Perfectly Flawed (59 page)

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, confused about what
to say next.

The woman turns to me, her blue eyes finally
connecting with mine as she says, “I’m not.”

Light footsteps come up behind us and I know
whom they belong to. I hear a loud, surprised gasp behind me.

“Hello, Kathryn,” Hilary mutters when she
recognizes the elderly woman standing next to me. I turn around,
facing my aunt and her mother. Hilary’s eyes dart to me and I
subtly shake my head, letting her know that she hasn’t a clue as to
who I am and I’d really appreciate it if we could keep it that
way.

“Hilary,” Kathryn, my father’s mother
replies. She says my aunt’s name like a curse; I can see the hatred
in her eyes that she has to stand so close to them; that she has to
share this time with them. “Where is my granddaughter?” she
demands, placing a hand on her hip.

Hilary lets out a laugh, crossing her arms
across her chest in a challenge. “She wasn’t up to visiting,” she
responds, catching Grammy off guard. Her eyes widen as she looks to
me. I send her a glare, trying to tell her that, right now, I am
not
Joey. “It’s still raw for her to be here.”

“My goodness, it’s been eight years, Hilary,”
Kathryn angrily snaps. Grammy walks over to my mother’s grave and
places the bouquet on her headstone; covering the flower carved
next to her. “Leslie.” Kathryn acknowledges my grandmother with
more disgust than Hilary, spitting out her name like a spoiled
food.

“Kathryn,” Grammy grumbles through clenched
teeth. I’m waiting for someone to say,
Well, bless your
heart
.

I follow Grammy’s lead and set the flowers in
my hand, that now have broken stems, on Noah’s grave, covering the
teddy bear carved by his name. Hilary places her bouquet on Ivy’s
grave and backs away, trying to get as far away from Kathryn as she
can.

“I want to go home, now,” I tell my aunt when
she walks close enough to me, whispering in the small amount of air
between us. She nods.

“Joey,” Grammy calls, letting my real name
slip through her lips by accident. She clamps her hands over her
mouth, angry with herself.

“Joey?” Kathryn asks as she looks from Grammy
to Hilary before her eyes trail to me. She takes a small step
closer to me. “I thought you said your name was Harley?” She leans
closer to me, her thick perfume clogging my nose as she examines my
eyes, my face, everything about me.

“Mom, let’s just go,” Hilary begs, grabbing
my hand to tug me protectively behind her. I use her as a shield
from Kathryn.

“You know what, no,” Grammy says, crossing
her arms across her chest. “That’s it. I refuse to let this woman
keep me from visiting my oldest daughter’s grave, nor my
grandchildren’s for that matter.”

Kathryn snaps to attention, taking her focus
from me and placing it on Grammy, trying to burn her, hurt her,
with her glare. “I sent in a request to have
her
moved away
from
my
grandbabies.”

That does it! I think I might actually start
a catfight in a cemetery with my grandmother. I pop my wrist, then
my knuckle, ready to punch her fake teeth in.

“You try that every single year, Kathryn,”
Grammy begins, her voice growing louder, her accent
thickening—which only happens when she’s angry, no, past angry.
This is Infuriated Grammy, not a Grammy anyone wants to deal with,
if they value their lives. “It will never work, you know. She’s
their mother—”

“Was.” Kathryn’s voice clips through the air.
“The Bitch is dead.” Hilary squeezes my hand to keep me from
leaping through the air, from charging and attacking this woman I
don’t even know. I already hate her. “And she got them killed. She
was a slut, we all knew it.”

I sidestep my aunt. “MY MOTHER WAS NOT A
SLUT!” I scream at the back of Kathryn’s head, hoping my words
penetrate that thick skull of hers. She slowly turns around, malice
in her eyes, looking at me as I feel my face heat up in a nervous
flush. Despite my nervousness, I refuse to back down. “
Don’t you
dare speak of her that way
.”

Something softens in her eyes. “Josie?”
Kathryn asks, her face splitting into a wide grin. It’s like she
just saw me for the first time and everything, every hard emotion
she just felt, disappears.

Okay, there’s something seriously disturbed
about this woman. There are either two wires in that miniscule
brain of hers that aren’t touching or they’ve been crossed.

“My name,” I begin angrily, speaking through
clenched teeth, “is Joey.”

“Oh, it
is
you,” she says with a long,
drawn out sigh. When did we enter one of those cheesy movies? “I
should have recognized those eyes.” Her hand reaches out
tentatively. “Will you visit your father with me? Or will they”—she
gestures to Grammy and Hilary—“keep you from him? I can take you to
visit next week.” She’s rambling like a lunatic. “He would simply
just love that.”

I bark out a laugh. “I’m not going anywhere
with you.” That, I make sure, is a promise.

“At least tell me where you’re livin’ now,”
Kathryn pleads, her hands clasping around mine in a vice like grip.
“He writes you letters, dear.” I tug to free myself from her
possessive grasp.

“I get them just fine,” I spit at her.

“Just think about visitin’ your daddy,”
Kathryn begs of me. “He misses you so much, he loves you, Josie.”
He should have thought about
that
eight years ago.

I turn to my aunt, wrenching my hand from
Kathryn’s grip. “We can come back here later, right?” I ask, trying
to let Kathryn know that I’m done with her. I never want to see
this psychotic woman again, so help me God.

“We can come back here anytime you want,”
Aunt Hil promises me, sympathetically.

Grammy throws a protective arm over my
shoulder and steers me away from the grandmother I never knew I
had. “Come on, honey,” she whispers low enough that only I can hear
her.

My aunt and my grandmother both lead me to
the car still idling on the street, slowly walking through the
grass.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Kathryn yells
angrily after our retreating forms.

I stop in my tracks, really wanting to turn
around and charge the woman I’m instantly trying to forget. She has
no right to speak of my mother in anyway, not even her name.

“Don’t pay Kathryn any mind, Joey.” I try to
follow Grammy’s advice as I slide into the back of the car. Grandpa
tries to speak to me but I just wave him off, promising to talk
with him later, when this has blown from my mind.

How could anyone say such awful things about
my mother, about anyone in my family? She was a beautiful person
that loved Ivy, Noah, and me so much; I know that it hurt. She was
a great mother, from what I hear, and she fought for her children
to live. For some reason, I know that more than I know anything
else. She was a fighter and a survivor.

But how
do
I know that?

***

I almost want to ask this woman where we are
but that would mean actually speaking to her. I don’t like her—I’ve
never liked her. Still, we stand in a long line, her wrinkled hand
clasped around my tiny one in a vice-like grip so I don’t escape.
She knows I’ll run when I get the chance. And I’m pretty fast,
she’d never catch up to me.

A loud
pop
sounds through the air and
she pushes open a large, glass door, shuffling me through into a
confined space, one small enough to terrify me, to wait for another
pop
and another door to open. I don’t want to go anywhere
with her but she yanks my arm, tugging me painfully through the
door.

“Come
on
, Josie,” she snaps loudly.
“He’s waiting for us.”

Who’s waiting for us?

I know I won’t like the answer if I ask the
question. She pulls me painfully by the arm until we go through a
second set of doors, a third set, and a fourth set. This all seems
normal to her but I just want to go home. Wherever that may be.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lucas,” a large man in a
dark uniform says, nodding as we pass by him. The grip of her hand
loosens and she smiles at him, feigning sweetness I
know
she
doesn’t possess. I really hate this woman. “And who do we have
here?” The man looks to me, a large smile covering his face. The
kind all adults use with children when they want to seem nicer,
kinder. It works for him.

“My sister’s daughter.”

That’s a lie.

Why is she lying? I’m her granddaughter. She
wants me to call her
Nana
but I don’t talk to her. I refuse
to talk to her despite her efforts. I don’t want to call her
Nana
.

“She’s adorable,” he tells her, still looking
at me. He reaches out a large hand for me to shake. I don’t, he
slowly pulls back, the smile falling. “He’ll be here in a moment,”
he says coldly. I don’t think he likes whomever we’re here to
see.

Nana pulls me into the room. It’s large,
brightly lit, and filled with round tables. The tables are
surrounded by people talking with other people, like the cafeteria
at school. There’s food and drink everywhere; I can even smell
popcorn.

“Come on, Josie.” Nana yanks on my arm,
pulling me so hard it hurts and I let out a loud yelp. I still
follow her wherever she wants to lead me. If I obey and act nice,
maybe she’ll stop tugging on my arm.

She shoves me onto a hard seat, placing my
hands on the table, neatly folded together, and we wait. But for
what?

After a few minutes of my silent speculation,
a tall figure moves slowly against the far wall. I can see the
movement in the corner of my eye but I don’t move and I don’t
look.

The air around me grows cold and a tremble
starts in the base of my spine, shooting pain through my back.
This can’t be happening, not here. They promised me. They all
promised me.
I shut my eyes tight, wishing for anything,
anything else in the world, but it’s not working. I’m still here,
and he’s still here, and no one can see me screaming.

“Benji!” Nana gushes, standing from the table
and rushing to hug… Daddy?

“
Josie, hang up the phone,” Daddy says
using his loud scary voice, the one he uses on Mommy before he’s
mean to her, before he hits her. I don’t want to listen to him, I
just want my questions answered.

“
What’s wrong with Mommy?” my tiny voice
squeaks in a shrill cry I don’t recognize. I start moving back,
trying to get as far away from whatever he’s holding in his hand.
It doesn’t look nice, it’s nothing good for me, it looks like it
could be painful. I know it’ll hurt me and I know he wants to hurt
me.

“
Nothing’s wrong with Mommy,” he growls at
me, spitting on me as his words quickly leave his lips. “Do you
want to see her?” he asks, stepping closer to me and looking at the
bed. His head snaps back in my direction, twitching, jerking from
side to side.

Of course I want to see my mommy but she’s
not here. I’m little but I know what lies in that bed is not my
mommy, not anymore. She’s gone. I somehow know that she’s gone and
I’m alone in this big house. Alone with the monster that stands
before me.

“
I want my mommy!” I cry loudly. My tiny
voice amplifies in the dark room, bouncing back to me from the
dimmed white walls, as I cry louder and louder. I feel the tears
streaming down my cheeks, dampening the thin fabric of my Barbie
nightgown.

Daddy lets out a long breath, sounding like
a sigh, before he trains his angry gaze to me. “Stop whining, you
little brat.” His face contorts into something mean, something
evil. He’s someone evil, I realize. He’s something I haven’t seen
before. He’s not my daddy anymore; he’s something else, something I
don’t want to be around. His face splits into a wicked grin,
bearing his teeth like a wolf before it attacks its prey. I saw
that on a show a while back. It wasn’t pretty. “I’ve been looking
for you everywhere—”

“Josie?” Daddy says as he stands next to my
chair. He looks down at me, his blue eyes wide and… happy? He’s
smiling at me. He’s happy to see me. That’s different from the last
time he saw me, the last time he even looked at me. Then, he was a
monster, now he’s Daddy again.

I bolt from my chair, knocking it over as I
run to the door we came through, pushing past someone large
standing by the garbage cans with all the strength my tiny body can
muster.

“Josie, damn it,” Nana calls after me as I
pound my hands against the glass, screaming loudly, hoping the door
will open. It never does. I tug on the handle, willing it to open,
begging
it to open.

“What is wrong with her?” the large man asks
as another man drops to his knees in front of me, trying to calm me
down.

“Hey, hey,” the nice man whispers quietly. He
grabs my arms and gently tugs me away from the door, pointing me in
the direction of Nana and Daddy. “Everything’s okay,” he tells me.
I don’t believe him.

Nothing will ever be okay again.

My Mommy is dead. Ivy is dead. Noah is dead.
They’re all dead and I’m still here waiting for something to
happen, something bad I know, in my gut, will happen. Nothing good
happens after everyone you love disappears.

“I don’t—don’t want—YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!” I
scream until I can wrench my body free from his grasp. I fling
myself against the glass door again, hoping it opens, hoping I can
escape to some type of freedom beyond these walls.

“Can’t make you what?” the large man asks. He
turns me around to face him, pulling me away from the door again.
“What just happened?” he asks, turning his attention to my Daddy
standing in the back.

“Josie!” Nana announces as my breathing
starts to calm. Looking at the nice man kneeling in front of me
makes me feel safe. There’s something about him I should trust. I
can trust this man. He can help me.