Hold On Tight (Take My Hand) (25 page)

We ended the conversation with some light-hearted banter. Jeff told us a
joke he’d heard from a colleague the day before – a joke so bad it was
impossible not to laugh.
At
him, not
with
him. Here, see what you think…

Why do birds fly south
for the winter?

Because it’s too
far to walk.

Told you!

When everything was wrapped up, Jeff - as usual - high-fived us both. I
accompanied Dexter to the visitor’s café and we talked about trivial garbage
for half an hour before I had to leave. If there wasn’t a giant sign saying
‘The Springs Rehabilitation Centre’ on the far wall, then I could’ve been
fooled into thinking we were just two ‘normal’ people, having a ‘normal’ coffee
together and talking about ‘normal’ things. It warmed my heart a little… soon
enough we would be ‘normal’ again.

We have a whole future to look forward to and I absolutely CANNOT wait.

~Dexter~

“
Stop
tapping. It’s going to be fine, honey.
You’ll see.” I looked down to my feet and sure enough they were tapping
incessantly against the floor tiles in the area of Aunt Sarah’s apartment the
vendors had a nerve to call a kitchen.

“Why
don’t you call me sweet cheeks anymore?” I asked inquisitively – the
thought popping out of the blue into my mind. It was all she ever called me as
a kid and I can’t even remember when she stopped. All I know is it was a long
time ago.

Aunt
Sarah stuttered on a breath and looked at me with sorrowful eyes. In that
moment I just knew it had something to do with
him…
my father.

“You
know, what... it doesn’t matter.”

“Just
tell me,” I said, more curious than ever.

“I’ve
never told you this before...”
uh oh.
“But…
your dad came back while your mom was still in the hospital after… the
accident.”

“You
mean after I shot her,” I corrected, causing a small gasp to escape her nervous
lips. If Jeff has taught me anything it’s that we’ve skirted around what
happened that day for too damn long. I shot her. I didn’t mean to, but I did.
It’s time we all accepted that and… all together now… move on.

“That’s
how he greeted me when I answered the door. Ever since… it just didn’t feel
right saying it to you.”

“But
I’ve continued to use it for you. I’m sorry… I had no idea. I won’t-”

“I don’t
ever want you to stop calling me that, honey. It’s our thing. It always has
been.
Our
memory – just mine
and yours. Don’t let him take it from us completely.” I nodded slowly, offering
a weak smile.

“What
did he want?”

“I
don’t know. He left with some of his things. Some letters, files… stuff I think
he didn’t want anyone to find. I told him the police were looking for him
– tried to scare him away. But… he already knew. He recited details of
our statements that he couldn’t possibly have known if he didn’t have some kind
of inside connection. So when he swore we’d never hear from him again if I let
him in to get his things, I stepped aside.”

“You
should’ve told me.”

“Why?
Nothing really happened. It was just an extra worry you didn’t need on your
already overloaded shoulders.” We stood in silence for a few minutes, absorbing
the contents of our conversation. Just then, the knock I’d been dreading all
afternoon came. “I’m so proud of you,” Aunt Sarah whispered into my ear when
she pulled me in for a hug. I smiled into her shoulder before releasing her and
sucking in a deep, preparing breath.

“Let’s
do this shit.”

Pausing
in front of the door, my heart hammered painfully against the walls of my
chest. It subsided instantaneously however when Emily emerged from the short
hallway, dragging her red hair up into a ponytail.

“I
love you,” she mouthed. And with that I found the courage to open the door and
plaster a smile on my face.

“Holy
shit.” Yep, like a complete asshat I said it out loud in front of a twelve year
old girl. I just couldn’t help it. I’m telling you this girl is me with longer
hair and for a split second it totally weirded me out. “I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“You… you just look so familiar.”

“Can
we come in?” Patricia asked, looking up at me over the tired, purple bags
dragging down her eyes.

“Sure,
sure. Sorry.” Jesus, I was a stuttering mess. “Come in.” I stood aside and
gestured my hand towards the small couch. Emily rubbed my shoulder and smiled.
Once again it was all I needed to get my shit together.

Conversation
flowed awkwardly for a good thirty minutes or so. Patricia stayed mostly quiet,
sipping the coffee Aunt Sarah made for her to fill the gaps. Every so often she
would prompt Marianne to speak by talking about school or other inconsequential
shit. Marianne was a cute little thing. She had the same blue eyes as me and
the same color hair, which was shaped into a bob just above her small
shoulders. I could tell the pre-teen rebelliousness had hit a little early
going off the clothes she was wearing. The ripped black jeans, rock t-shirt and
black and white bangles covering almost her entire right forearm clearly
screamed ‘look at me, I’m different’.

It
was kind of adorable.

“Mom?
You think Dexter and I could take a walk on our own?” she asked. Patricia’s
mouth fell open and you could see the question bouncing around inside her brain
as she tried to think of a way to let her down gently.

“If
it’s okay with Dexter,” was her reply. Shit. I didn’t realize until the words
left her mouth that I was hoping she would say no. But then Marianne looked at
me for approval. Her big blue eyes looked so sad, so lost, as they bore into
mine.

“Sure,”
I said with what I hoped looked like a genuine smile. “Where you wanna go?”

“Don’t
care,” she answered, shrugging in that I’m-too-cool-to-give-a-shit teenager
way.

Standing
up, I looked to my left and searched for the reassuring smile I needed from
Emily. It was there waiting for me, lighting up her beautiful face and calming
my racing heart.

“Come
on, kid. Let’s go.”

**********

Unable
to think of anywhere else that was public yet quiet enough to talk freely, I
took Marianne to the park near my old house. This place had seen me at my best,
my worst and through all the stages in between. I felt at home here. The
familiar scenery calmed my nerves and relaxed me enough to be the strong big
brother I suspected Marianne wanted from me.

“So,
Marianne…”

“My
friends call me Maz. Marianne is an old lady name.”

“So
I’m your friend?”

“No.
You’re my brother,” she stated, staring at me like I was an imbecile. “But I
want my brother to call me Maz too.” I swear a little piece of my heart
reserved itself just for her in that moment. How fucking weird is that?

“So,
Maz…”

“You
say ‘so’ a lot,” she noted.

“And
you interrupt a lot,” I fired back.

“My
mom said you tried to kill him.” Holy fuckballs with bells on. “Our dad,” she
clarified, looking up at me for the response that was lodged in my throat. “I
wish I’d been brave enough to try that.”

“No you
don’t,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “I’ve been fucked in the head ever
since that day. I’m only just getting my life back on track.”

“Is
that why you take drugs?” Christ, Patricia hadn’t held back!

“
Took,
not take. I’ve been clean for
almost two months now.”

“That’s
not long.”

“No.
But it’s a start.”

“Do
you think you’d still have taken them if you hadn’t missed that day?” Fuck me
sideways, this girl knew how to give it to you straight.

“Yes.
No. Probably… Who knows, kid? Just know that it didn’t solve anything. All that
shit did was fuck me up a thousand times worse.”

“I
like you,” she said simply – a small smile tugging at the corners of her
mouth. “You don’t treat me like a baby. You’re honest. And you swear a lot.”
Shit, yeah… I probably should learn to rein that in around her.

“I
like you too. For a girl and all,” I teased, bumping her shoulder with mine.

“Did
he hurt you?”

“Not
really. The odd slap every now and then but nothing I couldn’t handle. You?”

“Same.
I’ve spent most of my life at slumber parties. I’d get invited to one like
every other day. She’d never admit it, but I think my mom secretly arranged it
with their parents or something to get me out the house.” I just nodded. What
else could I do? “He hurt her real bad. I don’t ever remember her without some
kind of bruise of broken bone somewhere on her body. I hate him.”

“I
hate him too.”

Across
the street from the park there’s a little rundown café that sells cheap burgers
and get-what-you’re-given topped pizza. After complaining she was hungry, I
took Marianne there on our way back to Aunt Sarah’s. We ordered a large pizza
that came with pepperoni and what looked like mushrooms but they were too
shriveled to be sure so between us we picked them off, and ate as we walked.

I
showed her the house I grew up in – the house
he
ripped away from under our noses just a few months ago. It was
then I realized why she looked so familiar. It wasn’t the color of her hair or
her eyes, or even the way the end of her nose had a tiny little dimple just like
mine… no… it was the haunted shadow lingering behind those blue irises. The
same shadow I’ve seen in my own for as long as I can remember.

“Do
you think we’ll see each other again? When I move to Phoenix I mean.”

“Do
you want to see me again?” I asked, anxiously hoping she would say yes.

“Yeah.
I do.”

“Then
you will. And I’ll write you all the time. And text. And call. If you need me,
kid… I’ll be there. I promise.”

“You
mean it?” She sounded surprised.

“Hell
yeah I mean it. And if it’s okay with your mom, you can come visit me in the
UK. You ever been to England?”

“Seriously!
I’ve never been but I’d
love
to.
What’s it like there?”

“Cold…
and wet.”

“Wow,
bro… you’re really selling it to me.”

“Did
you just call me bro?”
Please let her have
just called me bro.

“Um…
yeah. You don’t mind do you? It just kinda felt right.”

“Nah,
kid. I don’t mind at all.” Stealing the last slice of pizza from the box she
was holding I added, “come on. Let’s get you back before your mom thinks I’ve
lured you away to get you hooked on crack.”

We
didn’t talk much the rest of the way. It wasn’t one of those uneasy silences
you get with strangers though. It was because we already felt so comfortable
with each other we didn’t need to force conversation so as not to look rude or
boring. When we got back all three women jumped up from their seats to greet us
and the look of sheer relief washing over Patricia’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Jeez,
Mom. Stressed much?”

“Sorry
we’ve been so long, Patricia. I took Maz for pizza.”

“
Maz
?” Patricia questioned. “She lets you
call her Maz?”

“Um…”
Did I say something wrong?

“Oh,
please don’t embarrass me,” Marianne groaned, throwing her face into her hand.

“Sorry,
sweetie. It’s just I thought only your cool friends could call you Maz. I’m
sure as anything not allowed to.”

“Hey,
I’m cool I’ll have you know,” I joked.

“Um,
Dex… cool people don’t actually
say
they’re
cool,” Marianne whispered, lowering her hand just low enough so I could see her
eyes.

“Right.
Got it,” I hushed back. “I mean… I’m so
not
cool
.
In fact I’m so un-cool I
didn’t even know it was cool to call her Maz… or… something.” Fuck, I was
confusing myself.

“Yeah,
let it go, Dexter. You’ve just ran full speed into Loserville and I’m afraid
even I can’t save you.” Marianne said, smiling and shaking her head.

No
one asked what Marianne and I had talked about and neither of us offered the
information. Though I planned to tell Emily later and I imagined Patricia
planned to probe Marianne when they were alone too. Aunt Sarah made more coffee
and we worked our way through another pot before Patricia stood up and
announced it was time to leave.

Patricia
nodded over to the corner of the room, silently asking for a private word. I
nodded back and then stood up and followed her into the tiny kitchen area.
After sweeping the room to check for curious eyes she placed a tender hand on
my forearm. I had to try extremely hard not to recoil from the over familiar
contact from a woman I still wasn’t sure I didn’t detest.

“Thank
you,” she uttered, seeming sincere. “It means so much to her.
And
to me. I can tell by her face you’ve
made quite an impression.” She sounded both relieved and surprised. I still
haven’t made my mind up whether that offends me or not.

“She’s
a great girl,” was a total understatement. “And she seems
nothing
like me. I don’t think you need to worry on that score.”

“Dexter,
I was never worried about that. I’m not professing to know you, but I don’t
think you’re the monster you think you are.” I eyed Patricia up suspiciously.
She both looked and sounded pretty genuine, but knowing my history – why
on earth would she think that? “Will you keep in touch with us? With Marianne?”

“Try
and stop me. Like I said she’s a great kid. I already feel very… protective of
her. I know this probably sounds strange, impossible even, but… I already love
her.”