and my dad got married because she wanted to have babies.”
“You have brothers or sisters? Half-brothers and sisters?” I’m strangely tempted to tell her about my little sister, the one I haven’t seen since I was eight.
When I went into the hospital, Jamie was sent to foster care and almost immediately adopted. She was only six, as tiny as a four-year-old and the cutest thing I’d ever seen. She always made me laugh. Every day, even at the end when I was trying to take care of her by myself and I lay awake at night scared of every thump in the wall, thinking robbers were trying to get in, not knowing I’d soon have much scarier things to fear than robbers. Jamie was the only thing that got me out of bed in the morning. I loved that kid.
But by the time I got out of the hospital and the Thing finally went away, she was eight. I told the social workers I didn’t want to see her. I figured she had a new life somewhere and was better off without me.
“No brothers or sisters,” Dani says. “Penny couldn’t get pregnant.”
“Oh. That sucks.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I letting myself think about all those stupid memories that I’d be better off forgetting? It’s something about Dani. She makes me feel so much … softer . Soft enough for things inside me to crumble and all the sadness to seep up through the cracks.
I drop her hand at the first step up to the house. Before I can decide whether letting her go makes the aching better or worse, there’s a crash from inside and a woman screams.
Dani rushes for the door and throws it open. “Penny? Penny!” She pauses in the doorway, scanning an enormous open room filled with overstuffed couches and a fireplace big enough to roast a pig whole. But there’s no one in sight and the house is suddenly quiet. “Penny! Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Dani?” The woman’s cry comes from the far right, back in the recesses of a room we can’t see. “Dani, don’t come in the house!”
“Shut up.” A man’s voice now, filled with a hearty dose of nasty. “Shut your mouth, Penny, you—”
“Run, Dani! Don’t come—” Penny’s warning is cut off by the sharp smack of skin striking skin. Then there are heavy footsteps and the crack of a door being thrown open.
I run for the sound, fists itching. Whoever just hit Dani’s stepmom is about to learn what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a little violence. Violence . Nothing like violence to banish all that oozing softness. I’m almost glad I have an excuse to kick someone’s ass.
I race through an arched doorway into a kitchen bigger than my entire house, with a cooking area to my right and a table big enough to seat twelve to my left. A woman with blond hair huddles on the floor close to the table, the contents of a china cabinet shattered on the floor around her. Her hand is bleeding, but she’s definitely going to live so I don’t stop.
I run for the open door beyond the table. It leads out onto a deck even bigger than the one on the roof, so large that the man hasn’t quite made it to the other side. I get a good look at his back and an even better look at his profile as he dashes down the stairs leading into the woods. I’m close enough that I could take him in the forest, maybe at the bottom of the stairs if I jump the railing.
But I don’t run faster, I don’t jump the railing. I freeze, heart slamming in my chest as I realize who I’m chasing.
It’s the man from the soccer game. The one who gave me five hundred bucks to make sure Dani got on the bus.
Dani
“Penny! What happened? Are you okay?” I hurry to her, shoving aside shards of broken china with my shoe, memories from the past four years rushing through me … Penny, when we first met, making Dad take us to my favorite restaurant instead of theirs to make the “getting to know you” dinner easier; Penny, two years later, at her and Dad’s wedding, giving me my
“You have brothers or sisters? Half-brothers and sisters?” I’m strangely tempted to tell her about my little sister, the one I haven’t seen since I was eight.
When I went into the hospital, Jamie was sent to foster care and almost immediately adopted. She was only six, as tiny as a four-year-old and the cutest thing I’d ever seen. She always made me laugh. Every day, even at the end when I was trying to take care of her by myself and I lay awake at night scared of every thump in the wall, thinking robbers were trying to get in, not knowing I’d soon have much scarier things to fear than robbers. Jamie was the only thing that got me out of bed in the morning. I loved that kid.
But by the time I got out of the hospital and the Thing finally went away, she was eight. I told the social workers I didn’t want to see her. I figured she had a new life somewhere and was better off without me.
“No brothers or sisters,” Dani says. “Penny couldn’t get pregnant.”
“Oh. That sucks.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I letting myself think about all those stupid memories that I’d be better off forgetting? It’s something about Dani. She makes me feel so much … softer . Soft enough for things inside me to crumble and all the sadness to seep up through the cracks.
I drop her hand at the first step up to the house. Before I can decide whether letting her go makes the aching better or worse, there’s a crash from inside and a woman screams.
Dani rushes for the door and throws it open. “Penny? Penny!” She pauses in the doorway, scanning an enormous open room filled with overstuffed couches and a fireplace big enough to roast a pig whole. But there’s no one in sight and the house is suddenly quiet. “Penny! Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Dani?” The woman’s cry comes from the far right, back in the recesses of a room we can’t see. “Dani, don’t come in the house!”
“Shut up.” A man’s voice now, filled with a hearty dose of nasty. “Shut your mouth, Penny, you—”
“Run, Dani! Don’t come—” Penny’s warning is cut off by the sharp smack of skin striking skin. Then there are heavy footsteps and the crack of a door being thrown open.
I run for the sound, fists itching. Whoever just hit Dani’s stepmom is about to learn what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a little violence. Violence . Nothing like violence to banish all that oozing softness. I’m almost glad I have an excuse to kick someone’s ass.
I race through an arched doorway into a kitchen bigger than my entire house, with a cooking area to my right and a table big enough to seat twelve to my left. A woman with blond hair huddles on the floor close to the table, the contents of a china cabinet shattered on the floor around her. Her hand is bleeding, but she’s definitely going to live so I don’t stop.
I run for the open door beyond the table. It leads out onto a deck even bigger than the one on the roof, so large that the man hasn’t quite made it to the other side. I get a good look at his back and an even better look at his profile as he dashes down the stairs leading into the woods. I’m close enough that I could take him in the forest, maybe at the bottom of the stairs if I jump the railing.
But I don’t run faster, I don’t jump the railing. I freeze, heart slamming in my chest as I realize who I’m chasing.
It’s the man from the soccer game. The one who gave me five hundred bucks to make sure Dani got on the bus.
Dani
“Penny! What happened? Are you okay?” I hurry to her, shoving aside shards of broken china with my shoe, memories from the past four years rushing through me … Penny, when we first met, making Dad take us to my favorite restaurant instead of theirs to make the “getting to know you” dinner easier; Penny, two years later, at her and Dad’s wedding, giving me my
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