Hawk (7 page)

"May!"

"He needs to see your boobs."

"Stop saying boobs."

"Fine," she sighed, exasperated. "You can wear the old lady dress. We can make it sexy. Where are your stockings?"

"I have some leggings in my drawer…"

Taking that as permission, she began digging through my clothes until she came out with a pair of red leggings.

"Wear these, they're cute. Where are your shoes?"

Without waiting for an answer, she started digging through my closet and lining up my entire array of footwear.

"Do you have anything besides hiking boots?"

"Well…"

"Don't say running shoes," she snapped. "Here we go."

May pulled out the heels I wore to the prom. Prom wasn't a big deal for me. I wore a cheap dress and didn't take a date. I'm not sure why I went.

Hawk didn't either. We spent most of the night sitting on the bleachers together.

I was afraid to dance.

Later I would wish I had.

"Okay," May looked over my ensemble. "Now we need to do your hair and makeup and stuff."

"Makeup?"

"Yeah, come to my room."

That's how I ended up sitting on May's bed while she first did my hair, straightening it with an iron before weaving it into a French braid. May then started applying makeup. I expected to have to clean it all off before Hawk arrived, figuring she'd make me look like a clown since she was so young, but as I watched her apply what little I had to work with, I was surprised how much better she made me look. After I put on the dress and leggings I felt… well, girly.

"You look great," she said, handing me my shoes.

I slipped them on and wished I hadn't. It took too much concentration to wear heels. I wobbled my way out to the living room and waited on the couch, feeling like I was a little girl playing dress up. May and I watched Jeopardy, and waited for Hawk.

We waited, and we waited, and we waited. At six thirty I frowned and May muted the television.

I texted him, no answer. I called him, no answer. The clock ticked on. I called him a few more times.

At seven forty-five I changed into sneakers and I went looking for him without changing. By the time I made it to his street, I was sweating like a pig and my outfit was ruined. I jogged up the front steps of his house and pounded on the front door for half a minute before I heard the knob turn and the door swung open. Lance, Hawk's brother, answered the door.

"Where's Hawk?"

He shrugged. "He's not here."

Then he closed the door in my face.

When I pounded on it again, no one answered.

So I did the most Alexis thing possible in that situation: I sat on his front porch and waited, and waited, and waited. It was full dark, almost eleven at night, before I stood up and started walking home, only to stop when Hawk's father, Tom, pulled in behind the house and rolled his car up into their garage, a detached barn that stands in the back yard. He had four other men with him, men I didn't know. I thought about going around back to ask him where the hell Hawk was, but I looked at his companions and changed my mind.

They were big guys, with hard faces and big, ham-sized hands, to a one. They looked dangerous. My instincts told me something was seriously wrong. I left.

By the time I got home, I expected my mother to be ready to tear me a new orifice, but she wasn't home.

Only May.

"Did you find him?"

The door slapped shut behind me and I just stood there. I walked past her, walked into my tiny bedroom, and flopped face down on the bed.

"He's gone," I murmured. "Lance said he wasn't there."

"I've been calling him the whole time," May said, in a soft voice. "He doesn't answer."

I rolled over, sat up, and summoned all my willpower.

Then I called Tom Richardson.

The phone rang twice, and he answered.

"Hello?"

"Mister Richardson," I said, calmly. "Hawk was supposed to pick me up at six, but I haven't seen him. Do you know where-"

"He's gone. Don't call again."

Then he hung up on me.

I looked at May and May looked at me.

"What the fuck?" she said.

"May!"

"Well, where is he?"

May sounded the way I felt. Panic gripped me in an icy fist. I paced my room until I heard our door open and closed. Mom came in wearing a black cocktail dress and dropped her purse on the table. When she saw me she cocked her head and said, "What are you in a twist about?"

I told her, trying not to stumble over my own voice.

She listened and said, "Good. You're better off. Get a boyfriend at college."

Then she went to take a shower and left me sitting in the living room.

I woke up the next day after sleeping on the couch with my phone in my hands, got up, and walked over to Hawk's house. It took me an hour to get there and I was filled with dread every step of the way. I hated, hated, hated his father. The feeling was mutual. Walking up those steps was like climbing a mountain, and I had to marshal all my will to knock at the door.

I knocked, waited, knocked, waited. It felt like fifteen minutes until the door finally opened.

Tom stood in front of me holding a cup off coffee, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, a pen tucked in his pocket. He looked as if there was nothing amiss.

"Where's Hawk?"

"He left," Tom said, flatly. "He's not coming back."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Mister Richardson, please-"

"Go home, Alexis. I'm busy."

He started to close the door and I caught it with my hand. He looked at the offending limb, and then at me.

"He left, and he won’t return."

"Left how? When?"

"Yesterday."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"You're
lying!"
I screamed, pounding the door. "Where is he?"

He grabbed my wrist and his face twisted, his teeth pulling back from his lips.

"Don't come back here," he said in a low voice, "Don't ask about my son. You're done."

He gave me a shove and it was only luck that I didn't go toppling down the stairs. I grabbed the railing and caught my balance as the door slammed. Then I realized he was standing in his office, watching me.

I ran.

A day became two. Then a week. A month. I had to go orientation in Delaware, I was assigned a room, roommates. College started.
 

Every day I checked my email, and texted Hawk, until once I called and the line was disconnected.

I went to class. I went through the motions. I pulled good grades.

Then I went home for Thanksgiving and all hell broke loose.

Hawk

Now

A rocket flits skyward with a soft whine and
pops
, bathing the meadow and the trees in harsh light, etching deep shadows on Alex's face. She chews her lip and looks at me with her arms folded and rubs her leg with her foot, and I sweep her up in my arms. She puts her hands on my chest and pushes, but I pull her closer, trapping her hands against me.

"Let go."

"No."

"I'll scream."

"I want you to."

"Hawk, I mean it."

I relax my grip, but Alex doesn't step back. She puts her head on my chest and sighs, her breath tickling my skin through my shirt.

"What do you want?"

"You."

She laughs bitterly. "Cute, Hawk. What do you really want?"

"I want to pick up where I left off."

She looks up, mischief in her brown eyes. "Where was that?"

"I told you to wear something nice," I whisper, holding her sides. I can feel her breathing. "So I could tear it off you and fuck your brains out."

She grins. "Who says I'd let you?"

I duck down and bury my face in her hair, and breath deep. No perfume or scents for Alexis, just her own soft, indescribable scent. My hands move to her back, one sliding up to press her against me while the other glides down. I grab a handful of her ass and squeeze and her whole body jerks. She writhes against me, her stomach presses against mine as her hips roll against my body and then she pulls back, shoving roughly out of my arms. She stumbles a bit and swipes at her face, turning from me.

"Now. How can you do this to me now?"

"Alex-"

I reach for her and she steps out of my grip, moving deftly around me.

"Do you know what they did to me?"

I shake my head. "Who? Did what? What are you talking about?"

She hugs herself and opens the distance between us. I move closer.

"Our parents married while I was at school. I heard from May. They did it at the courthouse, no ceremony. When I came home our apartment was cleaned out. Mom made me move in with
him
." She must mean my father. "In his house. So I asked him again."

"Again? Asked what?"

She shudders. "I asked him where you were, if he heard anything. I pleaded with him, begged him. Did he know where you were?"

"Yeah. He did."

She laughs, a bitter, humorless sound. More fireworks blast the night with harsh red light and I see silvery tracks on her cheeks and realize she's crying, tears sliding down to her chin.

"Alex-"

"I want it to be like it was," she chokes out, squeezing her fist. "But it's not, and it can't be. You
left
me."

"Not by choice."

"Then why? What was so much more
god damn important
than me?"

Rage flares in my chest. I cross the gap in quick strides and seize her arms, and she struggles, but briefly. I wait for her gaze to meet mine and stare into her eyes.

"Nothing. I left for you."

Confusion twists her face.

"I don't understand."

I sigh and shake my head. "Fuck," I mutter.

"Tell me."

"I can't, if I do…"

"What?" She shakes loose again, steps back. "If you're not going to tell me anything you can just leave, Hawk. I'm not going to let you just come crashing into my life with no explanation. I want to believe you, you fucking asshole. Do you understand?"

She lowers her voice and looks around. This time two rockets throw harsh shadows through the trees, a red and a blue. Cheers erupt from the meadow.

"Tell me the truth," she pleads.

"Okay," I tell her, moving closer. "Just listen to me, okay."

She stands her ground. I take her hands.

"You remember the last day of school? When I disappeared?"

"Of course," she snaps. "How could I forget?"

"This is what happened."

Hawk

Then

My father stepped into the room. He looked at me and I looked at him, and I looked at the computer. I sat there for a good thirty seconds. His expression never changed. He never said a word. I broke the silence.

Standing I said, "What did you do?"

He looked at me curiously, like I was a unique insect. "How do you mean?"

"You know what I fucking mean. Methyl iodide, Dad. What's methyl iodide?"

"Do I look like a chemist?"

I stepped around the desk. He didn't move, or take his hands from his pockets. Still as a statue, only his eyes moved as he followed me closer.

"I want to know what happened to my mother."

"She had a stroke and she died.”

"You're
lying
," I screamed, "I knew it, I knew it. You gave her that methyl shit, you-"

He moved so fast I didn't even have time to react. He jammed the heel of his hand into my chin and I stumbled back, fell over one of his guest chairs, and tumbled, landing on my back on the carpet and then my head
thumping
against the floor and the world wobbled. When I started to roll to get up, his foot got me hard in the ribs and rolled me over again. The wind tore out of my lungs and when I tried to get it back, there wasn't enough, not enough. Another kick was blunted as I turned, rolling onto my side.

I got up and flipped the cocktail table over at the same time. The empty decanter and glasses on the top slid off and crashed to the floor. I kicked the table at him. Round, it rolled but he sidestepped it and came at me fists up, like a boxer, springing on his feet. I didn't know he knew how to fight. I knew he exercised but he was fast, faster than me. I took a swing at him and he ducked it easily and drove his fist into my gut. I stumbled and his fist connected hard to the side of my head, and the world flashed white, followed by dancing stars, like a cloud of fireflies trapped in my eyes.

He put his foot on my back and shoved. I went down, skidded on the carpet.

"Howard," he said, calmly.

I rolled, grabbed the decanter that I'd knocked over, swung it, and smashed it in half on the corner of his desk.

He looked at the rent in the antique wood, the deep gouges, and frowned.

"It's going to cost me a fortune to fix that."

I stumbled to my feet and lunged at him with the broken glass, stabbing at his stomach. He sidestepped easily, gracefully, seized my wrist and torqued it.

"Stop it, or I'll break your arm."

I couldn't stop him. My hand sprang open and the glass dropped. He kicked my leg out from under me and I went down and shard of glass bit into my thigh. He still had my wrist.

Until I bit him.

I sank my teeth into the meat of his palm and his hand flew open. My arm was tingling, felt like jelly. I pulled it to my side and threw myself at his legs, hit him, and he went down on top of me. His fist hit my nose and blood splattered on my face, thick and hot, and filled my mouth with the coppery taste of my own blood. He grabbed my head, pulled, shoved it against he floor. I twisted out of the way and his fist barely missed my face in another ringing blow. I yanked my leg up and drove my knee between his legs and got him right in the balls.

He howled, rolled off me, but recovered. I kicked at him and went for the door, fell as my leg went out from under me, got up again. Lance was standing at the top of the stairs.

My father stepped out of the office and kicked me in the ribs. Something
popped
as I smashed against the far wall and fell, clutching my stomach, trying to breathe. He kicked me again, his foot hitting me under my ribs. It hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before. Not even the time I broke my ankle at the swimming hole and had to lean on Alexis to walk back to town. Lance was still standing there, watching.