Cruel Read online

  With a massive exhale of breath, he found his way into his car and headed home, his mind spinning off in a dozen different directions. He was so distracted that he ran a stop sign, narrowly missing another car whose driver honked and flipped him off.

  I need to do something to get my head on straight, he thought grimly. Something’s gotta give – before I have a mental break of my own.

  Mindy’s car was parked in his spot on the driveway, so he parked on the street and loped into the house, looking forward to just hanging out by himself for the evening.

  “LUCY! STOP FIGHTING WITH ME!” Mindy was screaming as he opened the door. Lucy unleashed a howl so loud, the windows reverberated.

  Oh Jesus Christ. Now what?

  He hurried inside, directly to the back room where he found the siblings squaring off. His mother was on her knees on the bed, glowering at Mindy who stood in front of her with a glass of water and a handful of pills.

  “What is going on?” Marcus demanded. “Stop screaming!”

  “Tell her!” Mindy complained, pouting slightly as she turned to look at him. “She hasn’t taken her pills yet today and she’s getting worse with each minute.”

  “Mom?” Marcus pleaded, lowering his tone to deal with her. “Is that true?”

  “I’m not your mother,” Lucy spat. “Don’t you dare talk to me that way!”

  Fuck. It’s Damien.

  “Hello, Damien,” Marcus sighed. “Is Lucy in there?”

  “Of course, she is,” he leered. “But she hates you and she hates this bitch too.”

  “That’s enough!” Mindy scoffed. “Lucy, take your goddamn pills.”

  Marcus glared at his aunt.

  “It’s Damien,” he corrected her. “One of her alters.”

  Mindy gave her nephew a scathing look.

  “Good God, Marcus, you’re a fully-grown man. Don’t tell me you buy into this shit.”

  “Mindy, just go in the living room or something,” Marcus growled, snatching the bottle out of her hand. “I’ve got this.”

  Mindy shrugged and snorted.

  “Enjoy the show,” she mocked before heading out. Almost instantly, Lucy’s face relaxed and she smiled warmly at Marcus.

  “Baby,” she cooed. “You’re home.”

  “Hi, Mom,” he said, feeling his own shoulders relax. “Can you take your pills, please?”

  She bit on her lower lip and dropped her body onto the bed from her knees.

  “Okay, pumpkin. Did you know your daddy called today?”

  Marcus stifled a sigh and handed her the medication.

  “That’s nice.”

  A cold hand wrapped around his wrist and Lucy stared up at him imploringly.

  “He really did call, baby. He wanted to speak with you.”

  “Okay, Mom. I’ll call him back.”

  It was the same tune she sang every night and he wasn’t fooled for a moment.

  “Have you eaten today?” He didn’t even know why he was bothering to ask her. She wouldn’t remember if she had.

  “I’m not hungry, Marc. Just tired.”

  “I’ll make some soup,” he told her, fluffing the pillow. “I’ll have Mindy run you a bath.”

  Her eyes bugged.

  “Where is that bitch? She owes me twenty bucks since prom last year!”

  “I’ll remind her, Mom,” he told her softly. “Just relax until I come back, okay?”

  “Okay, baby. Hey Robbie? Do you think we should get Marc into swimming lessons or t-ball?”

  Marcus’ head was swimming again.

  “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

  “Okay, baby.”

  He escaped the stifling confines of her room and made his way into the kitchen where Mindy was looking over the crossword puzzle.

  “You know, she was a pain in the ass even when we were kids,” his aunt informed him, the lack of empathy astounding him. “Daddy always said there was a screw loose with that one.”

  “She’s your sister,” Marcus snapped. “How can you talk about her that way?”

  Mindy shrugged indifferently, still poring over the page.

  “Like I said, she was always like this. You’re better off locking her up, Marc. It’s for her own good and that way, she won’t get the attention she demands. Once she realizes that, watch how fast she ‘recovers’.”

  Marcus’ jaw twitched.

  It was a mistake asking Mindy to come. She’s going to make things worse for Mom, not better.

  But Marcus knew he couldn’t ask her to leave, not when Lucy was an unwitting danger to herself.

  “Oh!” Mindy said, finally raising her head to meet his eyes. “Your dad called.”

  The words made Marcus’ blood run cold. He froze, his eyes locked on his aunt.

  “What?”

  She nodded.

  “Apparently he’s been calling for a while but I guess your mom never gave you the messages. He’s been trying to get a hold of you.”

  A combination of emotions washed through him, none of them blending with the others so that Marcus was forced to feel each one evenly.

  The anger competed with the guilt, the confusion slid alongside the denial.

  How many times had his mother claimed his father had called and he had written it off as one of her delusions?

  “What?” he asked again, unable to think of another thing to say. Mindy nodded.

  “Where is he? What did he want? Did you tell him about Mom?”

  The questions rushed out in a torrent. Mindy clucked and held up her hand.

  “He’s in San Francisco,” she said. “I didn’t talk to him long but he left a number where he can be reached and no, I didn’t tell him about your mother. You can probably fill him in on all that.”

  Hope overran everything else then and Marcus swallowed the lump forming in his throat at the naïve thoughts in his head.

  Is he coming home to take care of Mom?

  He knew it was ridiculous, childish and highly unlikely, but the man hadn’t reached out in years to him or Lucy. What else could he want if not to apologize and ask to come home?

  Maybe’s he’s dying.

  That was an entirely more likely scenario, Marcus reasoned. He realized his aunt was still staring at him.

  “What?” he demanded, trying to keep his face stoic.

  “Are you going to call him or are you going to be stubborn?”

  It was a good question. Every fiber of his being told Marcus to ignore the call, that nothing good was going to come of a conversation with Robert.

  But what if he can help? What if he can help with everything? The little boy inside him demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Marcus answered truthfully. He shoved the question aside for the moment and refocused his attention on his aunt.

  “You can’t be so rough with Mom,” he told her sternly. “She’s delicate and the more you push her, the worse she’ll be.”

  “You need to stop babying her,” Mindy corrected. “You’re only enabling her.”

  Marcus gritted his teeth.

  “Aunt Mindy, if you push her too far, she might fall into one of her altered states and we won’t get her back for months. It’s happened before.”

  “Altered states. What a crock of shit,” Mindy snorted. “She’s a drama queen and an actress who has you waiting on her hand and foot. I agree, she’s dangerous and needs to be watched but she’s apt to burn the house down for attention, not because she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

  Marcus ground his teeth together so hard, he heard them crack slightly.

  “Aunt Mindy, I’ve been there when she turned into Damien or Collette. Compared to those personalities, Mom is a walk in the park. You may not believe in them but I do and when you’re gone, I’m still the one who has to deal with them. So, I’m begging you—please don’t make things worse.”

  Mindy grunted.

  “How much longer do you want me to stay here, kid? I have a life back in San Diego, you
know?”

  No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be here, Marcus thought. It’s not like you care a ton for your sister.

  “Just until I can figure out long-term care for her,” Marcus reiterated. It was the same answer he’d given her before.

  “Maybe your dad can help you with that,” Mindy offered slyly and Marcus snorted.

  “Maybe.”

  He busied himself in the pantry, cringing when he saw how little was in there.

  “Maybe you can go shopping?” he asked Mindy, but she just ignored him.

  I’ll just add that to my list of shit to do then, Marcus thought, ambling toward the stove. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the note by the cordless phone with a phone number under his father’s name.

  Slowly placing the pot on the stove, he snatched up the number and stuffed it into his pockets. Mindy let out a knowing snort.

  “Smart,” she told him. “You’re gonna need all the help you can get, kid.”

  She’s not wrong, Marcus thought ruefully. I’m in over my head here.

  Reluctantly, he grabbed the phone off the table and asked his aunt to keep an eye on the soup, making his way into the living room to make the call.

  But as he held the cordless in his hand, he couldn’t stop thinking about Elyse and how he wished he had her number instead of the estranged father who was probably only going to bequeath him more bad news.

  Elyse is bad news too. Don’t fool yourself.

  Clearing his throat, he dialed the number. On the third ring, a man’s voice boomed through the receiver.

  “Robert Preston.”

  Marcus grimaced and inhaled deeply.

  “Hi Dad,” he drawled. “Remember me?”

  Chapter 9

  Her week had been consumed with school and work, but despite her full calendar, Elyse couldn’t stop thinking about Marcus and the moments they’d shared in her bedroom.

  When she went to class, she found herself looking around with wider eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face anywhere on campus. At work, she held her breath every time the door opened, hoping that it was him coming in for a drink. Every day, she was disappointed, leaving her to come home and tell herself that she was not waiting to hear from him.

  Or waiting for him to ring her doorbell (literally, not figuratively), knowing that he knew where she lived now.

  He stopped by once. He might do it again, she reasoned, but by Friday night, she knew he wasn’t coming back, that he had taken her aloofness as a dismissal.

  What had he said to her? That she thought she was too good for him?

  Where the hell would he get that from? I’ve never said anything like that! He’s the one who always tortured me!

  As the afternoon crowd filled the Crow, Elyse felt her heart sink as she watched the familiar faces float through.

  “Elyse! Your cell is going crazy back here!” Dayan called from behind the bar. She waved dismissively. She knew who it was. Irene had been calling and texting all week but Elyse had learned about boundaries in toxic relationships in one of her social science classes and she was practicing them on her mother.

  Sundays are for talking to Mom. No matter how much she calls or texts mean things.

  For the first time in her life, Elyse was free from her mom and she intended to relish in that feeling for as long as she could. She knew how easy it would be to get sucked back into what her mother wanted from her.

  She expects me to live the life she wants for herself, not my life. She’s always been pushing me to do what she wants. I need to focus on myself.

  “Can you at least put it on silent?” Dayan complained.

  “I will in a minute,” Elyse agreed, her face brightening when she saw Steve enter alone.

  Maybe Marcus is going to join him.

  She hurried toward the table, even though it wasn’t in her section and the handsome football player grinned at her when she neared.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he said leeringly. “I’ve forgotten your name now.”

  “Elyse,” she told him. “I’m Marcus’…”

  She trailed off, realizing that even saying the words “Marcus’ friend” were odd on her tongue.

  “You’re the snotty one he warned me about,” Steve offered for her. Elyse’s mouth parted in surprise.

  So I didn’t hear him wrong. He really does think I’m a spoiled bitch.

  “H-he said that about me?” she demanded, anger flooding her. Steve nodded, seeming amused by her reaction.

  “That’s rich, considering he tormented me all through school,” she retorted, folding her arms defensively over her chest. Steve leaned closer and winked at her.

  “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re stuck-up at all. In fact, you seem very…” he eyed her up and down. “Down to earth.”

  Elyse wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cringe at his antics. She settled on a frown.

  “Any chance he’s showing his face here today?” she asked, trying to keep the hopefulness from her tone.

  If he thinks I’m such a snob, why did he sleep with me? Because he wanted to feel superior?

  She thought about how she’d asked herself the same question about him. Hadn’t she wondered if sleeping with him would have made her feel like she’d won somehow?

  A blush of embarrassment stung her cheeks.

  “Nope,” Steve replied. “I invited him but he’s got a stick up his ass these days. He’s been in a mood since he got into that fight last week—you know, the one where you patched him up?”

  Steve’s grin widened.

  “You know, for two people who hate each other, you were sure getting along fine that night.”

  “I don’t hate him,” she mumbled and she meant it. Elyse was sure her face was crimson and she turned her head away as Krista approached.

  “Isn’t this my section?” the other server asked, seeming confused.

  “Yes,” Elyse conceded, backing away. “I was just saying hi. See you later, Steve.”

  Steve seemed disappointed as she left but Elyse knew she was more disheartened than he was.

  Marcus has been in a bad mood since we were together. I put him in that mood. But in all fairness, my mood isn’t great either.

  On a whim, she turned back, determined to get Marcus’ cell number from Steve but she stopped herself. Marcus knew where she lived, where she worked. If he wanted to see her again, he would have made an effort. Then again, he thought she was a spoiled brat.

  I should reach out to him.

  “Are you working or are you daydreaming?” Dayan yelled over the bar. “You have three new tables in your section.”

  The bartender’s words put an end to her plans and the rest of her Friday night was filled with drink and wing orders but Marcus’ image remained imprinted in the back of her mind.

  On Sunday morning, the vibration on her cell phone roused her from sleep before she was ready to wake.

  “Oh, Mom,” Elyse grumbled, noting the time. For a moment, she considered letting it go to voicemail but she realized that she had to talk to the woman some time and that Irene was not apt to stop calling.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, Mom?” Irene screeched back in her ear. “HEY, MOM?!”

  “Ugh, it’s not even seven o’clock yet. Why are you calling me so early?”

  “I have tried calling you at every other time of the day and night but you never answer. I was worried sick about you! How could you put me through this!?”

  “Come on, Mom. You know I’m busy with work and school. I was working last night.”

  “I was about to come down there,” Irene bemoaned. “I kept thinking the worst and…”

  She sniffled dramatically and Elyse rolled her eyes.

  “Obviously I’m fine,” she sighed.

  You’re listed as my next of kin. You would have gotten a call if I’d dropped dead.

  “With your heart condition and—”

  “Okay, Mom, I get your point,” Elyse gr
umbled, not reminding her mother that it was Irene who had decided not to “believe” that she had a heart condition, or to have the surgery to correct the hole all those years ago. “Honestly, I’m good. What’s new with you?”

  There was a slight pause and Elyse hoped she was off her current diatribe.

  “Well, if you’d called me back a week ago, you’d already know, wouldn’t you?” she muttered.

  “We’re talking now, aren’t we?” Elyse cajoled, considering a pretend “drop” of the call. She smothered the urge and waited.

  “Fine,” Irene conceded. “I’m letting this go because I have huge news and I won’t let your inconsideration dishearten me.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Elyse remarked dryly.

  “I’m getting married.”

  The words were like a bombshell going off in her head, although Elyse wasn’t sure why. After all, Irene made a sport of marriage. There had been two husbands before Elyse’s father and one after. Then there had been two live-in boyfriends and an overseas fiancé. Still, the words always reverberated through Elyse’s skull when she heard them.

  “Ellie?”

  “T-that’s great, Mom. I’m really happy for you.”

  “That’s it?” Irene grumbled. “That’s all you have to say?”

  Elyse was wide awake now, her back firmly against the headboard.

  “W-what else am I supposed to say?”

  “You could ask how we met or when the date is or if you’re going to have step-siblings…” Irene started and this time Elyse couldn’t stop the groan from falling out of her mouth.

  Oh Jesus Christ. No more stepsiblings, please.

  “How did you meet?” she asked instead.

  “He’s a consultant for Northwest Airlines,” she explained, the glee in her voice almost palpable. “He’s so well traveled and worldly. He knows how to fly too. He’s going to take me up one day.”

  “Wow,” she managed. “That sounds great.”

  Better than Randall the busker anyway, Elyse thought optimistically.

  “He is great and he has one son,” Irene went on. “I think you’re really going to like him.”

  “The son?” Elyse joked.

  “Rap,” Irene sighed. “My husband to be.”