Dylan standing in the living room with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was glaring at me like he used to glare at Raven before they got into their big brawl.
“If you want to live like a whore,” Larry said in the calmest voice, “you’ll need to live elsewhere.”
“I just went to dinner.”
“With a thug,” Mom said. “Larry is an important man in Ellsberg. He can’t have his stepdaughter acting like a loser.”
“If I move out, I won’t be able to go to college. Won’t that make me look like a loser?”
“It’s your decision,” Larry said, wrapping an arm around my mom. “You can slut around town or you can go to college. I believe in personal choice and I’m allowing you to decide what path you want to follow.”
“Aaron owns a business. His parents are members of the country club.”
“Choose,” Mom said when Larry squeezed her shoulders. “Larry could have just thrown you out, but he’s too generous for such a thing.”
Staring at the ground, I thought about how perfect Aaron was and how much I wanted him. Yet, college was my way out of a generation of poverty and dependence on men. If I gave up school, I was agreeing to give up my dreams for a man. Like so many women before me, I would give up the future for the short term chance at romantic happiness.
“I’ll stop seeing him,” I said, hating the words.
“Just in case, we’ll get those boxes for you. Dylan can pick up apartment listings tomorrow. Can’t you, son?”
“Sure,” Dylan nearly hissed.
“What do you say?” Mom asked.
“Thank you, Larry,” I mumbled, walking to my room.
The room was small, barely fitting a twin bed and dresser. It seemed smaller than usual when I arrived and shut the door. Kicking off my shoes, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. That stupid smile on my face mocked me and the tears broke free.
Raven said crying was the reason women didn’t run the world. If we could just control our tears, we’d beat men into submission. I didn’t think this was true, but I didn’t like crying.
Like we did as children, I climbed into my closet and sat in the corner. Wrapping my arms around my body, I pretended I was safe and happy. Holding the picture of me with Raven and Phoenix, I pretended I was already free of Larry, Dylan, and Mom. Most of all, I pretended I hadn’t just given up Aaron.
Crying into my knees, I remembered hiding in the closet with Raven and Phoenix back when our then stepfather would rage. I would hold my brother against me as Raven told us stories. They were all fairytales done Raven-style. Cinderella beat the crap out of her stepmom and sisters. Snow White led the dwarfs and animals into a war where she killed the evil queen. Phoenix didn’t realize the stories were different, but I loved Raven’s bloodier versions. Mostly because the nasty stepparents were always killed and I never had a stepfather I didn’t hate.
Dozing off in the closet, I imagined one day finding my way back to Aaron and telling him those stories. Maybe he could paint the stories and I could show them to Raven. In my fantasy, Aaron loved me, Raven returned to town, and I was free of Mom and her men forever.
Chapter Twelve - Aaron
Over the years, I’d tattooed plenty of quirky characters. Yet, Nick was an odd guy mainly because on the surface he seemed so normal. Most of my customers wanted cover ups for tattoos they chose while drunk. Over half came to me to put their lovers’ names on them then returned to have those names turned into something else. I just smiled at their crazy and gave them what they wanted. After all, I was an artist who actually made money off my craft. As my mom often pointed out, most artists couldn’t make that claim.
Nick was different in that he was quiet like a bookworm and scary like a thug at the same time. He came in wanting a dragon tattoo across his back. The thing was huge and pricey, but he wanted it. I told him how much it would cost and he returned a few months later with the money. Where he found the money I didn’t know or ask.
After getting a look at Nick’s back, I wasn’t surprised he took a solid beating from Cooper without falling apart. Most guys would be gun-shy after such an ass whipping. Based on his scarred back, Nick was accustomed to beatings. I also noticed he often came in bruised especially his knuckles. Again I was curious, but didn’t ask any questions.
“Lark is sweet, but you better watch out for her family,” Nick said, startling me while I worked.
Normally, the guy leaned forward against the chair, leaving his back open for me, while he read schoolwork off a laptop. He didn’t talk to me besides hello and goodbye. He was all about getting his assignments done. This was the bookworm Nick I knew. Suddenly, he was chatty about my girl.
“How do you mean?” I asked, still working.
“Her stepbrother has the hots for her. You know that, right?”