Page 16 of Salvation

“I bought a house.” Cutthroat. Straight to the point. No point in tiptoeing.

She laughs loudly. “You’re funny. So, what’s up?”

“Viv, I’m serious.” I start to bite one of my nails and then whip it back down to my lap, irritated at how nervous I am.

“Um…okay.” Silence greets me from the other side of the phone, and I feel my nerves getting worse as each second passes. My knee starts bouncing, and then she giggles again and says, “Did you at least make sure it’s a two-bedroom? Because I’m going to be pissed when I visit, and I have to listen to you snore all night long.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips as I protest. “I don’t snore!” She hums, knowing damn well I do. “You’re not mad?" I ask, needing the reassurance.

“Babe. Why would I be mad? A little shocked, yes, but not mad. Never mad. If this is something you want, I want it for you, too.”

I sigh in relief and then wince when I say, “Will you be mad if I tell you it’s a one-bedroom?”

She pushes out a long breath like it’s the most devastating news she’s ever received. “I suppose it will be fine if you have one killer couch.”

“I love you. You’re too good to me.”

“I know. Now, tell me all about it. Do you have a hot neighbor?” I avoid the last part, because I have no idea who my neighbors even are, and tell her all about the house I stumbled upon during my run. There’s a tone to her voice as we talk back and forth that tells me she’s dying to ask a few questions solely unrelated to me finding a house. I debate on telling her just how well Whitney’s doing, but I decide it’s best if I don’t. Even I can see it’s time that the two figure their situation out on their own. They don’t need a mediator. We’re just finishing up the conversation as my mom’s familiar white jeep pulls into the driveway. “Mom’s home. I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Tell her I said hi. Love you!”

“Love you too,” I say and put my phone down by my side as my mom steps out of her car, purse and keys in hand. She sees me, and her face lights up with a smile that makes my heart warm.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey.” She sets down her stuff and sits next to me on the porch. I return her smile and say, “I have some pretty crazy news.”

“Bet it’s not any crazier than mine.” A flash of worry appears in her eyes, and I don’t stop the frown from working its way onto my face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, but she nudges my shoulder. “You go first.”

“I bought a house. Just a few miles down the road.”

Tears fill her eyes as she looks at me. She nods and turns her head forward before meeting my eyes again and taking my hand.

“Your dad got out early.”

***

I spent the rest of the day hanging over the toilet, puking and puking until nothing was left.

Your dad got out early.

The sentence has been on a constant loop in my head for the past couple of hours. And while my mom tried to explain the situation to me, it ended abruptly when I startedthis.She now rubs my back as I dry heave into the toilet for what must be the 20thtime. I lean back against the tub and bask in how nice the cool porcelain feels against my skin.

My father wasn’t arrested for beating me, no. Nobody knew about that except for my mother, Whitney, and Vivienne. He was arrested because after he woke up and found me gone, he showed up at my mother’s rehab center and trashed the entire place in a fit of rage. Drunk driving, aggravated assault, and criminal mischief. But no child abuse.

I suppose that’s on me, as I made my mother promise not to say anything and to let me leave town with little protests. Not that she had much say when I turned eighteen. Even if she had tried, the police would have little to go on with said victim no longer even being in the same state.

Still rubbing my back, my mom murmurs, “Sheriff Eaton is still a good friend. Since he was released on probation, he won’t even be able to leave the rehab center he’s in, let alone come to Clover-Hills. You won’t see him, Blake.”

While it does ease some of the tension lining my shoulders, it does little to comfort me.Especiallyafter my run-in with Jason. I haven’t told my mom about it, and I sure as hell won’t after hearing this news. She doesn’t need another thing to stress about.

A part of me misses my father and wants to forgive him. He’s just a man who needed help and was never offered it. He may have been violent and brutal in the end, but there was a time when he loved me more than anything else in his life. That’ssomething I’ve come to terms with over the years. But another part of me wishes he was six feet in the ground and never allowed to see the light of day again. It’s morbid and a little dark, but it’s the truth.

I tip my head back and close my eyes. I have no idea what to say to her. The woman should be as freaked out as I am, but she is unnaturally calm. Just as she goes to open her mouth again, a knock sounds from the living room. She looks from me to the door, indecision written all over her features. “I’m fine. Go see who it is.”

I hear a shuffle, and then what I assume is the front door swinging open. “Now’s not a good time.” I hear my mother’s voice say, followed by a gruff, “I just need to talk to her for a minute.”

---