When To Let Go (4 page)

Ten-year-old Violet watched Parker slam a car door shut. He didn't acknowledge the woman behind the wheel as he walked away and entered the garage, nor did he greet Violet. He went straight for the tools, getting the ones he needed.

Violet examined the woman in the car as she turned it around to leave. She had to be out of high school or close to it.

Violet didn't understand what all these women saw in a fourteen-year-old boy. She had asked Wesley about it but he refused to talk to her about what they did with him.

There were only two things Violet had learned over the past two years of hanging around Parker: one, he always looked like he’d just left a fight – today was a good example of that as his left eye was bruised over and he had a limp to his walk, and second, he knew
a lot
of women. Every day, an hour or so after school ended, one dropped him off so he could work on the car with her until one of his moms came and got him.

She never asked him about it and he never explained. That was the way of their relationship: not much talking and a whole lot of fixing. Thanks to him, her car was actually starting to look like one.

She didn't know what he got out of helping her. She had explained early on that it was her car,
hers,
no matter how much time he put into it.

Parker didn't care, he said cars relaxed him, made him “forget shit.”

Sometimes Violet wished she knew what “shit” he was trying to forget. She found herself wanting to know about him as the years passed. He still caused her aunts a lot of grief; however, she didn't hate him as much for it anymore. Spending so much time together (despite not much talking going on) had formed a bond between them.

Violet hopped onto the counter next to Parker to see what he was tinkering with.

“Don't give me that look,” he grumbled, remaining focused on his task.

“What look?”

“Like you're judging me. I get enough of that shit. I don't need it from you too.”

Violet wasn't judging, she was only curious, “Why do you get in so many fights?”

“I like it. Otherwise the anger gets to be too much.”

“It scares your sister,” Violet pointed out, having watched her cry to Maggie and Wes about it.

He sighed, “I know.”

She liked watching Parker with his sister, it was the only time she got to see a softer side to him.

“How do you have so many friends?”

Parker looked up with an arched eyebrow, “What friends? You're pretty much the only one I've got, and this is about our fifth-longest conversation.”

She liked that he thought of her as a friend. Kids at school didn't like her much because she always spoke her mind. She wasn't the type of girl who was going to tell another girl she liked her new shoes if she thought they were ugly. “Don't ask a question if you don't want to know the answer,” that's what her dad always said.

“What about all those women who drop you off?”

Parker smirked, shaking his head, looking back down at his tinkering hands, “They aren't my friends.”

“Oh,” Violet frowned, swinging her legs back and forth, making them hit against the cabinets underneath. “So what do you do with them then?”

“I fuck 'em,” he casually stated, reaching across the counter for a new tool.

Her mouth dropped open (not from his language, she was used to his swearing), “That's a lot of women.”

He smirked again, using the new tool, “Yup.”

“Do they know how young you are?”

“I don't think they really care.”

Violet thought that was sad. Her parents had already told her and her siblings about sex. They said it should happen between two people who care for one another and respect each other. She informed Parker of this and he laughed.

She didn't understand what was so funny.

“Do you love them?” As soon as she asked, her stomach knotted the same way it did right before a test she was nervous for.

Parker remained laid-back and uncaring like he always did, “I don't believe in love.”

Violet didn't believe him, “Who doesn't believe in love?”

“People who are smart,” he responded, pointing a wrench at her as though this was a lecture. “It's just something people made up in order to explain their lustful behavior.”

“What does lustful mean?” Violet had never heard that word before.

“It means you think you want to fuck them. Repeatedly,” Parker explained, still talking to her as though he was far wiser. “When the lust is gone, so is the supposed love.”

Violet thought that wasn't a very good answer, “My parents love each other. Your moms love each other.”

“They're not my moms,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. They fed him, clothed him, took care of him, loved him when he was being a “little shit” as her dad liked to say. That sounded like a parent to her.

“Your parents just haven't stopped lusting after each other yet,” he informed her, thinking that their four year age separation made him far more knowledgeable.

That got Violet thinking. Her parents
were
always kissing (which still grossed her out), “So when I'm your age I should just have sex with everybody?”

Parker's head shot up, rushing his words out, “No! Don't have sex at all, like ever. You'll hate it. Tell Ava that too.”

“Why do you keep doing it then?”

Parker shrugged, “I like the control.”

That didn't make any sense to Violet. She wanted to ask him more about it, but he turned up the radio and left to work on the car.

Later that night, Violet helped dry the dishes even though it wasn't her night. She wanted a chance to talk to her dad in private.

“Parker said love doesn't exist.”

Her dad kept scrubbing a pan, “Yeah? What else does Parker say?”

She continued to dry off the same glass she had been working on, “That love is just lust in disguise.”

Her dad stopped scrubbing for a fraction of a second, “Do you and Parker talk about this kind of stuff a lot?”

“No, we hardly ever talk,” she answered, putting the glass away. “I just wanted to know about the girls who drop him off.”

Her dad stalled again, elbow deep in dish soap and murky water, “Did he tell you about them?”

Violet knew better than to repeat what Parker had said (she wasn't allowed to swear. Her dad had made that clear every time he had said a bad word). However, she still answered truthfully, “Yes.”

Violet watched the way her dad's face hardened, “I think maybe Parker's too old for you to be hanging out with.”

“What?!” Violet yelped, almost dropping a dish, “No! If I can't work on my car with Parker I'll just die, Dad! I will just
diiieee
! I swear it.” She truly believed she would. The car would never get finished without his help.

Her dad laughed, the deep belly one that she loved so much. “Well, how about you two just stick to talking about cars, alright?”

Violet vigorously nodded her head, “'Kay.”

He nudged her with his elbow, “And don't believe what Parker said is true. I used to think it wasn't real either.”

Violet perked up, “And now you do?”

He grinned, staring off to where his wife was helping Maggie with homework, “Now I
definitely
do.”

Violet beamed up at him. She knew her dad would make things better.

He winked back at her, ruffled the top of her hair with his soapy hand, and continued with the dish cleaning.

Violet didn't think she would ever find a boy she loved more than her dad.

Violet didn't understand the silent treatment Parker was giving her the next few days. He wouldn't even look at her, moving away any time she got near.

She finally had enough of it, “Why are you mad at me?”

“I'm not mad,” he huffed. “I just can't trust you not to blab to your dad about what we talk about.”

Violet folded her lips in.

Parker noticed, “You
should
feel bad. He threatened me the next day with things I won't repeat – I don't want you having nightmares. It was basically about us sticking to car talk.”

“He wouldn’t
really
hurt you,” she rejected.

“Yeah, Violet. I think he fucking would. Your dad's a scary bastard.”

“He just looks scary,” she explained, repeating what her mom always said. “He's really a big 'ol softie.”

“To his wife and kids,” Parker specified. “To a fourteen-year-old boy who was talking about sex with his ten-year-old daughter he's not. He almost made me piss my pants.”

“He did not!” Violet said with a giggle, thinking the idea of Parker wetting himself over a talk with her dad was funny.

He grinned at her, appearing more amused by it after watching her reaction, “I swear it. He had me pinned to the wall by my neck right before he told me what he'd do to me if anything
except
cars was ever said in front of you. I've never been so scared in my life.”

“My dad did that?” Violet truly believed her dad couldn't hurt a fly (with the exception of the occasional spider that scared her sister or mom, but that was in self-defense).

Parker shook is head, rolling his eyes, “I can't believe how much you and Maggie think he walks on water.”

“He can't walk on water,” she informed him. “He's just really tall so he's always super high above it.”

Parker laughed hard at that.

Despite Noah Baxter's warning, after that day the two talked more and more. About anything and everything. Some days it was about what frozen yogurt toppings were the best, while others were spent discussing important philosophical questions like if Bigfoot was ape, human, both, or an entirely new species yet to be discovered.

A few months later Parker got dropped off by a woman who looked as old as Violet's grandmother.

“Gross,” she couldn’t help mutter under her breath.

Parker flipped the older woman off. The woman didn't seem to notice, too busy applying her lipstick in the rearview mirror.

His hands balled into fists as he stormed into the garage, the car already driving away.

“Fucking bitch,” he growled to the room.

He went to the dry wall of the garage and started punching it repeatedly. “I wouldn't”-punch-“have let”-punch-“her”-punch-“touch”-punch-“me”-punch-“otherwise”-punch-“fucking”-punch-“pedophile”-punch-.

“Parker, stop!” Violet shouted, grasping his other arm, “You're going to break your hand.”

He didn't seem to care.

His behavior seemed like more than anger to her, but she was ten so what did she know.

He roared out his frustration as he switched hands. The other was oozing blood over the entire fist.

Violet didn't know if she should go over to the tracks and find an adult to help.

She thought about going to get Wes or Maggie; unfortunately, Xavier's mom had taken them, along with Ava, to the movies.

She ran inside, getting a few hand towels and a warm bowl of water.

Back in the garage she found Parker throwing things.

“Stop it!” She screamed louder than she thought her voice capable.

It worked. He paused right before swinging a mechanic stool. His chest was heaving and his skin was redder than when Maggie had lied to their mom about putting on sunscreen and spent all day in the water without it.

It terrified Violet.

She couldn't stop the tears from falling even if she wanted to.

This time her voice was barely a whisper, “You're scaring me.”

Parker's face crumbled along with his body. His knees hit the concrete with a hard thud, his body curling over to cradle his head.

Violet slowly inched closer as though he was a wild animal. When she was close enough she grabbed hold of one of his hands, sitting down on her knees. She began cleaning off the blood and wrapping the knuckles in one of the clean cloths.

Parker watched. Eventually his breathing began sounding normal.

As she was halfway through with his other hand, they switched to sitting cross-legged.

Tears slipped down Violet's cheeks as she remained focused on her task.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, wiping them away.

Violet didn't know how to respond, so she didn't.

“I had a friend at my last foster home,” he explained, swallowing. “He was really more of a brother. I didn't know I was getting adopted so I never got to say goodbye. I tried calling him a couple weeks after but he was gone from the place we shared. Nobody would tell me where he went. I couldn't find him, Violet,” he choked on the last sentence. “He and Ava are the only family I ever knew, and he's out there. Alone. Without us. He has issues and I'm afraid of what others will do to him when they find out. He's not the type to fight back, he just takes it.”

Parker paused, seeming lost in the way Violet wrapped his knuckles.

Violet didn't speak, hoping he would keep going. That seemed to always work when her mom was comforting her father.

“I kept trying to find him, but I couldn’t,” Parker revealed, almost as an apology. “That woman works with my old social worker. She promised she'd get me the information. In return she needed a few things from me. I never would have let her touch me otherwise, Violet.” His head fell back into his hands, mumbling into them, “I never would have touched her.”

Violet remained quiet, chewing on her lips and trying to figure out a way to help him. She was in this now. She had to help him find his friend. It was obviously causing him a lot of pain and she didn't want him having to do whatever he did for that woman again, because she wasn't too young to know what
it
was, and
it
was wrong. Very wrong.

“Why couldn’t your old foster home tell you were he went?” She asked.

“Oh, they could,” Parker replied with bitterness. “But they're a bunch of dicks who won't say, only because they can.”

Violet frowned, “Well, that's not very nice.”

She was happy to see Parker grin, “It's not very nice is it?”

She shook her head, “Nope.”

His grin got wider and it helped Violet relax.

“What happened to him?”

“He got caught stealing car parts and landed in juvie. I'm worried about him, Vi,” he stared off at a space behind her. “He won't have a window to open at night. He needs windows to be open. What if his room is really small?”

Violet didn't understand why these things mattered, but she didn't ask.

“I can't even go and check in on him.”

“How come?”

“I have no money for a bus ticket to get me there. It's over a day’s travel.”

“I bet your moms would take you,” she suggested. They were cool like that.

“Maybe, but then Ava would want to see him too. There is no way I can take her. What if he's not okay? She wouldn't be able to handle it.”

Ava
was
sensitive. Seeing another person get a paper cut hurt her just as bad. Plus, Violet knew Wes would insist on going too. He considered himself Ava's personal protector and never left her side. Wesley sometimes called her “his.” Violet thought that was weird, and Maggie didn't like that very much either. She said Ava was
her
best friend. Their mom got mad at them when they fought over her.

“I have money,” Violet offered. She'd been saving her money ever since she got her baby, knowing it would cost a lot to fix.

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“It feels wrong to take your money.”

“I'm not giving it to you, silly. It's a loan.”

His clear blue eyes that were normally hard, softened, “You would do that?”

At that moment Violet knew she would do anything for Parker. Of course, she wasn't stupid enough to tell him that. She just nodded her head yes.

Before either of them knew it was happening, Parker leaned over and kissed her. It wasn't the kind of peck she gave her mom or dad. This one lasted longer and put butterflies in her tummy.

Her eyes remained closed even after their lips parted. She always thought it was gross when she saw Wes do that to Ava. Not anymore. She wanted Parker to do it again and again.

She slowly opened her eyes.

“Don't tell anyone I did that, okay?” His eyes pleaded with hers, “Your dad would kill me and then we'd never get to hang out anymore.”

Violet didn't want that either. Next to her mom, dad, and siblings, Parker was her favorite person to be around.

Violet only nodded, still a little dazed from experiencing her first kiss.

The next day she handed over the money and a few days after that Parker was gone.