A Breath Too Late - Rocky Callen Page 0,14

off the rearview mirror and I loved the smell of them. I felt like we were from those movies with rich people who had drivers. The seats were black and smooth and the windows were electric. I played with the control, watching them go up and down. You laughed.

When we got home, you paid Mr. Grayson and he tipped his hat to both of us with a furry, bearded “Enjoy yer day, m’ladies!”

Your car wasn’t in the driveway. “I guess your father already brought it to the shop.…”

And sure enough, when we walked through the door, Father was already washing his hands in the kitchen. There was black stuff on them. He looked up. “My girls!” He smiled. And we went to hug him, his hands still under the stream of faucet water.

“Did you take the car to the shop already?”

He paused washing, but didn’t look at you. “Yep. Should be done this weekend.”

Relief melted your expression. “Oh, good. Mr. Grayson is a godsend, but I won’t be able to pay for rides for too long.” You took off your heels and set them by the door.

But the car wasn’t ready by that weekend.

Or the next.

When you voiced your frustration, he teetered from “It will be ready soon” to “You shouldn’t have to work” to “Don’t you trust me to take care of you?” Dinners started to feel tense and the kitchen started feeling too small and I started to bring my coloring up to my room. I could feel the shift. The current change.

And then one day, all of your work clothes were gone.

Everything.

No heels.

No skirts.

No blouses.

You erupted. When Father walked through the door, you yelled at him. He didn’t move. He just listened, his face deathly calm. Then he told you he had sold the clothes. He said he’d sold the car because he couldn’t fix it and you didn’t have enough money to keep it at the shop. That it didn’t make sense for you to keep working.

You slapped your hands against the countertops. “That is not a decision that you can make!”

And then Father cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. His back was straight and he walked slowly toward where you stood. “Everything that happens in this house is my decision,” he said, his breath on your cheek. It almost sounded like a teasing whisper. But it wasn’t.

It was a growl.

Your eyes changed then. You searched his face and suddenly recognition lit your eyes. I hadn’t seen this man before, but you had. And that’s what you’d been looking for all those months, that’s who you were trying to see, but then you forgot that he was there. You forgot to look. But then you saw.

You didn’t shout. Your voice matched his low, dusky quiet. “I think—you should leave.”

“You think … I should leave. Let me tell you what I think…” His fingers grazed up your arm, up your throat, and then his one, two, three, four fingers wrapped around your neck and squeezed. Your hands fumbled at his as you tried to pry his hand away. “I think you should be a good girl and listen.” He whispered in your ear and then he let go. You rattled out a cough. “Shhh, shhh, shhh.” He wrapped you up in a hug and tried to lull you back into quiet, back into him. He was soft and tender as he rocked you in his arms. Like he was trying to rock you to sleep. But I saw your eyes.

They were wide open.

Father’s cruelty bit when we least expected it. Between movie nights and Saturday pancakes. His laugh bellowed in our home, but there were times when we’d have to tiptoe around his mood, afraid to set it off like a bomb. It only got worse with time, when whiskey started getting stockpiled on our pantry shelves. Your smiles and laughter started sounding hollow and when you looked at him as he walked in the door, you would hug and kiss him, but the moment you turned away, your face fell.

Our home was a little run-down. Peeling paint, old laminate countertops, cabinets with caving-in bottoms, sofas that had holes, and flowers that looked like they were drooping. There was a time when none of that mattered; it was home. But as the years passed, the house felt like it was crumbling from the inside out, just like our fake smiles.

While life had been changing for a while, it snapped into a before-and-after with the sound of