Protect Me(79)

“Hey, did you find her?”

“No. She’s gone,” I say out loud, letting the words finally sink in.

“Gone? Like gone to pick up donuts?” she asks, hopefully.

“No, Avery. Like never fucking coming back, gone.”

“Why?” she whispers.

“I have no clue. She left a note while I was sleeping and now she’s gone, okay?”

“I don’t understand,” Avery starts saying.

“Ave, I really don’t feel like hashing this out right now, okay? I need some time to process.”

“You’re going to Mom’s later for supper, though, right?”

“I don’t know. I’ll let you know.” I don’t even let her say goodbye as I click off the phone. Yes, I realize I’m being a complete douche to my little sister, but my mind can’t even comprehend the amount of shit that’s spinning around in my brain. Of all the questions I have, the one that keeps coming to the forefront is…Why? I need to know why.

The rest of the day continues on without me. I move off of the couch only to piss or to grab a new bottle of beer from the fridge. Otherwise, I hold vigil on my spot on the worn couch. Whatever game was playing on TV moves to the next game, and then to the next. The world continues around me as I stare off into space, lost in my own mind. Hell. That’s where I am.

A knock sounds on the door and I choose to ignore it. The knock is insistent though, and eventually I decide to deal with it so the person will just go away. I open the front door to see my mom standing there, concern written all over her pretty face. She’s also holding a bag of delicious smelling food.

“Are you going to invite me in?” she asks with a small smile. I back away from the doorway and allow my mom to enter the living room. “You missed dinner,” she says, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

“Yeah, sorry, Mom. I’m not feeling the best,” I tell her as she places food on the plate. My stomach growls loudly as I glance at the clock on the microwave. How in the hell did it get to be nine-thirty?

“I’ve heard,” she says as she walks over to my table, giving me no choice but to follow.

“What did you hear?” I ask as I sit at the place she’s set for me. She grabs a fork from the drying rack, and two bottles of water from the fridge, and sits across from me.

I try to ignore the food sitting in front of me, but the aroma is killing me. Just the thought of food has made me want to hurl today, but the minute my mom comes in with a plate of something, I’m now suddenly hungry. Traitorous stomach.

“Avery told me about your phone calls this morning. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I reply as I take a big bite of chicken fried steak dipped in mashed potatoes and gravy.

“You don’t look fine, Nathan. You look sad.”

“Well, my girlfriend just fucking left me, Mom.” Instantly, I regret my tone and the use of foul language. My mom has never stood for it, but she doesn’t correct me this time. “Sorry,” I say, defeated.

“It’s okay, Nate. When you are upset and hurting, you lash out in defense. Even at the ones you love the most,” she says with a caring look.

I take a few more bites of food while Mom sits there watching me.

“Tell me about Lia,” she says.

I look up, eyebrows shooting straight to my hairline. “You want me to tell you about Lia? Don’t you know her?”

“Yes, I know her. I want to hear it from you,” she says softly.

I take a deep breath and push the plate away. The food in my stomach churns uncomfortably, and I just pray it isn’t about to make a return appearance. “Lia’s had a rough life, Mom. She was born to an unwed teen mother who didn’t want her. Her mom left her with her grandfather who definitely didn’t want her. In college, she met some asshole who liked to get rough with her,” I tell my mom. It’s hard to say the words out loud. My chest tightens and my anger starts to return just by saying those words out loud.

“They dated for about a year before he started to hit her. She stayed for another three years before she was finally able to escape that hellhole. She’s moved from place to place for close to a year, moving around under a new name so he can’t track her down. She has no home, no roots. She lives in constant fear. She looks over her shoulder everywhere she goes.

“I want to find the guy, Mom. I want to find him and kill him with my bare hands. I want it to be painful and slow. I want him to beg for his life before I take it away from him. And you know what scares me more than the thought of murdering some asshole in cold blood, Mom? The fact that I would do it in a heartbeat if it meant freedom for her. I would spend the rest of my life behind bars to ensure she never has to look over her shoulders, not one more time. I’d do it all for her,” I say, all but whispering the last part.