Page 44 of Fight for Me

We exchange phone numbers, and after saying goodbyes, both women leave with encouraging smiles.

I sit back down next to Brody, who’s watching Henry play with a toy car, totally ignorant of people walking past him.

“I didn’t want to live,” I break the silence and can see Brody’s head turn toward me, but I don’t look at him, still concentrating on my son.

“I was tired of running, of my life, I just didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care to ever come back. I was just done.” I lick my dry lips and rub my arms, feeling uncharacteristically cold. “When I met Ricky, I just let things happen, you know? He offered me a good time, booze, drugs, and even bought me some stuff. I didn’t ask questions, I didn’t react to anything. I was numb. I just wanted to cease to exist.”

“Sweetheart, that’s...” Brody grunts sorrowfully and reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“If it wasn’t for him...” I nod toward Henry. “I wouldn’t be here. That I’m sure of. Because I never tried to kill myself, per se. But I didn’t hang onto life either. Until I found out I was pregnant a few months after running away. And suddenly, it’s like this fog was cleared from my brain. I was given a purpose for the first time in my life. A reason to live. To care for myself.”

Brody hums in his throat and then asks, “What about that Ricky guy you’ve mentioned? You said Henry’s father is out of the picture before.”

“Yeah...” I sigh and focus on Brody’s intense eyes. “He wasn’t the greatest, but the fact that he didn’t beat me or hurt me was a big step-up in my mind at the time. I was his girl, and I was happy with all the drugs he could provide. It was simple. But then I was knocked up.”

“Let me guess. Ricky wasn’t a fan of the idea of becoming a father...” Brody grouses disapprovingly.

“Understatement.” I snort and roll my eyes. “For me, the party was over, and I started to make demands. Ricky was there for me sometimes... but mostly I was just a pregnant roommate in a house full of mayhem. After I gave birth, things turned for the worse, but at least I still had a roof over my head and food in my belly. Then, when Henry was just maybe a month, Ricky started to fuck around with someone else.”

“You guys broke up?” Brody questions, and starts to swipe his thumb against my palm, reminding me that my hand is still in his grasp. When did we move on to holding hands? Does it mean something, or is this just a friendly show of support on his part? Am I just reading too much into it?

“Jen?” Brody prompts, and I snap my eyes to his.

“What? Oh. Umm, we separated, but not really. Henry and I still lived with Ricky and his friends for a while,” I mutter distractedly.

“So where is he?”

I scratch my neck irritably before I answer. “Idiot got himself into trouble. From what I found out later, his moronic friends decided to make some fast money. Of course, they were all too stupid to pull anything off, and instead were fast thrown into jail. Auto theft.”

Brody’s eyebrows lift, but he doesn’t comment, so I continue with my story. “Anyway. I couldn’t stay at that house anymore. So, I decided to stop being a chicken shit, and finally solve all that shit from my past. I packed our stuff, and drove with Henry back to Bell Ridge.”

“Wait. You came back there?” Brody sits straighter and squeezes my hand with a disturbed expression on his face.

I wave my free hand with a pout, remembering that awful day. “Waste of time, but at least the cop I spoke to shed some light on my situation. Although, he was a dick.”

“Which cop?” Brody asks with a frown, looking back at Henry when he starts making noise.

“I don’t know... Davis? Dines?”

“Diaz?” Brody supplies and I snap my fingers.

“Yes! That’s the one.” I smack my lips, when I recollect my encounter with the police officer. “He told me there were no charges against me anymore, and that my parents were gone. That you’re gone. That Claire’s gone. Asshole just about told me to get the fuck out and to never come back because all I bring is trouble,” I laugh derisively, when I see the sneering face in my mind. “And when he saw Henry? God, I thought he was going to shit a brick. Weird man.”

I look back at Brody when he takes his hand away from mine and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees with a sour expression.

“What?” I glance at my son to see if he’s still preoccupied and then turn my body fully toward Brody, to squeeze his arm. “Brody, what is it?”

He rakes his hand through his hair and exhales. “A lot happened back then. I guess you’ve already heard about the fire at the warehouse, and your father being on the run after that.”

“Robert mentioned something,” I reply in a low voice, curious where this is going.

“I was there,” Brody admits quietly and finally faces me again. “In that warehouse. With your father,” he clarifies when I cast him a confused look.

“I fucked up, Jen. With so many things. I put you in danger, myself, the whole investigation, hell, even Diaz almost died because of me.”

“But you did expose the sheriff, right?” I question.

“That fucking fire did start off a sequence of events that eventually led to issuing an arrest warrant. But I will never take credit for that. And it’s not like we got the guy. He’s still out there. He was free to...” He stops with regret written on his face, but we both know what he was about to say. My father was still free to kill my mother, and he’s still free to kill someone else.

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