Page 45 of Second Goal

“You said you didn’t owe anymore.”

“I don’t.” She looks up at the ceiling, touching her bruised temple and wincing. “I mean... I do. In a way.” A small tremble wracks her body. “I don’t know. I just wanted to make things right. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t. I can’t. I failed again.”

“I’m going to need real answers, Kiley. Not riddles.”

“I know... it’s just hard...”

“I get that.” Still crouched in front of her, I twine our fingers together. “Is this...” I’m afraid to ask the question, but I have to. “Is this about Lucy?”

Kiley’s face pales, her mouth parting open on a sharp breath, and I know it does. Somehow the child is key in all of this. I still don’t know who Lucy is. But my imagination has spun out of control, and I have to ask, “Is she yours? Is he… is this Cruz guy the father?”

Her expression distorts in pain, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

“I’m not going to judge. I just want the truth.”

“We didn’t know Cruz until after she was born.”

“We?”

“Amy and me.” Her eyes close and she doesn’t open them when she starts to speak again.

“Who’s Amy?” Every piece of the puzzle I get, I feel like the image is getting more and more distorted.

“A friend. We’d been paired up a couple times in different homes. I’d always been pretty introverted, not really getting close to anyone, but she kind of pushed her way in.” A small smile touches her lips and she looks at me. “Kind of like you. She was always trying to protect me. Especially in the last home we were in...”

I try not to move or breathe, afraid that she’ll stop talking.

“We’d been there for about eight months when the family’s older son moved back from college. He...” Her throat bobs, but her eyes remain closed.

“Tell me.”

“He took an interest in me.”

I hold back the curse that rises in my throat.

“But Amy, she’d been with guys before. And she knew what he wanted. She managed to keep his attention off me for a few months. He’d sneak into our room at night and I could hear them together. But then one night he came to my bed.”

“Fuck. Did he…?”

“No. I fought him. Screamed.” She pulls her hand back and starts picking at a loose string on her jeans. “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier to just… but, I couldn’t let him.”

I move, sitting beside her on the couch and pull her into my arms. Her body is stiff, and she doesn’t lean into me like she usually does.

When she starts talking again, there’s a numbness to her voice, like she’s distanced herself from the memory. “The foster parents called to have me removed from the home. They didn’t believe me. Or if they did, they didn’t want their son getting in trouble.”

“Fuckers,” I mutter, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “It was their job to keep you safe.”

“It was Amy who said we should run. So we did.”

“Where did you go?”

She shrugs, body still tense against me. “We lived on the streets for a bit. We couldn’t go to the shelters because we knew they’d just put us back in foster care, and separate us. It was a few months after we ran away when she found out she was pregnant.”

Amy was pregnant. Not Kiley. The information sinks in and the puzzle pieces slowly form a more unified picture. One I know doesn’t have a happy ending.

“What did you do?”

“I panhandled a bit. But it wasn’t enough. So I started shoplifting. I’m not proud of it, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was lucky I never got caught, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I would.” She pulls away slightly, and I can feel all her walls building. “I know you’re judging me, but—”

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