Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Mom, don’t. You didn’t do anything.”
“I just…” She pulled in a ragged breath, then pressed a kiss to the top of Arlo’s head. “I wish they’d let me go home today. I’m fine. Really.”
They’d held her for observation since he’d given her a concussion.
“They said you can be discharged tomorrow.”
“Just want to be able to bill us more,” she grumbled.
I sank into the chair at her bedside, clasped my hands, and leaned over my knees, staring at the hospital tile.
Before I left the jail this morning, Officer Robins had helped me fill out a temporary restraining order--the guys at the precinct were all too aware of the shitshow that went on at my house, and I couldn’t just let her stay in this mess. I couldn't let Arlo stay in it. Because what would happen when I eventually left?
I stopped by the family court and dropped off the paperwork after I picked Arlo up from the park, and part of me thought I should tell Mom, but then, I knew I needed to tell her that when Arlo wasn’t around.
“Grandpa’s coming up,” I said.
“Yay!” Arlo clapped. “Pop-Pop’s coming.”
“Dad? You called him?”
“Yeah. I don’t want you staying at the house alone.”
Mom drew in a heavy breath.
All these years, she’d never breathed a word to him. Had made me promise I wouldn’t tell, because Grandpa was bat shit crazy.
I’d listened to her back then because I was a kid, and that’s what kids do--listen to their parents even when they know it’s wrong.
I wasn’t a kid anymore, though. And someone had to take care of her.
After we left the hospital, I swung by Home Wares and grabbed locks for both the doors, changing them before I made dinner, then made Arlo get ready for bed.
A peaceful silence hung over the house without the hum of a baseball game in the background, or the constant creak of Dad’s recliner. And maybe that’s why Arlo snuck into my room at one in the morning. It was too quiet. We didn’t know how to handle peace.
He crawled into my bed, tucking Spike between us on a huff. “Are they gonna get divorced?”
The chirp of crickets outside my window filled the silence of the dark room. “Yeah.”
Arlo knew Dad was mean, but he was still young.
I could clearly remember being his age and loving my Dad, even after he’d hit me. I spent years trying to figure out why I sought out his approval. Why I loved someone who hated me. I’m not even sure when the need to love him morphed into rage-filled hate.
“Does that mean I have to go stay with him sometimes?” Arlo whispered. “Billy has to go stay with his daddy every other weekend, and I don’t want to stay with Daddy without you.”
I turned on the pillow to face him.
He petted over the unicorn, refusing to look at me. With a restraining order, he wouldn’t get visitation, and even if he tried, there was no way in hell I’d let Dad win anything but supervised visitation. With any luck, he’d be serving a couple of years in jail anyway.
“No. You’re not gonna stay with him. Don’t worry about that, okay?”
He nodded, then grabbed my arm and tugged on it in a silent plea for me to let him on my chest.
I wrapped my arm around him and patted his back. “It’s gonna be different from now on. I promise.”
* * *
I put the last coat of paint on the living room wall and stepped back on a smile.
The places where I’d mudded the holes weren’t even visible.
Wiping the paint over my jeans, I snagged the bucket and brush, and headed onto the back porch to clean up.
I’d spent the last day patching holes and cleaning up the shit my dad had broken in the middle of that scuffle. The coffee table broke in two when he threw me into it, but I went by the Salvation Army and found one I thought she’d like for ten bucks.
The back door banged against the side of the house when Arlo sprinted out, wielding my phone above his head. “Baby Girl’s texting you!” And that was weird coming from my six-year-old brother.
Baby Girl: When are you coming back to school?
I stared down at the message and smiled.
Me: Don’t know yet
Me: Come over?
Baby Girl: I can’t drive my car. Dad’s threatening to check my mileage now.
Me: I’ll come get you
I just wanted to see her. Bad. It had only been a few days, but I couldn’t stand it any longer.
Baby Girl: Just come over here
Me: I have Arlo
Baby Girl: Bring him
Baby Girl: Don’t park your car on the drive though. My dad likes to appear like a freaking genie
I shoved my phone in my pocket, then slung the water from the paintbrush. “You wanna go to Drew’s after dinner, Arlo?”