Mom’s eyes were on me.
I wasn’t thinking. I should have said something, defused the situation. At least greeted my Mom and Dad who I hadn’t seen since Christmas and it was now March. But instead I pulled the phone out of my back pocket, flipped it open and put it to my ear.
“Hello?”
I didn’t even hear the words, the screeching was so loud there were barely words to be heard.
But even through the phone I could feel the fury, the anguish, the blame.
“Slow down,” I said into the screeching, “what?”
“Hacked!” a voice I distractedly recognized as LeeAnne’s shrieked a word in my ear that made my chest hollow out again. “Hacked!” she repeated.
“What?” I whispered.
“His landlord was at his fucking house when I called. He fucking picked up the phone. He fucking told me he was fucking hacked up with a fucking hatchet.”
“Who?” I asked but I knew. I knew. I knewIknewIknewIknew.
“Who?” she squealed, “Pete!”
“Oh my God,” I whispered but the phone was sliding from my hand.
I didn’t drop it, Alec was there taking it from me. Then he was talking in my phone. I heard my Mom’s voice, my Dad’s, Morrie’s, Jessie’s, Joe-Bob’s, Sully’s. I felt hands on me.
Then I ran fast to the women’s toilets. Up came Meems’s muffin and the coffee I had at her place. Then I wretched more. And more. Nothing coming out but my body wanted me to expel something else. Something it couldn’t get rid of no matter how much I heaved. I felt the pain in my chest with the effort, the burning in the back of my throat, someone holding back my hair, me holding onto the toilet and heaving.
“Stop it, Feb,” my Mom said in my ear, she was close I could feel the heat from her body.
“I’ve got to get it out,” I gasped.
“Nothing else in there, honey.”
“I’ve got to get it out.”
Her cool hand wrapped around my hot forehead just like it did when I was a kid and I closed my eyes and focused on her touch.
I stopped heaving and sat back on my haunches.
“Go, Jessie. To the store. Toothbrush, toothpaste. Tell Morrie to bring some lemon-lime in here, a cold one, and a wet cloth.”
I heard Jessie move but I didn’t see her.
I saw a body by the dumpster, this time though it wasn’t Angie’s. It was Pete’s.
I hated him, he hurt me, he nearly raped me, my husband, but it was true. He proved what I suspected, that men were no good. There were good men, like Alec, who were no good and there were shit men, like Pete, who were no good. That was all I knew. I’d wanted him to heal the wound but I knew, partway in it with him, he couldn’t do that. Then I’d wanted him to numb the pain, but he’d only given me more then taken away all that I had left.
But I didn’t want him dead. Not any way but not that way.
“Feb, look at me, look at your Momma.”
I didn’t look at her, I asked, “What is it about me?”
“Honey, look at me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
Her hand came to my cheek and she tried to force me to look at her but I fought it, holding my neck still, clenching my teeth, staring at the wall.
“Honey –”
“Who’s next?”
“February, you’re scaring me,” Mom said. “I need you to look at me.”
Before I could do anything, even before I knew if I would, hands were under my armpits and I was hauled to my feet, pulled out of the stall, seeing my Mom on her knees by the toilet, her head tipped back, her eyes on some point over my shoulder, some spot higher than me.
I twisted my neck and tilted my head back too and saw Alec had hold of me.
“We need assistance here?” Sully asked, his voice nasally but the authority was still there.
I’d only ever heard that kind of authority from a cop. Teachers had a different kind. My Dad, an even different kind. Mom, even different. Teachers, Dads and Moms, sometimes you listened, sometimes you didn’t. But somehow you always listened to a cop.
“Maybe she needs to talk to someone,” Mom said, getting up slowly but I didn’t see her get to her feet.
I was jostled, brought around face to face with Alec.
“You need to talk to someone?” he asked, his body bent, his face in mine and I didn’t know what his question was about so I didn’t answer.
“Maybe she needs something to help her rest.” This suggestion came from Morrie. “She doesn’t sleep too good. Maybe we should take her to see Doc.”
“You need something to help you rest?” Alec asked like Morrie was in another room talking to Alec in an earpiece and I couldn’t hear my brother.
I didn’t answer. I just stared at Alec, stared straight into his weird but beautiful gold-brown eyes.
His hands, both of them, came to the sides of my head. His palms, so big, so warm, were at my cheeks. His fingers, so long, so strong, were covering my hair. His face, a face I’d known as a boy and I’d watched grow into a man, was all I could see.
“February, talk to me.”
I did.
But, “Alec,” was all I could get out.
Then I fell forward and did a face plant in his chest. I grabbed onto his blazer and held on.
And for the second time in two days, I cried (essentially) in Alec’s arms.
I heard Alec’s phone ring but he didn’t go for it. With my face plant, his fingers had slid through my hair and both his hands stayed where they were, curling around the back of my head, holding me to his chest.
I knew I should move away, I knew distance was paramount but I couldn’t. I was like a leech, latched onto him but instead of sucking blood, I was sucking strength.
I couldn’t talk about Pete, not even now, not with anyone, especially not with Alec. But I wanted him to know I wasn’t crying for Pete, I was just crying about Pete. No one deserved that, even though he was a dick, not even Pete.
But I couldn’t tell Alec that, or anyone.
My crying stopped but I still held onto his jacket, my face in his chest, now because I was hiding.