Family is Everything & Sally’s Business
Everyone is here and cramped in my house while the press and photographers are gathered around the fence that blocks me from the outside world. The reporters and their news vans are causing me high levels of anxiety. They’re all eagerly waiting to break the same story. I sense them all staring at my house of glass with their hard stones in hand, ready to shatter my entire universe.
What will happen then?
What will happen once I break?
I shake it off and glance around my home.
Charlie reads children books to Jackson, the kid from the oncology ward I met a few years back, and his sister Jessie. I’ve grown extremely close to them over the years and they spend at least one weekend with me out of every couple of months. This is their weekend and they both wanted to come no matter what predicament I am in. Their mother agreed and wouldn’t have it any other way.
So how could I say no?
Naya and Taylor are talking and giggling in the living room while Lark and Rex play pool with Ivy and Blue in the connected area off to the side. Everyone seems to be getting along for once. But I have yet to talk with Blue since we found out we are blood related.
Ding!
The timer goes off, and I take the hot chocolate chip cookies out the oven, placing them on a cooling rack. Hero snatches one from the pan, burning his fingers and tongue as he hurriedly shoves it into his mouth.
“Shit, that’s hot,” he mutters, fanning his scorched hand in the air and chewing with his mouth wide-open, trying to cool the burning cookie on his tongue.
“Let the cookies cool first, idiot,” I say, thumping him against the head.
He scowls at me, rubbing the spot where I hit him. “Grandpa, Hunter hit me in the head and he called me an idiot.”
“Hit him again, Hunter,” Charlie calls out.
I do and Charlie laughs with everyone else. “Snitches get stitches, boy. No one likes a telltale.”
Jackson gives him a high-five and smiles. “Right on, Grandpa!”
Jessie stands and walks over the piano. She runs her fingers across the keys, then sits down on the bench. I pause and watch them. They’ve grown so much. They’re practically little adults. Jessie begins to play the piece we’ve been working on for a while: Erike Satie Gymnopédie No. 1.
I shut my eyes and let my heart feel with joy.
***
I tuck them both into the bed in my spare guestroom, which the both disagree with. Both of them rather spend the hours of the late night up and about. But I rather have them tucked safely away from the mess surrounding me.
Jessie defiantly folds her arms across her chest and pouts. “This is so unfair, Hunter. I’m fourteen now and I have the right to stay up pass ten.”
“No, Jessie. It is bedtime,” I say, pushing through her guilt trip that’s working effectively. “Listen to me now. Hunter knows best.”
“Just go to sleep, Jessie,” Jackson mutters. “You’re always peed off. Mom says it’s because your body is changing and you’re going through p—”
“You better not say another word, Jackson,” his sister snaps.
I clasp her hand in both of mine and stare into her pretty hazel eyes that instantly widen. “Everything you’re feeling is normal, Jessie. All the emotions and hormones may feel like a raging war inside yourself but the dust well settle soon and you’ll gain control over your body once again. Everyone goes through it. Boys and girls alike.”
“Gross,” Jackson shrills, poking his tongue out of his mouth. “I want to stay seven forever.”
I reach out to ruffle his head full of thick chocolate-colored curls, thankful that he is in remission. No cancer at all in his young body that’s filled with so much life. “All foolish boys grow up to be responsible men, Jackson.”
He wrinkles his nose and I laugh.
“Can you tell us how you met, Isabel? And how did you know she was The One?” Jessie asks. “I hope I find my boyfriend now, so we can grow together and learn each other really well. If I find him now then nothing will ever tear us apart from each other, like you and Isabel. You guys are Cherry Creek royalty.”
I gaze at her and her precious face flushes, her fluttering dark lashes going a mile a minute. I have to watch out for this little one here. She’s going to be a knockout and I already have a uneasy feeling rooted in my gut about keeping boys with bad intentions away from sweet Jessie. “I’ll tell you how I met Isabel and how I knew she was the one, but in return, I want you to promise me that you’ll both go to sleep after. Okay?”
“Promise,” they both say in chorus.
I settle in the chair and close my eyes. “Once upon a time, a lonely dragon stumbled upon a beautiful princess swinging under a willow tree…”
Once the kids are sleep, I grab a chilled bottle of water from the fridge and then step out on the deck outside, leaving my family to finish dinner around my kitchen table without me. The TV happened to be on and I caught a glimpse of the latest new story. It was about me and Isabel and the investigation that surrounds me. When I saw her photo that the news stations are streaming from her nursing graduation, my stomach twisted and I lost what little appetite I had. Isabel radiated purity in her all white cap and gown, smiling from ear to ear, and holding her nursing degree proudly in her hands. She looked like a goddess, pure and untouched from the sorrows of the world. She looked happy. Isabel seemed content. But that is so far from the woman I left on a sandy shore...
“Hunter.”
I glance back and Blue comes through the door to join me on the deck. She pulls out a packet of cigarettes, plucks one out, placing it between her lips and lights it. She takes a hard pull and blows out a small cloud of smoke from her nose. “Too many people inside?”
“No. Too many news stories,” I explain.
Her nose and mouth scrunches as she makes a face. “No one is a fan of the media. They’re all worthless swine waiting on the next big thing to break. Greedy pricks. I do not blame you. You shouldn’t fear them.”
“I don’t fear them. I fear how the media may influence the people I care about. Jessie and Jackson and Hero and Naya are all innocents, and I don’t want what’s happening around me to cause chaos in their lives. They’re still so young.”
Blue takes another long drag, rolling her lit cigarette between her clever fingers as she contemplates something. “I understand. When the swine uncover we’re related,” she lifts a thin brow and smashes the burning cherry of her cigarette against the wooden beam on the deck, “they’re going to be all over that shit like vultures. Be prepared, big cousin. The onion-skin thin sensitive ones never make it out the limelight alive or sane.”
“I have elephant skin,” I mutter, staring at the full moon high in the dark sky. “Thick.”
She looks at me and then glances back at the commotion in the house. “Good. You’re going to need it.”
I follow her gaze to Detective Steve and Detective Amber joyously walking through my house towards us with the biggest megawatt smiles I’ve seen in a long while. It’s like they’re in a fucking parade, all they’re missing is the cruisers and the high hand waves. The two somber officers behind them don’t look as pleased as they are.
I close my eyes and all I see is Isabel.
Her face.
Her smile.
Her eyes.
Shit.
Fuck my life.
***
The integration room irritates me. I feel trapped, confined, and helpless. I feel exactly how they want me to. Turning my head, I lift my eyes to the wide mirror across from me, wondering who’s behind it watching. Patterson is on the plane now. He’s flying in from Phoenix. What kind of business he has in Phoenix, I have no fucking clue. They picked the perfect time to fuck with me. Patterson won’t be here for a while. They have hours to harass me and try to break me into saying some bullshit that will get my life thrown and locked in federal prison.
A clear evidence plastic bag that contains my blood-stained T-shirt is slammed on the table right in front of my face. “Where’s her body, Hunter?” Steve snarls.
Amber gives me a sympathized look. But I see straight through their good cop/bad cop strategy. “Hunter, you can confess right here and we have a plea deal already prepared for you. It’s a great deal. I promise you. We don’t want to make this more difficult than it needs to be.”
A hysterical laugh bubbles out of me and I don’t try to conceal it. I said Amber’s very last sentence to Isabel countless times.
We don’t want to make this more difficult than it needs to be.
Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be, Isabel.
They both look at me and then at each other, confirming something in their locked gaze.
“I’ve done nothing,” I say, feeling like my life is set one replay. “Isabel is alive.”
Her face saddens. “We have proof you took Isabel, Hunter.”
My brows furrow as my forehead creases. “What proof could you actually have?”
Steve flings a thick maroon folder on the table and pictures of Isabel and me escape the thick file, splattering all over the surface of the table like a slap in the face. There are frames of me and Isabel leaving her house. Frames of me and Isabel smiling at each other in my truck. Frames of me and Isabel going into my childhood home. Pictures of Isabel in her blonde short wig and me emerging from my adolescent home and leaving to get into a cab. Then there’s a frame of me coming back by myself. How casual we look, but I know we were anything but casual. As soon as the sweat breaks across my forehead, I know that I am fucked.
“Sally hired a private investigator to look after you and we now know that you indeed were with Isabel,” Detective Amber says softly.
Detective Steve’s jaw tightens as he leans forward and braces his hands on the edge of the table as if to keep himself from punching me. He moves the photo of me and Isabel leaving together in front of my face. Isabel fills my vision. That is the last photo of us together. The last photo of Isabel. “The question is: What did you do with her?”
***
They’ve set me up in another empty room because I refuse to talk. I have no sense of time because there are no clocks anywhere. Or windows. I’m left cuffed to a table with a paper cup of lukewarm water in front of me. My sanity feels as thin as this Dixie cup.
Though, I haven’t confessed to anything, I know I am truly fucked and only biding me time. My status is confirmed when an officer opens the door and Sally crosses the threshold, wearing a sophisticated white cocktail dress and matching heels. She flings her honey blonde hair off her shoulder with her shimmering eyes aimed at me and her red lips are parted in a bright smile like we are casually meeting for coffee.
She sits perched on a blue folded chair in front of me. I get a whiff of her rich perfume and I suddenly feel like my head is under water. I suddenly feel like I’m being smothered, like I’m being buried alive.
I hate this feeling of being overwhelmed by her.
Not only does she get under my skin, she gets into my bones and leeches me dry of life.
Sally’s thin golden brows furrow as she frowns at me. She reaches out to touch my hand. I shut my eyes once skin-to-skin contact is made.
I’m not filled with anger.
Or fury.
No.
I’m filled with sadness and misery and sorrow. I’m filled with grief so deep it seems bottomless. So when she touches me as if she has the right to, I want to crawl out of my skin and die in a dark corner away from prying eyes.
“Hunter, you look exhausted.” She gives my hand a compassionate squeeze, but it’s just as phony as the sandy streaks of her highlighted hair. “But don’t worry. It’s almost over, honey.”
My eyes shift from her hand on top of mine to her malevolent gaze. She steadily holds my gaze like I knew she would. Her eyes aren’t blue. Thank Christ. Sally has eyes the color of dark chocolate. I don’t think I could have survived her if they were blue. She would really just be a copy of my mother, only younger.
“What do you mean?”
She tightens her grip on me and I scream inside my head. “Just confess, Hunter. Please. I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”
She really means: I hope you die in here, Hunter. I don’t want you to see the light of the sun anymore.
“Maybe you’re the one that should start confessing.”
The wrinkles between her eyebrows grow deeper as she strokes my hand. “Confess to what, sweetie?” Her voice is gentle yet patronizing.
Working my jaw, I stare at her and swallow the pain down inside of my chest when all I truly want to do is spit it back at her. My throat burns and constricts when I whisper for her ears only, “I know about the babies, Sally.”
Her dark eyes expand and she chokes on a chough. “What?”
“You didn’t have to lie, but you did to hurt me. Despite that, it’s not your fault.” I shrug and draw in a breath that does nothing to satisfy the ache in my blistering lungs. “Shit happens.”
She tries and fails to smooth her perplexed features from her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
This time I squeeze her hand that has gone limp on top of mine. At a time in my life, long ago, I once cared for this woman. I won’t go so far as calling it love. What we did to teach other is polar opposite of love. But I cared for her. I worried about her. I don’t anymore. I will never lose sleep over Sally ever again. She knows this and that hurts worse than her lies ever did. “You do, and I want you to know that I forgive you, Sally. I forgive you for everything and one more thing.” I grip her hand a little firmer. I’m about to give her the best advice Isabel gave me. For the first time when my gaze hits hers, I feel her wanting to look anyway but into my eyes. She stares back at me with glossy orbs, though. “You don’t have to be happy, Sally. Just be enough.”
She jerks her hand away from me and jumps from her seat. “Get me out of here,” she yells to the guard outside of the door.
And just like that, I watch the old leave my life and new come in.
Sally exits and Isabel enters.
Sally is just as shocked as I am, watching open-mouthed as Isabel calmly walks pass her to my side and leans forward to press a soft kiss on my parted lips. I shut my stinging eyes and choke on her sweetness. I feel like crying for a completely different reason now.
“Let’s go home,” she whispers in my ear.
I nod in agreement, not fully trusting my voice to respond.
Once I’m un-cuffed, Isabel and I walk straight pass the detectives and out of the police department doors into a sea of swarming press. Isabel holds me close to her as harsh white light bulbs burst and explode, surrounding us in a halo of brilliancy. They snap their pictures. I squint at the never-ending wave of flickering lights that threatens to swallow us. Each click of the camera feels like they’re taking something private, something sacred, turning it into something that is less than it really is. Isabel reaches down and entwines her fingers with mine. She takes me by the hand and leads me into a sleek town car.
Lenses press against the darkly tinted window of the car and flash brightly.
I make a desperate noncommittal sound and Isabel pushes my head down into her lap. I don’t fight her. I go down willingly. I bury my face in the soft material of her light blue flowing skirt. She shields me with her body like I’ve done for her.
She lovingly strokes my hair. “Shh. You’re safe now, Hunter. Relax. They can’t see us. Close your eyes. We’re almost home.”
The princess saves her dragon this time.