own child growing up fatherless—the irony was not lost on her now. Lily’s best friend, Emma, had begged her to wait, to see how the relationship weathered the addition of a baby before deciding.

The couple had only dated for eight months before the pregnancy stick showed two blue lines. Lily, twenty-three at the time, worried about supporting a baby on her own. Tom was financially stable and had professed his love for their soon-to-be family, something he claimed to have also always longed for. But in the end, her best friend had been right. Love hadn’t sustained the marriage. It hadn’t been enough to hold the already-splintered relationship together.

When’s the last time I spoke to Emma?

The two girls had grown up together. They were the kind of close that can only be achieved by sharing childhood experiences. Emma had always been Lily’s partner in crime. The person Lily leaned on when life got hard. They had only lived a couple of houses apart from each other, in Brandon, Florida. Just fifteen miles from where Lily now lived.

I really should let Emma know what’s going on with Maddy. After all, she is her godmother.

Lily missed her friend and thought talking to her about Maddy might be the something good that could come out of this whole situation. Maybe it could be the way back into Emma’s life. Lily strained to keep her feet soaking in the water while reaching for her purse on the floor. She hooked the strap with her finger and pulled the large bag up onto her lap. Her hands pushed aside wadded-up tissues and a near-empty prescription bottle and dug until they found her cell phone. Before she changed her mind, Lily dialed Emma’s number from memory.

“Hello?” asked a confident but quizzical voice.

“Emma . . . Emma, this is Lily Eastin.”

Silence.

“Emma, are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, but Maddy needs you.”

“What’s wrong?” Immediate concern broke through the coldness in Emma’s voice.

“Some guys . . . they tried to kidnap her.” Lily broke down crying, finally relieved to someone to open up to. She was no longer worried about appearances, or that she was gushing to a woman she hadn’t spoken to in over four years. Lily let it all out in a rush.

Emma’s voice broke through. “Lily. Lily. Back up. Tell me what happened.”

Through long pauses and more tears, Lily managed to get the story out.

“I’m so sorry, Lily. No one told me. How is Maddy holding up?”

“She’s putting on a brave face, but it’s anger that’s really fueling her, probably the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Most of the anger’s directed toward me. She’s furious because Tom walked out, and she blames me.”

“Yes, I heard about the split.”

“How?” Lily asked.

“Maddy’s good about keeping in touch. She usually calls every couple of weeks.”

“Oh yeah, right.” Lily knew her daughter still kept in contact with Emma, but Maddy never talked about it.

“I haven’t heard from Maddy in a month, though,” Emma said. “I figured she was busy with the new school year starting. I’ve been meaning to call her, but work’s been crazy.”

“I know how that is.” Lily let out a forced laugh. “We may not be close anymore, Emma, but I’d appreciate it if you could come over to see Maddy. She might open up to you. She needs someone she can confide in. I’m worried about her. Tom won’t return her calls, and she won’t talk to me. I’m public enemy number one.”

In the silence that followed, Lily thought about all the things she wanted to say to Emma but couldn’t find the courage to speak out loud. How when she was really down, memories of their friendship had helped get her through. Lily thought about all the times she would run over to her friend’s house and hide out on Emma’s lanai building forts, and how an afternoon together would often stretch into a weekend-long sleepover. Those nights were always such a welcome adventure for her. Lily and Emma would paint each other’s nails and take turns trying out new makeup styles into the wee hours of the night. When the giggling got too loud, Emma’s dad would enforce a strict lights-out policy, but even in the dark, they’d stay up braiding each other’s hair.

Lily also wanted to apologize to Emma about the angry words they’d exchanged the last time they spoke. She’d accused Emma of trying to sabotage her marriage, had said Emma was jealous because she couldn’t find a man of her own—at least not one who would stick around longer than a few months. Lily hadn’t actually meant those venomous words. She’d only been striking out, hoping to deflect some of her own pain.