I grab a duffel bag from the storage room and start shoving things into it. When I reach for some jeans atop a pile of clothes, the distinct stench of urine hits me. I drop the pants. Seriously? He pissed on my stuff? Who does that? I tear off a garbage bag and stuff the pee-soaked things into it. What a prick.
I pack everything I don’t want ruined by Dad marking his territory again, then grab my metal box, and throw the duffel over my shoulder. With the garbage bag under my arm, I rush up the stairs. I have half a mind to retaliate. But I’m not a goddamn animal. I couldn’t get myself to pee on someone else’s stuff for anything.
I don’t bother locking the front door, just stride quickly to my car. I hope someone breaks in and steals all his shit. Would serve him right.
Jordyn flips a bitch so she’s right behind me the whole way back to her place.
“Open the trunk,” she says as I pull my bag from the backseat.
“Why? You worried I killed my dad and shoved his body in the trunk?”
“I’m offering to help you carry your stuff in, dumb-ass,” she laughs.
“Funny story . . .” And I proceed to tell her about the state of my belongings in the trunk.
“Who does that?” she says as we step through the door.
“My dad. That’s who.”
“That’s seriously messed up.”
“Welcome to my world.”
? ? ?
There’s no way Kelly and Henry can know about my pee-soaked clothes. So after finally finding a Laundromat about twenty minutes away—no one would be caught dead in a Laundromat in our pristine little suburb—and washing my things twice for good measure, Jordyn insists on driving to pick up Captain, which is fine by me. I want to be able to hold him. He’s still pretty drugged, but his tail thumps slowly against the ground when he sees me. My eyes get hot and I blink furiously.
The vet helps us load him into the backseat next to me, and then she hands Jordyn a bag of stuff—pills and bandages. She offers me a sympathetic smile before turning back to Jordyn. I hear her say it’ll be a few more days until he’s able to stand up on his own but he’ll probably still hurt too much to move. Then she says something about the possibility that he could still go into shock and die and to check for white gums and I have to stop listening.
? ? ?
After dinner with Kelly and Henry, Jordyn flops down on my temporary bed and watches me unpack my stuff.
She brushes the metal box with the tips of her fingers. “May I?”
I abandon my task and join her on the bed. Unlocking the box with the key around my neck.
She lays the pictures side by side in front of her and studies them. “I love this one.” She picks up the one of the two of us on the couch. “Look how happy you guys are. God, you look so much like her.”
“That was only a week or so before.”
She carefully picks up the razor and turns it over in her hands, searching my face. I can tell she wants to know everything. She wants to understand. That makes two of us. Still, I try.
“I was at football training,” I say. “I mean, I was always at football—practice or camp or a game or hanging out with the guys or whatever. Football got me out of the house, away from my dad. But I was at training. It was so damn hot that week. Unusually hot for June. My socks were soaked through so bad, I could feel the sweat sloshing around in my shoes. I remember my knee was kind of acting up. Coach was pushing me extra hard.
“So I slipped out to head home and grab my knee brace and some fresh socks and Advil while I was at it. I was out of Advil, so I went up to my parents’ bathroom to swipe some of theirs. I was so focused that I didn’t see her at first. When I turned to leave, that’s when I saw her in the tub. I immediately shielded my eyes because who wants to see their mom naked, but it was like I just knew something wasn’t right and I had to look. My brain took forever to process what I was seeing. I didn’t understand why she didn’t wake up when I slammed the medicine cabinet. I didn’t understand why the water was pink. I didn’t understand why her skin was so white.
“When my brain finally figured out what was happening, I threw myself at her. I pulled her up out of the bath, slipping and falling. I was on the ground. She was on the ground, like half in the bath. I held her in my arms, trying to press my hands over the wounds and dial 911 all at the same time. But it was already too late.”
Jordyn is completely still for a second, then she takes my hand and lightly touches her lips to the tops of my fingers.
“She was still warm. I wonder if I’d gone up to get the Advil first, if I’d have been able to help her. Or if I’d been home five minutes earlier, would I have been able to stop her?”
Jordyn brushes her cool hand across my cheek.
“I threw up. After I called 911, I vomited. My mom was dead in my arms and I vomited all over her,” I say, my voice cracking. “What kind of reaction is that?”
She pulls me into her and wraps her arms around me.