Page 50 of Risking it All

“The guy won’t drive me home,” Lyra continued. “He’s being a real dick.”

A feral rage rose up in me. “Did he hurt you?” How was I to save them both?

“I’m fine. He didn’t do anything. I swear. My friend Christy’s on the way to get me. I’m sorry, Relic. I really am. I know I messed up.”

“I’m on my way home.” I hung up on Lyra and immediately texted Camila:Call me now.

I then pressed Camila’s contact and put the cell on speaker. I shoved it in Macie’s hand as she gave me her keys.

“What can I do?” Demarius asked Macie as the two of us headed for her car.

“I’ll let you know if we need anything and what happens,” Macie replied, then shut the door to her car.

I started her engine and tore out of the parking lot, not giving a fuck if I ran red lights or broke every traffic law in existence. My phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing and Camila never answered. When it went to Camila’s voicemail, I said to Macie, “Keep trying.”

Macie did as I asked, and the droning sound of the ringing phone made me feel as if I had been pushed off a cliff and was waiting to slam onto the ground to die. The devil dug his fingers into my brain.Helpless. Never in my life had I felt so helpless. Fear slashed through my chest, through my gut. She had to be okay. Camila was just a little girl. My only reason for breathing in and out during the day. She had to be okay. She had to be.

Never in my life had I driven so fast, never in my life had a ride taken so long. I couldn’t breathe as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building. Shoving the car into Park, I leapt out, sprinted up the stairs, and cursed aloud when the knob gave no resistance. I busted in, my heart pounding in my ears, a cold sweat along my brow, and I blinked twice at the sight of my dad sitting on the couch watching Camila play with her stuffed animals.

“Relic!” Camila called out like it was the best moment of her life. She ran to me. Overwhelmed with seeing her safe, Icrouched and wrapped her up in my arms as she fell into me. I squeezed her tight, probably a little too tight, but I had to make sure she was real, that she was safe and that all the nightmares that had tortured me on the ride here had stayed bad dreams.

I kissed the side of her head, and unable to let her go, I moved her onto my hip as I stood. She rested her head on my shoulder as she continued to hug me.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Lyra left,” she whispered. “I was scared.”

Anger rumbled through me like thunder before a storm, and I attempted to breathe out the need to strangle our older sister. “She messed up, but she called me. You’re safe now.” No use lying. Camila was only six, but she understood Lyra better than most. “Look at me.”

Camila lifted her head off my shoulder and her troubled eyes met mine.

“Did he hurt you?” I prodded regarding Dad. “Yell at you? Say anything to you that made you feel bad? Do things that made you uncomfortable?”

Camila shook her head. “He played Mr. Toad.”

Sure enough, the green frog sat on the couch next to Dad. “He doesn’t use the same voice as you, but he did okay.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” I prodded.

“I was about to, but thenheshowed. I thought Lyra sent him. I know you said to never unlock the door for anyone, but he sleeps here, and you said he was our…” she mouthed “Dad.”

I had explained to Camila that “he” was our father. I had taken her for ice cream, and she’d sat across from me with her arms crossed like she was a judgmental eighty-five-year-old. The only question she’d had: “What do I call him?”

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable.” It was as good an answer as any. The names I had for him weren’t six-year-old appropriate. So, Camila had yet to call him anything.

Should I be grateful to him? No. He could have as easily been the threat. As a kid, I had been alone with Dad. Alone with his drinking. Alone with him high. Alone with his uneven temper, heavy hand, and that tired narrative of how having children fucked-up his life. “I thought we agreed you’d only be here to sleep.”

Dad warily met my eyes as if he were scared of me. “I was at the bar, outside smoking a…” he trailed off, probably guessing I wouldn’t be happy he returned to smoking anything, “…and I saw Lyra leave without Camila. I knew you were at work, so I came by to check in on her. I’m glad I did.”

Movement near the open door and my body felt like a fully loaded semi-truck had slammed into it. Macie stood there wide eyed, taking in all the dysfunction. I hadn’t wanted her to see this—where I lived. My poverty. My dirt life. And I sure as shit never wanted her to meet my worthless dad.

“Who are you?” Camila asked.

“That’s Macie,” I answered before she could.

“Hi.” Macie gave an awkward wave because what else could she do? My family was a Dumpster fire. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“It is,” I said, as Camila asked in a sing-song voice, “Is that your girlfriend?”

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