Chapter 59
Haley
The cutting of vegetables turns into a rote movement. The sizzle of the meat on the stove is the saving buzz that drowns out the noise from the living room and keeps me from blowing my brains out. Out of the corner of my eye, Jax drums his fingers in a heavy metal beat against his arm and gives the floor a death glare. “I can help you cut vegetables.”
Chop, chop, chop. The onions on the butcher block shape into smaller pieces. “It’s better if we keep you away from sharp objects.”
“True. Nice what your boy did at lunch today. I found an ounce of respect for him.”
I sigh loudly. West got suspended for the rest of the day over his stupid stunt with Matt. “He’ll be fighting Matt now.”
Jax grunts. “Like he wasn’t going to be fighting him before.”
“Do you think West will be ready?” Because I sparred, Jax and Kaden have upheld their end of the agreement and have been helping me train West. Jax has been working with him on boxing and Kaden on grappling.
Jax has that thoughtful-owl look again. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s got raw talent, but he’s just that—raw. Plus he’s got a hell of a temper. You’ve gotta tell him to control it.”
“I have.”
“Then tell him again.”
My uncle’s voice rises. “...biggest screwup on the planet...” Jax’s mom hums a church hymn louder from her forever sanctuary in her bedroom. She’s mending something...again.
I pour more oil into the skillet, so the hissing sound of the fryer will mask listening to my uncle berate my younger cousin for walking into the house with dirt on his sneakers.
“It could catch fire if you do that,” Jax says. Our eyes meet and an insane spark of hope stirs within me and the sad part is the same delirium burns in Jax’s eyes.
“The Red Cross gives shelter to people whose homes burn down.” I return to the vegetables. “In small disasters they often give hotel rooms. Sometimes multiple rooms depending upon the size of the family.”
“Interesting. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The more time I spend in this house, the crazier I become. The aura of my uncle is embedded in the paint in the walls, a fine layer on the floors, hanging from the ceiling. It lurks and consumes and digests. Sometimes I find myself wishing he’d choke while he eats, fall asleep at the wheel or just drop dead.
I toss the onions into the hot oil. “I think I’m becoming evil.”
“It’s the house. If we survive until we graduate from high school, everything will be fine.”
Mom walks into the kitchen with Maggie on her hip. Music blares from the earbuds stuck in my sister’s ears. Even though my sister is eight, she clings to my mother like a toddler. Maggie isn’t immature; she’s afraid of evil. She should be scared, instead of being numb like me.
My mother settles Maggie into a chair. “Have you seen your father?” In her jeans and black Roadhouse shirt, she’s seconds away from stepping out the door to start her second job.
After my acceptance to the University of Kentucky, he’s been akin to a ghost. One more thing I’ve screwed up. “He’s probably still at the library. Dad’s really trying for a job.”
Mom sucks in a breath like she’s going to talk, then stops before slipping paper and crayons in front of my sister. “Please take care of Maggie while I’m gone.”
Jax snatches a piece of raw potato. “With my life.”
“Making sure she doesn’t hear yelling, eats her dinner and goes to bed will suffice. I’m hoping none of you will be reduced to life sacrificing.”
Jax chuckles. “Just saying.”
“You’re a good boy.” She pats Jax on his arm. “And you’re one of Dad’s favorites.”
Jax pops the potato wedge into his mouth and the grin on his face speaks volumes. Mom kisses his cheek, my cheek, then Maggie’s and is out the door. Somehow the room loses warmth.
“You know I’ve seen your dad a couple of times up at the strip mall.”
The knife in my hand pauses. “He’s probably wasting time before the bus shows.”
“He could be going to the bar.”
I viciously slice through another potato. “Have you seen him there?”
He’s silent as the blade of the knife thumps into the wooden board with each stroke.
“We don’t have the money for it,” I say. “And Dad doesn’t drink. At least not like that.”
“Beer at the bar is cheap.”
I slam the knife down and round on Jax. “My father wouldn’t give up.”
“Not the enemy.” He picks up my sister, who sits staring at us wide-eyed. “Come on, Mags. Let’s hide in the basement.”