All the Little Lights
Page 34
“Will you tell me? If that changes?” he asked, squeezing my hand.
I nodded. “Yes.”
He steadied himself and then cupped my cheeks, leaning in and closing his eyes.
I wasn’t sure what to do, so I closed my eyes, too. His lips touched mine, soft and full. He kissed me once and pulled away, smiling before leaning in again, this time letting his mouth part. I tried to mirror what he did, both panicking and melting against him. He held me while his tongue slipped inside and touched mine, wet and warm. Once the dance inside our mouths found a rhythm, I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned closer, begging him to hold me tighter. I would walk into the Juniper soon, and I wanted the safety I felt with Elliott to encompass me for as long as I could have it.
Just when my lungs screamed for air, Elliott pulled away, touching his forehead to mine. “Finally,” he whispered, the word barely audible. His next words weren’t much louder. “I’ll be on the porch swing at nine. I’ll bring some huckleberry bread for breakfast.”
“What’s that?”
“My great-grandma’s recipe. Pretty sure it’s older than that. Aunt Leigh promised she’d make some tonight. It’s amazing. You’re gonna love it.”
“I’ll bring the OJ.”
Elliott leaned over to give me one more kiss on the cheek before reaching for the handle. He had to yank twice, and then it opened.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the Juniper. It was still dark. I let out a sigh.
“Catherine, I know you said I can’t come in. Can I at least walk you to the door?”
“Good night.” I pushed through the gate, walked over the cracks in the sidewalk, and listened for sounds inside the house before opening the door. Crickets chirped, and—once I reached the door—Elliott’s car pulled away, but there was no movement from the Juniper.
I twisted the knob and pushed, looking up. The door at the top of the stairway was open—my bedroom—and I tried not to let the heaviness in my chest overwhelm me. I always kept my door shut. Someone had been looking for me. With shaking hands, I set my backpack on a dining chair. The table was still covered in dirty dishes, and the sink was full, too. Broken shards of glass were next to the island. I hurried to search the cabinet beneath the sink to get Mama’s thick rubber gloves and then fetched the broom and dustpan. The glass scraped on the floor as it swept across the tile. The moonlight peeked through the dining room window, making the smaller shards sparkle even as they were mixed in with dust and hair.
A loud burp came from the living room, and I froze. Even though I had an idea of who it was, I waited for him to make his presence known.
“Selfish,” he slurred.
I stood, emptied the pan into the trash, and then took off the gloves, stashing them back under the sink. In no hurry, I took careful steps out of the dining room, crossing the hall into the living room, where Uncle Toad sat in the recliner. His belly was hanging over his pants, barely hidden by a thin, stained T-shirt. He held a bottle of beer in his hand, a collection of empty ones sitting next to him. He’d already vomited once, the evidence left on the floor and splattered on the empty bottles.
I covered my mouth, revolted by the smell.
He burped again.
“Oh please,” I said, running to the kitchen for a bucket. I returned, placing it on the floor next to the puddle of vomit, and pulled the towel I’d grabbed on the way from my back pocket. “Use the bucket, Uncle Toad.”
“You just . . . think you can come and go. Selfish,” he said again, looking away, disgusted.
I dabbed his chest, wiping away the drool and vomit from his neck and shirt. He hadn’t leaned over in time even once.
“You should go upstairs and shower,” I said, gagging.
Quicker than I’d ever seen him move, he lunged forward, grabbing my shirt and stopping just inches from my face. I could smell the sourness on his breath when he spoke.
“You do your ’sponsibilities before you go tellin’ me what to do, girl.”
“I’m . . . sorry. I should’ve come home to help Mama. Mama?” I called, trembling.
Uncle Toad sucked bits of dinner from his teeth and then released me, falling back against the chair.
I stood, taking a step back, then I dropped the rag and ran up the stairs to my room, closing the door behind me. The wood felt cold on my back, and I raised my hands to cover my eyes. A few short breaths came and went uncontrollably as my eyes welled up with tears that fell down my cheeks. When things outside were getting better, the inside was getting worse.
My hand smelled like vomit, and I held it away, disgusted. Hurrying into the bathroom, I scrambled for the soap and scrubbed my hands until they began to feel raw, and then my face.
A creak on the stairs froze my body in place for a moment. Once the adrenaline melted away, I clumsily yanked on the faucet knobs until the water stopped before rushing to my bed to push it against the door. The stairs creaked again, prompting me to back away and stand against the far wall, trying to stop my entire body from shaking as I stared at the door. I stood silent, waiting in the dark for Uncle Toad to pass by or try to force his way in.
He climbed another step, and then another, until he finally reached the top. Uncle Toad waddled when he walked, carrying the four hundred pounds he bragged about weighing. He wheezed a few times, and then I heard him burp again before tromping down the hall to his room.
I pulled my knees to my chest, closed my eyes, and fell over onto my side, not knowing if he would come back or if someone else would end up knocking on my door. I’d never wanted to see Mama so much in my life, but she didn’t want to see me. The Juniper was a mess. She was probably overwhelmed and holed up wherever she went when things were too hard.
I wanted to call for Mama but wasn’t sure who would hear me. I fantasized that Althea would be in the kitchen in the morning, cooking and cleaning, greeting me with a smile on her face. That was the only thing that could calm me down long enough to fall asleep. That, and knowing tomorrow was Saturday—driving lessons. I had an entire day with Elliott, safe from the Juniper and everyone in it.
Chapter Thirteen
Catherine
At first the voices seemed like part of a dream I couldn’t remember, but as they got louder, I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes as the voices argued in hushed anger like my parents use to do. They were all there, the guests, some panicked, some angry, some trying to regain order.
I pushed off my mattress and padded across the room, turning the doorknob slowly, trying not to alert anyone that I was awake. Once the door cracked open, I listened. The voices were still chattering excitedly, even Uncle Toad and Cousin Imogen. I stepped out into the hallway, the cold floor burning my bare feet. The closer I came to the room where the guests had all gathered, the clearer the voices became.
“I’m not hearin’ this,” Althea said. “I said no, and I mean no. We’re not doing that to that poor baby. She’s been through enough.”
“Oh?” Duke snapped. “And what do you plan on doing when she leaves and this place goes to hell? It’s already headin’ in that direction at a hundred miles per hour. What about us? What about Poppy?”
“We aren’t her responsibility,” Willow said.
“What do you care?” Duke asked. “You’re barely here.”
“I’m here now,” Willow said. “My vote is no.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He steadied himself and then cupped my cheeks, leaning in and closing his eyes.
I wasn’t sure what to do, so I closed my eyes, too. His lips touched mine, soft and full. He kissed me once and pulled away, smiling before leaning in again, this time letting his mouth part. I tried to mirror what he did, both panicking and melting against him. He held me while his tongue slipped inside and touched mine, wet and warm. Once the dance inside our mouths found a rhythm, I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned closer, begging him to hold me tighter. I would walk into the Juniper soon, and I wanted the safety I felt with Elliott to encompass me for as long as I could have it.
Just when my lungs screamed for air, Elliott pulled away, touching his forehead to mine. “Finally,” he whispered, the word barely audible. His next words weren’t much louder. “I’ll be on the porch swing at nine. I’ll bring some huckleberry bread for breakfast.”
“What’s that?”
“My great-grandma’s recipe. Pretty sure it’s older than that. Aunt Leigh promised she’d make some tonight. It’s amazing. You’re gonna love it.”
“I’ll bring the OJ.”
Elliott leaned over to give me one more kiss on the cheek before reaching for the handle. He had to yank twice, and then it opened.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the Juniper. It was still dark. I let out a sigh.
“Catherine, I know you said I can’t come in. Can I at least walk you to the door?”
“Good night.” I pushed through the gate, walked over the cracks in the sidewalk, and listened for sounds inside the house before opening the door. Crickets chirped, and—once I reached the door—Elliott’s car pulled away, but there was no movement from the Juniper.
I twisted the knob and pushed, looking up. The door at the top of the stairway was open—my bedroom—and I tried not to let the heaviness in my chest overwhelm me. I always kept my door shut. Someone had been looking for me. With shaking hands, I set my backpack on a dining chair. The table was still covered in dirty dishes, and the sink was full, too. Broken shards of glass were next to the island. I hurried to search the cabinet beneath the sink to get Mama’s thick rubber gloves and then fetched the broom and dustpan. The glass scraped on the floor as it swept across the tile. The moonlight peeked through the dining room window, making the smaller shards sparkle even as they were mixed in with dust and hair.
A loud burp came from the living room, and I froze. Even though I had an idea of who it was, I waited for him to make his presence known.
“Selfish,” he slurred.
I stood, emptied the pan into the trash, and then took off the gloves, stashing them back under the sink. In no hurry, I took careful steps out of the dining room, crossing the hall into the living room, where Uncle Toad sat in the recliner. His belly was hanging over his pants, barely hidden by a thin, stained T-shirt. He held a bottle of beer in his hand, a collection of empty ones sitting next to him. He’d already vomited once, the evidence left on the floor and splattered on the empty bottles.
I covered my mouth, revolted by the smell.
He burped again.
“Oh please,” I said, running to the kitchen for a bucket. I returned, placing it on the floor next to the puddle of vomit, and pulled the towel I’d grabbed on the way from my back pocket. “Use the bucket, Uncle Toad.”
“You just . . . think you can come and go. Selfish,” he said again, looking away, disgusted.
I dabbed his chest, wiping away the drool and vomit from his neck and shirt. He hadn’t leaned over in time even once.
“You should go upstairs and shower,” I said, gagging.
Quicker than I’d ever seen him move, he lunged forward, grabbing my shirt and stopping just inches from my face. I could smell the sourness on his breath when he spoke.
“You do your ’sponsibilities before you go tellin’ me what to do, girl.”
“I’m . . . sorry. I should’ve come home to help Mama. Mama?” I called, trembling.
Uncle Toad sucked bits of dinner from his teeth and then released me, falling back against the chair.
I stood, taking a step back, then I dropped the rag and ran up the stairs to my room, closing the door behind me. The wood felt cold on my back, and I raised my hands to cover my eyes. A few short breaths came and went uncontrollably as my eyes welled up with tears that fell down my cheeks. When things outside were getting better, the inside was getting worse.
My hand smelled like vomit, and I held it away, disgusted. Hurrying into the bathroom, I scrambled for the soap and scrubbed my hands until they began to feel raw, and then my face.
A creak on the stairs froze my body in place for a moment. Once the adrenaline melted away, I clumsily yanked on the faucet knobs until the water stopped before rushing to my bed to push it against the door. The stairs creaked again, prompting me to back away and stand against the far wall, trying to stop my entire body from shaking as I stared at the door. I stood silent, waiting in the dark for Uncle Toad to pass by or try to force his way in.
He climbed another step, and then another, until he finally reached the top. Uncle Toad waddled when he walked, carrying the four hundred pounds he bragged about weighing. He wheezed a few times, and then I heard him burp again before tromping down the hall to his room.
I pulled my knees to my chest, closed my eyes, and fell over onto my side, not knowing if he would come back or if someone else would end up knocking on my door. I’d never wanted to see Mama so much in my life, but she didn’t want to see me. The Juniper was a mess. She was probably overwhelmed and holed up wherever she went when things were too hard.
I wanted to call for Mama but wasn’t sure who would hear me. I fantasized that Althea would be in the kitchen in the morning, cooking and cleaning, greeting me with a smile on her face. That was the only thing that could calm me down long enough to fall asleep. That, and knowing tomorrow was Saturday—driving lessons. I had an entire day with Elliott, safe from the Juniper and everyone in it.
Chapter Thirteen
Catherine
At first the voices seemed like part of a dream I couldn’t remember, but as they got louder, I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes as the voices argued in hushed anger like my parents use to do. They were all there, the guests, some panicked, some angry, some trying to regain order.
I pushed off my mattress and padded across the room, turning the doorknob slowly, trying not to alert anyone that I was awake. Once the door cracked open, I listened. The voices were still chattering excitedly, even Uncle Toad and Cousin Imogen. I stepped out into the hallway, the cold floor burning my bare feet. The closer I came to the room where the guests had all gathered, the clearer the voices became.
“I’m not hearin’ this,” Althea said. “I said no, and I mean no. We’re not doing that to that poor baby. She’s been through enough.”
“Oh?” Duke snapped. “And what do you plan on doing when she leaves and this place goes to hell? It’s already headin’ in that direction at a hundred miles per hour. What about us? What about Poppy?”
“We aren’t her responsibility,” Willow said.
“What do you care?” Duke asked. “You’re barely here.”
“I’m here now,” Willow said. “My vote is no.”
