Dreaming of Antigone (14 page)

“Nothing. Craig has been calling, wanting the rest of his things. I'm just not in the mood to deal with him right now.”

“How is Sophie doing?”

“She's fine and she'll be happy to see you. She curled up at the foot of your bed as soon as I got her home.”

My phone vibrates against my belly and I jump a little. I take it out to read three little words that mean everything to me:
Miss you too.
It takes everything I possess not to make Mom turn the car around and search the school for Alex. He misses me. I have to be content with that for the moment.

 

Sophie jumps up, wagging her tail like a puppy as soon as I open my bedroom door. I drop to the floor and give her a hug, thankful that she's okay. “It's you and me, girl,” I whisper into her fur. Ugh, she smells like the clinic. Like medicine and urine. Like hospitals and death. Before I start on any homework, she needs a bath.

I find her lavender-scented dog shampoo out in the garage and bring it up to my bathroom. Mom has kittens when I bathe Sophie in my tub, but it's too cold outside for a bath. I hope I can bathe her and clean the tub before Mom notices. I won't be able to sleep tonight if I can't get the smell of sickness off her.

Alex said he misses me. I keep telling myself I'm content with that, but it's not contentment that warms the space inside my rib cage with fluffy bunny feelings. I think it's something more than that. And I think I want something more than contentment from him as well.

CHAPTER 22

I wash and dry Sophie off, then have to take a shower myself to get the veterinarian smell off me. When we are both feeling pretty and daisy fresh, I attach her leash to her collar and take her outside for a walk. The vet told me to keep up her exercise, even if we can't do the five- or seven-mile walks we used to do. Sophie's tail wags hopefully as I get her ready for an outing.

I tell Mom where we're going and reassure her that I have my phone on me. “Be back before dark,” she says, kissing me on the forehead.

Now I smell like her perfume. I feel like I need another shower.

“I was thinking we could go to the movies tomorrow night and have dinner at your favorite Japanese place?”

Now is the right time to bring up the AA meeting, which is also tomorrow night. But I chicken out. And Mom needs me just as much as Alex does. “Sounds like fun.”

She beams, and I feel like I've made the right decision. “Great!”

Sophie is tugging on her leash, so I let her outside and she pulls me toward the sidewalk. She loves our walks. She's a well-behaved husky who likes receiving attention from our neighbors. But it's getting close to dinnertime, so her favorites aren't outdoors to wave to her or offer her treats.

We start off briskly toward the main road, and Sophie is all no-nonsense. She doesn't stop to sniff mailboxes or pee anywhere. And then we get to the end of our dead-end street, and she starts pulling north. I'd planned to go south, toward Hydrangea Lane, but she has other ideas.

Pine Street is north of us. Where the Hammonds live. Sophie knows my heart better than I do. Or she has an evil, twisted mind and enjoys seeing me suffer. I'd like to think otherwise.

We turn down Pine Street. It's not like I expect to see him in his front yard. It's not like I plan to ring his doorbell and run away giggling like a twelve year old. I don't plan to do anything. We're taking a walk. Me and my dog. Enjoying the fresh air.

Alex lives five houses down from the end. The one directly behind our house. It's a beautiful two story that was built in 1905 and is on the historical register. I've always loved the broad porch that wraps around the front and side. The garage is a separate building that was added on recently.

There's music coming from the garage. Sophie's ears prick up, and she glances toward the sound of guitars. Calcifer is practicing again.

I hear Thing One's angry voice singing a song I recognize from the radio, though I don't know the band's name. Hank loves the angsty grunge rock groups of the nineties. Alex and Caleb have always been more eclectic in their tastes. I've heard them play Beatles songs, and I've heard them thrash out to Lady Gaga.

The garage doors are open, and I pray Sophie walks fast enough that we pass by the Hammonds' without being noticed. The street is lined with old oak trees with low-hanging branches, and it would be difficult for someone in the garage to see a person walking down the shady street.

But Sophie barks when she hears Hank's feral guitar solo. And suddenly the music stops.

Oh dear lord. I give her leash a little tug and say, “Come on. You were the one who wanted to walk on this street.”

Alex comes down his driveway, twirling his drumstick in his hand. “She looks great! Did she come home today?”

I nod as he bends down to scratch her under her chin. Sophie rolls over and presents her belly to him. “The band sounds great.”

He looks up at me, and for the first time in months, I see a real Alex Hammond smile. His eyes have a sparkly look that wasn't there before. “Want to come listen? Will Sophie mind?”

His smile dazzles me, and I can't think or speak coherently for a moment. “I don't think she likes Hank's guitar. And I promised Mom we wouldn't be gone long.”

I want to ask him about his AA mentor, and I want to ask when he plans to go to another meeting. But he looks so happy playing with Sophie. And Sophie is eating up the attention. I can't bring myself to talk about serious things and spoil the moment.

“Pluto!” Hank shouts from inside the garage. “Quit flirting! You can hook up on your own time, man!”

Alex sighs and straightens back up. His blue eyes aren't quite so sparkly anymore. “Bye, ladies. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“It looks like you're having fun. That's a good thing.” I want him to know that I want him to be happy. That it's okay after all the shit we've both been through, that it's okay to be happy. “See you tomorrow.”

Just as he turns back toward the garage, an orange El Camino pulls up along the street, its engine rumbling ominously.

The sparkle has completely disappeared from Alex's eyes as he glares at the vehicle. “You should probably go ahead with your walk, Andria.”

Mike gets out of the car. Iris and Alex's drug dealer. Sophie feels the sudden tension surrounding her and growls softly. Alex reaches back down to reassure her, but she slinks closer to me.

My chest feels hollow inside, all the fuzzy, warm feelings completely drained out. I glance back up at Alex. His body is rigidly tense now, and the pain is back in his eyes. Mike is the one that can fix that pain for him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alex asks him.

“Been forever since I've seen you, Pluto. Missed you, friend.”

“Sorry, but I haven't missed you. You need to leave. Now.”

“Don't be so inhospitable. Your boys up there called me.” He nods toward the garage. “Unless you need something too.” Mike looks Alex up and down. “You look like you definitely need something. You are about to come apart, friend.”

Alex does look like he's about to explode. The drug dealer knows how to read people. I'm almost in awe of him.

Almost.

“Let's go, Soph,” I say quietly, and she quickly obeys. She is back in Seizure Guard Dog mode, ready to protect me.

“Hello, Beautiful,” Mike says, looking me up and down. “You look like you could use a little something too. The world is too full of sadness. You don't need to suffer, though.”

Sophie doesn't growl, but she knows I'm tense. The fur is standing up on her back. She keeps her eye on Mike.

“Leave her alone,” Alex says. “Andria, go home.”

I really don't like the way he's ordering me around. I was leaving anyway. But the rebellious, stubborn toddler inside me balks.

“Pluto!” Hank shouts again. “Quit pissing around! You and Mike need to come inside!”

Alex shakes his head. “You're leaving,” he tells Mike. “Now, before I call the cops.”

Mike grins and holds his hands up. “No need to get hostile, friend. Just tell Hank to come out to the car and check out my cookies.” His smile is almost perfectly innocent. “Made a new batch, especially for him. But I'm sure he'll share with you if you're interested.”

“Not going to happen,” Alex says. He pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket.

“Okay!” Mike says, taking a step backward. “Jesus. Just tell Hank I'll see him at Nona in an hour. I'll be waiting there with his cookies.”

That was my favorite restaurant. Was. Now I won't be able to enjoy it, knowing Mike uses it to sell his . . . cookies.

My stomach twists into knots as I remember it was Iris's favorite restaurant too. I guess it wasn't because she loved the eggplant parmesan as much as I do. Dammit, why do my sister and her drugs have to ruin everything?

“Calling 9 . . . 1 . . . 1 . . .” Alex says, pressing numbers on his screen.

“Leaving right now,” Mike says, opening his car door. He gets in and starts his engine. “See you around, Beautiful,” he says to me with a grin.

Alex holds his phone up to his ear until Mike drives off. But he never does call. As soon as the El Camino is around the corner, Alex slides his phone back in his jeans.

I turn Sophie around and tell her, “Come on, let's go home.”

“Wait,” Alex says. “I should probably walk you back, in case Mike tries anything.” He sighs and runs his hands across the top of his head.

I wait, watching him. Sophie is being exceedingly impatient.

He takes a step back and looks toward the garage. “Or maybe Caleb should walk with you.” He's torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to protect himself. He thinks he should stay away from me. Like I'm just as dangerous to him as the drug dealer.

“I'll be fine.” I jerk the leash. “Come on, Soph.”

And he doesn't say anything. No protests, no running after me. I walk away and don't look back. Maybe I am just as dangerous to him as Mike. Because I could make him happy, a real danger to his brooding and self-blame.

Sophie senses my urgency and trots briskly back to Azalea Cove. There's no sign of Mike. He's on his way to the restaurant and has money to make.

Mom is pulling a lentil casserole out of the oven when we get home. “Just in time,” she says. “How is Sophie doing?”

“Much better. She enjoyed our walk.” I'm glad Mom decided to cook tonight. It's been a while since she made us a home-cooked meal. I was worried she'd want to go out again. Possibly for Italian.

I hang Sophie's leash up and head to the bathroom to wash my hands for dinner. My phone vibrates. I pull it out of my pocket and set it on my dresser, the screen facing down. If it's Alex, I don't want to know. If it's not Alex, I don't want to know that either.

Mom is sitting at the table, twisting a wine glass by its stem. She has been drinking an awful lot of wine lately. Not that I catch her all the time, but I've seen far too many empty bottles in the recycling bin since Craig was arrested.

“How was your day?” she asks me.

“Fine. How was yours?” She's already fixed my plate: a sweet potato and yellow lentil casserole with warm flat bread on the side. It smells spicy.

“Good. Tell me if you like this meal. It's an Ethiopian recipe I found online.”

“It's yummy,” I say, trying a bite.

Mom stares at the curtains. She's not touching her food. “Don't you like it?” I ask, between shoveling spoonfuls into my mouth.

She sighs. “I've been thinking how much sadness there is in this house. Maybe we should move.”

My spoon falls from my hand with a heavy clang. “Why? There's sadness everywhere, Mom. Sad things happen to us.”

She smiles. “It does seem like we're cursed, doesn't it? First your dad, then Iris. And now the problems with Craig. Not to mention your seizures.”

“My seizures aren't a curse. They're just something I live with. Like my black hair.”

Mom's smile never breaks, but it grows brittle. “But you shouldn't have to live with them, dear. You deserve to be happy.”

I want to growl but settle for pushing my plate away. She can't just wish away my seizures. She's always seen them as something that reflects on her personal failure as a mother. That obviously I won't ever be happy because I have epilepsy.

“And I deserve to be happy,” Mom continues, draining her wine glass. “I think a new start in a new place would make me happy. My grandmother always used to say you should follow your bliss.”

Mom's grandmother was from Greece, and she also used to say, “I will drink your blood!” when she thought someone had wronged her. She was a little crazy. Whether my mom and I deserve happiness or not, I don't think running away is going to help us find it.

Besides, moving would be like abandoning Iris's memory. This is where we grew up. There won't be any memories of her at a new house.

Maybe that's what Mom wants, though. She doesn't want to be haunted by images of Iris's abuse at Craig's hands. But leaving the house behind would just feel like pretending it didn't happen. And we have plenty of good memories that should cancel out the bad ones.

I wonder if you can exorcise a house of bad memories. But keep the good ones. We hardly ever use this dining room, usually eating in the kitchen or on the go. But we celebrate birthdays and entertain guests at this table. Mom always had two cakes for me and Iris: chocolate for Iris, carrot cake with cream cheese frosting for me.

This year I think I will want red velvet. But I still want to celebrate here. So I can still share my birthday with Iris. In our home.

Mom sighs. I don't know if it's because I don't want to move or because her wine glass is empty.

“I'm not talking about moving out of the school district. Just a new neighborhood. You'll still be able to graduate with your friends.”

“It's not that,” I say. “Iris lived here.”

Mom looks at me, and for a split second I see pain in her eyes. And then the icy glare is back. She looks so much like Iris I would laugh if I didn't hurt so much for her. “But she doesn't live here now,” she says softly. “And since she never will again, why should we bury ourselves in this house? We need to move on. We need to move.”

I shake my head. I can't believe Mom is serious about this. “All the time and effort you've put into our house. Your garden is your pride and joy.”

“I can always grow a new garden.” She shrugs as she finally gets up from the table. She takes her plate and mine and stacks them on top of one another, then picks up her empty glass. “I suppose I can wait until you leave for college in a few years. But I can't stay in this house much longer, Andria. The memories hurt too much.”