Butterface(38)

This was his apology? His justification? The weak man defense?

“And after the assignment ended, it was even worse not being around you. That’s why I came back after I got suspended, because I couldn’t not see you again. I thought we could move forward without me ever having to admit what I’d done. I was wrong about that, but I wasn’t wrong about us.”

She was shaking. Maybe not on the outside, but inside it was the mother of all earthquakes going on because, against all odds, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to have that fairy tale. And that scared her more than anything else in this world ever could.

Not trusting what would come out of her mouth, she kept it shut tight and went up the stairs to get the box of Ford’s things that she’d gone to sleep staring at every night since she’d walked out of the Haringtons’ house like some sort of kicked puppy.

The box wasn’t heavy, just a little awkward because of the dimensions, so she was careful carrying it back down the stairs, making sure each foot was firm on one step before putting her weight on it. That made the trip down slower than the trip up—well, that and making sure her foot didn’t go through the wonky step he’d promised to fix but never had. She set the box down on the table near the front door and crossed over to the kitchen, opening her mouth to let him know she was back, but the words died on her tongue.

Ford stood by the counter next to the now-open box that her brothers had left her. The one Ford had been so curious about, but—at the time—she’d pushed away any concern about that. Why would the man practically living with her be interested in whatever surprise her brothers had left for her? He probably wouldn’t. But a Waterbury detective who’d been assigned to watch her sure would be interested. He’d be so interested that he’d even sweet-talk his way into her home once again to have a look at what was inside.

Despite the awfulness of the realization, Gina stood there frozen. She would have thought she would have screamed and hollered and cried and pitched the mother of all fits. Instead, she just stood there and watched him look through the box her brothers had left.

“Do you want to know what it was? That awful thing that I wouldn’t tell you about at the Wooden Barber?”

He froze, his hand still in the box. There was no missing the guilt on his face or the regret—for getting caught or for what he’d done—in his eyes.

“A million years ago, in high school, I thought I was in love with a boy. He was a year older, not super popular but well known. He’d always been nice to me, said hi in the halls and asked about my classes.” In half a second, she was back there at Roosevelt High, walking the halls with only a friend or two to make it bearable. She’d been the freak, the ugliest girl in class, the one people stared at but never talked to. “It’s sad to admit, but in those days having someone be kind was so much for a girl like me that I’d almost died from the hope of it all.” The sympathy on Ford’s face was like a knife to the heart, so she looked away, dropping her gaze to the now-opened box. “One day, we were in the library together and no one else was around. He kissed me. Then he kissed me again. And again. I was so caught up in the moment that when he took my shirt off in the back stacks, I just went with it. This boy, he liked me. I liked him. What could go wrong?”

Humiliation, hot and prickly, beat against her cheeks. She wanted to run, to hide, but she refused to give into the old feelings. Instead she’d pick at that scab and prove once and for all that it couldn’t hurt her anymore. That Ford couldn’t hurt her.

“Then I heard the giggles. They were quiet at first, barely tickling my consciousness. Then they got louder and louder until they pierced whatever schoolgirl dream haze had enveloped me.” She raised her gaze back up, needing to see Ford’s face as she told the worst part, the part that made bile rise in her throat. “Pulling back from the boy’s arms, I looked around. What felt like a hundred pairs of eyes stared back at me from other students who had been hiding in the next aisle over and had peeked over the top of the shelved books to watch.”

All of the old emotions, the hate and anger and betrayal, clogged her throat, forcing her to take a breath before she could go on to tell Ford about the final blow.

“‘See, guys, I told you,’ the boy who’d always been nice to me said. ‘She’s a butterface, but if you can ignore how she looks above the neck, she’s got a hot bod to enjoy.’ Then he’d laughed. When I burst into tears, he handed me the shirt I’d so naively taken off and asked me why I couldn’t take a joke.” Even today the memory stripped her bare and raw. “Up until today, that had been the worst moment of my life, burned so firmly into my mind that even the vaguest memory of it made me want to puke.” She inhaled a deep breath and forced herself to go on, to deliver the final fuck-you. “But this moment of finding you looking through the box my brothers had left, after you’d said all those pretty words? That’s worse. You want to know why?”

“Gina, please let me explain.”

“No. You don’t get to lie to me ever again,” she said, her voice shaking. “Today is worse than that time in the library because this time I knew better—and I let myself hope anyway. So tell me, did you find anything interesting in there that made it all worth it?”

Ford’s broad shoulders flinched. Then, he turned and faced her. “Gina, please—”

“Oh come on now, there has to be something in there.” She strode into the kitchen, powered by some kind of righteous fury she didn’t have control over. “Let’s have a look.”

She stopped at the counter next to him and pulled the first item out of the box. “A chipped porcelain horse. I gave this to Paul when we were kids because he wanted a horse so bad, but that was not in the cards for a Luca kid. He’d cried every night for weeks. It’s hard to want things with your whole heart even though you know you’ll never get them.” A tear slipped past her iron control. She swiped the sleeve of her shirt against her cheek roughly, then sat the horse down on the counter. Next out came a dog-eared book. “Bridge to Terabithia. You’ll have to be sure to put in your report that this has been Rocco’s favorite book since our grandpa disappeared. Well, he died, but we didn’t know that for sure then. But he was old enough to have had at least an idea. Still, he kept up the pretense for me and Paul for years. He was a horrible big brother that way.” She laid the book down and reached in the box and pulled out a heavy scrapbook. “Now this is probably the most devastating piece of evidence of all. A family photo album.” She plopped it down on the counter and flipped it open. It was filled with all the silly casual pictures that every family had. Christmas mornings. Birthday parties. Vacations. Lazy Sundays. Graduations. “As you can plainly see. I am a Luca. That’s me there. You can tell it’s me because even as a baby I had a schnoz for the ages.” She slammed the album shut. “So my brothers left me a box with a family album, a chipped porcelain horse, and a beloved kids book. What’s that going to get them? Ten years behind bars? Fifteen? Because I look at that and I figure they’ve got to pay for…”

She looked at the items on the counter, and her legs stopped working. Stumbling back, she reached behind her for one of the kitchen chairs. Ford got to it first, yanking it out for her. She collapsed onto it.

“Are you okay,” he asked, cupping her face and forcing her to look up into his eyes. “What do you need?”

“The box. Is there a letter?” She could barely get the words out through the emotion blocking her throat. When he didn’t move fast enough, the panic took over. “The box! A letter! Get it!”

He grabbed the box off the counter and reached inside, pulling out a piece of lined paper folded in half. She wanted to cry out. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pretend that damn piece of paper wasn’t in Ford’s hand—but it was and she knew what that meant. Her brothers were gone.

Her hands shaking, she took the letter from Ford and opened it.





Gina,

We told you we were just waiting for the right time to start over. Seeing you with Ford made us realize that you were finally ready for us to make the break. Tell your boy that if he breaks your heart, we’ll find out somehow and come back to break his knees. Sorry we couldn’t stay and say goodbye, but you know this was the life we’d chosen and there are some folks who might want to have a few words if they’d known we were leaving. No need to worry about us though. We’ve been saving up to get out for some time. We were just waiting to make sure you’d be okay, and now we know you will with Ford by your side.

Love ya sis,

Paul and Rocco

P.S.

Your boy did as much as he could. Go easy on him.

They’d finally done it. They’d been talking about leaving Waterbury for years, but it always seemed like just talk. But it wasn’t. They’d done it. And the whole time they’d been waiting for her to heal, and she hadn’t realized it because for so long she wouldn’t even admit to herself that she was wounded.