It’s pitch-black. No lights coming from it. Nothing.
Turning back inside, I see Kendall has set the table for the two of us.
Sitting at the table, we open the containers, filling our plates up. My head isn’t here. I don’t know if I’m thinking about the girls who have disappeared or if my head is across the street in the house that’s now pitch-black.
The silence goes on for practically the whole meal. Kendall has asked some questions but since I only give her grunts in reply, it’s not a surprise when she stops asking.
“Will we ever be anything more?” She looks down at her plate and then up at me.
“Kendall, I nev—”
“I know, Jackson. Trust me, I know. You’ve never promised me. You’ve never given me anything. You’ve never even tried. Why, Jackson?”
“Kendall, don’t pretend you have been waiting for me this whole time. Don’t sit there making this more than it is. Do I love you? Yes. I do, but I’m not in love with you. We have fun. It’s easy.” I’m trying really hard not to be an asshole.
“We have fun? Do you know how hard it is to do this with you? Do you think I haven’t tried to move on? But I can’t because I am in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you. It’s been seven years, Jackson. It’s time to move on. It’s time to let it go.” She tries to reach out to touch me, but I pull back.
“Kendall, it’s never going to be more than this for me. It wasn’t before, and it isn’t now. This went on for far longer than it should have. You need to meet someone who will sweep you off your feet. Someone who wants to hang the moon for you. Someone who will put you before anything and anyone. Someone who will cherish you. I’m not that person.”
“I think I’m going to go.” She gets up from the table, leaving her plate there.
I push up from the table at the same time. “Kendall, at least finish your dinner.”
She grabs her purse on her way to the front door. I follow her, not sure what else there is to say.
Once the front door opens, she turns around and reaches up to kiss my cheek before turning to walk to her car. I watch her drive away.
I exhale long and hard, rubbing my face, pulling my hair. “FUCK!”
I close the door as I walk back inside. I move to the table to clear it, and I wind up throwing everything out.
The plate of cookies catches my eye, but more importantly, I see the white folded note with my name scrolled across it on top of the plate.
I grab the paper, unfolding it.
Thank you for cutting the grass and buying the pizza. Lilah says it’s her favorite thing ever.
Thank you for making her smile. Perhaps one day we can grab pizza together?
Bella
Her name, I finally have a name. It’s a name I call out later that night as my hand fists my cock in the shower. It’s also the name I’m yelling in my dreams as I chase after a disappearing woman and child. Bella…
Chapter Eight
Bella
I sit on the couch, looking outside at the street, wondering things I have no business wondering.
It’s been two hours since we came home. Two hours since I dropped off the cookies to his wife or girlfriend.
After bath and stories, it took Lilah ten seconds to fall asleep. I tossed and turned. I was so restless, I thought I’d make some warm milk with vanilla and a touch of cinnamon just like Nan used to make, to settle myself.
An hour later, I’m still restless. My thoughts go back to how I got here.
People will wonder why I didn’t leave earlier. It happened gradually. Adam was so good at hiding things. Till I found the plastic little packet of cocaine. “It’s just this one time. It’s a pick-me-up.” God, I was such a fool.
Next were the needles. Those fucking needles were everywhere. Not to mention the bent, burnt spoons, the lighters, and the rubber bands. It was a junkie’s house in the end.
The first time he hit me, he was sorry, so sorry he didn’t get high for a week. To him that was seven years.
After the first time, he didn’t hit me again for a long time. He would push me, he’d yell and scream, his cutting, cruel words berating me. I would endure that as I waited for him to leave to go on a bender. He’d be gone, the fighting and yelling would stop, but unfortunately, we would have no money and sometimes little food. I should have left then. I know it now, but how could I call Nan and show her how far I had fallen?
I couldn’t get a job because of Lilah. Daycare just wasn’t an option. I was stuck.
Then it started getting worse. He was high more often than he wasn’t, and he became angrier and more aggressive. The hitting started and quickly escalated to almost a daily occurrence. That’s when he stopped leaving for his benders, and instead his ‘friends’ would come over, taking over the tiny, one-bedroom apartment we had, to go on their bender there. I was never let out of his sight, so leaving him was almost impossible at that point, since he was always there.