Page 4 of Devil's Thirst

“For me? Maybe, but I’m not ready to tell anyone yet.” I haven’t seen any of my New York family since leaving four years ago. We’ve been in communication, but it’s a long time to go without seeing one another. I’m reluctant to suffer through the unavoidably dramatic reunion.

“When will you know?” The question would likely irritate someone unfamiliar with his style of communication. I know better. Tommy isn’t trying to ask impossible questions; he’s simply trying to plan. He likes to know what’s ahead.

“Hard to say, but I’ll keep you informed as best as I can.”

“I’ll be on a plane by tomorrow,” he says tonelessly.

“Let me know your arrival time, and I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll have my larger suitcase. Better to bring everything if we might be staying.”

My lips twist in the corners with amusement. No one prepares for contingencies like Tommy. “Sounds good. See you soon.” The line clicks dead.

Unfortunately for Tommy, I don’t think there’s any way to predict what will unfold. I’m going to make Amelie mine, but I’ll do it while staying true to myself. My father charmed my mother into marriage, then secretly beat the shit out of her on a regular basis. He was a pathetic coward in the worst ways possible.

And while I’m not as shitty as my father, I’m not a gentleman, either. Winning over Amelie would be a lot easier if I rode up on a horse like Prince Charming, but that won’t happen.

I willneverpretend to be anything other than what I am.

Ameliewillsee me for exactly who I am, and shewillcome to accept that she’s meant for me. I’ll prove to her that my brand of fucked up is what she needs. It may be a challenge, but that doesn’t worry me. I can be relentless when it comes to gettingwhat I want. And I don’t justwantAmelie Brooks; I’ll go fucking insane without her.

CHAPTER 3

AMELIE

I’ve heardthat joy and heartbreak are two sides of the same coin but never understood it until the birth of my niece. Violet Ophelia Byrne is the most perfect, adorable little human on this earth, from her big blue eyes to her tiny, dimpled fingers. My profound love for her was instant and unshakable. I’ve never experienced anything like it.

I’ll always be grateful to have known that sort of profound connection. However, it wasn’t until then that I fully realized what I’d been denied as a child. Vi wasn’t even my baby, yet I felt a glimpse of what a parents' love should look like. It shone a blinding spotlight on the grotesque disfunction that made my parents incapable of love and compassion.

My sister and I should have had the same love Violet will grow up knowing. We deserved that as much as any child. And it came so easily to me where Vi was concerned. How could my mother not have felt a fraction of the love that should have come so naturally? How could my father be so indifferent to my mother’s cruelty toward me?

Wounds that I thought had healed over were ripped wide open.

I began to question everything about myself. If a parent’s love, biological or otherwise, is the foundation of a person’s existence, how could a child ever grow into a functional adult without those key supports?

From the highest of highs after Violet’s birth, I fell into a suffocating vat of despair, grappling with my own worth. I looked at my sister, Lina, who had the same mother, though different fathers, and she seemed utterly flawless while I was one glaring imperfection after another.

Her father had adored her before he died from a brain tumor. I wondered if that was why she was so strong. She knew love at one point from at least one parent. But where did that leave me? I questioned whether I was the root of the problem.

It took me weeks to sort through my emotions. My logical brain embraced my innocence for the most part. I never asked to be born. I was just as adorable and perfect as little Vi when I arrived on this earth, and if my parents couldn’t bring themselves to love me, that was owed to their demons, not mine.

Where I still struggle at times is worrying about the damages done. I know the things I’ve experienced have marked me, and I pray that the scars won’t keep me from finding my sliver of happiness in the world.

Oddly enough, the very thing that made me question myself most was the same thing that gave me the most reassurance that I’m not hopelessly broken. Violet. She’s eighteen months old now and the most precious thing in this world to me because I know love. And if I’m capable of loving others, then I’m capable of being loved.

I amnotmy parents.

I will happily spend every day of the rest of my life devoted to my small family. My life means nothing without them.

“If you keep picking up her sippy cup, she’ll never learn to stop throwing it on the floor.” Lina glares at me, but there’s no real bite behind her words.

“You’re right. It could be rather awkward if she’s still throwing her sippy cup on the floor in the high school cafeteria.” I stare at my sister until we both burst into a fit of giggles at the mental image.

Vi shrieks with our laughter.

“Such a smart-ass,” Lina mutters before taking a bite of her penne pasta.

I grab takeout for all of us on Wednesdays after practice. Today, I picked up Italian. Lina and I practically inhaled our food. Violet has eaten approximately two noodles and thrown the rest on the floor around her high chair.

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