Vivian's List (Vol. 1) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Liam

I heard the quaver in her voice
as she stood hunched forward, head downcast, and I knew she was crying.

“
Vivian,” I hesitated before continuing. “Is it always like this? With Brody?”

She didn’t answer right away. “No.
” I heard in her voice a hint of sadness that wouldn’t go away. “Not always.”

A heartbeat passed, then another.
“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”
She turned briefly, then quickly looked away, but too late. The pain I’d seen in her eyes pierced through my heart. She looked so defeated, and so tired. So very, very tired.

Though
I stood there staring at her for a long moment, she wouldn’t turn again to meet my eyes. “If you change your mind, I’m here for you.”

After a long beat
, she nodded then started down the hallway, headed toward her room.

I watched her shadow disappear behind the door, and the light in her room with it a few seconds later.
For a long while, I remained standing in the dark, thinking about how much had changed in just three years. How much Vivian had changed. How much I’d changed.

With a
deep sigh, I strode to the kitchen and grabbed a Bud Light out of the fridge.

Then
I slid open the patio door and stepped out into the arid summer night.

The heat hit me like a furnace. I
popped the tab and drank my beer in one continuous gulp. Leaning against the weathered railing, I cast my gaze up to the starry heavens.

Even with the full moon obscuring a good deal of the sky, I
could easily spot Polaris—the North Star.

While all the stars
moved in an arc across the sky, the North Star, one of the brightest stars in the sky, remained constant. It held still while the entire northern sky moved around it.

That used to be
Vivian … as constant as Polaris.

In all of my inconsistencies in my childhood, the one thing
, or rather, the one
person
who remained constant was Vivian. Even when she was only sixteen, she had this sense of permanence, and she exhibited the kind of grace, poise and confidence that most women didn’t gain until their mid-thirties. And she was always so upbeat, so playful, so full of life she blinded me with her cheeriness.

The brief flashbacks came …
Vivian barely filling out her tennis shorts, holding a tennis racket that must have weighed more than her entire body, her long blond hair held back in a high ponytail, laughing even after she’d lost set after set.

Vivian sitting under the maple tree in the front yard, uninterrupted except for her own rumination
s, daydreaming and enjoying the weather no matter how inclement it was.

Vivian
smothering a giggle, teasing Julian at the endless barbeques her parents had in this very backyard.

Vivian—a
veritable badass at paintballing—shooting at me over sixty times. I smiled at the memory. The next time we had gone paintballing I’d made sure I wore a cup to protect my vital body parts.

It was embarrassing, getting owned by a girl.
But that was Viv, never afraid to get down and dirty.

Vivian with her kind eyes and a face that always held a smile for me.

Vivian laughing at her own dorky jokes … her unbridled laughter warming the air.

Vivian
walking into a room and lighting it up so much it felt as if I had swallowed a tiny piece of the sun.

These days,
though, Vivian was a mixture of sunshine and showers.

I knew
a lot of it had to do with the loss of her parents.

But
tonight, my gut told me it was
all
Brody.

Abruptly, I heard a flutter of movement behind the patio do
or. Seconds later the door scraped open.

“Hey
, you.” Vivian said, stepping out onto the deck. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”
I turned in her direction and shook my head slightly. “You?”

“Nah.
” She smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep either,” she said and came to stand beside me. Gripping the railing, she gazed out into the distance.

I studied her carefully for a long, silent moment.

Her face no longer bore any trace of makeup, but red still rimmed her eyes as if she had been crying for a while.

“What are you t
hinking about?” she said at last.

“Funny you should ask.
” I paused. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Me?”
Surprise flickered in her eyes. “What about me?”

“Sunshine and showers,” I stated
. “That’s you.”

“That’s you, too. Mister Moody,
” she said, shoving me playfully in the arm. “Mister Grumpy Pants.”

I smiled
. “I’m not that moody, am I?”

“You
are,
too
,” she teased.

“I was also thinking …” I tipped the last of my beer a
bove my mouth, dripping it dry. “About your boyfriend.”

All teasing fled her voice.
“Oh, yeah?” she said slowly.              

“I’m just curious,
” I went on, “what you’re doing with a guy like that.”

“What do you mean?”
Her tone was defensive.

“You
know
what I mean.”

“No.
” Vivian sent me a hassled look. “I
don’t
know what you mean.”

“I didn’t like him talking to you like that
, Viv. You didn’t deserve it.”

She sighed and
turned to gaze out at the open yard. “It’s not like that all the time.”

I waited for her to say more.

When she didn’t, I could not keep silent.

I wasn’t going to be around
much longer and she needed to hear this from me.

I hesitated for a moment,
debated the proper approach and opted for the most straightforward. “He’s abusive, Viv.”

It took a second for my words to sink in.
“He’s not.” She looked down, wrapping her arms around her midsection as if to shield herself. “Brody’s never laid a finger on me.”

“
Brody may not be physically abusive, but he’s emotionally abusive.”

When she glanced up, her delicate brows were drawn together in a frown
. “What would make you even think such a thing?”

I cleared my throat.
“Let me guess, is Brody the real jealous type?”

“Yes.”
Her frown deepened. “But jealousy is an emotion. It’s human nature. It’s a sign of love.”

“I agree … to a point. Does
Brody ever accuse you of flirting? Does he always question you about who you’ve spoken to or seen during the day?”

Her expression was guarded, hard to read.

Watching her closely, I asked, “Does he get jealous when you spend time with your friends? Or if you have any hobbies that don’t include him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then his jealousy is not a sign of love. It’s a sign of abuse. His jealousy is no longer an emotion, it’s become a behavior that’s toxic.”

She pressed her lips firmly together
, her eyes refusing to meet mine.

“And I bet he’s controlling. Am I right?”

“Well,” she hedged.

“Your clothes … does he
have a say about what you wear?”

“You mean
if I wear anything too slutty?” Confusion and alarm warred in her eyes as she blinked up at me. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Brody means well. It just shows that he cares. You know, he’s just concerned. He doesn’t want to see me dressing like a slut.”

I stared at her, a small muscle in my jaw tightening.
“He calls you a slut?”

“No,
” she protested. “He says I dress like one.”

“Name calling.
” I gave her a long, pointed look. “Shaming,” I added. “Another sign of abuse.”

“No.” She shook her head, as if trying to convince herself
otherwise. “Brody’s being honest with me. He’s only trying to be helpful.”

“He isn’t trying to be helpful,
Viv. He’s controlling.”

He’s a wolf disguised as a shepherd,
I thought
.

When she spoke again, some of her
conviction had gone out of her voice. “You don’t understand. He’s not controlling. Brody just likes to … to smother me.”

“He overpowers you,”
I stated.

“That’s not true,” she said
, her voice soft, a confused vulnerability in her expression.

“You know it is,
Viv. I’ve seen the way he acts around you. The cutting remarks. I’ve heard him take jabs at you, make fun of you, and then say that it was all just a joke. He’s constantly giving you mixed messages. Those are all red flags, Viv.”

“But don’t you see?”
She closed her eyes as if summoning the energy to continue. “Brody
was
joking. He never meant those things that he said. Anyway,” she went on, not meeting my eyes, “I’m a strong girl. You know … sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

“Whoever said that was plain wrong! Words
do
hurt, Viv. They break you on the inside.”

“But I’m fine, Liam,” she insisted
. “I’m fine.” Even as she said this, misery was clear in her eyes and her face bore the strain of their toxic relationship.

“That’s what you ke
ep saying. But you know better, Viv. You know that whether you get hit with a stick or hit with words, it’s not right. And I can see you’re hurting. The pain you feel, the pain from the invisible stick, that’s a sign that you
are
being abused.

We stared at each other for a long, hot moment,
then her temper flared. “What makes you such an expert? You’ve only been back for—what—like a week! How can you even know what Brody is like?”

I didn’t answer right away and the thread of our conversation was lost in tense silence.

I reached in my pocket for my pack of cigarettes and tamped one out.

My lighter flickered in the dark like a firefly as I lit my first cigarette of the day.

I took a deep drag, inhaling it deep into my lungs. “My dad was a lot like Brody.” I angled my head to the left, blowing a smooth stream of smoke across my shoulder. “And guess what?”

“What?”
she finally asked.

“
All abusers read the same handbook.”

“Really?”
Vivian lifted a skeptical brow.

“Really.” I
repaid her cynical gesture with an arched brow of my own. “How Brody treats you is exactly how my dad treated my mom. The details might differ some, but the way Brody acts, the things he says, the way you begin to think … you and my mom—your stories are pretty much identical.”

She studied me a moment longer,
another frown drawing up through her features. “I really don’t think I’m like your mom, Liam. In fact, I know I’m not because Brody is not abusive.”

“Enough about
Brody.” I took another drag on my cigarette. “Brody is not going to change. But
you
, Viv.
You
are changing. And that worries me. You’ve become so much more tolerant.”

She lowered
her eyes for a moment, raised them again. “Of what?”

“Of the abuse. You are letting
Brody get away with being a dick. You’ve begun to accept what
you
know is unacceptable. And these so called ‘helpful’ criticisms he gives you are not helpful. They’re harmful. That’s how Brody disguises his abuse. And you make excuses for him, Viv. You may not realize this, but you’re doubting yourself more and more each day. You are losing your
self
. You are losing your voice. And it makes it easier for Brody to control you … which is his bottom line.”

Long seconds passed before she spoke.
“No.” Her lovely blue eyes widened with surprise, then pain. “No,” she said again. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

I
gave her a searching look. “Do I?”

“I
... I think so …” She trailed off unsteadily.

“You
think
you are not being abused? You’re obviously an intelligent girl, Viv. Smart. Well educated. I remember how taken aback I was by you. You were so passionate, so idealistic and clear minded. And you used to be so confident. You knew exactly what you wanted in life and you weren’t going to let anyone get in the way. You believed in yourself.”