Page 55 of Borden 3

I frowned, but I didn’t argue. I stiffened a nod and before I could even respond, he placed a meaningful kiss on my forehead.

I felt it all the way to my toes.

Stepping back, he hurried back into the house, and I fell into my squeaky patio chair, crossing my arms. I looked around the yard, studying the older faces as people crowded around in little groups, drinking and talking shit.

Nobody looked at me.

I rolled my eyes at a group of college girls done up to the nines. They stood together, giggling as they peered around. I knew by the clothes they were in that they were wealthy girls that didn’t belong on this side of town. They kept staring at guys, clutching their necklaces and leaning into each other’s spaces to giggle some more.

A guy with shaggy hair passed out bottles of beer. Drunk out of his mind, he practically tripped over his feet as he clumsily handed me one. It almost fell into my lap. I caught it just barely, holding onto it because it was cold.

I brought the tip of it to my nose and sniffed, my nose wrinkling at the scent. My stomach churned. The smell of alcohol always reminded me of my parents. Of my father beating on my mother.

Of the last night he'd beaten her.

I’d heard her crying from my tiny bed. They were the kind of cries you could feel at the bottom of your soul. They were cries soaked in a form of despair that ran so deep and broken, I’d remembered crying, too.

Then the gunshots rang out.

Not one shot. Not even two. A series of them and then her wails turned to angry screams.

She had killed my dad and I had peed the bed.

Then she’d come to me, covered in his blood, and looked down at me, the gun still hot in her hand.

I wasn’t afraid.

I simply asked, “Is it over?”

Just thinking about that now, I wasn’t sure what I was referring to. Was what over? Her killing him? Or did it mean he was never going to hurt us ever again?

She said, “No.”

Nothing else.

That was all she’d said to me. That was my final memory of her: staring down at me, answering me in that quivering, pained voice, “No.”

I threw the bottle down, disgusted. My eyes watered. I blinked and looked around some more.

Where was Theo?

One of the college girls walked past me. She smelled like fresh fruit. She had long blonde hair. She was tall and beautiful and didn’t belong here. I watched her walk slowly, uncertainly, toward a man in a patio chair, sitting alone. He had a broad frame, shirtless, tattoos everywhere, and he was staring up at the sky. I couldn’t see his face from here, but judging by the looks the girls kept giving him, I figured he was one of those bad boy types they wanted to have a taste of.

Well, that was Theo to me, and it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

I got up from my chair and went back inside, deciding I’d stand by the basement door for Theo.

I waited and waited.

When he still didn’t come up, I slowly opened the basement door. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I just wanted to hear his voice, so I knew he was still down there.

I heard nothing but silence.

Was he not down there?

I looked up and down the empty corridor. It was quiet. Everyone was outside, having a rowdy time, and no one was here. It was strange. Peering back down the wooden steps, I slowly descended one step. Then the next. I paused in the middle of the stairs when I could see directly into the room. The television was still on, but the sound was muted. The man that was behind the table was gone. The bag was gone and the money, so I assumed he’d left. I went down further, looking around the barely furnished room, searching for Theo.

At the bottom, I walked toward the couch, my eyes catching on to the television for a moment. Sports highlights of a recent basketball match. I flicked my eyes away, my eyes trailing the ashtray where a bunch of cigarettes were squashed. One cigarette was still dangling over the ashtray, like it’d been rested there and forgotten, almost the entire body turned to ash.

---