“It’s okay,” I said.
“‘And Mama was screaming, You killed him! She was crying and I was too scared to go in, because they were yelling the way Liam did. You know, how he would get crazy. I wanted to run away, but I was scared to leave Mama there.’”
Wavy stared through the dining room wall, but the rest of us watched Kellen, who put his hand over his eyes for a moment. When he went back to reading, his voice was raw.
“‘Mama was saying, No! No! And then I heard the gun. After that, it was quiet for a while. So I opened the door and saw Mama. She was on the floor with the gun in her hand, but Sean was standing over her. He told me what to say to the cops. To tell them I was alone, that nobody else was there. He made me say it over and over, so I wouldn’t screw it up. Sean said if I told anybody he was there, something bad would happen to you. That’s why I went back to the house after Sean left and took the gun. I went—”
Kellen stopped. Mom was crying again. Wavy squeezed Kellen’s arm and he said, “I don’t wanna read that part.”
“Yes,” Wavy said.
“No, sweetheart, I really don’t.”
“Please.”
After almost every sentence, I thought Kellen would cry, but he made it to the end of the letter.
“Donal says, ‘I went to the garage and I saw you and Kellen together. I’m sorry about spying on you, but I was so scared. I needed to know you were okay. If you were with Kellen, I knew you were safe. Except the cops said … he—he raped you. Maybe that was my fault, because I told the cops that I saw you on the desk in the office with him. And then after Kellen got arrested, it wasn’t safe to tell anybody. Sean always said something bad could happen to you. I didn’t know what he might do, if Kellen wasn’t there to protect you. Now that Sean’s dead, I guess I can tell you. I hope you’re really coming to visit me like your letter says. Since you’re my sister, they say I can have a contact visit with you. See you soon. Love, Donal.’”
Kellen picked up his napkin and blew his nose. He sat with his head down, until Wavy stood up and leaned over him. When he raised his head, she held his face in her hands and kissed him.
She glanced at Mom and, for a good minute, all they did was look at each other. Mom had tears running down her face, but Wavy was smiling.
“You wanted to protect me. I know. We’re going to be okay.”
“I’m glad,” Mom whispered. She actually sounded it.
The front door snapped open and Donal skulked into the dining room holding a Styrofoam cup. Fumbling in one of his sweatshirt pockets, he pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and the car keys. When he laid them on the table next to Kellen’s plate, a few coins rolled loose and fell on the floor.
“Oh jeez,” he said, seeing us all looking weepy.
“It’s okay. I think we’re done crying,” I said.
Donal reached out and laid his hand on the back of Wavy’s neck.
“Icy paws,” she said and swatted him away. For a second he cracked a smile.
Then she picked up her plate and carried it out to the kitchen. Kellen followed her with the ham platter, and Donal trailed after them.
When I took what was left of the pie into the kitchen, the three of them were standing at the sink. Donal and Wavy were both eating off her plate and Kellen was washing dishes. Seeing them next to each other, I figured out what was different about Wavy. The top of her head almost reached Kellen’s armpit. She had grown.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bryn Greenwood is a fourth-generation Kansan and the daughter of a mostly reformed drug dealer. She earned an MA from Kansas State University and continues to work in academia as an administrator. Her essays and short fiction have appeared in The New York Times, Chiron Review, Kansas Quarterly, Karamu, and The Battered Suitcase. She lives in Lawrence, Kansas. You can sign up for email updates here.