Page 84 of Mangled Memory
She never finishes. Either because she’s out ofwords or because my mind trips over the idea that she’s used us all these years to buffer her frustration. The idea is disgusting and untenable, but I’ll think on it later. Because I hear the boom of my father’s voice from the back door.
“Janie!”
“Reality calling,” I whisper and back away from her hunched form. I turn and leave her bedroom to face the man in question lumbering down the hall.
“Ayla? What are you doing here?”
“I came to have coffee with Mom. We both had some time.” I need to decide right here and now whether I want to get out of here and muddle over all the things I’ve learned today, all the feelings that are clawing for the surface, or if I want to shove back against the asshole who is a bulwark in all of our lives.
“Did your asshole husband let you out of the house this time?”
Shove it is. “Let’s not. I won’t listen to this.”
“Really?” He laughs mirthlessly, but his face goes hard. “Why? Because he told you you couldn’t. Or because you can’t?”
“You’re really losing it, aren’t you? I’m not listening because I”—I point to my chest, poking myself a bit too hard with my emphasis—“choose not listen as you spout bullshit.”
I move to slide by him but he grabs my upper arm so tightly I cry out in pain. “Ow. You’re hurting me!” I’d wrench out of his grip, but the flesh at my upper arm would be ripped.
“Don’t speak to me that way.”
“I’ll speak to you any way I damn well please.”
“Yeah? Sure. Just make sure your warden says it’s okay.”
Shaking my head, I pull my arm out with such force, the back of my hand slams into Mom’s face. “Mom!”
Shit!
She screams as I shake my hand trying to eliminate the pain of what amounts to a punch.
“Get the fuck out, Ayla.” Dad bellows and shoves me aside and straight into the wall face first. “And don’t come back.”
“She’s. Always. Welcome. Here,” Mom says through ragged breaths. “Oh, God, I think my nose is broken.”
“No, she’s not. And I’ll call Sherman Nettles today to make sure it’s added to her petition.”
Mom and I both pause in unison. “What?”
The whole world shrinks to a pinprick as my father speaks. “Christian got a court order to be her legal guardian when she hit her head.” He jabs a meaty finger in my direction. “She’s his ward.”
The muffled sound rises to a crescendo.
My brain goes foggy.
And blackness takes me.
25
the loosey-goosey club
Christian
“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?”
“I mean, sir, that in the confusion of ambulances at the Murphy’s, she slipped away. Her vehicle is there. Her phone is still there. She is…” Fitz pauses as if he’s uncomfortable with what he has to relay. “…Not.”
I pull the phone from my face to stare down at it as if I can will it into submission. When I return it to my face, I seethe, “Fitz, find her. Now.” I click the phone off and pace.
