Page 57 of Tainted Love

I ignore her amused tone and step forward. Not exactly how I envisioned carrying a woman across the threshold, but I guess I’ll take it.

Another wave of memories strikes me down as I glance around the open foyer. A staircase leads up to three bedrooms and a bathroom with a toilet that probably still doesn’t work right. The living room is still just as cramped. It was never meant for entertaining three growing children, but my grandparents made it work. There’s a dining room to the left with an attached kitchen near the back. So many hours spent doing homework at that table, listening to Elijah and Lilah argue about who the hell knows what. Beneath the thick, musty air, it still smells like it always did, like my grandmother’s lilac perfume and sandalwood. The furniture remains in place, covered with thick sheets to keep the dust off.

“Can you put me down now, please?”

“Hang on…” I carry her into the living room and pull a sheet off the couch. It flicks a cloud of dust into the air around us and Lucy lets out a small sneeze. “Sorry…”

“Dick.”

I lower her off my shoulder slowly, being careful not to bend her legs too much. She settles into the cushions, leaning as far away from me as she can. “Keep it elevated—”

“I know how to treat an injury,” she snaps, grabbing the throw pillow behind her head and sliding it under her knee.

I back up and walk to the wall to try the light switch. “No power…”

There’s a generator in the shed by the lake behind the house that should still be useful. I pause, reeling from the sudden rush of memory. It’s strange how much comes back after you’ve been away for so long.

I should take care of Lucy first.

I step down the hall toward the bathroom and pull open the cabinet above the sink. It’s mostly been picked clean. Nothing but a bag of cotton balls and an old bottle of aspirin remain inside. It’ll do, I suppose.

As I make my way back to her, I stop by my grandfather’s liquor cabinet and pull the sheet off. My lips curl. His whiskey bottles are still here.

“Take a few of these,” I tell her, handing her the aspirin bottle.

She squints her eyes to read the label. “These are nine years expired.”

“Take it with this, then.” I drop a whiskey bottle on the couch next to her and grab another one off the shelf.

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t argue. She twists the cap off the aspirin and throws two into her mouth along with a fast swig of whiskey. “Ugh…” Her face contorts in disgust.

“Atta girl.” I rip a sheet off the armchair across from her and plop down into it with my own bottle.

“What are we doing out here?” she asks.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I have to go back home.”

I stare at her, drawing blanks. “Why?”

She looks down, almost ready to cry again, but she holds it together. “Because they killed my father.”

Payback. Of course. It’d be my first instinct, too.

“Don’t be stupid, Lucy,” I say. “You wouldn’t last a second and we both know it.”

Her lips tighten. “Then, what the hell are we doing out here?”

She looks at me with expectation. Like I’m a man with a plan. I wish I could tell her I had one, but I can’t see past the next few minutes right now.

“I’m going to go outside and see if I can get the generator started.” I push off the chair and walk toward the front door, grabbing the flashlight still hanging down from the key hooks. “Stay off the knee.”

She doesn’t say a word as I step outside onto the porch.

The air is clear and warm, far different than the thick air of Chicago. I’d almost forgotten how it felt out here. Fresh flowers growing everywhere. Small animals just wandering around. The constant sound of the lake lapping against the dock down the thick lawn. It all comes rushing back like a monstrous tidal wave.

I make my way around the house and follow the path of rocks toward the dock. The shed comes into view, nearly obscured by overgrown trees and thigh-high grass. I step inside and the stench of mold and rotting wood invades my nose.

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