Chapter 20
Sharon stretched out of her car and then leaned back inside to retrieve two lemonades, one leg rising off the ground, her sandal almost slipping off.
Laif’s heart stopped.
Her tight blue jeans inched down as her white blouse crept up, exposing her lower back, seizing his attention.
He had to pull his eyes off her and back to the Brewsters’ house.
He could hear her walking to his car and wanted to watch. He loved the way she moved—confident with a swing of femininity. But he stayed his focus mostly on the Brewsters’ house, feeling guilty for two more stolen glances of her.
She slunk into the Mercedes and closed the door. She handed Laif his lemonade and burrito from Paco Taco, flipped back her brown hair, and asked, “Have you been smoking cigarettes?”
“Just one.” He felt self-conscious about his sparse habit. “I only smoke one cigarette a month. That’s not bad.”
She made a disgusted face. “It stinks.”
“Sorry. It’s been quite boring here. They must have left.” He took a sip from his cup, and his face curled from the tartness. “I bet they took Cindy with them.”
“Why would they do that?” she asked evenly.
He looked into her eyes. He couldn’t quite place it, but something was different about her, something artificial. “What do you mean?’”
“Just what I said.”
“Why wouldn’t they take her? She’s their daughter, and they want her on their side.” He bit and ripped a section out of the burrito. Chewing, it was warm and delicious.
“I don’t know.” She gulped her lemonade without the slightest flinch. “How can you be sure?”
Something was odd about Sharon, and not just with her mannerisms. She had never questioned the Brewsters’ capacity for ill will. “I told you, Cindy is powerful. These people will do anything to gain more power in their lives.”
She spun her cup nervously in her hands while looking out the window at the Brewsters’ home. “How can we be so sure these parents want the worst for their daughter?”
“What’re you saying?”
“Maybe they know what’s best for her,” she said turning towards him, self-righteousness igniting her eyes.
He put his burrito down. “I can’t believe you’re serious. This is the last thing I’d expect from you.”
“Maybe I don’t fit into what you think I should be,” she asserted. “Maybe I’m a free spirit, with a will and a mind of my own choosing.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He looked down at his legs. He couldn’t face her right now. Something had changed in her, something he didn’t like. This moment reminded him of past experiences in which his father would switch on him—nice one moment and furious the next, sane one moment and crazy the next, believing the family was safe one moment and the next being surrounded by government agents attempting a raid.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want us to think things through, so we don’t do things we might regret.” She took her taco out from the bag and began to munch on it.
“You’ve seen what the Brewsters have done both physically and mentally to their daughter.”
“But why have you given up on them? They’re part of humanity. Don’t they have the same indomitable spirit for goodness we all have? Shouldn’t they be given the same chance that we have to prove their goodness and—”
“They’ve been given that already. They’ve blown it.”
She continued insistently, “Yes, they have done bad things in the past, but how can we just stereotype them as evil?”
He felt like wringing her neck. He hated these disturbing feelings inside him.
Setting his lemonade in the car’s cup-holder, he wrung his left wrist. He couldn’t believe they were even having this discussion. He spoke quickly. “The mother blamed her daughter after she discovered her husband had been sneaking into Cindy’s room at night to molest her. As punishment, Mary bludgeoned her daughter in the head with a hammer. Some choices we make we cannot turn back from. We cannot turn over a new leaf after having done exceptional harmful acts. Sometimes our actions define us.” He couldn’t believe how much this was affecting him. His heart was doing a salsa dance in his chest.
“How can you be so close minded? You of all people, the one who considers himself good. Shouldn’t you be more open-minded, compassionate, and forgiving for all humanity? And the hammer incident was only alleged—”
Laif suddenly understood his feelings. He was terrified of finding himself alone again. When he met Sharon, he felt a connection with her which he hadn’t felt with anyone before. It filled him with contentment and quiet joy. He never wanted this to be severed. But it was now, leaving him alone again—alone in the truth, floating amongst the many people submerged in murkier waters. He was tempted to dunk his head into those waters as well, just to be a part of other people, just to stop feeling so responsible, just to feel connection with Sharon again.
“—and the sexual abuse was never substantiated. It was never proven that the father did anything.”
He pushed open his car door, got out, and paced around outside, sucking deep drafts of fresh air. He could never submerge his head in lies. To dunk his head in that muck would make him feel even sicker than isolation. Doing so would negate the harm that befalls victims of evil. Doing so would be a turn towards darkness.
His fisted his hands and looked back at his car.
Inside the Mercedes, she put her taco down and crossed her arms across her chest, sighing.
But of all people, he believed she would be the last to fall from the truth. Her life was about fighting for children who have been victimized, helping them grow, uncovering lies that seeped into their souls over the years from the weight of abuse. How could she act different now?
She leaned toward his open door. “Aren’t you running from the truth in some way? Aren’t you denying the—”
He slammed his door shut, muffling her voice. That was not Sharon in the car. Something else was with them.