Twenty-Three

        Where We Leave

        I pinch the fabric of Belle’s sheets and slump down onto her bed. I let my face fall into my palms as one of the kittens mew nearby. I don’t want to leave them here with Grandpa; it’s not fair that he will have to take on the trouble of taking care of them or getting rid of them, but I can’t take them with me. Dad doesn’t allow pets, not anymore.

            The grey one nudges me, rubbing the top of its head on my right arm. I look up and gently scratch it underneath its chin. It closes its eyes happily and sigh. I can’t just leave them here. Dad doesn’t need to know I brought them and Belle and I could use something to distract us from the fake life we’re going to live.

            I fill a backpack with some of my clothes and put on the boots my mother bought me. When I’m all done, I put on a baggy sweater with pockets and plop each of the kittens inside. They curl up comfortably, fitting perfectly.

            Grandpa’s no longer on the deck and the afternoon quickly turned into night. He’s asleep in bed, hopefully not lying awake all night like I have been. By the time I made it into Belle’s room it was just after midnight and I knew I had to leave. So now, with the daylight starting to creep up somewhere in the distance, I’m leaving.

            I glare at the Mustang in disgust as I climb inside. I throw my backpack behind me and place a box from outside on the passenger seat. I place the kittens one by one inside with my sweater so they can sit on it and start the car.

            I know I shouldn’t do this all over again. I should say goodbye to everyone and tell them the truth about why I left so suddenly and why I’m doing it again, but I can’t. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, I understand why my dad just upped and left. It’s easier this way.

            Lark will know what happened when she won’t see me tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. Carson will be told as soon as she realizes this and probably brush it off. Dove plainly won’t care. My Grandpa will be worried but someone will tell him.

            Even though I’ve been lying awake all night exhausted, running myself ragged trying to figure this out, I still don’t have an answer. Will Lark tell Jacoby? Will Jacoby understand? Will he care?

            I have to tell him myself. I don’t know what good it’s going to do, but I know that leaving for the second time and ruining everything between us isn’t an option. Not only can’t I do that to him again, I can’t do that to myself.

            Parts of me feels relived at the idea that Jacoby might be asleep and not answer the door, or that he won’t be home. But the other part is worried, knowing I can’t leave without telling him the truth.

            My hand hangs in the air above his wooden door, hovering. The sun is just rising, barely casting anything other than a glow over the town. I take a deep breath and close my eyes before rapping my knuckles on the door.

            I hear the faint sound of feet on hardwood as someone approaches the door. I pray that it isn’t Mr. Grey, or this can be a very, very awkward situation of me trying to explain why I’m here this early and why I’m a mess. But luckily, it isn’t him.

            All I see is a flash of black hair as the door barely opens and quickly slams shut. I didn’t even have a chance to put my foot in the door or throw myself inside, like I had planned. It happened so fast that my hair blows back slightly and I’m standing on the porch, stunned.

            “Jacoby,” I sigh, knocking on the door. I hear no movement on the other side and wonder if he’s standing there, waiting for me to leave. I try to open the door and it’s locked, so instead I move my face close to the wood and start talking. “You were right,” I call through the wood. I sound defeated. “I am leaving, but you don’t understand why and you wouldn’t give me the chance. I don’t know if you care or if you ever will, but you don’t know the truth about what happened after I left, and why I’m leaving now.”

            Silence. There’s still no sign of Jacoby inside the house so I raise my voice a little, stand tall and say the only thing I can say that might make the difference.

            “I love you, Jacoby. And I want to tell you the truth.”

            Still nothing. I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. Spinning on my foot, I start towards the steps and tell myself that I did all I could. If Jacoby doesn’t want to listen, that’s his choice. I can’t change how he feels and I’ll just have to live with that, no matter how many times my mind wonders what if.

            “Stevie,” he breathes.

            I freeze but don’t dare turn around. I didn’t hear the lock or the door open, but I know he’s there. My body is tingling and I’m instantly nervous, scared even, to look at him right now. I guess when I thought about telling him the truth I never really scaled how upsetting and hard it would be to do so.

            I hear the door close and worry that he went back inside. But then the deck creaks as he steps onto it and I tense. “Turn around,” Jacoby whispers.

            Slowly, I keep my gaze on the ground and turn. I don’t want to see his face when he sees how broken I look, how exhausted and unkempt. I’m a walking mess on the inside and out. I didn’t even bother to brush my hair.

            When I meet his eyes it’s after several minutes of silence. I know he’s waiting for me to speak, but I feel like I’m choking on the words. He could leave any minute because I’m silent and yet I’m still stuck, unable to speak.

            “Well?” He sounds impatient.

            I open my mouth, willing the words to come out but nothing surfaces. It was like this with Lark but it was easier to tell her. She cared; she wanted to help. It was even easier to tell the police officers who I never met before. But telling Jacoby, right here, right now? I don’t know how to do this, especially when the boy standing before me isn’t one who I recognize.

            An aggravated breath leaves his lips as he moves away from me. In a second his hand his on the door, his posture tense, and he turns the nob.

            “Jacoby,” I blurt out.

            Like two nights ago, he doesn’t stop. The door is opening as I call his name again, walking up the steps. I reach for him, my fingers about to reach him when the door slams shut. All I grab is air.

            “How could you?” I cry out, banging my fist on the door. “How can you do this? How can you not care?” I know I shouldn’t have been silent, but I couldn’t speak with him being this way. It’s hard to spill your darkest secrets to someone who doesn’t want to hear them.

            The lock clicks behind the door and I become hostile, screaming hoarsely at the top of my lungs. “You want to know the truth?” I screech, tears streaming down my cheeks. “My dad took us and left, but you already knew that! What you don’t know is what happened, when we were gone! I never got to see my mother, or even talk to her along with the rest of my family! I never had any friends because I wasn’t allowed to! My dad kept me home with my sister, never letting us go out and do anything! And you know what else he did?”

            The door slowly opens to reveal Jacoby, looking paler than I’ve ever seen him. His eyes are sorry but I don’t care. I scream in his face and realize that if he’s only going to hear me out now, maybe he isn’t worth staying for.

            “My father beat us, Jacoby. He beat us.” My eyes are too blurry from tears and rage that I can’t see Jacoby’s expression clearly. “It’s my fault my mother is in the hospital and he hurt me for that. And all this time, I’ve been running from him, trying to get away. And now that I have, I have to go back.”

            “You don’t have to,” Jacoby whispers. His eyes look glassy but I can’t be sure.

            “Yes, I do!” I throw my hands up in the small space between us, frustrated. Every emotion I’ve been stuffing down since I came back to Greenbrier is finally coming lose. It feels like I’ve been putting everything in a bottle and now it’s exploding because there’s too much inside. “He has my mom and Belle, and if I don’t come, he’s going to hurt them. I have to go!”

            Jacoby reaches for my hand but I move it out of his grasp. If he’s sorry now, it’s too late. He shouldn’t have left me the other night. He should have understood that I can’t just tell him my secrets as if we’re talking about buttermilk pancakes.

            We stare at each other. The tension between us is so thick that I feel like it’s pulling me into the ground. Jacoby’s hand stretches out again, this time ready to touch my cheek but I turn away. I avoid his eyes and move away.

            “Goodbye, Jacoby,” I say quietly before taking off towards the car. He calls my name but doesn’t chase me. I don’t look as I start the Fastback, instead trying to pay attention to the kitten’s mewing.

            Images flash before my eyes as I move the car into reverse. Jacoby and I running through the tall grass when I was seven. My mother bringing a plate of cookies to the table for us, Lark and Dove. Lark and I sitting in a high tree, telling Jacoby that he can’t come up. Jacoby kissing me on the cheek at the end of our first school dance. The view of the town as I stare out the backseat of my father’s car, watching it fade behind me for what I thought was the last time.

            Jacoby’s eyes meet mine as I hover on the road. My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel and I give him a sad smile before stepping on the gas.

            I don’t know what’s waiting for me when I’ll get there. I don’t know if Belle and my mother are actually there, or if my father is just setting me up. I don’t know if things will be different, or if he will be a drunk the whole time again. Fear swirls inside my stomach, threatening to make me heave its empty contents.

            I glance in the rear view mirror as I reach the end of the street. Back where I started there’s a figure standing in the road. His arms are out, away from his sides like he stopped suddenly and his hair is blowing gently in the wind.

            I think he expects me to stay. To turn around, drive back, jump into his arms and figure this whole thing out here. He doesn’t understand that I can’t. I just can’t leave Belle with my father and calling the police isn’t an option. He will be gone by the time the cops are on our street, taking my sister and my mother to who knows where.

            My lashes close tightly, causing more tears to roll down my cheeks. Opening them again, I get one last look at Jacoby and turn left, leaving him and Greenbrier behind.