Never Been Ready, page 11
Our trip back to Richmond was uneventful, thankfully. By the time we got back to Leah's, there was an inch or two of snow on the ground, but the roads were still fairly clear. We hauled everything inside and spent the night decorating Leah's tree. We ate apple doughnuts for dinner, listened to cheesy Christmas music, and made the tree as tacky as possible. It blinked with every light bulb color imaginable, and it had some of the ugliest ornaments I'd ever seen. It was perfect.
When we finished, I looked over at a beaming Leah. "I believe someone has a punishment to serve...an early Christmas present, I think?"
"Ah, yes," she agreed.
In front of our tacky Christmas tree, the woman I was falling in love with slowly undressed, and then she let me make love to her all night long.
~Leah~
I knew I'd made a mistake in visiting him the minute I entered the house, but being the stupid woman I was, I walked in anyway.
"Dad?" I called out.
The house was messier than usual. Dishes were piled high with food so old that there was mold. I stopped breathing through my mouth as soon as the stench hit me. I knew better than to see him when he got like this, but I needed answers, and I was afraid I'd chicken out if I didn't go through with it then.
There was no answer as I continued through the kitchen. I made my way into the living room where I found him. Surprisingly, he was awake, sitting in the old recliner with a fresh drink in his hand. A half empty bottle of whiskey was in front of him on the floor. There was no coffee table. He'd never bothered replacing the one he'd smashed to pieces the night my mom left. He'd just left the living room with this big gaping hole, like a reminder of the hole we had been left with after she walked out.
"Dad?" I said again.
This time, he finally heard me. Turning his head slightly toward me, it took him a while before any recognition spread across his face. That meant he'd been drinking for some time, and that was my cue to leave...yet I stayed. God, I was dumb. I sat on the battered old sofa next to him, his eyes following my every movement as I picked up empty glass and garbage, but he didn't say a word.
"What do you want, girl? Did you bring me food?" he asked, his words sloshing together like the whiskey he was holding.
He loved whiskey. It was his god, and he worshiped it faithfully. He was the reason I, to this day, could never touch the stuff.
Girl —that was his name for me. He never called me daughter or addressed me by my first name. At this point, I wasn't even sure he would remember what it was. I'd been girl to my father for as long as I could remember.
"No, it's not Thursday. I'll bring you food on Thursday," I reminded him.
Without fail, I always brought him groceries on Thursday. He never remembered though.
"Well then, what the hell do you want?" he asked gruffly.
"I found Mom's grave the other day."
I watched to see his reaction, and there was none —no shock, no anger, no sadness. Nothing.
"Oh," was all he said.
"You knew," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut, wondering how deep the depth of my parents' deceit had gone.
"Yeah, I knew," he said nonchalantly as he shrugged.
He took a long swig of his drink before picking up the bottle from the floor and refilling the glass up to the top. My father always did this. He refilled his glass constantly, never letting it get below half full. I think he was scared of ever seeing it empty.
"Did you ever think of telling me? That maybe I might want to know my mother died eighteen years ago?" My voice grew louder as I felt the anger rise from my chest.
The man I called father whipped his head back to me, looking shocked by my outburst. Fueled by alcohol, his shock turned to raw rage. It was a look I knew all too well.
"No, I didn't think of telling you shit. And why should I? Your mother was a bitch and a whore. Why would I ever waste a breath saying anything about that woman?" he spat.
I got to my feet, not wanting to hear anymore. I'd come here in search of answers, and the only answer I'd found was more proof that my father had no soul, which was something I'd learned long ago.
"Don't you turn your back to me, you little slut. You're just like her, pretty and willing to spread your legs for anyone," he said, his words slurring again, as he rose from the chair. He swayed a bit, but he managed to right himself fairly quickly before he came after me.
"Turn around and face me, girl," he yelled, yanking my arm and forcing me back around.
Pain raced up my arm as he jerked me around roughly. His shouting hurt my ears, reminding me of the nights I used to lie in my bed with my pillows above my head, wishing someone would come rescue me. My parents had been loud when they'd fought, and it had been endless, but no one had ever come. In our neighborhood, domestic disputes were part of the culture, and no one bothered getting involved in each other's business.
"Dad, I'm sorry I came. I'll leave now, okay? I'll be back on Thursday with some groceries," I said softly, trying to calm him down. My hands were shaking, and I could feel my heart beating like a drum in my chest.
Still holding my arm, he squeezed harder, causing me to wince.
"You are one ungrateful bitch, you know it? Do you know how much it cost me to raise you? Do you have any idea how many hours I had to work in that shithole of a factory to bring home enough money to feed you?"
"I know, Dad. I'm grateful, really."
I tried to pull out of his grip, but he just clamped down tighter, his overgrown nails biting into my skin.
"If you were really grateful, you'd bring me a bottle of whiskey with those shit groceries you bring every week, or you'd give me some money every now and then. God knows I paid enough of it for you over the years."
"I'm not giving you money, Dad," I whimpered, tears running down my face, knowing I should have never come here.
My father yelled in frustration, and the blow to the head he gave me was the last thing I remembered.
~Declan~
The cryptic phone call was my first warning that something was wrong.
Leah and I had planned to watch a movie after my workday ended. It had been a long day of filming, but the director had listened to me, and I felt like I had actually learned and contributed to the film. Pulling me aside, he'd said I had a lot of promise and would even consider bringing me on as an assistant director for another project. It would be a much smaller project, but still, it was directing. It was a huge step, and I couldn't wait to share it with Leah.
When I'd called her, I could tell the minute she'd answered, something had been off. Her voice had sounded flat, and she'd tried to get me off the phone the second she'd answered, saying she didn't feel good and just wanted to be alone for the night. She'd said she came home early from work and just needed some rest. When I'd offered to come over and take care of her, she'd paused.
Then, she'd said, "Come on, Declan. We're not a couple. We don't do that."
The fuck we don't.
She'd basically hung up immediately after, and I had been left wondering what the hell had just happened. Had I missed something? Seen signs and feelings that weren't there?
Panic stepped in as I'd begun to wonder if I had been walking down the same path I had years earlier, loving a woman more than she loved me. But then, I'd remembered the look of pure joy on Leah's face as we'd danced in the snow and later spent the night under our tacky Christmas tree, making love for hours.
No. Something is wrong.
And per Leah's usual methods, she was shutting everyone out.
Well, fuck that.
Twenty minutes later, I was unlocking her door with the new key we had made, only to find out the chain had been locked as well.
"Leah, it's me. Unlock the door."
I heard footsteps as she made her way toward the front door, but the chain stayed in place.
"Declan, I told you...I don't feel good. I just want to be alone. I'll talk to you later."
Her voice was rough and raw, like she'd been crying, and the words she said lacked conviction, like she was moving through the motions, but her brain had already checked out.
"Leah, this shit might work with others, but I'm not falling for it. You're not shutting me out. Unlock this door."
"I don't want to see you tonight. Just go away," she said softly.
Yeah...those words would have stung if I didn't know she was lying through her teeth.
"Open the fucking door, Leah, before I break it down. Don't think I won't."
The chain unlatched, and I plowed through the entrance. She turned and walked ahead of me. Dressed in her fuzzy robe and slippers, her hair was down and loose around her face. She always wore it up when she was home. She hated having it down when she slept.
"I'm going to bed. You can stay if you want. I'll see you in the morning if you're still around," she said, heading off to her bedroom.
She hadn't even looked in my direction since I walked in. Just as her bedroom door was about to click, I pushed it open and flicked on the light.
"What the hell is going on, Leah? You're acting strange. You won't tell me what's wrong, and —motherfucker!"
Just as I was delivering my speech, she turned toward me, and I finally saw her face. Her eye was nearly swollen shut, her beautiful cheek was now a mixture of blue and green, and her lip was cut.
I came to her, my eyes wild and frantic, as I started checking every inch of her body, parting her robe until it fell to the floor. My hands shook as I fought back the flood of emotions threatening to take me over as I noticed the hand-shaped bruise near a sprinkling of cuts that were clearly from fingernails. Suddenly, I saw red.
"Who did this?" I asked roughly.
She just shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks, until she collapsed on the bed with her face in her hands as she sobbed.
I didn't know what to do. I felt blinding rage flowing through my veins, and I didn't know where to direct it. She wouldn't talk, and I had no idea if she was hurt anywhere else that wasn't showing.
How would I know if she was damaged internally? Would she let me take her to the hospital?
One look at her defeated form on the bed, and I knew I'd never get her to the hospital. But I needed to know. I needed to make sure every inch of her was okay.
Turning, I walked out of the room and headed for the kitchen. I pulled out my cell phone as I opened the freezer. By the time I found an ice pack, the call connected.
"Hello?"
"Logan, I need you. Now."
It was the longest twenty minutes of my life. When the soft knock on the front door finally came, I jumped from my seat by Leah's bed to answer the door.
Logan and Clare greeted me.
"Hey, thanks for coming. I didn't know what else to do. She won't talk to me, and I just...what if..."
"Hey, Declan, it's okay. I'll make sure she's okay," Logan assured me as we made our way to Leah's room.
When she saw all three of us enter, her eyes widened, and that was when all hell broke loose.
"You called them? What the fuck, Declan? I don't need a pity party!" she said, her voice rising louder than it had since I arrived.
Sitting next to her on the bed, I tried to be as gentle as possible. "Leah, you wouldn't talk, and I needed to make sure you weren't hurt anywhere else. It was either having Logan come here or taking you to the hospital."
"I'm not hurt anywhere else," she said, turning her head toward me.
I thought that was when Logan and Clare got the full view of the side of her face because Clare gasped, and I heard Logan curse under his breath.
"How do you know?" I asked Leah.
"He only hit my face. He only ever hits my face," she muttered.
"Who is he? And this has happened before?" My hands tightened, and I counted to ten, trying to keep a check on my raw hatred of whoever had done this.
"It was your father, wasn't it?" Clare asked softly from across the room. "This wasn't the first time, Leah? How long? Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Leah's eyes shot up to her best friend. "It wasn't all the time. I knew how to control it and avoid it for the most part. As long as I didn't antagonize him, I was safe."
"Jesus, Leah. You should have told me," Clare said, her eyes full of concern.
Leah must have read concern for pity because she retaliated. "Yeah, well...we all can't have perfect childhoods, Clare."
"I didn't mean it like that. I just...never-mind. I'm going to go wait out in the living room," she said, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Logan watched her walk out before taking a step toward Leah. "I want to examine your injuries, Leah. Will you let me?"
She just nodded, and I felt myself take a breath finally. I wouldn't feel right until I knew she was okay or at least not hurting anywhere else.
"Do you want Declan here?"
Before she could even respond, I answered for her, "I'm not leaving."
She didn't protest, so Logan proceeded and asked to sit on the edge of the bed. He checked out her eye, which had already been cleaned up. The bruises and marks on her arm were looked at as well, and then the questions came.
"Leah, did he hurt you anywhere else?" Logan asked.
"No, I don't think so."
"You're not sure?"
"I blacked out after he backhanded me," she answered softly.
I bit back a curse but remained quiet. Logan just nodded and asked her to lie down, so he could check her abdomen for any signs of injury. When that appeared fine, one last question was necessary, and I felt my breath quickening, knowing Logan would have to ask.
"Did he...has he ever hurt you...sexually?"
"No. Never. The only thing that gets my father off is booze," she said with little to no emotion.
Oh thank God. I didn't know if I would have been able to let the motherfucker live for another minute if he had ever touched her. Even now, I wasn't sure how long his life expectancy was going to be.
Logan finished up and gave directions on how to care for the bruises and cuts. The directions were more for me than Leah since she obviously knew how to treat wounds with her medical background.
I walked Logan and Clare to the door and thanked them for taking the time to come over. I knew they'd had to drop Maddie off at Clare's parents' house in a rush to make it over here so quickly. I just didn't know what I would have done without their help.
"It's nothing, really. We would do anything for our family," Logan said, looking at me.
I nodded and pulled him into a brotherly hug.
Clare came next, and I whispered in her ear, "She didn't mean it."
She pulled back, smiling. "I know. Twenty plus years of friendship with Leah have taught me a thing or two. I'll get an apology call from her tomorrow."
After locking the door, I made my way back to the bedroom, finding Leah in the same position as before, curled in a ball on her bed. She looked so small and frail in her cotton shorts and T-shirt. Her robe was still in a heap on the floor where I'd dropped it. I picked it up and hung it on the hook where I'd seen her hang it so many times before. I padded to the other side of the bed. I removed my shoes and started to unbuckle my belt.
"You don't have to stay, Declan."
I finished undressing before lying down next to her. I pulled her around, so we were face-to-face.
"Look at me, Leah. That shit you throw out at others might work most of the time. Hell, your short tongue alone might send others running. But let me tell you something right now. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be here while you cry, scream, and let it all out...because all of us, even you, need someone to hold us when we cry."
The rest of the tears she'd been holding in while Clare and Logan had been here came spilling out. It was like the breaking of a dam. I held her until she cried herself to sleep, and then I held her while she slept, hoping my arms would protect her from all the harm life had shown her. While she slept, I remained wide-awake, gently stroking her hair, as I decided how to get rid of her father...for good.
~Leah~
I awoke slowly, covered in a warmth I'd grown accustomed to since Declan had come into my life. I smiled briefly, feeling his heated body flush against mine, as I listened to the even tone of his breathing. I felt peaceful...until my smile grew too big, and my lip started to split back open.
Then, the memories of the day before came roaring back —the trip to my father's house, the stupid trip when I'd asked questions I'd known I would never get the answers to. The trip had only proven what an even bigger soulless asshole my father was. And the anger...the anger was what I thought of the most. His eyes had glazed over and his rage was unleashed, as his nails had bitten into my delicate skin. I remembered the things he'd said. It wasn't the first time I'd heard them. My father loved to remind me of his sacrifices all the time. I'd like to share a few of mine with him, but I usually managed to keep my mouth shut.
Declan stirred a bit, and I turned so that our noses touched, and I could watch him sleep. He looked younger this way, vulnerable. What he had done for me last night...there were no words.
"Hey..." a groggy Declan said, bending his head down to briefly capture my lips.
"Hi," I answered quietly.
A still silence grew between us, and I knew he was waiting for me to speak, to say something. After yesterday, he deserved some answers. And for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to share them with someone. I took a deep breath and began to share a part of me I never thought I'd be willing to give up.
"It didn't happen all the time," I said slowly. "The...hitting. I was usually able to avoid it —well, usually being the key word. I was still a kid, and being me...I wasn't the greatest at keeping my mouth shut...at least in the beginning. Growing up with an alcoholic father taught me to censor what I said in front of certain people. And that certain person in my life was him."
"How many times, Leah?" he asked. "How many times has he hit you?"
