When we stepped through the door, the light immediately coming on, she pulled away from me gently. In a trance-like state, her blue eyes scanned over the foyer and the horrid wallpapered walls, the old couch, the pink shaggy carpet, and the television…a box television. The whole house was frozen in whatever my mother said the ’80s left behind. It was as tacky as tacky could be, like the house of someone’s dead great-grandmother coming back to haunt them…it was all of that and yet comfortable.
Turning to the left, she walked into the kitchen, directly toward the sink cabinet, pulling out a bottle of wine. She lifted it up, tilting her head to the side like she didn’t expect it to be there. Blinking a few times, she put it down on the counter then reached up, opening the cabinet and taking out two mugs. The first had an owl winking and the other what looked to be a drunk cat. She put them down next to the wine and put her fingers against the back of the cabinet until it opened, revealing a hole in the wall from where she pulled out stacks upon stacks of dusty bills. She didn’t stop until she had about half a million sitting on the counter. Something that would have made a normal person happy, but instead she started to tear up when she turned back to me.
“I remember now.” Her bottom lip quivered. “Everyone called me crazy, they threw rocks at me, and even my father denied it…denied that I ever met a boy in the basement of this house…that boy was you, wasn’t it? This is a safe house, isn’t it? My father hid you guys here, didn’t he…that’s why they died? Because of you…because of me?”
Before the truth came the painful removal of ignorance…my wife was living proof of that.
I’d told my grandmother we’d have to tell her the truth and lie to her. Well, the truth was my family didn’t kill hers. But they did die because of me.
TWENTY
“The future for me is already a thing of the past.”
~ Bob Dylan
IVY – AGE TEN
“Why doesn’t anyone believe me?” I yelled from in front of the house. “I do have a friend! He lives here!”
“Does not!” Rory yelled back at me.
“Does too!”
“DOES NOT!” she screamed, pushing me into the fence.
“DOES TOO!” I pushed her back and started to run. “I’ll show you!”
Climbing over the fence, I looked back over at them, but none of them were coming. “Come on!”
“No, we’re going home.” Rory crossed her arms.
“Yea! We don’t want to be seen hanging out with you.” Megan, one of her friends, along with Rachel, laughed at me, crossing their arms too.
Smiling, I put my hands on my hips. “Fine, but you have to tell everybody you were wrong.”
“We aren’t wrong. Look, it’s all dusty!” She pointed out the house behind me. “No one lives there—”
“I bet you’re wrong.”
Rory paused, thinking about it. “Bet what? Your earrings?”
My hands went up to cover my ears. “No! My mom just gave me these!”
“See, knows she’s lying.” She laughed with everyone.
“I am not!” I yelled again, stomping my foot. “Fine! I bet my earrings, but when you lose you have to say sorry in front of everyone.”
“Fine!” she yelled, climbing over the fence with the rest of them.
Smiling, I ran to the corner of the house where the window was, trying to pull it open.
“If anyone is here, why don’t you just knock?” Rachel whispered.
“’Cause she’s lying,” Rory said again, and I wanted to yell, but I pulled harder. It still wouldn’t budge.
“What are you all doing?”
They screamed, but I just turned around. There was an old man holding on to a cane with one hand, his black and brown dark dog barking at us, making them jump.
“She said a boy lives down here.” Rory pointed down at the window. “She told us to come see.”
The old man frowned. “Sorry, ladies, there isn’t any boy—”
“YES, THERE IS!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. Why didn’t anyone believe me? “He’s been here—”
“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little confused. I’d know if someone was living in my own house. I just sold it yesterday and had the whole place cleaned the day before that.”
I didn’t know why, but I started to cry.
“A bet’s a bet!” Rory reached for my ears, but I ran. I ran as far away as I could, climbed over the fence, and kept running.
IVY
I don’t know how I ended up on the kitchen floor, but I just sat there with my knees tucked to my chest. Ethan sat quietly beside me and began to confess.
“My brother, sister, and I came to Boston with my uncle Neal when I was eleven. My parents wanted us to be safe while they were handling some issues back in Chicago. However, when we got here, we were attacked. That’s how my uncle lost his leg. We came to this house in the middle of the night. It was pitch-black and they told us to stay in the rooms, stay away from the windows, and don’t talk to anyone. I didn’t listen to any of those rules,” he whispered softly, and I just squeezed my legs tighter. “Your father and another man would often sit in the kitchen or move to the living room, keeping watch. I got bored waiting around day after day, so I snuck into the basement.”
“Where I snuck off during school,” I added. I picked that place one day after seeing this fat cat fall through the window. I laughed so hard at it but went to make sure it was okay. I started to stay because I thought it was close enough to my house that I was safe and that my dad would stay away because he was allergic. “That’s when I met you.”
He nodded. “We hung out down here day after day for a week.”
“Until you just disappeared one day,” I said angrily. “I crawled inside and waited for you to come down, but you never did, so I went up, just as my father was closing the door to the cabinet. He yelled at me for being here. At first I didn’t say anything. I thought you were skipping school too. But when you didn’t come back the next day I thought something had happened and tried to ask my dad, but he said no one lived there.”
“I didn’t know it then, about the growing issues between Boston and my family,” he replied, taking my hand. “I didn’t know your father was putting everything on the line by protecting us.”
“So when I babbled about the boy in the basement—”
“Your uncle figured it out and bombed your father’s car, killing your mother.” He nodded, and I couldn’t breathe…I tried to pull my hand away, but he didn’t allow it. “He begged my parents to set it right. And we helped him kill your uncle. Cillian and Elroy killed your father in revenge and not just for that, they wanted to follow their father’s dreams, making the Finnegan family the new Callahan family. And now they want my head—”
“A…” I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. I hurt. I hurt so badly my whole body began to shake.
“Ivy!” He grabbed me when I began to choke, but I didn’t know what I was choking on, my guilt, my rage, the pain, or was it all burning me alive from the inside out. “IVY!” He grabbed the sides of my face, now kneeling next to me. “Breathe! It’s not your fault.”
It was, though! I shouldn’t have pushed! I should have kept my mouth shut. I knew my father was hiding something back then. But I just didn’t want to be called crazy anymore!
“Come on, breathe, okay? Please.” He kissed my lips quickly. “Breathe, baby.”
Inhaling and exhaling, blinking the tears in my eyes away, I tried to push away, but he held on again. He wouldn’t let me move.