《Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)》


 Severed Heart: Prologue

    U.S. PRESIDENT: PRESTON J MONROE | 2021¨C2029


    Present DaySWEAT SLICKED, A few drops glide down my temples before I lift my ballcap to clear it with the side of my glove. Laser-focused on the door, I idle in the bucket seat as a wee breeze sweeps over me. The slight chill at the edge of it indicating the end of summer as it caresses my heated skin.Closing my eyes, I can picture her so vividly, peering back at me from the porch. Feet bare, hand raised over her brow in a salute to shield her silver-gray eyes from the sun, as the windswept tips of her long, onyx hair dance along the small of her back. A serene smile lifting her lips as I drew near¡ªher expression,bined with the look in her eyes, rendering me speechless.Love emanates from her being, from her every pore, where she stands in summons to me only feet away.A love so pure, so tangible, and unconditional bouncing between us. The only safe space I have ever truly known beating inside her chest as I draw closer to it, pounding over the wood nks to answer her summons and feast on a love that nkets me. A love that protects me and brings me peace while keeping me whole. A love so mine, so ours.A love and ce we made together, against all odds. Our darkness mingling and molding, pouring our foundation, and erecting the frame while we decorated the walls with the memories we made. Filling every shelf and lining every cab, creating our forever home within one another.The engine purrs beneath me as if telling me to get on with it while my recollection keeps me idle as I awaken memories. All of which I¡¯m choosing to draw upon, bringing them from the recess of my mind where I¡¯ve kept them safe and untarnished¡ªnot a second forgotten.¡°Please don¡¯t mourn me.¡±As if I ever had a choice. As if either of us ever had control over anything in that respect¡ªher ask impossible.I know better now because I¡¯ve lived long enough to know better. Which has me thinking that maybe she never discovered this secret before she left. Or maybe she did and just wanted to push her will and hope for me into her plea.But on this, I consider myself the wiser of the two of us. I couldn¡¯t make or keep that promise any more than she could change her fate against the cancer that ravaged her before it stole herst breath.Just like I haven¡¯t had a choice to breathe deeply since I watched her take it. I¡¯m convinced at this point that my shallow breaths since her departure are part of the price for having such perfection. For having found true peace for a moment in time.She once told me life could happen in a blink, but it¡¯s a series of blinks that brought us together. It was life happening to us which ended with the same close of the eyes, leaving me on the other side of it without her. I understand that now more than ever. Because I know the difference between living your life and life happening to you, and they are distinctly different.Living life is making choices¡ªwhat to wear, when to eat, whether or not to cut your hair. These are the easy decisions we get to make¡ªto have some say or a hand in.Life happening to you is vastly different. Ites by way of a powerful reckoning force that cements your path for better or worse. It¡¯s only in the wake of it that you realize the easy decisions are the only choices you have any real say in.The hard stuff¡ªthe really hard stuff¡ªthat¡¯s life happening to you.And since I¡¯m a contingency man, I¡¯ve figured my way around allowing life to happen to me.I¡¯ve found the trick, the loophole, a way to take away the power it can wield over me, and now, I happen to my life and the lives of others. Not the other way around. At this point, it¡¯s up to me to remember the blinks of the days before and after I mastered it.Blinks I¡¯m choosing to remember now. Some of them slow and meant to be savored. Many of them so fast it doesn¡¯t feel like they¡¯re real, but delivered by a force so powerful, it¡¯s undeniable it exists. A force she prayed to and called God.Something I never fought her on and still don¡¯t exactly disagree with. While her faith was unshakable, mine remains in her¡ªin us.Either way, as I ready myself to happen to life in the years ahead, I close my eyes, summoning every close and clear of them that brought me here¡ªthat brought us together¡ªbefore I¡¯m forced to blink it all away.

 Severed Heart: Part 1 – Chapter 1

    Part 1


    ¡°A BOY BECOMES A man when a man is needed.¡±


    ¡ªJohn Steinbeck<hr>US PRESIDENT: RONALD REAGAN | 1981¨C1989I TURN THE DIAL on the radio to find our favorite new Johnny Hallyday song when a woman¡¯s voice sounds very loud through the speakers, making me jump. ¡°. . . le pr¨¦sident Am¨¦ricain Reagan a ¨¦t¨¦ abattu devant un h?tel Hilton ¨¤ Washington¡ª¡± US President Reagan was shot in front of a Hilton in Washington¡ªI turn it down so it doesn¡¯t wake Papa from his nap and jump when someone pounds on the front door. ¡°Matiiiis!¡±He says Papa¡¯s name again like we do when we y hide and seek. ¡°Matiiisss!¡±I move toward the door when thetch catches and stop when I see the man with the burnt face staring at me through the gap on the other side. ¡°Delphine, where is Matis?¡±When I don¡¯t answer him, he smiles at me with crooked teeth. I hate the burnt man. He always tries to touch me when Papa doesn¡¯t look, and Papa never looks when he ys cards.¡°Open the door, Delphine,¡± he orders before he smacks the wood hard to scare me. I push at the door to show him he doesn¡¯t frighten me and to try to close it in his ugly face. ¡°Go away, my papa is sleeping, and you¡¯re going to wake him up!¡±Heughs in a way that¡¯s not funny and yells at me to open it. When I don¡¯t, he disappears from the door, and I push it closed. Turning to get Papa, the burnt man kicks the door open, and it hits me in the back. Screaming, I fall to the floor. When the man reaches for me, I jump to my feet as Papa runs into the room and starts to wrestle him while shouting at me. ¡°Delphine, to the barn! Go!¡±I know I should follow his orders like his good soldier, but I see the shiny side of a knife in the burnt man¡¯s hand and warn Papa instead.¡°The . . . barn, go!¡± Papa yells again, wrestling the burnt man for the knife as I look around for something to help him fight. Papa always tells me, ¡®a man who doesn¡¯t choose a side is a man in the way,¡¯ and I¡¯ll be in his way if I don¡¯t choose his side and try to help him. When the burnt man smiles at Papa, pushing the knife closer to his throat, my tummy flips. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Matis. By nightfall, she¡¯ll be a woman.¡±¡°Delphine, go!¡± Papa yells again the way he does when he¡¯s really mad at me while he pushes the sharp side of the knife away from his neck. Turning to follow orders, I crash into another man and hear him curse. Looking up and up, my head starts to burn as water drips down the back of it to my neck. The man tilts his head as he stares down at me, and Papa screams at him not to touch me. When I look back at Papa, I watch him push the knife toward the burnt man¡¯s throat before the man in front of me knocks me to the floor. My eyes go fuzzy, and I stop and wipe the water away with my hand so I can see. When Papa calls for me, I crawl toward his voice, but when I put my hand back on the floor, I see it¡¯s not water in my eyes¡ªit¡¯s blood.Feeling dizzy, Iy on the floor and try not to fall asleep as Papa and the second man shout at each other. Rolling on the carpet toward Papa¡¯s voice, I stop when I see the burnt man¡¯s open eyes staring back at me.He¡¯s dead.Papa killed him.I¡¯m d. He is not a good man. Papa said so. He said he ys cards with bad men to find out their secrets.Looking back up at Papa as he stands from the floor, I see he¡¯s very, very angry as the man he¡¯s yelling at kicks me in the stomach. ¡°It¡¯s much toote, Matis. Your payment is due, and it¡¯s time to collect.¡±¡°The only thing you¡¯re collecting today, you fucking pig, is your death, one I¡¯m all too happy to give you,¡± Papa says through his teeth, his voice still very angry but very quiet. When Papa moves toward the man to deliver his death, I wonder if he¡¯s going to punish me for not following his order to go to the barn. Maybe he is proud of me for fighting. Before I can ask him, I fall asleep.* * *¡°Wake up, little flower. Please don¡¯t break my heart. Please,¡± he whispers, his hand on my cheek.¡°Papa,¡± I call for him. ¡°I can¡¯t open my eyes.¡±His breath tickles my nose as he does his tired sigh, like when I break a dish or dirty the carpet after ying in the creek.¡°You can see, little flower. Open your eyes.¡±I try hard and open them to see that Papa¡¯s eyes are red and puffy. He¡¯s been crying. I know because he cried for a long, long time after Maman told us to ¡®rot in our filthy life.¡¯ I wasn¡¯t sad when Maman left like Papa was. She was mean to me and slept all the time.Papa was the only one who would y with me. Brush my hair. Bring me toys. It was always Papa who read me stories and tucked me into bed.¡°Papa.¡± I wipe at the little spot of blood on his cheek. ¡°Did you hit your head, too?¡±¡°No, little flower.¡± Papa closes his eyes and begins to cry. ¡°Forgive me, Delphine.¡±¡°Matis, if you want to save her from your fate, we have to leave now.¡± The voicees from a man standing at my bedroom door. I try to look at him, but Papa uses his finger to turn my face to his. The light from the chandelier hanging above him hurts my eyes. Papa gave it to me as a birthday present and told me all princesses have rooms with chandeliers. I told him that I wanted to be the prince because they got to fight. Heughed andughed before promising not to bring me anything else for a princess and brought me a sword the next time he came back from ying cards¡ªmy sword! I should have gotten my sword when the burnt man came.¡°Delphine, do you remember when I told you one day you would have to be a soldier?¡±¡°Yes, I am ready!¡± I tell him, trying to sit up, but he keeps me in bed.¡°Good. I need you to follow orders now and do exactly as I tell you, understand?¡±¡°Yes, Papa.¡±¡°We have to go now!¡± the man shouts from my door. ¡°I¡¯m not dying for your kid, Matis!¡±¡°I need you to go with this man and do what he tells you,¡± Papa says, lifting me from my bed. He walks over and puts me into the man¡¯s arms, handing him my suitcase with the wildflowers that look like the flowers we dance in. The man stares down at me, and I decide I don¡¯t want to follow orders tonight, but Papa shushes me.¡°I¡¯m begging you . . . bring her to my nephew. Francis will raise her as his own. Please get her there safely,¡± he tells the man. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you any price you ask.¡±¡°As if you¡¯ll survive,¡± the man tells Papa. ¡°Making promises you can¡¯t keep is what got you in this mess, Matis.¡±¡°Forget how you feel about me, just this once, please.¡±¡°I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡± He talks funny when he doesn¡¯t speak French. Papa told me these people are called the British.¡°Papa, I don¡¯t want to follow orders tonight. My head hurts,¡± I tell him, and he jerks his chin to quiet me.¡°Here.¡± Papa puts a roll of money in the man¡¯s hands. ¡°This is all I have. I was trying to save enough to get her out of here, but I don¡¯t understand . . . why aren¡¯t they here?¡± Papa starts to cry again.¡°Even now, you¡¯re still maintaining the lie?¡± the British man says.¡°I don¡¯t have time to argue with you,¡± Papa sighs, wiping his face.¡°You could try to run,¡± he tells Papa before looking at me like I¡¯m filthy, ¡°and save me the headache.¡±Papa shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s toote. They¡¯ll never stop now. Above all else, just make sure you aren¡¯t followed.¡±¡°For old times¡¯ sake, Matis.¡± He looks at Papa like he¡¯s filthy too. ¡°Honestly, those bastards are doing us all a favor by ridding the world of you, and you have my word that if it¡¯s within my power, no harm wille to her tonight. Though for that to be a possibility, we have to leave right fucking now.¡±¡°P-papa?¡± I whisper, looking at the man and back to Papa. I do not like this man or the way he talks to my papa, but he nods to the British man before he looks down at me, his eyes getting redder.¡°I love you, little flower,¡± he whispers before bending and kissing my head next to where it hurts so much. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m so sorry. Forgive me.¡± Papa does the sign of the cross on my forehead with his finger, closes his eyes, and speaks English to the British man. ¡°Take her. Go.¡±¡°N-no, no, Papa!¡± I scream as the man starts to walk away, and Papa cries into his hands. ¡°Papa, no, no orders tonight. Please!¡± I shout, feeling sleepy again as the man holds me tighter to him, walking faster.¡°P-please, Papa!¡± I wiggle in the man¡¯s arms. ¡°I¡¯m ready to be your soldier, not his!¡± I shout over the British man¡¯s shoulder as Papaes out of my room and grabs my hand, following the man holding me down the hall.¡°Close your eyes, Delphine,¡± Papa orders me so I won¡¯t see the men he delivered death to in the living room. Closing my eyes, I hold Papa¡¯s hand really tight so he can¡¯t let go. When we are outside, snow hits my nose and cheeks, and the wind makes my head hurt more. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t go to the barn. I¡¯m sorry,¡± I tell Papa. ¡°I¡¯ll be good. I promise. I¡¯ll follow orders, your orders!¡±¡°Wait, please . . . one more minute,¡± Papa cries to the man.¡°Enough with the melodrama, Matis! It¡¯s probably already toote!¡±Papa cries harder and follows us down the creaky porch steps before kissing my hand. ¡°Remember what I taught you?¡±¡°Yes, Papa.¡±¡°Remember, little flower. Remember everything I told you. Never forget!¡±¡°I¡¯ll remember, I promise!¡±Closing his eyes, Papa kisses my hand one more time before he lets it go, and I scream for him as the British man starts to run with me in his arms. Papa calls after me through the snow and tells me that it¡¯s okay. That it¡¯s all going to be okay and to go with the man¡ªthat he will keep me safe. That he loves me. That I¡¯m his good soldier. That he¡¯s sorry, but he cries the whole time! If everything is okay, he wouldn¡¯t cry so hard!¡°No! Papa!¡± I p the British man¡¯s face, and he curses and drops my suitcase. It falls open on the ground as the man puts me into his car. I kick at him over and over as he gathers my clothes, cursing as he pushes my legs and suitcase inside. ¡°Papa, please don¡¯t let him take me! I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t go to the barn! I¡¯m sorry!¡±¡°Delphine, be my soldier and do as you¡¯re told!¡± Papa yells through the wind, but I can¡¯t see him anymore through so much snow! The man ms the door on me as lights sh through the window of his car.¡°They¡¯re here!¡± the man calls back to Papa before he gets into the car.¡°Get her out of here!¡± Papa yells, and the man starts to drive away before I throw up on the floor.¡°Oh, bloody fucking hell,¡± the British man says, his eyes on the lightsing through the ss before a loud banges from the house behind us. I know that sound. Papa is shooting from his big, big gun. The cars with lights have more bad mening, and Papa is shooting at them to stay away. He¡¯s fighting again.¡°I have to go back!¡± I scream at the British man. ¡°I have to fight!¡±I pull at the car door handle, but the man pulls my arm to keep me inside and goes faster.¡°Come on, Matis.¡± The man says Papa¡¯s name like he¡¯s praying as another loud banges from the house and shakes our car.Papa shoots at the lightsing again and again, and one car lights fire before it goes into the river. More lightse as the man goes faster and faster, turning this way and that way.¡°Take me back!¡± I order like Papa does.¡°Shut up,¡± the British man tells me as he turns the wheel. ¡°Keep going, Matis, just a little longer,¡± he whispers, looking into the mirror on the ss.¡°Are you stupid?¡± I tell the British man. ¡°He can¡¯t hear you whisper!¡±Heughs like I told him a joke before I count three cars turning onto our road. The man drives faster and faster, and I close my eyes to ask God to give Papa enough bullets for the big guns to shoot all the bad men.¡°Don¡¯t look back,¡± the man tells me as he starts to drive really, really, really fast. Snow makes it hard to see through the window, and my tummy hurts when I can¡¯t see our house anymore.¡°We go far way now!¡± I shout in English. ¡°I am Matis soldier! Not for yours! Take Delphine back house, help fight!¡±The man continues to drive, and I know I said the words right.¡°You understand my English!¡± I yell at him. ¡°I tell you to back!¡± When he doesn¡¯t listen, again, I curse at him. ¡°Imbecile!¡±¡°Definitely Matis¡¯s daughter,¡± the manughs, and I know he¡¯s making fun of me and Papa. I decide I do not like British men.¡°I am Matis soldier!¡±¡°Sure you are, kid.¡± He says this as if he doesn¡¯t believe me. But I am a soldier. Papa taught me how to march and salute. How to make fires. How to fish. How to shoot¡ªnot the big gun yet. How to skin a rabbit and take out its entrails. To cook. Which mushrooms are poisonous, and which vor food. He taught me tactics and intelligence he learned when he was a special soldier. He taught me that keeping clean keeps you close to God. He reads to me the stories of other soldiers. Of wars. Of the news. I decide the man driving does not know Papa. I stare at the side of his head as I speak more English. ¡°You make Delphine very angry.¡±He smiles. ¡°Get used to it.¡±He is not a nice man, but I know he doesn¡¯t want to hurt me like the burnt man did. Papa says he will keep me safe, and I believe him.¡°You soldier, like Matis?¡± I ask in English.¡°Yes. Long ago, when he was a respectable man.¡± The British man goes faster, screaming when his car spins round and round before it finally stops. He curses when I throw up on his floor again and on my clothes and my suitcase. I wipe my mouth and look around to see lights shining through the back window of the car.¡°The bad men are chasing us!¡±¡°I¡¯m aware, Delphine, Christ, be quiet! And I¡¯m taking you away from the bad man,¡± he yells back, rolling down his window. He shoots a gun at the car chasing us over and over again until we can¡¯t see the lights anymore, and lets out a long breath.We drive for a long, long time before the British man stops the car and tells me to get down in my seat while he watches the road for more lights. After a long time, I try hard not to fall asleep when he finally speaks.¡°Your father might have borne the worst luck, but as it seems, you won¡¯t be suffering the same tonight. Looks like you live to see another day.¡± He presses his hand to his face. ¡°Christ, that was close.¡±¡°Take Delphine back house. Matis need . . .¡± I try to think of the English word. ¡°His medisis-medicines spoon. I know where. Only I help him.¡±¡°Life is cruel, and it would do you a bit of good to learn it early.¡± He turns in his seat toward me. ¡°As intelligent as you might be for one so young, you¡¯re utterly ignorant in judgment of allegiance because your papa is the bad man, little flower. A weak, pathetic drug addict.¡± The man curses and shakes his head as he turns the key. ¡°So weak that he made another bad bet because he didn¡¯t have anything to fill his precious spoon.¡±¡°Papa not bad man,¡± I whisper, staring at the side of his head. I hope he can see he¡¯s making me angry and that I think he is an imbecile. ¡°You tell lies.¡±¡°You don¡¯t seem to be a soldier that follows orders¡±¡ªhe looks down at me in my seat¡ª¡°so maybe that¡¯s why he bet you.¡±

 Severed Heart: Chapter 2

    US PRESIDENT: WILLIAM J. CLINTON | 1993¨C2001¡°BARRETT, OVER HERE!¡± I holler before climbing up a few steps of thedder Mom told me pacifically not to climb. She won¡¯t see me now because she¡¯s too busy going goo-goo, ga-ga over my twin cousins Jasper and Jessie.All I know is that babies make adults act stupid. That¡¯s all I know. Barrett and I have been able to get away easy today from our parents¡¯ eagle eyes because they can¡¯t stop gushing over how cute they are. I don¡¯t see the big deal. All they do is cry, poop, and throw up all over everything. Jasper pooped and throwed up on me when I held him.¡°Barrett,¡± I holler louder, and he drops the stick he was poking the dead squirrel with and runs over to me as I try to figure which apple to pick. We came to the farm today because Mom, Dad, and my aunts and uncles spent all day helping clean and fix up the boarding houses to get them ready for theborers.During harvest, all our ¡¯stended familyes from Georgia and Florida. Daddy doesn¡¯t let Barrett and mee to the farm when they¡¯re here because he says a lot of them ¡®don¡¯t have the sense God gave them,¡¯ and they drink and curse too much.Barrett squints up at me from where he stands at the bottom of thedder as I reach as high as I can from the middle of it.¡°Tyeeelerrr,¡± he whines, ¡°Uncle Carter said not to pick apples.¡± He looks over to where our parents are grilling chicken and drinking beer next to a big bonfire. Right now, the smoke is risin¡¯ to the sky and giving us some needed cover.¡°They aren¡¯t payin¡¯ us no attention. Uncle Grayson¡¯s talkin¡¯ about that Kurt Cobana guy again, who shot his own head, but Daddy¡¯s going off about the Major League strike. ¡¯Sides it¡¯s just one apple, and Pawpaw said thisnd is as good as ours, and if we want to be real farmers, we need to start getting our hands dirty early on and work ournd.¡±¡°Well, you can be a farmer, but I¡¯m not gonna be no alfalfa desperado.¡±¡°You don¡¯t even know what that means.¡± I roll my eyes.¡°Yeah, I do. I¡¯m not gonna be just a farmer who grows apples and vegetables. I¡¯m gonna raise livestock too, so I can be a real cowboy.¡±¡°Well, I won¡¯t have time to be a cowboy ¡¯cause I¡¯m going to be a Marine like Uncle Gray, Daddy, and Pawpaw.¡±¡°Then you¡¯re gonna be just a farmer. Alfalfa desperado!¡± he teases, pointing at me.¡°Shut up!¡± Tired from reaching, I wiggle my shoulders. ¡°I guess I could be a cowboy, too. Maybe I can put a horse and cows on yournd, and you can watch after ¡¯em while I¡¯m a Marine?¡±¡°Maybe.¡±¡°Until then, we have to be grunts,¡± I tell him.¡°What¡¯s that?¡±¡°I don¡¯t know. I think aborer. Grunts have to start with apples.¡±¡°Fine.¡± He looks back towards the bonfire. ¡°But if your daddy catches us, he¡¯s going to smoke our butts.¡±¡°So what?¡± I swat a fly from my nose. ¡°I can take an ass-whoopin¡¯. I don¡¯t cry like you do.¡±¡°I don¡¯t cry,¡± he calls up to me.¡°Yeah, you do. You cry louder than Jasper and Jessie when you get a whoopin¡¯. Bet they could pick apples better than you anyway.¡±¡°Shut up.¡± Barrett wipes his nose with his shirt. ¡°They¡¯re just babies. They don¡¯t know they ownnd yet or even have apples to pick because they have baby brains. Duh.¡±¡°Which means I¡¯m the oldest cousin and the boss. Now hold my legs, crybaby, and hurry up.¡±¡°I don¡¯t cry,¡± he lies as he reaches up and holds my legs. Twisting the apple on the branch, it finallyes free, and I hold it down for Barrett. ¡°See, no big deal. They¡¯ll never know one is missing.¡±¡°Let me pick one,¡± he says as I start to climb down.¡°You have to work your ownnd.¡±He scrunches his nose as I take thest step down. ¡°Where¡¯s mynd going to be again?¡±¡°Gah, you never listen.¡± I nod toward the other side of the highway. ¡°Over there. From the road, up the hill, and then some behind Pawpaw¡¯s house.¡±¡°We can¡¯t go over there! It¡¯s ¡¯cross the highway. If we go ¡¯cross the highway, we¡¯ll both get whoopin¡¯s.¡±¡°It¡¯s not a highway,¡± I tell him. ¡°It¡¯s just a road, and you¡¯re always scared.¡±¡°Am not, and Mom says I¡¯ll be as big as my daddy someday.¡±¡°We¡¯re not big like them yet ¡¯cause we haven¡¯t hit our growth spurt.¡±¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Barrett asks.¡°When you get hair in your armpits,¡± I tell him, ¡°and,¡± I whisper low, ¡°I heard Uncle Grayson say our balls will drop.¡±¡°Drop where?¡±¡°I dunno.¡± I scrunch my nose, wondering where my balls will drop to.¡°Till my balls drop, Tyler, let me pick one of your apples on yournd.¡±¡°Nope,¡± I say, wiping my apple on my shirt before taking a bite. ¡°You have to work your ownnd. Those are the rules.¡±¡°Fine,¡± he puffs. ¡°But you got to help me carry thedder ¡¯cross the highway.¡±¡°Why? I can carry it by myself.¡±¡°Liar, I saw Uncle Carter carry it over here!¡±¡°Boys!¡± Mom calls. ¡°Dinner!¡±¡°Shit,¡± I mumble. ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to wait.¡±¡°Come on, cousin,¡± Barrett whines, ¡°let me pick one of your apples. I¡¯ll be quick.¡±I toss my apple and cross my arms. ¡°What are you going to give me for it?¡±¡°I don¡¯t have any more money in my piggy bank. You already tooked it all,¡± he huffs out.¡°Fine.¡± I tug down my ballcap. ¡°You owe me two dors next time you have money. Spit shake on it.¡±¡°I¡¯ll never have any money if you keep taking it.¡±¡°That¡¯s tough shit,¡± I say like Daddy does. ¡°That¡¯s the price of pickin¡¯ on mynd.¡±Barrett moves around me to get to thedder, and I block him and shake my head. ¡°Nuh uh, spit and shake on it. Two dors.¡±¡°Fine. Two dors.¡±We both spit in our hands and shake to make it a real deal between men.¡°All right. Get on up, and I¡¯ll hold your legs.¡±¡°I should make you pick it for two whole dors.¡±¡°Barrett, you want to be a real farmer who works hisnd or not?¡±¡°Yes!¡± he shouts as I shush him when Mom calls us again for dinner.¡°Coming, Mama,¡± I holler back, ducking so she can¡¯t see where we are in the orchard. ¡°Tell her you¡¯reing and hurry up,¡± I order Barrett. He hollers at them and climbs thedder. When he gets as far as he can with me holding him, I point out one he can reach.¡°Almost . . . got . . . it,¡± he says, stretching to grab the apple. When he finally picks it, I lose my grip on his legs, and he screams as he starts to fall. Daddy appears and catches him before he hits the ground. I straighten my spine as Daddy turns toward me with Barrett wiggling in his arms, Barrett¡¯s eyes as wide as mine.¡°Daddy, that was so, so fast,¡± I tell him. ¡°How¡¯d you get here so fast?¡±¡°Nice lecture, Son,¡± Dad says in his ¡¯thortive tone. ¡°This boy was a foot away from his first break,¡± he says in a way that tells me I¡¯ve earned a whoopin¡¯, and it¡¯s going to hurt. I lift my hand to the sun to see how mad he is and can only see him shake his head. That means he¡¯s disappointed. ¡°For a boy who likes to give orders, you sure have a horrible salute.¡±¡°Sorry, Daddy,¡± I say, putting my hand down. ¡°I wasn¡¯t salutin¡¯. The sun was in my eyes. I was just . . . well, Barrett¡ª¡±¡°Best think a little longer before lying to me, Tyler,¡± Daddy warns.¡°I was just¡ª¡±¡°Oh, I heard what you were telling him,¡± he says in the same way he does when he¡¯s ying with me. I squint at him as he tosses Barrett around, making him giggle.¡°Every single word, Son, including your curses.¡± He sounds like he¡¯s ying with me again, and I swear I see him smile, but the sun blocks it. He spins Barrett ¡¯round one more time, and Barrett squeals before he lets him down.¡°Thanks for catchin¡¯ me, Uncle Carter. I¡¯m sorry we didn¡¯t listen. I tried to tell Tyler we would get in trouble. Are you gonna whoop me too?¡±¡°We¡¯ll see. You can spend dinner thinking about what you¡¯ve done.¡± Daddy puts a hand on Barrett¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Now, go get washed up and take your seat at the table for grace.¡±¡°K,¡± Barrett says, making big eyes at me behind Daddy¡¯s back.¡°Sorry, what was that?¡± Dad calls after him.¡°I mean, yessir,¡± Barrett shouts behind him as he runs toward the porch.Daddy kneels next to me and picks up the apple I bit into and tossed on the ground. ¡°Son, if you¡¯re going to take responsibility for being the oldest and in charge, you best know what you¡¯re doing before you start doling out orders and lectures.¡±¡°But I¡¯ve been watching you, Pawpaw, and Uncle Grayson, so I know what to do.¡±He smiles and shakes his head. ¡°Is that right?¡±¡°Yes, sir.¡±¡°All right then. Tell me, son, how much is an apple?¡±¡°Pardon?¡±¡°Buying time and being polite won¡¯t give you the answer. So, I¡¯m going to ask you again. Do you know the cost of an apple?¡±I swallow and swat a fly away from my nose. ¡°No sir, I don¡¯t.¡±¡°And why is that?¡±¡°Because we don¡¯t have to buy them.¡± I smile and stretch my arms out. ¡°We own a farm!¡±¡°True, but we do have to sell the apples to make money, and you just cost your Pawpaw the money for that apple, which you will pay for.¡± He picks up Barrett¡¯s apple. ¡°Think we can sell a bruised apple?¡±¡°No, sir, I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±¡°Your apology doesn¡¯t count, Tyler. You¡¯re not apologizing because you¡¯re sorry¡ªonly because you got caught. If you want to be a real man, apologize when you mean it, or it never will count for anyone. And don¡¯t think you can fool them. People know when you mean it and when you don¡¯t.¡±¡°Yes, sir.¡±He lifts my ballcap and ruffles my hair. ¡°You¡¯ll be a man soon enough, but until you are, you have no business lecturing another boy on how to be something you aren¡¯t. Understood?¡±¡°Yes, sir,¡± I tell him as he pulls my cap back down.¡°Nowe on, your mother¡¯s called you twice for dinner, so if you want to keep some hide on that butt, I suggest you get washed up and to the table.¡±I nod as we start to walk toward the patio where the family sits on pic benches. ¡°Hey, Daddy?¡±¡°Yes?¡±¡°How much will be mine? You know . . . when I be a man?¡±Stopping, he lifts me above his head and onto his shoulders. Iugh because I know I¡¯m getting too big, but he¡¯s so strong he can still carry me. Everyone says I¡¯m the spitting image of him, and I know I¡¯ll be as strong as him one day. He points toward one of the hills ahead of us. ¡°Straight ahead up that valley¡ª¡±¡°Twelve o¡¯clock,¡± I tell him, knowing it¡¯ll make him proud.¡°Exactly. See that tree line out there?¡±¡°Yes, sir.¡±¡°From twelve o¡¯clock to four o¡¯clock and then all the way to the back of Uncle Grayson¡¯s house, to the road, and back where we¡¯re standing right here.¡±¡°That much is all mine?¡±¡°Yes, son, it will all be yours.¡±¡°Why don¡¯t you want to work on ournd? Pawpaw said you didn¡¯t take your share to work it.¡±¡°I guess I wanted to be a Marine more.¡±¡°Do I have to choose?¡±¡°Nah, you can be both if you want.¡±¡°Pawpaw was both,¡± I tell him.¡°Yeah, well, Pawpaw is a better man than me.¡±¡°No way he¡¯s not,¡± I say, ruffling his hair like he does mine, and heughs.¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do. I¡¯m going to be a Marine and cowboy, not no friggin¡¯ alfalfa desperado neither.¡±¡°Out of the mouths of babes,¡± heughs as he lifts me from his shoulders to stand in front of him. ¡°It¡¯s something I couldn¡¯t manage, but I believe if anyone can do it, it¡¯ll be you. But do me a favor for a bit?¡±¡°What?¡±¡°Stay a boy just a little while longer, for your mom and me? Think you can manage that?¡±¡°If I stay a boy for a bit, can we y catch after dinner?¡±¡°Always the barterer,¡± heughs and tugs my ballcap down over my eyes.¡°What¡¯s that?¡±¡°Your nature,¡± he chuckles as I put my hat back right. ¡°And it¡¯s a deal, but try not to break any more of your cousin¡¯s bones this weekend and apologize for cursing in your prayers tonight.¡±¡°K . . . so . . . are you going to whoop me? Cause Mom told me ¡¯pacifically to stay off thedder.¡±¡°That¡¯s specifically, and no whoopin¡¯ today, but now you know better.¡± He grabs my hand as we walk toward the porch, and I hold it tight. He stares down at me as we walk, and I can tell by his eyes that he¡¯s proud. ¡°Love you, son.¡±¡°Love you too, Daddy.¡±We walk a few more steps. ¡°Daddy?¡±¡°Yes?¡±¡°Thanks for saving it for me . . . thend. I can¡¯t wait to be a Marine and cowboy.¡±¡°Wee.¡±¡°Hey, Daddy?¡±¡°Good Lord, son, what now?¡±¡°How much is an apple?¡±

 Severed Heart: Chapter 3

    US PRESIDENT: RONALD REAGAN | 1981¨C1989¡°SALOPE¡± RINGS OUT in taunt before I m Celine¡¯s car door, ring back at the girl through my window before she trots off triumphantly. It¡¯s the third time today, and I know she nned it. They always n it.¡°Ignore them,¡± Celine says with a sigh, tenderly running her manicured nails through my hair before pulling away from the curb. ¡°They¡¯re only mad because you are prettier than they are, and you have boobs.¡±¡°I¡¯ve had boobs since I was nine.¡±¡°How could I forget? You showed them to me along with the rest of the family at the dinner table,¡± sheughs, and I roll my eyes.¡°They¡¯re mad because they think I kissed their boyfriends . . . and I did. I kissed her boyfriend¡±¡ªI nod back toward the school¡ª¡°Lyam, during lunch. He uses too much tongue.¡±Celine gasps as I face her, wearing my own triumphant smile while clicking my seatbelt.¡°You aren¡¯t going to make any friends that way,¡± she warns.¡°I don¡¯t want to be friends with them,¡± I tell her. And I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t want to talk about boys all the time¡ªor dresses, makeup, shopping, or going to concerts. I want to fish the river, and shoot, and make campfires. I want to be back in Levallois-Perret and living as Matis¡¯s daughter. Not pretending to be Celine¡¯s little sister¡ªthough no one believes it inside the family but Celine.¡°You shouldn¡¯t be kissing so many boys. Nine was not that long ago,¡± Celine scorns, taking a turn toward home. A home where the drapes have ruffles, the floors don¡¯t creak, and the windows don¡¯t have a thickyer of the filth that Maman told us to rot in. Every day, I wish for my life back in our house just outside Levallois-Perret, and every day, I live like a princess instead of a soldier. A home where we have house staff to do our washing and who keep eyes on my every move and then report them to Papa¡¯s nephew, Francis, and his wife, Marine.¡°Where is Ezekiel?¡± I ask, ncing toward the empty back seat as she turns up the radio to ¡°Lucky Star.¡± Madonna, again. Always Madonna. I like Prince.¡°He¡¯s with Maman for the night, so you¡¯ll see him when I drop you home.¡±¡°Why is he with her?¡±¡°Why?¡± She bulges her eyes, and Iugh, knowing very well what a tyrant my three-year-old ¡®nephew¡¯ is. ¡°So I can get some needed rest,¡± she sighs and nces at me. ¡°And I kiss one man,¡± she reprimands, refusing to let my confession go. ¡°One man I¡¯m hoping to be able to kiss tonight without a demanding audience.¡±¡°This is why you¡¯re boring. Already tied to one man forever, imbecile.¡± I poke like I always do, and she smiles¡ªlike she always does¡ªnever taking my insults seriously, even when I mean them.Celine had embraced me the minute I was dropped at her front door. Handling my temperament easily because she never seems to get angry. I did all I could to get her to the point of hitting me back during my first few months in her house. Though there are many bedrooms, we shared a room before she moved out and eloped with Abijah. My suspicion is that we only shared a room because Celine decided before I got there that I was the sibling she had always longed for. During that time, I did my best to make her think otherwise. I stole her clothes and even imed her favorite ne as my own. When I did, she shrugged and said she would have given it to me if I had asked. Possessions mean nothing to Celine¡ªprobably because she grew up with so many of them.At first, I hated that she never got mad, but instead of fighting back, she hugged me. She said I needed hugs. Though I don¡¯t like her hugs, I let her hug me because I think she is the one who needs them.Though Celine and I have be close, it remains different with her parents. Francis, a much older cousin I had never met before the night I came to live with him, now ys as a parent to me. Though I make Francisugh, his wife, Marine, only tolerates me. I overheard Marine speak her opinion of me not long after I was dropped like garbage at their door.¡°She came to us from the slums, and she acts like it. He did not raise a girl¡ªhe raised a future criminal who is rude with no manners.¡±Marine¡¯s view of me has not changed much in our years together. She still looks at me the way she did and deres all her efforts have been wasted because I am ¡®still rude with no manners.¡¯Francis hade to my defense that night, as he often does now, by reminding her they were the only family I had left. Which I knew to be true because my uncle Alo?s¡ªMatis¡¯s only brother and Francis¡¯s father¡ªhad also been a soldier but died in Vietnam. From what Celine told me throughte-night whispers in our bedroom, Francis and Marine had been activists up until Celine became a teenager. I can only assume by her behavior that Marine was the one who put a stop to it, though I have my suspicions that Francis remains involved without her knowledge.At the dinner table, Celine¡¯s mother always silences Francis from telling stories about their time as activists. She also quiets Francis when he mentions Papa or his own dead father, Alo?s. But I refuse to forget my father or my promise to him to remember what he taught me. Most nights, to keep my memories safe, I stare up at my ceiling and relive the time with him after Maman left us¡ªmy happiest days. Most of the time, I pretend he didn¡¯t die that night in the snow. That the British man lied and that my father didn¡¯t sell me for a spoon of drugs. I pretend a lot because I still want to be with him¡ªthere. Always. Forever dancing in the wildflowers.For me, this life is no life at all. There are no outdoor adventures, no fields of flowers to dance in or nearby rivers to fish from, and no animals to target and shoot. All of this city is concrete, and there are way too many eyes. Too many people. I don¡¯t me Celine in the least for leaving the house, though she foolishly didn¡¯t move out of the city.¡°The man I kiss is changing the world,¡± Celine chimes happily as I change the station, Reagan¡¯s words, ¡°Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!¡± being yed, again, as they have for the millionth time since the US President spoke them months ago.¡°Yeah, yeah, and you¡¯re going to help him,¡± I mumble.Though they have now been together for years, Celine is always talking about Abijah. When we still shared a room, I would eavesdrop on their conversations when she would sneak him in at night. Sometimes, they would passionately kiss when they thought I was asleep.When they weren¡¯t kissing, he would tell her stories of our government and the corrupt people inside of it. Of a group he was in¡ªPardi Radical¡ªand of the changes being made in leadership. He would often tell stories of his friend, in, whose papa was killed in a bombing, as well as their ns to change things together.I would listen because it reminded me of Papa¡¯s stories as Abijah reminded me of the soldier my papa was.Celine hung onto his every word and got arrested with him weekly for protesting after she left home. Up until she got pregnant with Ezekiel, Celine was living more of a soldier¡¯s life than I was. To my aunt and uncle, I had suddenly be the good daughter.Even though I think most boys are imbeciles, I can understand why Celine fell so madly in love with Abijah. He¡¯s not only a true street soldier but very, very handsome. With dark ck hair, eyes that glow like fire, and a smooth, silky voice. He always speaks so excitedly about his ns that I sometimes believe him like Celine does.¡°I told you I¡¯m done helping him for now, for a much better purpose,¡± she says fondly, speaking of the other love of her life, her son, as she takes a turn I don¡¯t recognize.¡°Celine, this is not the way home,¡± I point out, ncing her way.¡°It is for me.¡± She looks back at me, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. ¡°You always ask me to take you to my apartment to meet our friends.¡±I turn fully toward her in my seat, finally excited about something. ¡°Today? We¡¯re going right now?¡±¡°Yes, but you have to promise to behave. Don¡¯t backtalk Abijah this time with your politics. Just listen.¡±¡°I promise,¡± I agree easily, anticipation thrumming through me at the idea of talking about more than shades of lipstick.¡°Don¡¯t make me regret this.¡± She rolls her eyes as Prince starts to sing ¡°When Doves Cry.¡±¡°I promise,¡± I tell her before I turn it up.* * *Standing just inside the tiny kitchen, I study the map Abijah marked as Celine¡¯sughter reaches me from their bedroom. Rolling my eyes, I walk along a table full of guns¡ªmost of them dropped on the tabletop as their friends came in. Celine¡¯s giggles quiet when someone turns the record yer up, as even more smoke fills the small apartment. Most of the nicotine cloud rapidly filling the room exhaled from the half dozen of their friends crowding their second-story balcony. Shivering due to the crisp fall breeze sweeping through the room, I scour the mostly unimpressive inventory of firearms before pausing on a gun that looks simr to one of Papa¡¯s. Just next to it sits arge box of tools and tubs that have powder inside them. When I reach out to open one of them, someone whispers a ¡°BOOM!¡± in my ear.Jumping, I turn and see a man, or . . . boy. He¡¯s somewhere in between, his eyes light brown, his hair as dark as Abijah¡¯s. Studying him closer, I decide he is almost as handsome as Abijah¡ªthough his teeth are a little crooked when he smiles at me. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t y with that. It¡¯s not a toy.¡±¡°I wasn¡¯t ying. I¡¯m not a little girl.¡±¡°You are Celine¡¯s sister? Non?¡± he says in English.¡°Oui, but¡ª¡± I pause to think of the word. ¡°I . . . curious.¡±¡°Curiosity kills the cat,¡± heughs, taking a sip of his beer. He is dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but his shoes look new and expensive.¡°Do I look like cat? You look like imbecile,¡± I utter, humiliated by my English again as I am most days. I¡¯ve spent every year since Marine enrolled me trying to catch up with my fluent ssmates because Matis never once put me in school when I came of age after Maman left.The boy shes me a full smile as if he knows something I don¡¯t. ¡°No . . . you, you¡¯re a spirit-filled little girl.¡±¡°I¡¯m no more girl than you are boy,¡± I counter in French.¡°Hmm. I see. Please, take no offense, little sister.¡± He might not beughing at me now, but his eyes are, and I scowl at him before picking up a rifle I¡¯m familiar with.¡°This is old,¡± I say, ¡°MAS 49/56, ten-round magazine. Standard-issue French army in the sixties. This is a relic that requires gas to shoot and needs to be buried.¡±His brows shoot up in confusion. ¡°How do you know this?¡±¡°That¡¯s my business. Who are you?¡±¡°I guess you¡¯ll have to stay curious, but I¡¯ve got my eyes on you, little sister.¡±¡°You can keep those eyes to yourself,¡± I snap, unsure why my heart is pounding so fast as he nces over my shoulder. I follow his stare to see a girl waving him over to her.He lifts his chin toward her before he slowly brings his eyes back to me. My chest aches a little as he watches me for a few long seconds. ¡°It was nice to meet you, Delphine.¡±¡°I will not say it¡¯s nice to meet you,¡± I tell him. ¡°You better go to her, that is, if you like being told what to do.¡±Heughs, sips his beer again, and keeps his eyes on me even as he walks toward the girl. Celinees out of the bedroom, cutting off my view just after he disappears into the smoke on the balcony. The second he¡¯s out of sight, I hate that I can¡¯t see him anymore.¡°Ready to go?¡± Celine asks me.I nod and follow her toward the door, looking back onest time to see if the dark-headed boy is watching me. Abijah emerges from their bedroom just after and stops at the door, watching us go¡ªwatching Celine go. He¡¯s just as obsessed with her, and in seeing it, I find myself wanting someone to look at me the way Abijah looks at his wife.¡°Celine?¡± I ask, looking back at the balcony again for any sign of him.¡°Yes,¡± she replies absently, seeming to be locked in the mes dancing in her husband¡¯s eyes. As she does this, she smiles at him with confidence, and I know it¡¯s because of the way he watches her¡ªnever taking his eyes away once, even for those who call his name. Anyone in the room can tell they love each other. They only have to look to see it. In watching them, I decide that I want to feel the same confidence when a boy looks at me.¡°Celine, who was the boy who just went out onto the balcony? The one wearing the blue shirt.¡±¡°The blue shirt? Oh, that was in.¡±¡°That was in?¡± I gawk, shocked he¡¯s so young because of the way Abijah speaks so highly of him¡ªas if he¡¯s someone of authority to respect.¡°Hmm,¡± she confirms as we exit the apartment before taking the stairs down to her car, my attention lingering on the boy I just met. in must be at least sixteen¡ªseventeen at the most. This means I would be forbidden from kissing him, and only makes me want to kiss him more.As Celine pulls away from the apartment, I search for and find him on the balcony, only to see he¡¯sughing with the girl who summoned him. As we drive away, I decide I¡¯m done kissing boys like Lyam.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 4

    US PRESIDENT: WILLIAM J. CLINTON | 1993¨C2001MY ARMS BURN as I cut the corner with the mower the way Daddy taught me before stopping to wipe some of the sweat from under my ball cap. When I look up, I see the same two boys riding their bikes past my house. I know one of them from school. Sean. And I see him sometimes at the Pitt Stop. His daddy owns it, and my daddy knows his daddy and loves their burgers. We go there for grub after church sometimes. The other boy moved into the neighborhood a while back. Daddy calls their yard a ¡®shit show¡¯ ¡¯cause they never cut their grass. Daddy says, ¡®A man who takes no pride in his yard has no pride at all.¡¯Sean waves at me the next time they pass, and I wave back. They ride by my house two more times before Sean pulls up into our driveway, shouting something at me. I shake my head to tell him I can¡¯t hear him and cut the mower.¡°What?¡± I yell over from where I stand in the yard.¡°Why doesn¡¯t your daddy cut your grass?!¡± Sean hollers back.I walk over as the other boy pulls up and stops next to Sean. He doesn¡¯t say anything but just stares at me.¡°He¡¯s deployed,¡± I tell Sean, still staring back at the dark-haired boy. His eyes look like the metal on one of Daddy¡¯s guns.¡°Oh,¡± Sean says before tilting his head. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡±¡°It means he¡¯s a Marine, and he¡¯s protecting you and me from all enemies, foreign and domestic. I¡¯m the man of the house while he¡¯s away, so I cut the grass.¡±The dark boyughs, and I cut my eyes at him. ¡°Your yard is a shit show. Why doesn¡¯t your daddy mow it?¡±The dark boy only stares at me.¡°His daddy is dead. His momma too,¡± Sean tells me.¡°Oh,¡± I say, wiping my forehead with my shirt.¡°Aren¡¯t you going to ask how they died?¡± Sean asks.¡°It¡¯s not polite to ask things like that,¡± I tell him. ¡°He can tell me if he wants to.¡± The boy doesn¡¯t say anything and just keeps looking at me. ¡°If you want to, you can tell me.¡±He nods, but he doesn¡¯t tell me. Now I wish I did ask.¡°Is your daddy deployed all the time?¡± Sean asks.¡°Sometimes for a long time. He was deployed when the Desert Storm came years back. You hear about that?¡±¡°Nope,¡± Sean says and looks to the boy. ¡°You hear about that?¡± The boy shakes his head.¡°Well, it was a bad storm,¡± I tell them. ¡°When my daddy has no choice, he has to kill the bad guys.¡±Sean¡¯s eyes get big. ¡°How did he do that in a storm?¡±¡°He won¡¯t tell me sometimes. It¡¯s secret Marine stuff.¡±¡°Huh . . . well, I¡¯m Sean.¡± Hands on his handlebars, he tilts his head toward the dark-headed boy. ¡°This is Dom. He moved here with his brother and his Tatie. That means aunt in French ¡¯cause they¡¯re French. You¡¯re Tyler Jennings. I seen you at school. You¡¯re a grade up from me.¡±¡°Yeah, I seen you too.¡±¡°Well . . . want to be in our club?¡± Sean asks.¡°What club?¡±¡°We sneak out at night, get on our bikes, and ride into the woods. We bring shlights.¡±¡°And do what?¡± I ask him.¡°All kinds of things, right, Dom?¡±Dom nods, and I wonder if he can talk at all.¡°He doesn¡¯t talk all the time,¡± Sean tells me. ¡°But he¡¯s nice. You don¡¯t have to look at him like he¡¯s weird. He¡¯s not weird. I made sure.¡±¡°Okay.¡± I tug my ballcap.¡°Well,¡± Sean says, ¡°if you want to be in our club, you have to bring a snack.¡± Dom looks at Sean as if he¡¯s telling a lie but stays quiet.¡°What kind of snack?¡± I ask.¡°Any snack, and as much as you can bring. I like Fruit Roll-Ups.¡±¡°I have a box of berry,¡± I tell him.Sean nods. ¡°That will work. But we stay up reallyte, sometimes past midnight. One time, we stayed up until one o¡¯clock. Think you can stay up thatte?¡±¡°I¡¯ve stayed upter than that,¡± I tell him.¡°Oh, well then, meet us on Dom¡¯s street at the second light post after dark if you cane tonight.¡±¡°Yeah. All right.¡±¡°Don¡¯t forget the Roll-Ups if you want to be in our club.¡±¡°I¡¯ll bring them.¡±¡°K. See ya.¡± Sean pedals away, and Dom still stares at me. I wonder if Sean feels sorry for him, and he is weird because he still doesn¡¯t talk.¡°It¡¯s rude to stare at people,¡± I tell Dom. Then I feel bad because I know not having my daddy would be hard. I probably wouldn¡¯t talk a lot. Before I can think of anything else to say, Dom pedals away and looks back at me one more time. He smiles a little at me, and it¡¯s a nice one.* * *Hoping I still have enough gas, I push the mower up the driveway, look around the yard and then back to the street. This is going to take a lot longer than I thought it would. Deciding to try, I push it onto the grass to start the first row. Dandelions shoot out, and I know that¡¯s not good because it will only spread the seeds and grow more weeds. I¡¯m almost done with the second row when I look up to see an older, dark-headed boy on the porch, watching me. When he sees me watching him back, he walks down the steps and over to me, and I stop mowing.¡°Why are you mowing my yard?¡± he yells over the mower. ¡°Did my aunt hire you?¡±¡°Uh, no.¡± I take off my ball cap. ¡°You Dom¡¯s brother?¡±¡°Yes. I¡¯m Tobias.¡±He sounds very French.¡°Oh, well, I¡¯m Tyler, and I just met Sean and Dom, and Sean told me you didn¡¯t have . . . uh, that your daddy isn¡¯t here anymore to mow your yard, and my daddy said your yard was a, uh, needs to be mowed. So, I thought I would mow it for you. My daddy is overseas. He¡¯s a Marine, and he¡¯s deployed. Do you know what that means?¡±He nods.¡°Well, he says if you ever find someone that has a need you can fill, then you should fill it.¡±Tobias smiles at me like he¡¯s about tough. ¡°Thank you, Tyler, but I can mow my own yard.¡±¡°Oh. Okay. I didn¡¯t know you were the man of the house.¡±He nods. ¡°I am.¡±¡°Okay then. Well, I can go.¡± Feeling stupid, I start to push the mower back to my house.¡°Tyler,¡± Tobias calls after me, and I look back at him. ¡°I don¡¯t have a mower right now. Would it be okay if I borrowed yours?¡±¡°Oh, yeah,¡± I say, letting off the gas and stepping away from it. ¡°It¡¯s a real good one. A John Deere. You ever heard of him?¡±He nces at the mower. ¡°No.¡±¡°Well, it¡¯s one of the best there is. It¡¯s self-propld or somethin¡¯. That means it pushes itself. You can try if you want. But don¡¯t cut it off ¡¯cause it¡¯s really hard to start. K?¡±He nods and smiles at me like I¡¯m the one that talks French. ¡°Thank you.¡±¡°Wee.¡±Standing at the edge of the driveway, I watch Tobias mow his yard. A little whileter, the front door opens, and Domes out with a cup of water. He walks over and holds it out to me.¡°Thanks,¡± I tell him, drinking the whole ss. He still doesn¡¯t talk, but he looks over and stares at me as he drops to sit on the driveway. After a bit, he scoots over to give me a spot to sit next to him. I take a seat, and we both watch Tobias mow for a while.¡°Is it fun to have a brother?¡± I finally ask him. ¡°Sometimes, I wish I had one. I got my cousin, Barrett, but he¡¯s younger and a crybaby.¡±Domughs and finally talks. ¡°It¡¯s okay. He tells me what to do¡ªa lot.¡±Dom doesn¡¯t speak French like his brother, but I don¡¯t ask him why. Maybe he¡¯ll tell me that tonight, too.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 5

    US PRESIDENT: RONALD REAGAN | 1981¨C1989I TAKE A PUFF of my cigarette as the woman watching me from the aisle seat across from mine finally speaks her mind. ¡°You look too young to smoke.¡±¡°You look old,¡± I tell her, and her mouth drops open.¡°How very rude,¡± she gasps.¡°Yes¡±¡ªI roll my eyes¡ª¡°rude for stranger to make observations and speak them.¡± I blow my exhale her way, wishing I had gotten the window seat. An older man snores next to me, his head tilted away from the wasted view.¡°Who are you traveling with? I wonder if they would approve of your behavior.¡± She eyes the wheezing man next to me. ¡°Is that your father?¡±I bark out augh as I smooth my hand down Celine¡¯s dress and ash my cigarette, staring back at the woman. ¡°My papa rots in the ground.¡±¡°Oh,¡± she says, taken aback by the way I tell her this. I never understand why people are so polite about revealing the truth when it¡¯s not pleasant. It¡¯s as if people are hiding from real life, but some truths can never be pleasant, no matter how they¡¯re worded or spoken. ¡°And your mother?¡±I inhale again, considering if I want to reveal so much to her, and decide to have a little fun. This woman considers me a mystery to solve, much like my aunt and uncle did. Not only that, but it will also give me a chance to practice my English.¡°Left me when I five. Poof.¡± I snap loud, and the woman jumps back in her seat. She is intimidated by me¡ªme¡ªa girl at least twenty years younger in age. in says intimidation is one of my gifts.¡°My papa dies the night partneres to collect me from a card game. I was¡±¡ªI lean toward her¡ª¡°I was bet,st bet he makes.¡±The woman gasps in shock as I lean in further, blowing more smoke in her face, which she now ignores for my story.¡°Sold me for a spoon of . . . the needle drugs.¡± I take another cigarette out of my pack sitting on the tray table.¡°Heroin?¡± She asks, eyes bulging.¡°Yes, heroin. So if you want to talk parents how rude I behave, you will have hard times to reach them.¡±¡°My God.¡± Her eyes soften with pity. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry to hear that.¡±¡°What is your name?¡± I ask.¡°J,¡± she tells me, her eyes scouring my face and dress¡ªnothing I am not used to. Women and men alike are always watching me. in says they cannot help themselves because I am painfully beautiful.¡°Do not pity me, J . . . I very, I¡¯m fortunate.¡±¡°Oh? How so?¡±¡°When Ind in America, I marry a soldier.¡±She gapes at me. ¡°But you can¡¯t be more than what, sixteen?¡±Her guess discourages me even as I fill out one of Celine¡¯s more sophisticated dresses after applying thick makeup. I¡¯m failing to conceal my age as much as I hoped. I decide it is better to start rehearsing the lie I¡¯ll be living very soon.¡°I am eighteen.¡±¡°Oh?¡± Perspiration dots her upper lip as I shake out my match. ¡°Well . . . congrattions. You¡¯ll make a beautiful bride. You¡¯re just gorgeous, honey.¡±¡°Merci, J. You have nice . . .¡± I look her up and down to try and find a way to be kind with my reply, ¡°Eyes.¡±¡°Oh, thank you.¡± She smiles, and I smile back for an entirely different reason. Within the length of a ne ride, I will be legally eighteen in the eyes of United Statesw and be able to work and marry. in told me that in America, if the paperwork says so, it must be.And I will marry him because after kissing too many Lyams, I found the only soldier for me the night Celine brought me to her apartment¡ªa soldier who had been fighting alongside Abijah in the new Pardi Radical until he evaded arrest just weeks ago. Dering his time in France over after, he promised he would send for me once he found us a ce to live and work¡ªas well as a good ce to re-establish his movement. He fled France with a few of his most trusted men and writes that he has been very sessful. Yesterday morning I received a letter with a ticket as promised.I left school early, faking an illness to start packing. I decided to bring very little of my clothes and leave all those meant for a modest little girl. I packed just enough to fit in my wildflower suitcase¡ªall I have left of life with my papa. But the life I had with him, I¡¯ve been promised to have again with in.Excitement fills me as I think of in¡¯s description of North Carolina. My dream written in his handwriting, in ck and white, of the town of Triple Falls. He wrote that there are many rivers andkes for me to fish¡ªalong with abundant wildlife¡ªand not nearly as many people as the city I so despise. After getting to know in, I found out his dream was mine, too.It¡¯s still a mystery to me how we kept our rtionship from both Abijah and Celine these past months. We almost got caught once or twice but managed to escape all suspicion that we were a couple¡ªwhich we weren¡¯t¡ªnot at first. It was only yesterday that I finally told Celine of our rtionship and future ns.¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Celine gasps as Ezekiel keeps a firm grip on my hands, leading me around their kitchen table. As she gawks at my admission, I notice a fresh bruise on her cheek.¡°Did Abijah do that?¡±She jerks her chin. ¡°No, he did,¡± sheughs, nodding toward Ezekiel, her eyes soft as they always are with him, which I recognize as a mother¡¯s love. ¡°He hit me with one of his bath toys.¡±¡°Don¡¯t lie to me, Celine,¡± I warn.¡°I told you, Abijah doesn¡¯t hit me. Not like that, and don¡¯t change the subject,¡± she snaps. ¡°You can¡¯t just tell me you¡¯ve been with in all this time and nothing more. Did you start seeing him right after you met?¡±¡°No.¡± I shake my head. ¡°No, no, not at first. He said I was too young. It took him a very long time to consider me for himself¡ªyears¡ªbut I finally convinced him.¡± I smile at her, but she does not smile back.¡°God, it was happening right under my nose!¡±¡°You were busy,¡± I say, picking up the reason for her distraction and holding him up for my inspection. Ezekiel stares back at me with his father¡¯s firelight eyes and pats my cheek with his open hand. ¡°So much of Abijah in you,¡± I tell him, and he giggles.¡°Don¡¯t remind me,¡± Celine sighs.¡°No, that bruise will remind you,¡± I say, turning to her.¡°For thest time, Abijah is not violent with me,¡± she insists. ¡°Just the once, and it was an ident.¡±¡°If it happened once, Celine, it will happen again. I have seen how he behaves¡ªhis paranoia¡ªand he is not well.¡±¡°Since when did you be an expert on men? You¡¯ve dated only one.¡±¡°So have you,¡± I point out, and she sighs again.¡°But in, he is good to you?¡±¡°He¡¯s perfect to me,¡± I tell her, my attention still on Ezekiel as he jabbers on about one of his toys. ¡°He treats me like I matter more to him than anything else, even his cause.¡±¡°Abijah was like that too,¡± she rys in warning, ¡°and he hasn¡¯t been the same since . . .¡± She trails off, but I know exactly what she¡¯s referring to.¡°All they did was make their stance known. It was just.¡±¡°Not the right way,¡± Celine says in a whisper. ¡°Not the right way, Delphine, and you know it.¡±¡°in lost his father in a bombing,¡± I argue. ¡°If he didn¡¯t think it was necessary, he wouldn¡¯t have done it. You have to trust them.¡±¡°Trust them?¡± She gawks. ¡°in fled because¡ª¡±¡°I know what he did. He¡¯s honest with me and wouldn¡¯t have left if Abijah hadn¡¯t overreacted and exiled him.¡±¡°As he should have. Say all you want about Abijah, but in is far more dangerous.¡±¡°I believe his reasons and . . . I¡¯ve been helping him. Since we met.¡±¡°What?¡± Celine pales. ¡°Jesus, Delphine. What have you done?¡±¡°I was not there that night, but I go to the meetings and hear of their ns, their ambitions. I run errands for them, messages, trade guns, things of that nature. All they want is audience and¡ª¡±¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she shouts, scaring Ezekiel, who jumps in my arms. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me anything else! I will not lose my son for any cause! Not for Abijah or you and in! Do you hear me? I¡¯m done with it all!¡±¡°Fine,¡± I say, tired of the same argument we¡¯ve been having since in left¡ªwhich is also why I don¡¯t visit when Abijah is here.Though we both want to drop it, she shakes her head. ¡°Jesus, Delphine.¡±¡°It¡¯s what soldiers do.¡±¡°Soldiers sign up to be soldiers and serve in the French Army. Why can¡¯t you do that?¡±¡°It¡¯s going to be a different world when the Berlin Wall falls, and minds will change with it! They¡¯ve already seen many politicians forever stuck in the old ways, leaving soldiers to obey exhausted orders of oppression and control. The new soldier has be themon man who turns street warrior to fight for a new world without selfish motive. That is the soldier my in is and the soldier I want to be.¡±She shakes her head gently. ¡°Maybe, but I don¡¯t agree with you, Abijah, or in with the tactics you choose. The Pardi has already denied any of those inciting violence like in. I am for peace.¡±¡°Peace,¡± I scoff. ¡°Since when has peace brought change? The cost of peace is beingpliant to whatever our government decides without our say. That¡¯s not peace, that¡¯s envement. in says the same corruption stands just beneath the veil of American capitalism and is ready to join the fight to liberate them.¡±¡°Fight how? Violence only leads to more violence. So, I don¡¯t agree with you. Or Abijah. In fact, I don¡¯t agree anymore on anything with Abijah.¡± She wrings the towel in her hands. ¡°I am afraid, Delphine.¡±She takes Ezekiel from me and presses a kiss to his head, and I fear the conversation will only get worse with my next admission, but she speaks first. ¡°As long as we¡¯re confessing, I¡¯ve met someone. I don¡¯t know how . . . but it just happened.¡±Shock instantly fills me. ¡°My God, Celine¡ª¡±¡°He¡¯s a good man,¡± she defends, ¡°a wonderful man, Delphine, and he wants to take me away from Abijah. He wants me to leave him.¡±I freeze, my fear for her and Ezekiel overtaking any need to confess about my departure as she grips him tightly to her. ¡°Abijah will kill him if he finds out.¡±¡°I know,¡± she whispers. ¡°But he doesn¡¯t care. He would take me away now if I allowed it. And I think, no, I know I¡¯m in love with him.¡± Her eyes fill. ¡°I know it¡¯s wrong, and I feel so guilty, Delphine.¡± She shakes her head, her tears falling steadily. ¡°How did this happen?¡±I hesitate but only briefly with the truth. ¡°I envied you,¡± I admit, ¡°your connection and bond, and if I thought for one second it could be salvaged, I would urge you to try. To stay, but he is only bing more dangerous.¡±¡°He leaves us for weeks at a time now without a word andes back different each time. The man I married is just . . . gone. I can¡¯t raise my son with what he¡¯s bing, and I don¡¯t know what to do.¡±¡°Come with me,¡± I offer instantly. ¡°I¡¯m leaving for America tomorrow to be with in. He sent for me as he promised. We¡¯re to be married once I get there.¡±She pales again, this time pulling out a chair and sitting with Ezekiel in herp. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. You¡¯re far too young¡ª¡±¡°You know that¡¯s not true. My age does not match my intelligence. Even my body agrees and does not match my years. I¡¯m nothing like the other girls at school. I¡¯m far more evolved.¡±¡°Yes, yes¡±¡ªshe waves¡ª¡°you are a soldier.¡±¡°I am,¡± I dere with confidence. ¡°Come with me, Abijah won¡¯t ever find you where I¡¯m going. Please, Celine, think of Ezekiel,¡± I utter, terrified for them both. I know she shares my fear as we stare off for long seconds.¡°Mamannnn,¡± Ezekiel draws out, wanting her attention as she stares at me¡ªthrough me¡ªlost in thought. She¡¯s so beautiful, my cousin who insists she¡¯s my sister. And I allow her to believe it because I feel the bond now as truth. Aside from in, Celine is all that remains.¡°Wait here,¡± she finally says before disappearing into her bedroom. Not long after, she emerges with a bag that holds a few dresses, shoes, and makeup, as well as a smaller purse full of money.¡°It¡¯s all I have, but it should help you until you find work. How will you work, Delphine?¡±¡°Abijah has found a factory where the boss helps to get visas for all whoe to work for him. You could work there too. We could both start a new life together.¡±She bites her lip.¡°Please, consider it.¡± I nce at Ezekiel, my throat burning. ¡°Please, Celine. If this new man truly loves you¡ª¡±¡°Beau, his name is Beau.¡±¡°If Beau loves you, he will follow you there. Leave Abijah. As you said, he is gone, and I am convinced of it too.¡±She swallows, her expression solemn, before she breaks it with a smile. ¡°He has red hair.¡±¡°Who?¡±¡°Beau,¡± she whispers before shaking her head. ¡°What am I doing, Delphine?¡±¡°You already know what you¡¯re doing. You¡¯re simply stalling from seeing it through because you¡¯re scared, but it¡¯s the right thing.¡±¡°And you¡¯re so sure you want this?¡±I nod. ¡°He¡¯s good to me. He¡¯s beyond his age, like me. He¡¯s my match, and I¡¯m most myself when I¡¯m with him. I¡¯m sure.¡±She nods and sets Ezekiel on his feet, his little shoes pping the floor as he runs toward me and crashes into my legs. Laughing, I lift him up and speak to him. ¡°Take care of your maman for me, okay?¡±Ezekiel nods very slowly as if he¡¯s making a promise to me. ¡°La poursuite, Tatie,¡± he squeaks in demand to y our game.¡°Not today,¡± I tell him regretfully as my throat burns that I can¡¯t promise to y tomorrow.¡°Soon, you¡¯ll have your own son or daughter,¡± Celine whispers fondly. ¡°You¡¯re so good with him.¡±¡°Only because he is yours,¡± I say, setting him on his feet. ¡°I will have no children. They will only get in the way.¡±She lifts a brow. ¡°Does in know that? You might want to tell him that before you marry him.¡±¡°I will. I¡¯m not afraid to tell him what I want.¡±She smiles. ¡°Always so sure of everything. I admire you for that. Are you not scared at all?¡±¡°What is there to fear?¡±¡°So much,¡± she says, ¡°but maybe I won¡¯t worry too much for you. I believe you scare even Abijah sometimes.¡±We bothugh and spend the rest of the day together until I know I must leave to prepare to sneak away tomorrow.After promising her no less than a dozen times to write¡ªwith the decision that I address my letters to Celine¡¯s best friend to keep them from Abijah¡¯s reach¡ªshe finally frees me. Kneeling next to Ezekiel at the top of her apartment stairs, they both wave me off. Celine¡¯s tears fall freely as Ezekiel calls after me. ¡°Au revoir, Tatie!¡±¡°Au revoir, ¨¦z¨¦chiel.¡± Goodbye, Ezekiel.The image of the two of them on the top of those stairs imprints in my mind and heart as I roll the lit part of my cigarette along the curve of the ashtray. In that moment, I vow to keep Celine in my life. Aside from Papa and now in, Celine is the only other person who has ever epted me exactly as I am. As I catch a glimpse of the ocean out of the window past the snoring man, I feel little remorse for my decision to leave. My gut telling me they won¡¯t be far behind.In hours, I¡¯ll have a home and husband. I¡¯ll have a purpose, and we won¡¯t have to hide our love, nor will I from who I truly am. I can finally rid my life of the ruffles and the lie of being a little girl with a woman¡¯s mind and start my true life as a soldier and wife.My heart beats faster at that knowledge as the flight attendant stops her cart next to me, eyeing my cigarette and dress.¡°How long to airport?¡± I ask.¡°We have about three hours left. Can I get you something to drink?¡±¡°Vodka. No ice. Merci.¡±She pauses. ¡°Vodka?¡±¡°I am¡±¡ªI briefly struggle to find the English word¡ª¡°celebrates. I marry tomorrow.¡±¡°Oh? Congrattions, I¡¯ll get that drink for you.¡± When I have my vodka in hand and the attendant moves to the next passenger, J lifts a brow at me.¡°You know, I¡¯m not worried about you at all. You¡¯re going to be just fine, but I am a little worried for your fianc¨¦.¡±Iugh at her joke, but in knows how to handle me when I get too cross.My love.For years, I had to make him see me as the woman I am. Not Celine¡¯s little sister or a little girl, but as an equal and soldier. For years, he denied me, but all the waiting has proven worth it. Soon, we will be together the way real couples are together. Physically, intimately, andpletely. Hours until I be his¡ªentirely his.My heart pounds as the minutes pass, and I drink down the vodka in celebration of the new life that awaits me.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 6

    US PRESIDENT: GEORGE W. BUSH | 2001¨C2009¡°FOR CHRIST¡¯S SAKE, Regina, stop!¡± Dad snaps at Mom for her tears as he packs his duffle while I pace in my room, making noise here and there so they assume I¡¯m busy. I¡¯ve already cleaned it to the point that I could eat chow from the floor and ensure my bed sheets passed the quarter bounce test. A lecture I¡¯d been given when Dad returned from hisst deployment.¡°If you can¡¯t figure out how to properly make your own bed, Son, how in the fuck do you expect to defend your country?¡±For days on end, I spent my free time trying to get the sheets tight enough for the quarter to bounce¡ªwhich was nowhere near as easy as I thought it would be. When I¡¯d pulled Dad into my room to show him, instead of giving me the proud grin I¡¯vee to expect, he¡¯d whispered a sarcastic ¡°congrattions,¡± rolled his eyes, and walked out of the room.As he stalked out, for the first time ever, I felt something bordering hate for him, or at least that side of him. Last year and in the years prior, he¡¯d taken me hunting every chance he got and spent hours on end prepping me for my own time in the service. He didn¡¯t stop there, teaching me mechanical basics, including fixing the plumbing, air conditioner, and other things to help ¡®spruce up the house¡¯ and maintain it.This year, it had been the opposite. He just expected me to know things¡ªto have figured them out for myself. Not only that, but he also seemed to be weighing my intelligence and worth on whether I could figure them out on my own. I was thankful when, more often than not, I could.¡°Excuses are for thezy and weak,¡± he¡¯d said when I failed, all patience gone¡ªfor me, for Mom, for my uncles, and his oldest friends. They stoppeding around when he got home this time, and I can¡¯t me them. He argued with them every chance he got, and when they weren¡¯t arguing, he¡¯d start one.For years, I always thought I had it better than Tobias and Dom¡ªuntil this one. When Dom was still of single-digit age, their aunt Delphine was a horrible bitch, and at times, still can be. Especially when she¡¯s drunk¡ªwhich is most nights. For years, she used to torture Dom with mind games, but even when we were younger, he usually came out on top. I used to feel sorry for him because she picked on him the most. Back then, she was exceedingly miserable and tried to make everyone around her feel the same.That¡¯s my dad now.He was angrier after he got back from thisst deployment and harder to get augh or smile from, and at times, to get him to simply function. It¡¯s been nearly impossible to keep his attention, even in short spurts. Worse than that, my parents started to fight all the time, and Mom spent most of their arguments defending herself. I stepped in a time or two, but I might as well have been a fly on the wall and was treated as such, swatted away with Dad¡¯s backhand one of those times. He didn¡¯t strike me hard, but the blow itself ruined me for weeks. He never apologized, and that hurt worse than anything.After a few minutes, Mom¡¯s cries settle, and thendline rings. I don¡¯t have to see them where they are in their bedroom to know they¡¯re both staring at the phone. Standing with one foot in the hallway where I can quickly retreat into my room if their door opens, I strain to hear them answer.¡°Hello? Hi Sean. No, I¡¯m sorry, sweetheart, Tyler can¡¯te to the phone right now. He¡¯s seeing his daddy off. Uh-huh. Okay, I¡¯ll have him call you tomorrow.¡±That¡¯s not happening. As soon as Dad leaves, I¡¯m taking the nails out of the window he hammered shut when he caught me sneaking out. By midnight, I¡¯ll be around the fire with Sean and Dom. It¡¯s what we always do when one of us has shit going on, and these days, one of us always has shit going on. Not only that, but Tobias is also due for a visit from France any day, and I don¡¯t miss a minute of his visits if I can help it.When she hangs up, Mom¡¯s cries start up again, and I know it¡¯s due to disappointment that Dad¡¯s orders to report haven¡¯t changed. It¡¯s like, somehow, she still believes Dad¡¯s deployments are optional. Something he can get out of. Like calling in sick, and he says as much as her low cries somehow start to fill the entirety of our house.¡°You married a Marine, Regina,¡± Dad reminds her. ¡°I don¡¯t see how this is still surprising to you.¡±¡°I just got you back,¡± she says, her voice clogged. Though technically, he¡¯s been home for a while, her remark is due to his behavior. ¡°And I know who I married,¡± she snaps, ¡°and he just barely came back to me. Did you have to re-enlist?¡±¡°Stop it, God dammit, stop it. You¡¯re seriously going to guilt me right now? I¡¯m a career fucking Marine, and we¡¯re at war. Weren¡¯t you there? Did you not see the fucking nes?¡±I shiver at hisment the way I always do when he refers to that day¡ªthat morning. No matter how hard I try to blur the vision, I can see the footage so vividly. A sunny day, a clear morning, the first ne enveloped by the tower, its course steady, eerily steady, as if it was natural for the ne to fly straight into the New York skyscraper.Our whole family had gathered at the farm that day. Without so much as a phone call to meet up, it was a given. Car by car, every rtive in and around Triple Falls filed in, embracing one another with fear-riddled and devastated expressions. A majority of them were active or ex-military, including my Uncle Grayson, who chose not to re-enlist in lieu of taking over the farm full-time.Barrett and I kept the fire stoked as our mothers cried for hours and hours, and our fathers talked and drank. Dad had called a few in his oldpany and only got amped and angrier with each beer. Even with the lingering high of the annual Apple Festival¡ªin which Jennings & Sons had sponsored one of therger tents¡ªnone of us talked about it or dared change the subject.Later that night, Dad and Uncle Grayson had wandered out into the orchard for hours, noting back until sunrise. It was a long night, and no one could beforted. I was thest one waiting by the fire when they got back. The look in Dad¡¯s eyes was one I¡¯ll never forget as he passed right by me and went into the house. Uncle Grayson had stopped and gripped my shoulder, only telling me to get some shut-eye.Thest few weeks, things have only gotten worse, what with Dad receiving his report date¡ªwhich came faster than expected¡ªto the fights they¡¯ve been having. I¡¯ve done everything I can to stay out aste as possible to avoid home¡ªsomething I never used to do. And I got away with it until Mom¡¯s paranoia got me busted sneaking in.Even as a trained psychologist equipped to handle situations such as these, she¡¯s been acting irrationally and gets up in arms about everything. Curiously watching me and Dad as we eat breakfast and do other everyday shit. One night, I caught her watching me sleep from the door of my bedroom before the phone rang, and once again, she had to pick Dad up from the bar because he was too drunk to drive.Last night was Dad¡¯sst supper. He¡¯d asked for steak and a sweet potato. We ate in silence, and when Dad finished his te, Mom swiped it from the table not a secondter, turning quickly so he couldn¡¯t see the tears in her eyes.¡°Carter, I just want¡ª¡± Mom starts to say, and I flinch when the sound of shattering ss reaches me. Hauling ass toward their bedroom across the hall, I pause just outside of it when Mom sounds up.¡°Break anything you want. It¡¯ll be a mess I can clean, but what mess will you be in when you get home? Do you think they care about that? About your family, about you? Your father¡ª¡±¡°Don¡¯t you fucking dare,¡± Dad snaps. ¡°That man has gone through hell and back to defend his country, and you should respect that.¡±¡°I do,¡± she defends, ¡°you know I do, but they don¡¯t.¡±They meaning the United States Marine Corps. Though I¡¯m with Dad most of the time when ites to patriotic duty, I¡¯m starting to think Mom¡¯s way when ites to limiting the amount of service.Though it seems they are neverte with a paycheck or to offer up a benefit, I¡¯ve been researching more on the long-term effects because of the way Dad is acting. What I¡¯ve learned is that a lot of soldiers don¡¯t bounce back after too much exposure to war. The more I dug in, the more the statistics and bodies piled up because of soldiers who take their own lives after not being able to limate once they get home.I¡¯ve also been sneaking Mom¡¯s psychology books into my bedroom. The more I learn, the more I¡¯m starting to realize that Dad has oversimplified his job. My thinking had always been simple as well¡ªyou enlist, train, go to war if called to fight, follow orders to the letter, ande home. Once home, you get out your tools and spruce up the house, barbecue, catch up with friends, work on your truck, and wait for the call to go back.It¡¯s a kid¡¯s perception, and Dad has made sure recently that I have very little of those kinds of thoughts left in me.He¡¯s always made it seem so uplicated, but thanks to my research¡ªand as my parents scream at each other¡ªI¡¯m not so sure any of it is simple.¡°You don¡¯t respect shit,¡± Dad snaps. ¡°You say you do, but you don¡¯t because you didn¡¯t grow up with a militant father and in a house filled with respect for the uniform. You grew up getting what you wanted on a whim.¡±¡°So now I¡¯m spoiled because I want my husband home and safe?¡±¡°I¡¯m done with this. If you can¡¯t get behind me, don¡¯t bother seeing me off.¡±¡°Carter, don¡¯t¡ª¡±¡°God damn you, Regina!¡±¡°I love you,¡± she cries. ¡°But every time youe back, it bes harder and harder to recognize the family man I married. If you want a reason why we didn¡¯t have another baby, there¡¯s your damned reason.¡±The air in the house grows thick, and it bes harder to breathe due to the loaded silence.¡°You took birth control.¡± He doesn¡¯t ask it. He knows. A cry of outrage leaves my father as I take another step toward their door. ¡°How long?¡± Dad roars. ¡°How low have you been sabotaging this family?¡±¡°C-Carter, please don¡¯t see it that way. You¡¯re a wonderful father¡ª¡±¡°How long?!¡±¡°I never stopped,¡± she admits before another crash sounds in the bedroom.I¡¯m not supposed to hear this, but they do little to hide the fact that they fight anymore. They used to go out to the garage, but that stopped this year. I used to turn up my stereo to avoid it, but Dad walked in, lifted it, and drop-kicked it thest time I did. I can still hear the echo as it smacked against my drywall and dented it, one of the shattered pieces narrowly missing me.¡°How could you?¡± Dad asks, heartbreak soaking his voice.¡°I¡¯ve already got one son who¡¯s had to sacrifice seeing his father in the stands at his ball games. I¡¯m not doing that to another child.¡±¡°Well, you bid your time and made sure it was toote, denying me the one thing I truly wanted.¡±¡°And we aren¡¯t enough? Tyler and I aren¡¯t enough?¡±¡°Stop twisting this. You betrayed me! I¡¯ll never forgive you, Regina!¡±Though my father is ripped up about Mom using birth control, I can¡¯t help but be d about it. I don¡¯t want a little brother or sister to know this version of Carter Jennings, and I get why she¡¯s scared. I am, too. Is Dad one deployment away from nevering back?Back in my room after hearing Dad and Mom speaking more softly to one another, Iy on my bed and stare nkly up at the ceiling while vowing never to mistreat my wife or my kids no matter what I face on my missions.A knock on my bedroom window jars me, and I pull back my curtains to see Sean straining to lift it. When the pane doesn¡¯t give, his eyes drop to the nails before he slowly brings them back to me.Embarrassed, I point toward our fence, ordering him to leave.Expression full of concern and refusing to go, his voice sounds on the other side of the window, and I know if I can hear it, my dad might, too. Cutting my hand through the air desperately to shut him the hell up, I urgently point behind him with the other to try and get him to leave. In the next second, his bare ass is pressed against the ss before he turns his head, producing a joint in his fingers and nodding toward the fence, or rather, the woods behind them, while mouthing a ter.¡±¡°Idiot,¡± I mouth back, nodding as he tucks his ass back in his pants, and I grip my curtains. It¡¯s when he pauses and stiffens that I know he hears the yelling resuming, and his eyes snap to mine. Dropping my gaze, I draw the curtains on him.Not long after, my bedroom door opens, and Dad looks over to me. ¡°What are you doing?¡±¡°I was just about toe to you. Uncle Grayson here yet?¡± Dad stopped letting us see him off after hisst deployment and only allows Uncle Grayson to take him now. I know it¡¯s ¡¯cause of the state it leaves Mom in. I guess he thinks it¡¯s easier on her if he walks out of the front door as if he¡¯s running an errand.One hell of a fucking errand.¡°Yeah, he just pulled up,¡± he says, running a hand through his hair. It¡¯s just now grown to the length Mom likes, and when hees back, it¡¯ll be time to start all over again. But he does it because he still loves her, and even I can tell she¡¯s only fighting because she¡¯ll miss him. At least there¡¯s that.¡°You know the drill, Son. Do your chores, your schoolwork, and as your mom tells you.¡±¡°Yes, sir.¡±¡°Please don¡¯t give her any reason to bitch to me. I want good reports only, understood?¡±¡°Yes, sir.¡±He smiles, but it¡¯s forced. ¡°You too old to give your dad a hug?¡±¡°Not yet.¡± I grin as he pulls me to him.His wordse out stunted and sincere as he keeps me in his tight grip. ¡°I love you, Son.¡±¡°You too, Dad.¡±¡°Fuck,¡± he croaks, ¡°I hope you know I still hate this . . . leaving you. I hope I never make it look easy.¡±¡°You don¡¯t, and I¡¯m proud of you. You¡¯re a good Marine and father.¡± Though the wordse harder this time, I still mean them.His eyes shimmer, and he looks away briefly before turning back to me. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you too, Tyler. Really proud. I couldn¡¯t have asked for a better son. Never forget that, okay?¡±¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I swear, trying to tamp down the fear that, one way or another, this might be the veryst time Iy eyes on Carter Jennings.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 7

    US PRESIDENT: GEORGE BUSH | 1989¨C1993FEELING THE HEAVY weight of a stare on my profile, I crush my cigarette into ourrge, overflowing marble ashtray and stand suddenly from the table. Without looking up, in stops me as I move past his chair with a palm on my hip. ¡°Where are you going?¡±¡°Make coffee,¡± I whisper low as Ormand nces over to me for the second time in mere minutes, his eyes lowering to in¡¯s palm before floating back up to mine.in sharply nods and releases me as I walk through the ever-present cloud of smoke while the arguments ensue over our kitchen table. Dreading the long hours ahead, I¡¯m spooning coffee from the tin when I feel him approach.¡°Your neck,¡± he whispers hoarsely. ¡°Is he hurting you?¡± He asks in French, and I reply in our tongue, thankful that Ormand always makes it easy for me¡ªwhereas in often uses my limited English to humiliate me.¡°It¡¯s my marriage you¡¯re asking about and none of your concern.¡±¡°Not private when he marks you for us all to see,¡± he scolds.The sound of in¡¯sughter allows me enough time to nce at Ormand, who I can¡¯t deny is attractive. He¡¯s taller than in and has lighter brown hair and kind eyes, but behind that kindness lies the capability of doing very unkind things for very good reasons. He¡¯s been with in since they were young boys, which is where thest of his allegiance remains. It¡¯s inside his eyes that I see that allegiance fading when I glimpse a look I¡¯ve seen one too many times before. One I can¡¯t seem to escape. ¡°Don¡¯t forget yourself, Ormand. I am in¡¯s wife.¡±¡°He keeps you a recluse when it¡¯s not your nature,¡± he states, seemingly outraged for me. ¡°He silences you when you have so much to offer.¡±¡°He¡¯s been a good friend to you, has he not? Friends since you were young children.¡±¡°Things have changed, and he¡¯s not the same.¡± He nces back toward the table to see in upied before I feel his eyes tracing my face again. ¡°Not since we got here. We¡¯ve been talking.¡±¡°Don¡¯t speak of this to me,¡± I whisper harshly, more a plea as I fill the pot with water from the sink. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±¡°He¡¯s bing a directionless drunk. This is not what we came for. We believe you should start to run the meetings.¡±¡°He is my husband,¡± I state in warning.¡°You are unhappy. Any fool can see that.¡±¡°He is not a fool,¡± I warn, ¡°and he sees much,¡± I emphasize, pulling more cups from the cab to busy my hands. ¡°Even things that aren¡¯t real.¡±¡°We could turn him into the American authorities to be sent back to France to face judgment for his crimes. No one has to know.¡±¡°I will know,¡± I snap, looking over at him. ¡°I will know. It¡¯s still very early. He is adjusting to life here. Give him time.¡±¡°He hurts you, quiets you, diminishes you, and you still love him?¡±¡°He¡¯s my husband,¡± I repeat as I have to myself so many times since Inded in America. ¡°I am his only family. His papa¡ª¡±¡°That¡¯s not an excuse. Delphine,¡± he whispers, and I brace myself for what¡¯sing. ¡°You must sense by now I have¡ª¡±¡°Stop,¡± I whisper roughly. ¡°He¡¯s my family, we¡¯re a family. You are part of that family.¡±His eyes ze over as I continue.¡°Whatever you entertain in your mind about me is imagination.¡±¡°I could never hurt you,¡± he murmurs. ¡°I¡¯m in love with you and have been since France, and I¡¯m tired of pretending I¡¯m not. Sometimes I feel you look at me too¡ª¡±¡°I am not worth losing your station or friendship with him,¡± I tell him. ¡°The work you¡¯re doing is important¡ª¡±¡°We won¡¯t be with him much longer. Come with me.¡±¡°What?¡±¡°Let me take you away from here, from him. I n to return to France. I have inherited my father¡¯snd.¡±¡°Delphine!¡± in snaps, and we both turn to face him. His eyes roam from me to Ormand before he lifts his ss in silent demand for more vodka.¡°Coming,¡± I say, turning back, pouring a cup as the coffee still brewing drips, sizzling on the burner.¡°You¡¯re shaking,¡± Ormand says.¡°You say you would never hurt me¡±¡ªI swallow¡ª¡°but who do you think pays for your long stares?¡± I nce over to see his eyes drop before he speaks.¡°I only want to give you a better life.¡± When he turns his back, I stop him with my whisper.¡°You give me a better life by staying.¡± I know he hears me when his shoulders draw tight. ¡°Please don¡¯t take this from him and don¡¯t yet go back to France. He¡¯s not well . . . but if we give him more time, maybe he can be the in we both love again.¡±He turns back to me quickly. ¡°You¡¯re fooling yourself.¡±¡°Please don¡¯t go,¡± I ask him, knowing how selfish my request is. ¡°Please understand, I can¡¯t leave. Not now.¡±His eyes implore mine. ¡°But you will consider it?¡±¡°Ormand,¡± in snaps, this time not looking up at either of us. Grabbing the vodka bottle from the fridge, I hear Ormand¡¯s whisper as he passes. ¡°I will stay as long as it takes.¡±* * *Celine,It is time to admit I have been stubborn in writing this confession. As you predicted before I left France, I have made a horrible mistake. I¡¯m sorry I was not honest until now. I wanted so much to believe in the dream I came for, but after enduring thesest few months, I¡¯m certain that that dream has died.When I first arrived not long ago, my letters were truthful, and my happiness with in was real, but I can no longer deny that my life now feels more like a nightmare.I used to think I was smart. So smart. That I was steps ahead of other women, but now I am making the very same mistakes of lovesick fools and living a life I refused to believe I would have for myself. All I feel is the need to get things right, to try to reason with and see the in I once knew, but I feel it may no longer be possible.I¡¯m quickly bing convinced he brought me here to support and care for him. That I am nothing but a paycheck. Somehow, I know that he assumed that at my age, I would never put it together, that a child bride would never realize his maniption, but you know that I cannot be deceived so easily. And yet I was because now I live the deception.Since I¡¯ve lost the baby, it is as if I¡¯m living outside of myself, my mind and body. Am I paying because I never wanted it?As I examine my bruises in the mirror, I find no trace of that fearless girl you spoke of before I left, and I no longer recognize myself.I don¡¯t know where the soldier in me went, but I feel like the longer I stay this way, the further from her I be. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m letting him convince me of his lies, and each day, start to believe them as truth. As it stands, I cannot stop loving him, no matter how hard I try. And if I can love such a monster, what does that make me?Why am I not worth loving, Celine? Why do the men I trust and care for with all my heart holds treat me so terribly? It is not just the men in my life. It is the women, too. What is it about me that tells people it is okay to insult and hurt me?I know I am not a kind, gentle woman. I know this much of myself, and still, I¡¯m treated as though I¡¯m no one to be wary of and earn no respect.My father threw me away, and my own husband hates me and considers me a possession.Is love so much of a weakness, and that is why we make such fools of ourselves? I am drinking now¡ªmore than I ever have. I¡¯m ashamed to admit that I drink before my shift some days.Please write to me soon with word from France.What of Marine and Francis?What of my nephew, Ezekiel? Is he growing strong?Please, Celine, teach him to be protective of you and of women so that he will never resemble the men we have so horribly chosen. Tell him there is so much strength and honor in treating women with respect and care. I¡¯m ashamed and scared, and I¡¯ve never felt so alone. in¡¯s mind has taken a turn for the worse, and I fear his ns. His friends and allies are slowly losing faith, as am I.in continues to take all my checks so I cannot escape him or travel home. What of your ns toe here? Am I holding onto false hope?Could you visit? Maybe to remind me of who I was such a short time ago, and maybe I will do the same for you?If you cannote, please, for yourself and Ezekiel, do what I cannot and leave Abijah. Maybe if you do, I¡¯ll find the strength to do the same. Please write back.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 8

    US PRESIDENT: GEORGE W. BUSH | 2001¨C2009WALKING INTO THE house, I release the strap of my bookbag and am about to toss it when I¡¯m stopped dead in my tracks.Frozen at the entryway, my eyes fix on the family portrait hanging in the gap across the hall between my and my parents¡¯ bedrooms. The sound reaches me again, disbelief turning into rage as my blood begins to boil because there are two things I¡¯m certain of. One¡ªmy mom¡¯s car isn¡¯t in the driveway, and two¡ªshe¡¯s at work.This is confirmed a secondter when a woman¡¯s shrieks engulf me, a woman who is unmistakably not Regina Jennings, as her enthusiasm rings out.¡°Fuck, oh, God, Carter. God, yes!¡±He must be too drunk to realize the time, knowing good and fucking well I would be getting home from school. He has to be.The woman¡¯s enthusiastic groans and pleas sicken me, and shortly after, I¡¯m granted the added bonus of pping skin.My instinct to act on my fury threatens to overtake me, and it¡¯s the fear of what that might look like that has me pulling my bag back on and mming my way out of the house, away from what¡¯s happening inside it.And what¡¯s happening . . . is that my father is cheating on my mother in their marital fucking bed.In the home she built for him, for us. Years of her love¡¯sbor make up every room. It¡¯s our haven and refuge against the outside world, and Dad might as well have lit a match to it. I feel that truth now as mes engulf me from head to foot.Just like I feared, Carter Jennings disappeared somewhere overseas, and Master Sergeant Jennings took his ce, invading the home Carter left.Every hope I had that it could be rectified¡ªand that he could be redeemed¡ªleaves me as waves of memories surface, all involving my parents. The two of them stealing bordering-inappropriate, lengthy kisses next to the bonfire. The hystericalugh that only my mom seemed to be able to draw out of him just before Dad pulled her to him and nuzzled her with adoration.My mother is the best of women¡ªa dutiful and doting mother and wife, a respected career woman, and a staple in themunity. In recent years, she¡¯s put up with more shit from Dad than any woman ever should for her husband¡ªMarine or not¡ªand he repays her this way?Devastation fights with the rage for dominance as I realize I just lost every ounce of respect I have left for my father. Blinded by the ingrained image of our family photo and the apanying noise I now and will forever associate with the sight of it, rage overtakes me, and I go ck.* * *¡°. . . one, inhale, two, exhale, out, three,¡± the firm voice speaks. I know the source, the ent, familiar with the curl used around certain letters and words, but I gravitate toward themand inside them, leaning into it. ¡°Count with me.¡±¡°One,¡± she says.¡°One,¡± I repeat.¡°Two,¡± she says.¡°Two,¡± I repeat.¡°Three.¡±¡°Three.¡±¡°Again.¡±We repeat the count as I ease back into a sense of familiarity from the space I¡¯m in¡ªsome foreign, endless abyss. A darkness I drift further and further away from toward the voice summoning me back: ¡°. . . your breaths and body are all that matters. This you control. One. Two.¡±Breathing on count, I fixate on the solid, dark twin pinpricks behind my lids, ignoring all muted light surrounding it¡ªno outside images or noise, only my body and each breath. Counting again and again as I slowlye to.¡°. . . again. One. Two. Three.¡±¡°One,¡± inhale, exhale. ¡°Two,¡± inhale, exhale. ¡°Three,¡± inhale, exhale. Within the next breath, I exist only inside the ck and remain there until the nextmand is spoken.¡°Open your eyes, Tyler.¡±When I do, all surrounding light temporarily blinds me, and I look down to see Delphine standing directly in front of me, staring up at me keenly from where I hover above her short stature. For the first few seconds, we simply stare at one another, me speechless, shaken, and feeling transported. Especially since I have no fucking idea how I came to stand in the middle of Dom¡¯s living room. Utterly stupefied, as Ie further into myself, I note my state¡ªheart rate steady, breaths even, the sweat on my neck and back has long since dried.¡°How did I get here?¡± I ask Delphine, who stares back at me attentively. ¡°I found you here,¡± she replies in a tone a little above a whisper.¡°How long were we doing that?¡±¡°Not sure, ten minutes, maybe longer,¡± she says in the same sleepy tone she used throughout the exercise, though her return stare remains intent.¡°How did you know how to do that?¡± I ask, not exactly sure what that is.¡°It ismon for some and can be mastered with many, many hours of practice,¡± she rys calmly while seeming to search me for any sign of the opposite. Of any of the remaining rage I know that brought me here.It¡¯s then I realize how numb I am to what set me off other than what I¡¯m currently experiencing¡ªfear and . . . shock. Whatever the hell she just led me through worked miracles. The anger is still there . . . but distant¡ªas if it¡¯s in a faraway ce that I can reach if I need it. It dawns on me then what it might be. ¡°You mean suppressing emotion?¡±She shakes her head. ¡°Non, not exactly.¡±I¡¯ve read up about this. While something simr is a part of military training, it¡¯s been a hard concept for me to grasp. From the minute the door closes between recruits and the outside world, they teach them to ignore their own free will, opinions, andfort. They eventually put them and keep them in the mindset of survival mode, only thinking of the mission¡ªthe mission being the most important. So, while their tactic is not to suppress emotions because they don¡¯t want a heartless military, the goal is to get them topartmentalize the emotions for ater time for the sake ofpleting the mission.I¡¯m still a few years away from that training, but I can¡¯t understand how this tiny woman in front of me is so familiar with it, to the point that she seems to have mastered it and guided me through it so wlessly.¡°The fuck?¡± I say aloud, still shaken. To my surprise, Delphineughs. Memory kicks in of what waits at home for me, and my residual anger suppresses any return smile I could possibly give her.¡°Is this how you escape?¡± I ask, knowing such a personal question to her will probably go unanswered, but she surprises me again with a reply.¡°There is no escape. Your problem is still there, is it not?¡±I nod.¡°But maybe who you¡¯re mad at has more of a chance to get away, at least temporarily.¡±I don¡¯t bother to defend that this wasn¡¯t some teen angst drama I brought to her doorstep and that my home-life just imploded¡ªthough her joke indicates that¡¯s her belief. Right now, I don¡¯t have the energy to correct her. ¡°That was some Jedi mind trick,¡± I tell her.¡°Ah¡±¡ªher eyes light¡ª¡°you speak of Star Wars. I love Star Wars.¡±This time, I can¡¯t help but grin. ¡°Do you?¡±¡°Yes, I watch every time there is a marathon.¡±Tilting my head, I take note of the yfulness in her eyes. One I¡¯ve never seen before, though I¡¯ve never been this close to Delphine. Not in all my years of knowing her.Of course, I¡¯ve noticed her beauty once or twice. It¡¯s fucking impossible not to, but her behavior, along with her aggressive, cruel posturing over the years, has made it easy to ignore. As I stare down at her now, the adult lens associated with her presence in my life starts to dissipate as shees into clear view, far more dimensional.¡°Dom is at Sean¡¯s . . . if you want to see him.¡±¡°Thank you,¡± I say on autopilot as I drink in more of her details. Silver-gray eyes peer back at me, slight confusion marring her expression as I consider her for the first time, and not as a background presence or authoritative prop. Or the woman I habitually help Dom gather from whatever foundation we find her passed out onst time, it was the backyard, and she was barely conscious.Within seconds of my first real look at her, I take another greedy pass while a dozen questions start to umte, my curiosity running rampant. It¡¯s when I¡¯m tempted to sweep her again that I know I need to see myself out. And so I do, but not without pausing at the storm door and looking back as she walks into her kitchen. It¡¯s only when her head starts to turn in my direction that I rip my eyes away and slip out of her front door.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 9

    US PRESIDENT: GEORGE W. BUSH | 2001¨C2009¡°THAT MAN CANNOT hides his desire for you,¡± I tell her in a hushed tone, knowing every woman¡¯s eyes are on Roman. He¡¯s a rare type of handsome that is notmon in Triple Falls¡ªthe face and build of a movie star, not a man who owns a factory.However, as he walks through the floor each day, his eyes drift to only one woman, and it¡¯s always the woman to my right. He has been enchanted by Diane since she started at the factory.¡°He¡¯s beautiful,¡± she agrees just as quietly, keeping her eyes down and continuing her work, ¡°though everyone here hates him.¡±¡°He is a thief,¡± I tell her, and she looks over to me.¡°He shorts checks because we have no choices but to work here. If we report, we lose work visa. This is corruption I fight for. Corrupt mens like your Roman Horner.¡±¡°I¡¯m so sorry, and I promise you, he¡¯s not my Roman Horner.¡±¡°Can you not speak about what he does to our checks?¡±¡°I can barely talk to him, period. Our rtionship isn¡¯t in that ce right now. And don¡¯t change the subject again. Tell me about your in.¡±¡°Nothing to report,¡± I say.¡°Don¡¯t m up on me.¡± She pushes her arm to mine in a nudge, adding a tight smile.¡°m?¡± I ask.¡°Close up like a m. Don¡¯t shut me out.¡±¡°Oh,¡± I say as her eyes search mine. Aside from Celine and Beau, Diane is my only ally working at the factory, and for good reason¡ªone of them approaching us now.¡°By lunch,¡± Donna snaps, dumping a stic bin to purposefully ruin our progress, making it impossible to know which products we¡¯ve already sorted.¡°Bitch,¡± I snap, and Diane grabs my arm to stop me from gripping Donna¡¯s hair and pping her again. The womanughs and waves her fingers behind her to taunt me.¡°Your husband looks to me because you are ugly,¡± I taunt back, and Donna turns around and rushes toward me. Diane steps in front of her, and Iugh at her feeble attempt to charge me, waving my fingers like she did.¡°Let her go, Diane,¡± Iugh, ¡°I would love to show her who to respect.¡±¡°For the love of God, Delphine,¡± Diane huffs, struggling to keep her back. ¡°You¡¯re going to get us both fired.¡±¡°Worth it to teach this hag how to regard me!¡±¡°Stay away from my husband, you whore!¡± Donna yells.¡°Maybe if you know how to fuck, he would not swells his cock for me.¡±¡°Your insults could use some work,¡± Diane chortles, still struggling.¡°She understands my point,¡± I say, bored by the woman¡¯s snapping jaws.¡°Stop egging her on,¡± Diane grunts before shoving her back. ¡°Enough!¡±Diane finally pushes Donna away from our part of the line. Half of the factory takes notice as Donna stumbles, and Diane speaks up for those whispering and watching the spectacle. ¡°If your husbands have wandering eyes when they pick you up, it¡¯s not her fault. Check your men,dies. They¡¯re the ones with frothing mouths. Grow the hell up!¡±I stick my tongue out at Donna before she stalks off. Diane gives me wary eyes as I tighten my gloves and turn back to sort out the mess the woman made.¡°It will take all day for us to fix this,¡± I hiss.¡°You can¡¯t lose this job,¡± she scolds.¡°I wish I did get fired. Then something changes things. Then maybe in will do his parts and work.¡±¡°He¡¯s a deadbeat, and I meant what I said. You¡¯re so beautiful, Delphine. Half the men in this town are in love with you. You can do so much better.¡±¡°And you propose another man is the solution? Non, and what you believe is blessing is not for me.¡±¡°What do you mean?¡± she asks.¡°Looking this way causes me to suffer.¡± I grab another bin as Diane starts to sort.¡°How?¡±I bite my lip and look over to her. I have trusted Diane with many secrets. Secrets I have told no one. Not even Celine, because of our constant arguments about in and my inability to leave him. That I¡¯m ashamed I¡¯ve endured so much in the hope the boy I met and married will return to me, only to bury that hope in the bottle as the years pass. A bottle I ache to sip from now, knowing where it waits in the bathroom stall. The endless cycle strangling me.Staring over at Diane now, I see her eagerness to hear me, to understand my reasoning. Both of us well aware we are not good for the other in sharing our reasonings for being with men we have no business being with. When Celine and Beau first came to America mere months after I arrived here, I had a brief reprieve from in¡¯s abuse. My suspicions are that Beau put a temporary stop to it. These past years, he¡¯s been more vtile than ever, growing more paranoid about Ormand¡¯s affections. Thest time he suspected an affair, I wasn¡¯t able to work for two days. Aching for a drink and disgusted by the memory, I let out a long exhale as Diane waits for my response, and I decide to give her some truth.¡°When I was very young, too young, my papa friends gave me much attention, which led to much conflicts.¡± To his death, but I do not admit that much. ¡°In school when I was young, girls treats me much same as they do here. Now, if in¡¯s friendpliments me, I . . .¡± I shake my head. ¡°One friend, Ormand, tells me I look beautiful in my dress on my birthday and have not been allowed to have dinner with any friends again.¡± Just after, in stopped allowing me to participate in many of the meetings, making it impossible for me to be the soldier I desire. Which only led me to drink more.¡°Not that I¡¯m defending him,¡± Diane says, ¡°but you are the kind of beautiful that drives men crazy.¡±¡°I know,¡± I say, chewing on my lip.¡°Modest, too,¡± sheughs.¡°I know,¡± I tell her, ¡°this is not too much confidence. Is too much attention. I hate it. But what do I do? Ugly myself?¡±¡°Not much you can do.¡±¡°I can get fat,¡± I say. ¡°But I do not want to.¡±¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. You don¡¯t throw looks like yours away because of other people¡¯s insecurities.¡±¡°in is so . . .¡± I pause, searching for the word. ¡°Jealousyness.¡±¡°Jealous?¡±¡°Yes, so many days I feel a prisoner of our house.¡± I blow out a long breath. ¡°I look like that hag¡±¡ªI point to Donna¡ª¡°I be free of many conflicts.¡±Diane grips my wrist. ¡°I¡¯m sorry things are so hard for you here, Delphine. I know this isn¡¯t the life you pictured, but things will get better. They will.¡±¡°I do not see this,¡± I say, aching to sip the bottle in the stall.¡°Yeah, honestly, I¡¯m not feeling too optimistic myself these days.¡± She turns to me, her eyes shining with fear. ¡°I have something to tell you, and I haven¡¯t told anyone yet.¡± Just as she opens her mouth to speak her confession, we both jump at the sound of her summons.¡°Johnston,¡± our crew leader snaps from feet away, and I know it is on Roman¡¯s behalf.Diane turns to me, a gleam in her eyes but an apology on her lips.¡°I¡¯m sorry. I told him to stop doing this.¡±¡°Go, be the happy one for us both.¡± I wave her away, knowing I will be the one spending the next half hour of my shift to work alone.¡°I promise that¡¯s not the case,¡± she rys mournfully before she stalks away.Not long after I¡¯ve taken long sips of the bottle I hide in the bathroom stall, I study my reflection in the breakroom mirror¡ªthe yellow bruise on my chin noticeably lighter today. in has been too preupiedtely to do more than the minimum to keep me obedient and rutting into me before he passes out. Even with that attention, he can barely finish. Back aching and dreading the long hours ahead, I turn and exit the bathroom and am stopped short when I see Donna and a few of the whispering women in wait for me.¡°Your bodyguard isn¡¯t here now, bitch.¡± Rolling my eyes down her frame, I pause them on the pair of purple boots Donna often wears. I think Diane called them Doc Martens.¡°I like your boots,¡± Ipliment as she smiles back at me menacingly.¡°You¡¯re about to hate them,¡± she rys in threat.¡°Oh?¡± Manufactured by drink or not, a boldness I almost forgotten I¡¯d possessed fills me as I step up and punch her in the mouth before another insult can leave her hag lips. That familiar feeling is almost worth the beating from the women that renders me unconscious before Diane finds me. And the added beating in gives me just a few hourster for risking getting fired.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 10

    US PRESIDENT: GEORGE W. BUSH | 2001¨C2009


    FALL 2004¡°SO, WHAT¡¯S THIS I hear about you and Amy Miller? Because apparently, she can¡¯t stop talking about our boy,¡± Sean chirps, poking his head between Dom and me, where I sit in the driver¡¯s seat of my mom¡¯s van.A van that¡¯s on itsst leg and which Mom refuses to part with. A van we¡¯re also in desperate need to keep running, thanks to Mom¡¯s constant consent to let me chauffer the three of us around since I aged out, being the first of us to get my license.The situation being temporary until we can finish restoring the ssics Sean¡¯s uncle gave us by way of a massive heart attack. The process to get them street-ready has been and will be slow and agonizing due to the expense, but one we deem will eventually be worth the wait.Sean¡¯s uncle¡¯s widow opted to hand them over with no strings as long as we got them hauled off within her allotted time frame.We jumped on it, and the minute she opened the yard, I spotted and stalked straight to the ¡¯66 C20. Sean and Dom had done the same with their own cars. It was a fated feeling that day, as if all three vehicles were waiting, predestined for each of us. All three vehicles are now stripped and waiting at King¡¯s¡ªa garage Dom bought with his parents¡¯ death settlement money, paid for, and titled the day after he turned sixteen.To help with restoration, I called upon Russell, who¡¯s worked on tractor equipment at Jennings & Sons during thest three harvests. All three of us took up with Russell fast before letting him in on the secret per Tobias¡¯s order¡ªan order he¡¯d given us on a night that now remains at the forefront of all our minds.Months ago, Tobias summoned us to his spot the same way he had before leaving for France. As we all crowded around the bonfire, half a decade after the first, the tension rolling off T had clued us all in that the meeting was going to be far different in nature. And it was, especially when Tobias unveiled his game n for Roman.¡°We¡¯re going to go basic with our strategy,¡± Tobias deres, staring into the mes, a faraway look in his eyes. His timbre wasced with ire because of his unintentional run-in with Roman earlier that day while picking Dom up from the library.¡°Meaning?¡± I ask, ears perked due to his grave, imparting tone.¡°We¡¯ve got to y this just right. The only way to defeat a man like Roman is to y sleeping giant,¡± he rys as an inkling charges through the air between the four of us.¡°Think Helen of Troy,¡± Dom rifies, already receptive to his brother.There was an edge to the words spoken that night that I felt to my bones¡ªan indescribable stillness before, one by one, we spoke our parts to y aloud, me being the first.¡°I¡¯m going to be a third-generation Marine. It¡¯s a given, and if there¡¯s one thing I know how to do¡ªit¡¯s build an army.¡±From there, the conversation flowed, though the words seemed redundant as if it had been decided before any of us uttered a single one. It was only after, when I watched Dom approach Tobias just outside our circle, asking about the source of the war, and the mythological Helen behind it, that I tuned in, catching the ass end of their hushed exchange.¡°What about Helen?¡± Dom had asked, his back to me where they stood feet away, as Tobias scanned the construction site of Roman¡¯s nearby fortress.My ears had perked further due to the long pause just after.¡°We¡¯re leaving Helen out of it,¡± T answers definitively.Both a deration and rule I silently but wholeheartedly agreed with before dismissing myself and stalking through the woods toward the ongoing war ensuing in my own home. They¡¯d all given me shit that night, assuming I was strung out on a she. I was too irritated to even exin howplex the truth was¡ªthat my worry was divided between two women.One of them being Regina Jennings and what my father might be subjecting her to that night.The other was a woman I¡¯d recently gathered from her kitchen floor before tucking her safely into bed. A woman who¡¯s slowly starting to invade my thoughts since our run-in in her living room a little over a month ago.¡°Come on, what¡¯s up with you and Amy?¡± Sean prods, roping me back into the van, away from the silver-gray return stare I haven¡¯t been able to shake.¡°Jesus, man, we¡¯re just talking, that¡¯s all,¡± I sigh as Dom nces over to me, not bothering to hide his grin. ¡°Is that all you think about?¡± I ask Sean¡¯s rearview reflection, the question rhetorical.¡°What¡¯s with keeping it a secret?¡± Sean counters.¡°Maybe because I didn¡¯t want to get interrogated,¡± I retort dryly. Ever since Sean got his first taste, he¡¯s be a little obsessed with the fairer sex. Though I can¡¯t exactly say I¡¯m any less guilty. Though it¡¯s more the act of sex that I use to escape when granted the chance.¡°Don¡¯t y the gentleman, Tyler. Word is you are far from a gentleman.¡±Dom raises a brow at me, and I crack my neck in annoyance.¡°Miller is fucking hot,¡± Sean carries on, ¡°but what I want to know is how in the hell you managed it. She¡¯s had a stick up her ass since middle school, and she¡¯s older.¡±I remain silent, ready to rid myself of the fly buzzing between my and Dom¡¯s seats.¡°I have a theory,¡± Sean continues, ¡°future high and tight likes ¡¯em experienced and mean.¡±¡°You¡¯re an idiot,¡± I sigh.¡°I heard no denial, did you, Dom?¡±Dom smirks but remains quiet, sensing my mood.¡°Hey, there¡¯s nothing wrong with being a gentleman,¡± Sean tosses in, ¡°I treat my girls very well. You¡¯ll hear noints.¡±¡°From all one of them?¡± Dom jests.¡°Don¡¯t hate,¡± Sean says as I turn off Main and stiffen, fingers tightening on the wheel when I spot my dad¡¯s F-150. Sean remains oblivious as Dom reads my posture and follows my line of sight to where Dad¡¯s truck is parked. Sean can be just as attuned when he wants to be. That thought is only confirmed when silent seconds pass before he finally reads the room.¡°What just happened?¡± he asks, and Dom jerks his chin in response to shut him up.¡°No, man,¡± Sean protests, ¡°shit just got tense in here. Talk to me.¡±¡°He doesn¡¯t want to share the details of his hookups, asshole, let it go,¡± Dom covers for me. If there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learned, it¡¯s that I can get very little past Dom these days. The good part about it is that he won¡¯t force me to address anything I don¡¯t want to, whereas Sean believes group sharing is an entitlement.Typically, I woulde clean to both, along with Tobias, but this is different. Lately, I¡¯ve been sharing a lot less, not telling them about catching Dad cheating or the strange headspace that had me chanting breath count in Dom¡¯s living room afterward. For some reason, I¡¯ve kept it all to my chest.Probably because it¡¯s too close to a very raw fucking nerve. One I decide I can no longer ignore as I silently pull up to Sean¡¯s house to drop him off first.¡°Fine,¡± Sean spouts resentfully, grabbing the duffle packed with his football gear, ¡°but you guys are dicks for not telling me.¡± Sliding open the van door, he thinks better of his parting words and stares between us, all animation gone. ¡°You good, Tyler?¡±¡°Yeah, man, I¡¯m good. I¡¯ll hit you upter.¡±¡°All right,¡± he says, palming my shoulder before he and Dom exchange a look I don¡¯t bother to gauge or decipher.Both know it¡¯s been hell on earth for Mom and me at home, and neither has pressed me too much for details, but the heaviness is there.Once out of Sean¡¯s driveway, I pull to a stop sign and click the signal, though no one is behind me. Dom doesn¡¯t say a word as I sit for a full minute, maybe two, while he patiently waits for me. ¡°Can I ask a favor?¡±He nods without hesitation or asking what the nature of the favor is. One I don¡¯t give him before turning in the opposite direction of my signal.Minutester, I¡¯m pulling up just outside the hole-in-the-wall at the end of the shopping center. Putting the van in park, I scan the building and mostly vacant parking lot before ncing back over to him. ¡°Only step in if you have to.¡±Dom nods, needing little else in the way of information, as I m my way out of the van and stalk toward the entrance.Lynyrd Skynyrd¡¯s ¡°Gimme Three Steps¡± sts through the frigid air, filling my ears as I step through the tinted ss door. Once inside, I scan the bar, which is littered with dor store Halloween decorations. Cheap, cardboard cutout jack-o¡¯nterns collectively grin at me from where they¡¯re taped to every post supporting the drooping tiled ceiling of the hole-in-the-wall my dad¡¯s imed as a second home. It takes seconds for me to spot him on his resident stool.The difference between now and when I get the call toe and retrieve him is that the woman he¡¯s seeing is currently hanging all over him. It¡¯s as if there¡¯s any decency in making sure she¡¯s absent when I scrape him from his barstool. Fury lights a fire in me as I watch the man I once revered publicly cheat on my mother.It¡¯s his smitten expression that has me crawling out of my skin as she practically grinds on hisp. Rounding the bar, I bide my time in a dark corner concealed behind some draped glittering ck-and-orange tinsel, bristling in wait. My patience is rewarded when, not long after, she peels herself off him, heading toward the hall that leads to the restroom.Circling the bar, I watch him down thest of his pint and signal for another. Seething, I stalk toward him, gaining momentum and advantage I utilize when his head snaps only an instant before impact. mming my palms into his chest, I shove him with every bit of the fury rolling through me, a sickening satisfaction flooding my veins when hends t on his back, the pleather stool rolling away from him.Gasps and shocked murmurs sound around me as I kneel to where Dadnded just as a set of worn boots approaches inside my periphery.¡°If you know what¡¯s good for you, you¡¯ll mind your business,¡± I snap in warning to the interloper just as the bartender, Brian, speaks up on my behalf.¡°Don¡¯t step in, man, that¡¯s Carter¡¯s son.¡±Within the next second, I¡¯m dragging myughing dad out of the ss door by his jacket and dropping his upper half on the frozen sidewalk. Snow dots the air as Dad slowly rises to his feet, stumbling a little before gaining his footing. His liquor-zed eyes slowly lock and focus on me as he speaks through a smirk.¡°So, tonight¡¯s the night, huh? You want to fight your old man, Son?¡±Rage overtakes reason, and I step up, throwing a right that connects with his jaw, putting everything I have behind it. He absorbs the blow as I do. Feeling the gravity of what¡¯s just transpired blooming in my chest, I¡¯mpletely aware of how wrong it is¡ªof how different our rtionship will be from this moment forward.¡°Not bad for a punk seventeen-year-old,¡± he says with a sickening grin, smashing at the thin trail of blood lining his lips with his fingers. To our right, I see Dom¡¯s already out of the van, leaning against it, arms crossed.¡°You¡¯re a disgrace¡ª¡± I see the insult hit him, his armor somehow prable for the moment¡ª¡°to your marriage, to the name you gave me, and to the uniform.¡±It¡¯s mom¡¯s anguished face I see when I step forward,nding another punch on his jaw. A punch he purposely doesn¡¯t react to, which surprises me.¡°What, Dad?! No lessons to teach, no fucking tough love or lectures to bestow on being a man!?¡±I pound my chest with a fist, hearing the crack in my voice, which echoes the fracture happening inside while willing the weakness out of me.¡°You¡¯re a good son, Tyler,¡± he says, seemingly sincere, his own voice shaking.¡°Don¡¯t. Don¡¯t bother. You have no idea who the fuck I am. You haven¡¯t fucking seen me in years. Fucking years!¡±¡°I know exactly who you are,¡± he rasps, reticent and calm. ¡°I¡¯m staring at my reflection twenty years ago.¡±¡°Carter? Is everything okay?¡± a voice calls from the door behind me, and I can¡¯t bring myself to look back at the woman he¡¯s been cheating on my mother with for God knows how long.¡°Get rid of her,¡± I order as Dad holds up a palm.¡°Go inside,¡± Dad tells her, ¡°I¡¯ll be in in a minute.¡±¡°But¡ª¡±¡°Grace, go!¡± She retreats inside as his guilty eyes flick back to me.¡°Oh, the irony of a fucking name,¡± I mock. ¡°You¡¯re going to need all the Grace you can get because we¡¯re fucking done, Dad. Do you hear me? We¡¯re done with you as of this moment. You¡¯ve destroyed our family, and you may be able to live with this, with what you¡¯re doing to her, but I can¡¯t. Tell Mom, or I will.¡±¡°She knows, Son,¡± he says, his tone nothing but defeat.¡°Bullshit.¡± I shake my head vehemently. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t you leave her? She knows everyone in this town. You¡¯re humiliating her. You¡¯re humiliating me. Our family. You¡¯re fucking disgusting.¡±¡°You¡¯re a good son,¡± he repeats softly. ¡°Truly, Tyler, you are, but what¡¯s happening between your mother and me is beyond your scope right now.¡±¡°You¡¯re going to pull this shit, really? im it¡¯s grown folks¡¯ business? You brought her into our fucking house!¡±Dad has the sense to lower his eyes.¡°I idolized you,¡± I tell him. ¡°I . . . and now, I¡¯m ashamed. I¡¯m ashamed to call you my father.¡± I step forward, chin lifted, doing everything in my power not to shed the tears shimmering in my eyes. ¡°All you have left is the woman you destroyed your family with. Hope she¡¯s worth it.¡±¡°Your mother won¡¯t leave me, Son.¡± His voice is now just above a whisper.¡°I¡¯ll make sure she does,¡± I hiss. ¡°I¡¯ll make goddamn sure she does. Tell her tonight.¡±¡°You¡¯re not hearing me, Regina knows.¡±¡°She knows, huh? She knows that you fuck Grace in her bed? I¡¯m willing to bet she doesn¡¯t. You or me. Figure it out, fast,¡± I snap, stepping off the curb and nodding towards Dom, who opens his passenger door as I pull my keys.¡°She won¡¯t leave me because she won¡¯t fucking touch me anymore!¡± Dad shouts at my retreating back.¡°Now that¡¯s adult business,¡± I spout without a shred of sympathy.Crowding me, he ms my driver¡¯s door shut. ¡°But you¡¯ve made it your business now, so you get to hear it.¡±When I reel on him, he steps back and nces toward the bar before scanning the parking lot. My confusionsts only seconds as he shifts further into the light and lifts his shirt. My reaction is an audible release of air when I see the scar, or rather, the ocean of slick, burnt skin that runs the entire length of his right side.¡°Your mother hasn¡¯t touched me in nearly two years . . . so yeah, Son, I went out and did what no married man should ever do because my wife finds me as disgusting as you do.¡±¡°Mom would never¡ª¡±¡°You sure about that?¡± he counters, chest heaving.I shake my head, full-on denying she would be so cruel. ¡°Couldn¡¯t be the fact that you¡¯re a full-blown alcoholic and temperamental bastard now, could it?¡±¡°I¡¯m not saying my behavior didn¡¯t have anything¡ª¡±¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I thought.¡±¡°So fucking smug,¡± he scoffs, ¡°so arrogant and sure of yourself. Well, hold on tight to that confidence, Son, or just wait. They¡¯ll be happy to pump you full of it. But on the other side of that, you have no idea whating home means. No fucking clue!¡±¡°Well, you never took the time to tell me, did you? No, you drank that time away.¡±¡°You don¡¯t know what happens over there! You can¡¯t ever know because it¡¯s not fucking exinable!¡± He rips his shirt over his head, forcing me to look at the burns, to acknowledge they exist. I was just recovering from the fact that they did and probably have for years. How in the hell did I miss it?¡°When?¡±¡°Does it matter? It happened, and I deal with it.¡±I scoff. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve seen the way you deal.¡±¡°Son, when you grab your uniform, make sure you stand firm in your stance to be nothing like me.¡±¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I dere confidently.¡°No, because you¡¯ll do it better, right?¡± He shakes his head ironically. ¡°You won¡¯t hurt your son, or fuck with his head, or belittle him like I swore I wouldn¡¯t. You won¡¯t disappear from your wife day by day like I swore I wouldn¡¯t. Go to war one man ande back another. You¡¯ll be the exception, the better soldier, husband, and father. You won¡¯t ever bring the war you carry on your back through your front door.¡±I weigh his words about staring at his reflection and shake my head, disbelieving what he¡¯s rying. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that Granddad¡ª¡±¡°Like I said, I¡¯m staring at my reflection twenty years ago. It took me nearly ten of those to forgive him to the point of speaking to him and let him within a fucking mile of you. The man you know and the man that raised me are two entirely different men.¡±I stand there, shocked at his revtions and more stunned that my grandfather exhibited the same behavior.¡°I¡¯m a sunny Sunday in the parkpared to what he was during the worst of it. So, yeah, your grandfather cracked, and your old man isn¡¯t weathering his own storm well, but you¡¯ll be the soldier to do it, right? Fuck¡±¡ªhe scrapes a hand down his jaw¡ª¡°I hope for your sake that you are. But I¡¯m telling you right now . . .¡± His eyes grip mine in warning. ¡°Don¡¯t do it.¡±¡°What?¡±¡°They¡¯ll break you down only to build you up, making you believe you¡¯re a god. They¡¯ll make you feel invincible, but you won¡¯t be. No man is. At the end of it, if you make it out alive, you¡¯lle home with scars you can¡¯t hide, physical or otherwise, and the fact you can¡¯t hide them will eat you fucking alive. Then you¡¯ll remember what they told you versus what you actually fucking survived and see they don¡¯t quite match up. But the most damning lie is that you will have the capability to leave it over there when you get home. That you¡¯ll be able to find the fucking door. All this time, I¡¯m still looking for the door to you and your mother, Son, because I¡¯ve looked everywhere, and I can¡¯t get back to you.¡± His voice breaks as I feel my resolve start to dismantle. ¡°I can¡¯t get back to you and Regina.¡±I gape at him, nausea threatening. ¡°You¡¯re seriously telling me not to enlist?¡±¡°I¡¯m telling you that things have changed. The military isn¡¯t the same as the one your granddad and I signed up for, and I don¡¯t want you to find that out by gambling with your life. I¡¯m telling you that I¡¯m sorry I failed you. That I know I lost my way . . . lost myself. That I know you and your mother deserve better . . . and I¡¯ll tell her. I¡¯ll leave if she wants me to.¡±The truth of what¡¯s happening starts to settle in on us both, and remorse threatens, but I bat it away due to the constant sight of my mother¡¯s tears.¡°I love you and your mother, Son, with every fiber of my being. I know I was better offing home in a box to both of you . . . or not at all, but I didn¡¯t want to let you go.¡± He crumbles where he stands, as does my entire belief system. ¡°But you both let me go a long time ago, didn¡¯t you?¡±He piles his hands on his head, his voice cracking so wide that I don¡¯t recognize it.¡°I chose the uniform too many times, and now I can¡¯t find the fucking door.¡± He cries openly now. It¡¯s messy and horrific, and I recognize the man speaking to me as the dad I grew up with. And that he¡¯s not apologizing because he got caught but because he means it, but it¡¯s toote.¡°You could have talked to her,¡± I sling at him, hurt seeping through my anger. ¡°Mom¡¯s a goddamned psychologist, Dad. She could have tried to help you find the fucking door.¡±He shakes his head, negating that as a possibility, and blows out a breath. ¡°You¡¯re a good son,¡± he whispers hoarsely. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±He turns and starts walking toward the side of the bar, opposite the front door, as I shout at his retreating back.¡°Hey, Master Sergeant Jennings!¡± He snaps to and holds my eyes. ¡°If you truly mean that, get the fuck away from my mother!¡±Inside the van, I spin tires as I race away from the bar, reeling with his revtions as my heart finalizes the slow shatter it started years ago. Ovee, I force myself to pull over and stalk away from the van as my emotions get the best of me. Chest heaving, I feel thergest part of myself breaking away from me¡ªyears of Dad¡¯s expectations evaporating as I look up at the night sky. Snow pours from it, seemingly from nothing but the gaping ck space hovering above. Face upturned, I hit the frozen ground, unable to move in any direction as a guttural cry bursts out of me.Dom¡¯s boots appear sometimeter as I rip at the frozen grass, dirt collecting beneath my nails as I rehash my father¡¯s admissions.¡°He¡¯s right,¡± I sniff, hating he¡¯s seeing me in this state¡ªthis fucking raw¡ªbut if I¡¯m going to get emotional, I would rather Domy witness than any other. Dom sits next to me for a few beats before his words break through my audible pants.¡°I¡¯m so fucking sorry, Tyler,¡± he whispers hoarsely. It¡¯s then I realize I¡¯m not the only one who¡¯s emotional. I don¡¯t dare look over as I grip my knees, my fingers white, nails somehow bloody.¡°We¡¯ll figure this out, man. I swear we will. You don¡¯t have to enlist.¡± His wordse out mangled as he absorbs the blow alongside me. What most people aren¡¯t privy to is that my chosen brother lives by his feelings, primarily those of his gut. If there were a way for him to suppress or box his emotions, he wouldn¡¯t survive it. His heart is what fuels him, though he¡¯s an expert at masking that truth. It¡¯s in rationalizing that about him that an idea strikes me, a notion of a possible way.¡°No,¡± I rasp out in both deration and vow. ¡°I¡¯m going to be the one that breaks the cycle.¡±I don¡¯t have to nce over to know he¡¯s nodding.¡°Come to my house,¡± he finally says. ¡°Stay with me tonight. Sleep in Tobias¡¯s bed. Don¡¯t go home.¡±I can¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°Sorry, man, but did you ever once think that your house would be the ce I¡¯d seek refuge?¡±¡°Fuck you,¡± he spits, a smile lifting his lips. ¡°Then again, no offense taken.¡± Neither of us moves as he speaks up a few beatster.¡°She¡¯s leveled out some, though, hasn¡¯t she?¡± No mystery to the she he¡¯s referring to.¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve noticed,¡± I admit. Delphine¡¯s been trying to build some semnce of a rtionship with Dom since Tobias left for France, and Dom¡¯s done nothing but cruelly dismiss her. I wipe some of the frozen grass off my jeans as I stand. ¡°She¡¯s been trying since before T left, but I knew better than to point it out to you.¡±¡°Think I should give her a chance?¡±¡°I think you want to, and I¡¯m not telling you one way or another, but, Dom¡ª¡± I frown, unsure if I should tell him.¡°What?¡± he asks in subtle demand.¡°I read a few of the letters in her cigar box some months back. From what I can tell, what her ex-husband put her through, fuck man, it was horrific. I know it was wrong to invade her privacy like that, but after scraping her off the floor so many times, I had to know.¡±¡°That bad?¡±¡°Like I said, I only read a few of her letters, and what I did still fucks with me.¡±He cut off my hair to the scalp.Last night, he made me sleep in the snow.Those written words physically pained me to read. What fucks with me most, and what I find iprehensible, is that the formidable woman I¡¯m ustomed to is the same woman who wrote those letters.¡°Heads up¡±¡ªI look over at him¡ª¡°your mom¡¯s return letters are in there, too, and are only marginally better. Abijah was no saint.¡±¡°I thought you said you only read two?¡±¡°Of Delphine¡¯s,¡± I admit, guilty of the usation in his eyes.He arches a brow. ¡°If I decide to start a diary, are you going to read it?¡± he cracks to lighten things, though my heart now bears a weight I know I¡¯ll never be free of.¡°Fuck off.¡± I wipe my face clear as fatigue starts to set in. ¡°Sorry I drug you into that.¡±His eyes snap to mine. ¡°Don¡¯t ever apologize to me,¡± he scolds. ¡°I¡¯m fucking d I was there.¡±¡°Me too.¡±¡°Wish you would have confided in me sooner.¡±¡°We all have our shit,¡± I ry on exhale.¡°This is different, and I mean it,¡± he continues in a rare, serious tone, ¡°you don¡¯t have to enlist.¡±¡°I¡¯ve got some time to decide.¡±¡°Yeah, you do, and whatever you do decide, we¡¯ve got your back.¡±Pulling into his driveway, I sit idly behind the wheel, feeling more exhausted than I can ever remember being.¡°Coming in?¡± Dom asks as he gets out and grips the passenger door.¡°Yeah, I¡¯m going to drop the van off, and I¡¯ll be back.¡±Nodding, he closes the door before heading toward the house. Halfway to the porch, he nces back, shooting a rare concerned look before I give him a reassuring nod through the windshield.After dropping the van and sneaking the key onto the counter, I exit my house undetected and start the short walk back to Dom¡¯s. As I hit the street, I wee the sting on my face in hopes that the biting cold will help clear my head while grappling with what had just transpired¡ªalong with Dad¡¯s admissions. My mother can¡¯t know he¡¯s cheating. She can¡¯t. She¡¯s too prideful. She loves him too fucking much. She would never be so callous and turn him away for a burn he endured in the line of duty. He¡¯s full of shit. He¡¯s got to be.Rounding the corner to Dom¡¯s street, I spot Delphine exiting the front door, stopping just short of the iron railing enclosing the porch. The sight of her breaks up some of my inner turmoil as a spark ignites, the cherry burning at the end of her cigarette stoking the notion that struck me earlier. A spark that has me hastening my steps toward her and a possible solution. As shees into view, I notice her attention is fixed on the falling snow.Without overthinking it, I make a beeline toward her. As I pound up the snow-dusted steps and approach, I can visibly see when my presence jars her out of whatever memory she was just lost in as she flits her focus to me. Her expression bleak, seeming . . . mournful.¡°I need you to teach me,¡± I say as I reach her, towering over her as I did months ago.The silver-gray eyes that have been haunting me since she brought me back that day slowly focus on mine as confusion sets in her expression. ¡°Teach you what?¡±¡°Everything.¡±

 Severed Heart: Chapter 11

    SUNLIGHT STREAMS THROUGH my bedroom window, further warming my burning skin as the skipping des of my rusted fan drag me further into consciousness. Peeling the sweat-covered sheet from my body before readjusting it, I curse the fact that I didn¡¯t close my curtainsst night in my stupor. Burying my face into my pillow to shield my eyes from the blinding sun, I grope for the pint on my nightstand. Lifting it, I can tell by theck of weight that there is not a drop left, knowing I drained whatever my bottles heldst night. The snow hase early this year, taunting me with Matis¡¯s pleas.¡°Je suis vraiment d¨¦sol¨¦. Je suis vraiment d¨¦sol¨¦. Pardonne-moi.¡± I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m so sorry. Forgive me.His ancient whispers had me reaching for more drink¡ªtoo much drink. The pounding in my head only confirms this as I release the empty pint, which smacks against my nightstand before clunking loudly on the floor.¡°Merde,¡± I grumble before a light chuckle sounds from feet away.Cracking one eye open, I look over to see Tyler standing in my bedroom doorway. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±¡°Training day one. Your orders, remember?¡±¡°Oui.¡± A small lie. I had reached for more drink as soon as the drift began. Through my haze and Matis¡¯s distant whispers through the snowfall, I vaguely remember his request because of the haunted look in his eyes. That, and his determined expression when he approached me to ask for help.Help to . . . teach him. ¡°We were to start after school.¡±¡°It¡¯s almost four o¡¯clock,¡± he notes, turning the face of a watch on his wrist in my direction.The pounding in my head protests my idiocy in agreeing as I dismiss him.¡°Go, we . . .¡± My skull tightens. ¡°W-we will start tomorrow. Merci.¡±When he continues to linger in my doorway, I slit my eyes open again to see him still standing there, expectantly.¡°What is it you do not understand? I told you, tomm¡ª¡±¡°I don¡¯t have until tomorrow, Delphine.¡±Both his delivery and tone are not those of a teenage boy but resolute and lined with desperation. His tone and disposition are familiar because of Ezekiel¡¯s own determination to grow from boy to man before his time, dismissing his childhood altogether to raise Jean Dominic as if he were his own.And he did. At only eleven years old, Ezekiel did all he tasked himself with soon after Celine and Beau died.A failure I will never allow myself to forgive, nor the image and finality of the two coffins suspended over his parents¡¯ waiting plots. That, and the vision of the two orphans who loomed at the edge of the hallowed earth dressed in different sizes of the same suit. Both with hair ck as midnight, one with his father¡¯s fireced eyes, the other¡¯s eyes like my own. Eyes that searched his older brother¡¯s that day as he continued to beg for the impossible.¡°Can we open them?¡± Jean Dominic asks of the caskets.¡°No,¡± Ezekiel replies, no longer resembling the boy with the tiny hands I gripped while he guided me around Celine¡¯s kitchen the day before I left France¡ªa memory that now seems a lifetime ago. Ezekiel¡¯s eyes now dimmed,cking the light they once held in his mother¡¯s presence.¡°I want to see Maman,¡± Dom whines, ¡°why can¡¯t we open them? Can I see Papa?¡±¡°Dom,¡± Ezekiel scolds in a strict whisper, ¡°be quiet. The preacher is speaking.¡±¡°I just want to see them!¡± Dominic shrieks before crumbling into hysterical tears. Some of those gathered turn to watch the scene Jean Dominic makes, my eyes catching and holding onto the woman standing adjacent to Celine¡¯s sons¡ªa woman tracing their exchange carefully, eyes filled with shimmering tears and unmistakable guilt.A woman whom I trusted with many of my secrets. The sight of her guilt-stricken face a testament to never again give all my hidden truths to one person¡ªto allow anyone such power over me. Some of thest advice Matis left me with.Diane stands alone at the side of the caskets as I batter her with my re, her own eyes glued to my nephews. Refusing to let up, I bide my time, holding my usatory re until her shame-filled, fearful eyes finally lift to mine.She knows.Roman Horner¡¯s whore knows exactly what transpired the night of that explosion. Though she denied any knowledge of what happened when I confronted her, it was her gauntplexion, wandering eyes, and shaking hands that had been enough to convince me.The same expression she holds now as she peers back at me. Guilt. Unmistakable guilt. For withholding the truth of what happened to thest of my family. Her return stare erases all doubt as I curse my stupidity in trusting her.Hatred filled me in those moments as I followed Matis¡¯s rule to trail every enemy until they¡¯ve disappeared out of sight. In doing so, I watched Diane crumble into herself halfway down the small hill. Her shaking body and the palms covering her mouth to stifle her sobs confirming my suspicions. She didn¡¯t know Celine and Beau well enough to grieve in such a way.To this day, I remain haunted that I practically handed Celine and Beau to her because I believed her enough to share my knowledge about Roman¡¯s corruption. Encouraged her often to speak to him and told her I was not alone in knowing of his true nature.In revealing that I wasn¡¯t the only one aware of her lover¡¯s theft, Roman could have looked up Celine¡¯s past, unveiled her activist history in France, and decided she and Beau were real threats.Their idental deaths a perfect way to silence them while sending a message to the rest of us.It was a glimpse of her rounding belly monthster¡ªwhen I spotted her in passing on the street¡ªwhich gave motive of why she would protect Roman so fiercely. And likely the reason she never tried again to reveal her secret to me. Her pregnancy.I vowed that day to avenge them, to bide my time for retribution. I swore as I followed her to her battered car and watched her drive away to never again trust any outsider or to trust at all. She knew and, to this day, still knows as I do that confiding in her may be the very reason they died.My cross to bear, its weight dissolved into my skin and bones, into my soul, which now barely recognizes its host.The remembrance of that day I blurredst night and the night before, as I have since their deaths. Proof of that is the drink seeping from my every pore, gliding down the sweat on my back. Proof that I¡¯ve lived to carry that weight another day. Thest lingering image forever haunting me as I stood graveside, beseeching Celine with a question I have asked myself all these yearster.¡°How could you leave me to raise what I despise?¡±¡°Delphine?¡± Tyler prompts, his voice distant as the scrape of the fan continues to fill my ears, the throbbing in my head increasing as I turn back on my side and study Tyler.¡°Are you okay?¡±He¡¯s being kind. Always so kind. Even, and especially when he helps me to bed after a long night of too many sips. Too many ¡®one more¡¯s. Never condemning me with a cross remark like Jean Dominic so often does. Which for Tyler surprises me, considering his father, too, numbs with drink.It was through concerned whispers between Sean and Jean Dominic across the hall that I discovered this truth, which is maybe whatpelled me to agree to help him.Or maybe it was the fucking drink.Either way, I selfishly regret offering, and know he must see that regret before I roll on my back, studying the sagging patch of ceiling above my bed.¡°You¡¯re young,¡± have no cross to bear, ¡°and have many, many tomorrows ahead of you,¡± I manage through dry lips, the increasing throb at my temples blurring my view of the brown-splotched stain hovering above.Instead of responding, Tyler stalks into my room as if he has the right to do so and goes straight for the box of powders on my dresser. I sit up suddenly, holding my nket to my chest, unsure of what I¡¯m wearing beneath it. ¡°What in the hell are you doing?¡±It¡¯s then I realize he has a sports drink in his hand. He grabs a packet from the box and thrusts both packet and drink to me as if ready for my excuse.¡°I¡¯ll start some coffee and meet you in the kitchen,¡± he adds. A subtle butmanding order. Something which should take more time to master so efficiently than his short years.¡°Tyler, I do not know what you think you can learn from me.¡±¡°Yes, you do,¡± he replies vehemently, lingering briefly as if to say more, but he doesn¡¯t, instead turning and leaving my room.After pulling on my robe, washing my face, and brushing my teeth, I find him sitting at the kitchen table. Next to him sits a steaming cup of coffee and a ready Smirnoff pint. I pause at the sight of the insult and assumption.¡°I do not drink in the day,¡± I snap, pushing the bottle aside for the steaming mug. ¡°I have a fucking job.¡±¡°Sorry, I¡±¡ªhe angles his head, considering me¡ª¡°I just thought you might want a little hair of the dog.¡±¡°Hair of the what?¡± I snap, leashing my tongue when his posture draws up in defense before he lowers his eyes to the forgotten wildflower-covered suitcase dangling from my hand.¡°Hair of the dog is when you drink a little of what you had the night before to take the edge off any headaches.¡± He delivers this carefully as if he knows what precise tone to use while diverting the conversation to lessen any offense.An artful tactic he might have mastered because of his drink-dependent father, which tells me he¡¯s already wary of me. Shame threatens, with the knowledge that I should spare him mypany and take back my offer. I lower my gaze from the boy¡¯s prying eyes and nce back toward my bedroom in desperate need of retreat. Of my bath, of my cleansing.¡°What¡¯s in the case?¡± he asks, clearly sensing I¡¯m weighing my decision. I have no business teaching this boy anything. My past record is every indication that I will fail again.¡°Come on, show me, please?¡± he prompts softly, his expression sympathetic without a hint of the insult it can carry.Or maybe he¡¯s sincere, Delphine, and you are being insufferable.Sighing, I ce the suitcase on the table before him, brushing my finger over the loose buckle. The sight of it pains me as I carefully utch it to reveal the case¡¯s contents.Tyler curiously stares at what lies inside. ¡°Books?¡±¡°Not just books, your¡±¡ªI search for the English word¡ª¡°curricum.¡±¡°Curriculum?¡± he corrects, holding hisugh sessfully, though I see it in his eyes.I m the case closed. ¡°I don¡¯t need one more teenage boy making me feel a fucking fool in my own house!¡±He stands so abruptly that I shuffle back.¡°I meant no offense. I¡¯m sorry, really sorry.¡± He bites his lip, palms open. ¡°Shit, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he repeats again. ¡°I¡¯m taking this seriously, I swear to you.¡±He¡¯s just a boy, Delphine.Unsettled by the stillness in the air about my tongueshing and aching for my bath, I quickly dole out my order. ¡°You must read,prehend, and memorize each book before we can truly begin.¡±¡°Memorize . . .¡± he repeats softly, apprehension filling his expression.¡°Not all of the books, but the wisdom of each strategist and the battle formations . . . unless you have changed your mind.¡± I shrug, lifting and unscrewing the pint before pouring some dog¡¯s hair into my coffee.¡°No, no, I¡¯m good with that,¡± he rys as the weight of my task clouds his eyes¡ªthat and disappointment.¡°What did you think this would be, a physical fitness trial for trophy?¡± I sh him a smile I know is unkind. ¡°You can be a brute in your own time, but in our time, you will gain the most important aspect of being a soldier, and it is mentality. But to satisfy you, I will add two miles of running a day to start strengthening your stamina, which is also key.¡±¡°I¡¯ll take them,¡± he epts instantly. ¡°I¡¯ll take all of it.¡±After stirring my coffee, I nce over and study him, sensing the fortitude building inside him as he considers a few of the books. As if one of them may hold the answer he seeks.¡°Give me two weeks,¡± he states confidently.I scoff. ¡°Ten books in two weeks?¡±¡°I read a book a day, like Dom. Sean¡¯s the only one still flippingics,¡± he jokes, and I don¡¯t share his smile. ¡°Two weeks should do it.¡±He deres this again, his rich brown eyes burning with an intensity I¡¯ve seen in few. He considers me now just as he did the books, but I know all too well any answer he¡¯s in need of isn¡¯t where his eyes now linger with curiosity.¡°You don¡¯t think I can do it,¡± he disputes, ¡°I¡¯m going to prove you wrong.¡±¡°Arrogance and soldiering do not align well, Tyler. The necessary confidence you will need onlyes with education.¡±¡°But we¡¯ve just started, so . . .¡± A dimple dents his jaw with his smile. ¡°Care to make a bet?¡±I stiffen at his words, taking a long drink of my coffee before I reply. ¡°I do not make or take bets.¡±¡°Fair enough,¡± he says, pulling another of the books out of the case before I start back to my bedroom.¡°I¡¯m going to shower.¡±¡°Two weeks,¡± he calls out in reminder as I roll my eyes and stalk toward my bathroom.Sure, kid.After dressing, I run a brush through my wet hair before I lotion my arms and hands to buy more time. Out of excuses, I pause at my bedroom door, unsure of why a teenage boy¡¯s audience¡ªother than Dom¡¯s¡ªis keeping me idle. Annoyed by that, I tear open my door only to find myself thankful when I hear the snap and close of the screen door.Relieved, I approach the table to see every one of the books is gone, my empty suitcase remaining. He must have sensed its significance to me.From just our short time this morning, I¡¯ve gathered he¡¯s highly observant and has the promising tongue of a mediator, if not a negotiator. All skills needed to y his part in Ezekiel¡¯s design but with unreasonable ambition.¡°Foolish boy,¡± I mumble, unsure of why it took him so long to simply collect the books and leave. It¡¯s when I go to buckle the case that I realize the frail metal is no longer loose. ncing toward the storm door, I catch Tyler¡¯s eyes focused on where my finger lingers on the buckle. Arms cradling the books, I glimpse a whisper of his satisfied smile before he turns, taking the porch steps down to the driveway before jogging across the street.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 12

    Hit me up, cousin.After shooting off a text to Barrett, I gather the menu from the four-top the hostess seated me at to scan it, side-eyeing my phone in hopes he¡¯ll finally return it. Barrett¡¯s been dodging me since the Apple Festivalst month.Before my and Dad¡¯s confrontationst week, Carter Jennings had already done his fucking worst to desecrate all remaining rtionships with everyone Jennings. Having eradicated his ce in the annual family tradition at our festival stand to represent our farm on Labor Day weekend. Which only further justified the two swings Inded even as I continue to grapple with the fact it happened.That I struck my father. Twice.Though I wasn¡¯t there, small-town news traveled fast that Barrett was seething mad when Dad showed up shitfaced and on a war path.Barrett had taken it most personally since his future consists of taking over the family farm. Since that day, arge majority of the Jennings crew have been slow to answer and harder to reach by Mom and me, making us aplices by association and ckening our wool. We¡¯ve now been made to feel like outcasts from everyone aside from Uncle Gray and Granddad, who both check in every week or so. Though, at this point, I think it¡¯s more out of obligation to Dad.An obligation I¡¯ve also ignored since I faced off with my father in that parking lot. Since then, I¡¯ve spent every minute that I¡¯m not sleeping outside the doors of the Jennings house. Some of those days with Dom at the library, using his ce of refuge as my own while inhaling and memorizing Delphine¡¯s curriculum.But today, I found myself in need of a different type of distraction and decided to seek it out the same way I have thest few times we¡¯ve hooked up.Sensing her stare, I nce up to see Kayley eyeing me as she takes an order while I sweep her costume. Thigh-high stockings showcase her long legs, an inches-above-appropriate pleated skirt hanging from her curvy hips. Combined with the white cored button top, it¡¯s no big mystery what look she is going for. For me, it¡¯s a fucking summons, one I savor every inch of. My thorough sweep of her is slow and deliberate until I lift my eyes to hold her light blue return stare.My invitation¡¯s receiptes by way of a subtle lift of glossy pink, lush lips. Lips I spentst summer obsessing over, stretching them with the thrust of my cock every chance Kayley gave me. Though my attention is a bit more divided now than it wasst year or the year before, it¡¯s the divide itself¡ªa pair of silver eyes¡ªthat has me seeking this hookup and reality check.Satisfied I¡¯ve extended the invite and unable to think of a better way to spend Halloween than ying principal, I nce back down at the menu.¡°I don¡¯t know why you even bother when you always order the same thing.¡± This voicees from my left as I look up to greet Sean¡¯stest obsession. An obsession who¡¯s hustling shifts between Horner Tech and Sean¡¯s parents¡¯ restaurant to earn her way through cosmetology school.¡°Sup, La,¡± I greet as she peers down at me, wearing jeans and a form-fitting long-sleeve Pitt Stop shirt, her gorgeous blonde mane secured in a messy bun. ¡°Didn¡¯t feel like dressing up?¡±¡°I¡¯m too boring these days and work too damned much,¡± she says with a sigh. ¡°I swear, if I didn¡¯t know everyone in this town, I¡¯d rob Triple Savings and Loan.¡±¡°I might help you,¡± I joke, ¡°restoring my truck might cost me an internal organ.¡± I nce around the bustling restaurant. ¡°Looks like business is pretty good.¡±¡°Yeah, today. But thest two shifts, I only had a few tables. I was better off saving the gas money.¡±¡°Sorry to hear it. How close are you now?¡±¡°To getting my cosmetology license?¡± She frowns. ¡°Not much longer, and believe me, I can¡¯t wait. Between sweating in that fucking factory during the summers¡±¡ªshe lowers her voice¡ª¡°and dealing with some of the old-timing assholes here that think tipping pocket change is enough, I¡¯m about to go batshit.¡±¡°It¡¯ll pay off,¡± I tell her, tucking this conversation away to suggest her as a possible recruit on Tobias¡¯s next trip home. La is good people and trustworthy, and despite T¡¯s misogynistic hangup, it wouldn¡¯t hurt us to have ady bird within our ranks.¡°Well, tell you what, if you¡¯ll have me, I¡¯ll be one of the first in your chair.¡±¡°I¡¯d be honored to get my hands on that beautiful head of hair before the United States Marines lop it all off,¡± she says, yfully running her fingers through it. It¡¯s easy to see why she¡¯s Sean¡¯s current obsession, but unclear to him at the moment is that she¡¯s in a league of her own and way out of his wheelhouse.¡°You really on the menu for something else?¡± she drawls suggestively, which gives me a little pause.¡°Not a bad idea to switch it up sometimes,¡± I shrug.¡°I agree, but¡±¡ªshe nces behind her, biting her full bottom lip¡ª¡°from the daggers Kayley is shooting our way, it could get tricky for you.¡±¡°Nah.¡± I grin. ¡°Kayley knows you don¡¯t fuck with High School.¡±¡°As if she could judge,¡± she muses. ¡°But you¡¯re right, I don¡¯t, so ry that to your idiot starting quarterback, would you?¡±She nods toward the kitchen where Sean¡¯s currently flipping burgers on the line.¡°Yeah, he¡¯s a bit slow on the uptake in that respect, but he does throw a mean spiral.¡±¡°He does, especially for a junior.¡± She cocks her hip. ¡°Though, aren¡¯t you a senior this year?¡±¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve got Dom and Sean beat in age by a few months shy of a year, which they both hate, and Mom started me in kindergarten when I was four. Probably because she knew I was smarter than that paste eater.¡± I toss a thumb toward the cut-out between the kitchen and dining room.Timing impable, Sean looks up from where he¡¯s helping man the grill, eyes flicking between the two of us as we share augh.¡°Well, I don¡¯t disagree with her.¡± La sweeps me appreciatively. ¡°The maturity shows.¡±¡°Wouldn¡¯t be so obvious if he didn¡¯t act like an overheated stray dog,¡± I chuckle as Sean narrows his eyes on me. ¡°So, do yourself a favor and don¡¯t give him any kibble, and he¡¯ll eventually find another porch to stalk.¡±¡°Got to give him credit.¡± She grins as she eyes him, ¡°He¡¯s persistent.¡±¡°You¡¯ve got a boyfriend, though, right?¡± I ask her.¡°In between. Thest one was an asshole, just like the one before him.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°I think I might have developed an unhealthy weakness for bad boys.¡±¡°Do me a favor and don¡¯t mention that to Sean. I have a feeling it would not bode well for any of us.¡± I extend my menu toward her. ¡°I¡¯ll take my usual, please.¡±Grabbing the menu, she gives me a wink. ¡°On it, and don¡¯t forget you promised me that first haircut.¡±¡°It¡¯s a date,¡± I say, just as Sean snaps an ¡°order up!¡±¡°I think you¡¯re being summoned,¡± I draw out, unable to help my grin.¡°Which is idiotic¡±¡ªshe elevates her voice for Sean¡ª¡°considering that¡¯s not at all how we do it here!¡± She rolls her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll be back.¡±My cell rings just as I spot Kayley approaching in my peripheral. Lifting it, I see Mom¡¯s calling just as Kayley makes it to my table. I lift a finger to keep her idle as I answer.¡°Hey, Mom.¡± I roll my eyes suggestively down Kayley as she not so subtly brushes her bare thigh against my arm. ¡°I¡¯m kind of in the middle of some¡ª¡±¡°Tyler,¡± Mom croaks. At the sound of it, I go rigid, and Kayley¡¯s brows draw, sensing the shift in me.¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±¡°I . . . your father and I have been in an ident.¡±Already on my feet, I ce some cash on the table, shooting Kayley an apologetic look before hauling ass out the door and onto Main Street. Bypassing a few trick-or-treaters with bags and buckets in hand, I round the corner of the red-brick building, plugging my open ear. ¡°What happened?¡±¡°We were out running errands, and your father lost control of the wheel.¡±¡°Are you okay?¡±¡°I¡¯m a little banged up, but I¡¯m okay. The doctor is releasing me now.¡±¡°Is Dad¡ª¡±¡°Tyler,¡± she interjects as dread settles low in my gut. A gust of freezing air hits me as I run my palm down my face.¡°What, Mom, what?¡± I ask, seeing the anguish in his expression when we faced off before shooting up a fast prayer that it¡¯s not thest memory I¡¯ll have of him¡ªwith him.¡°He¡¯s in jail,¡± she rys tearfully as my fear immediately morphs into fury. ¡°No one else got hurt,¡± she adds quickly.But it¡¯s what she¡¯s not saying and the implications of it that has my mind racing as the full weight of what¡¯s happening settles in.¡°Why was he driving in the first ce?¡± The question feels like leading off my tongue as lividity fills me. Whatever exnation she gives is drowned out by the blood that starts to pulse in my ears. Any excuse won¡¯t be good enough. Only the truth that my dad was drunk and got arrested for DUI.The rest of the unspoken fear in her voice is due to what the more damning consequences could be aside from the legal mess and possible jail time. Her genuine fear is that this isn¡¯t or won¡¯t be Dad¡¯s rock bottom.No, this is just the heads-up that it¡¯sing, and we both know why.Chances are Carter Jennings¡¯s most recent fuckup just ended his twenty-year career as a US Marine.¡°I¡¯m on my way home.¡±* * *Mom sits in a chair in the living room, silent tears trickling down her bruised cheek. A goose egg now sits fully formed at her right temple, both of her wrists taped. Sitting on the couch opposite her, I take in every detail, my rage festering and threatening to take over as I bristle across from her in wait. Uncle Gray had called in a favor with one of his cop buddies¡ªthe favor allowing him to post bail before Dad had to serve the required time in the drunk tank. They¡¯re due any minute, but I can¡¯t help but address my mom as the seconds tick down.¡°Mom¡ª¡±¡°I know what you¡¯re about to say,¡± she sniffs, gently blotting away her tears, ¡°and I¡¯m asking you not to.¡±¡°Please, Mom. Please just leave him. He¡¯s not going to get any better. Things are just going to get worse.¡±Pushing the ottoman sitting at the foot of her chair to the side, I take a knee before her and gently grip her hands in mine.¡°I¡¯ll help pay the bills.¡± A sob bursts from her with my offer. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever you need me to. It¡¯s been you and me for so long anyway.¡± I squeeze her hands. ¡°We can make it work without him. At least until you get on your feet.¡±¡°Enough,¡± she clips, her return gaze ring in warning.My own temper res at the sight of it. ¡°Jesus Christ, Mom. Look in the mirror. He could have killed you!¡±¡°Stop,¡± she whispers, ¡°just stop.¡±Releasing her hands, I shake my head in aggravation.¡°Why are you taking it easy on him?¡± I shout. ¡°The man has condemned everyone in this house for the slightest fuckup. We got no mercy, did we? Why should he get away with this? With any of it.¡±¡°Tyler stop!¡±¡°No, you deserve better. He¡¯s a piece of fucking shit for cheating on you¡ª¡±Mom raises her hand to strike me, and I visibly flinch, gaping at her ready hand, her brown eyes piercing me as venom spews from her mouth.¡°Don¡¯t you ever talk about your father like that again. My marriage is none of your goddamn business, do you hear me? Stay out of it!¡±In that moment, as I study my mother¡¯s poised hand, ready to strike her son because she doesn¡¯t want to hear the truthe out of his mouth, I decide that, in the future, when ites to matters of the heart, I¡¯ll never make anyone else¡¯s rtionship my fucking business.¡°Tyler.¡± Uncle Grayson¡¯s voice sounds from the entryway before we both turn to see Dad and Uncle Gray standing feet away. Front door still open, their collective expressions tell us they didn¡¯t miss a word of our exchange.¡°So, this is how it is, huh?¡± Palming the ottoman, I slowly stand, sharing my re between my parents. Silent, damning seconds pass as Dad slowly sweeps Mom, missing none of it¡ªnot the bruises, bandage, or the tears streaming down her cheeks before his eyes lower.¡°You want me to stay out of it, Mom? Consider it done,¡± I clip out bitterly, ¡°I¡¯mpletely fucking done.¡±Mom gasps my name, and I scowl down at her, betrayal coating my voice. ¡°He¡¯s all yours, Mrs. Jennings . . . and you fucking deserve each other.¡±Mom cups her mouth as I barrel out of the living room, mming the garage door on my way out, feeling the finality of it.Pressing past all threatening emotions, instead, I shift my focus to my future, on my brothers, and our game n. It¡¯s all I have left and all that matters.Once outside the garage, I start at a dead run, speeding toward a future that¡¯s beginning to take shape, the edges of the map bing more defined with each step. I race toward it by order of the host of the silver-gray eyes that inexplicably have been calling to me like a beacon. A beacon that fills my chest with a slight glimmer of something that feels a little like hope.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 13

    <span>¡°Two days EARLY,¡± Tyler reports, short of breath, chest heaving, sweat pouring from him as he lifts several stic bags for my inspection. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and sneakers, his dark brown hairys scattered and stered to his crown.¡°And where are my books?¡± I eye him spectively while taking the haul I ordered him to bring once he was finished with his curriculum.¡°Still on loan, for now, okay?¡± He scrapes his bottom lip with his teeth, a flicker of something passing in his brown eyes, too brief to decipher.¡°Fine, you may be early, but did you shower in your clothes beforeing here?¡±Tyler opens his mouth just as Dom stalks into the kitchen, an empty coffee mug in hand, his inquiry the same as he scours Tyler¡¯s disheveled appearance. ¡°The fuck happened to you?¡±¡°I ran to the store and back,¡± Tyler reports to us both before ncing at me. ¡°Only a mile and a half, but I¡¯m getting there.¡±Dom pours his coffee, looking between us, his typical unimpressed expression epassing his face. His obvious disdain for me much too ingrained to pose the question budding in his eyes as I dump the bags¡¯ contents on the table and address him. ¡°Drinking too much of that may stunt your growth,¡± I warn.I nce over as he pointedly eyes the pint of vodka on the table while obnoxiously slurping his coffee.¡°You have school tomorrow,¡± I remind him.He poses his question to Tyler instead. ¡°What is this?¡±¡°You know what it is,¡± I retort while pulling the toy soldiers from their packaging. ¡°I yed with Ezekiel many times before he left for France.¡±¡°Bullshit,¡± Dom clips out, eyeing the soldiers. ¡°When?¡±I hesitate in answering as I search my memory and can¡¯t recall a single time Dominic was present when we yed. My mind forever failing me.¡°Maybe . . . it was when you were still dirtying all your clothes by hanging from the trees with Sean,¡± I joke.¡°Your memory iscking as usual, Tatie,¡± he drawls out, ¡°I¡¯ve never had good clothes.¡±¡°But they do still hang from the trees,¡± Tyler inserts, an obvious attempt to cut the tension¡ªa tactic Sean also often uses when Dom is in one of his moods. Moods he refuses to allow anyone to overlook, especially me.¡°While this looks riveting,¡± Dom spouts, ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡± He turns to Tyler. ¡°Give me a ride to the library?¡±¡°Sorry, man, Mom¡¯s using the van tonight,¡± Tyler replies, lowering his eyes, his lie detectable even as he checks his watch. ¡°Library¡¯s closing soon anyway¡ª¡± Tyler cuts himself off, and I nce over to see it¡¯s because of Dom¡¯s hostile return expression.I hold my eye roll and unpackage more soldiers as they silentlymunicate behind my back as if I¡¯m dense enough not to know the library is not Dom¡¯s true destination.This is only confirmed when Dom opens a cab and grabs a box of cereal bars and arge bag of chips. I say nothing about the fact that he¡¯s packing groceries and haven¡¯t since Dom unleashed his wrath on me not long after Ezekiel left.¡°Just because you eat the minimum piece of toast at 2 a.m. to make sure you don¡¯t dull too much of your buzz doesn¡¯t mean no one else in the house needs to fucking eat!¡±He mmed his bedroom door in my face just after, his venom-filled ¡°selfish bitch¡± carrying through the barrier before he clicked on his stereo to mute any reply I might have.Since that night, I have not allowed the cabs to go bare, making sure there is something for him to easily cook and eat. The hours I spent in the bath with my bottle that night were some of my worst. My biased memory refuses to allow me to forget that night or any other in which I am reminded of my failure with my nephews.¡°I hate her.¡±¡°Shh, Dom, she¡¯ll hear you,¡± Tobias scolds.¡°I don¡¯t care. I hate her. I hope she dies.¡±Their hushed whispers from years ago fill my ears as I watch Dom gather and pack more food. Where he brings his small bounties to or to whom remains a mystery.¡°I could drive you,¡± I offer, just as he turns to reply to Tyler.¡°All good. See you tomorrow, man.¡±¡°It¡¯s no trouble for me to drive you,¡± I call after him as he stalks toward the front door.¡°y with your little stic soldiers, Tatie,¡± he scoffs, ¡°I¡¯d rather not have the fucking town drunk chauffeuring me.¡±His insult reaches me just as he ms the storm door behind him so hard that both Tyler and I flinch.Fury fills me as I take a step toward the front door and still myself, fighting both my will and tongue not to go after him. The same battle I¡¯ve been in for years since his brother¡¯s departure. It¡¯s Ezekiel¡¯s parting words before he left for France that continually stop me.¡°Treat him well. He¡¯s immune to you now. Things won¡¯t change overnight, but if you remain the same, he¡¯ll fall in line. Do this, and you will have earned my trust.¡±Five long yearster, I still have not managed to gain an inch of ground to stand on where Jean Dominic is concerned. That truth more evident than ever as his contemptuous parting words linger in the house.¡°I never drive when I drink,¡± I tell Tyler, who¡¯s staring at the ground between us, his posture tense. ¡°That is a lie, Tyler,¡± I insist.Tyler¡¯s eyes shoot to mine in search as if he wants to believe my words as mortification heats my neck and cheeks.¡°Turn on some music,¡± I order Tyler to divert his probing gaze as the burning increases. ¡°ssical only.¡± I nod toward the radio sitting on the kitchen counter next to my canisters.¡°On it,¡± Tyler says, walking into the kitchen as I turn back to the table full of soldiers. Humiliation continues to batter me and has me calling out another order as Tyler shuffles through a few radio stations.¡°Divide each of our battalions into three hundred,¡± I instruct, snatching my bottle from the counter. ¡°I will be back.¡±¡°Will do,¡± he replies, keeping his eyes lowered.¡°Prepare yourself, private. You are going to war,¡± I call over my shoulder with false bravado, racing toward my bedroom. Bracing myself against the closed door, I bite into my forearm, releasing my idle tears, the relief slight and fleeting as I muffle my cries while focusing on the pain.After several paralyzing minutes, I decide on a quick scrub to attempt to take some of the lingering sting away.Turning on the faucet, I set the water temperature to as hot as I can tolerate and unscrew my bottle, taking several mouthfuls of drink. With my focus fixed on the flow of water from the jagged faucet, mixed whispers traverse back to me.¡°I wish she would die.¡±¡°Selfish bitch.¡±¡°I hate her.¡±Unzipping my robe, I submerse myself into the steaming water as the images and voices collide in their punishing, perpetual blur.The boiling water further heats my skin, sweat gathering at my temples as I run my palms over the top of the steaming surface, Matis¡¯s words seeping into me as I begin my soak.¡°Cleanliness draws God¡¯s attention. You must keep your body free of filth to allow God to cleanse your mind and heart so he will wash you of your sins.¡±Scrubbing my skin, I send up my ritual prayer as my eyes catch on a sagging patch of ceiling. I stare and stare, zeroing in on the brown tint, the same hue as the polished wood grain on Celine¡¯s coffin.Staring at the twin graves before me, I pull at the loose thread at the hip of my dress and wind it around my finger, stopping the flow of blood until it numbs. Wishing I had brought my bottle, the task ahead fills me with terror.A task written in the spilled blood of Celine and Beau King¡ªto raise their sons from boys to men.The haze then reveals a memory of a night not long after their funeral¡ªof an exchange that continues to gue me daily.¡°I don¡¯t want to be a mother,¡± I whisper to eleven-year-old Ezekiel before his firelit eyes condemn me.¡°Then don¡¯t. I¡¯ll feed him. I¡¯ll bathe him. I¡¯ll walk him to school. You don¡¯t touch him, don¡¯t yell at him. I¡¯ll do it all.¡±And I let him.Failing my sister.Failing her husband.Failing their sons.Failing. Failing. Failing.¡°Delphine,¡± Ormand whispers at my back just as I grip Jean Dominic and Ezekiel¡¯s hands to start to usher them out of the cemetery. ¡°Please don¡¯t shut me out,¡± he croaks.Stilling, I feel Ezekiel¡¯s eyes on me as I keep mine forward, focused on the swaying line of trees ahead of us.¡°Tatie, your hand is shaking,¡± Dominic squeaks from beneath me before Tobias shushes him, and Ormand¡¯s plea reaches me.¡°Delphine, please¡ª¡±¡°Go back to France, Ormand. I have nothing left to give you.¡±The strangled noise he made when I cruelly dismissed him still haunts and confuses me. Confusion for the disdain and hostility I felt for him when I woke in that hospital bed.Ormand, whom I trusted over all in¡¯s men. Who was a friend and support¡ªwhose pain remains with me after I cast him out of my life, unsure of why his presence no longer held anyfort but instead repulsed me. Ormand, who waited for me in hopes of more for the entire length of my marriage, only to be exiled from my life and heart as Beau¡¯s and Celine¡¯s coffins lowered. The loss of him feeling like another death to mourn.Discarding my washcloth, I sink beneath the surface of the water. The world beneath no different than the world above. Words just as muffled and the faces just as blurry as I lose time, days, and minutes as I have since I woke that night, mere months before Beau and Celine were murdered.In need of breath, I surface just before a sharp knock jerks me to sit, reminding me I¡¯m not alone in the house. Focusing on the knob, I jump when Tyler¡¯s voice sounds from the other side of it.¡°Delphine?¡± Tyler knocks again. ¡°I¡¯m ready for you.¡±How long have I been in the bath?Lifting my hands, my pruned fingers tell me some time has passed.Time, which many im is a healer, has been anything but for me. My underwater mind refusing me of all forward progress while making a goddamned fool of me.It¡¯s the haze that works against me, blurring my days and weeks. The haze which muddles my memories, bringing me back and to, confusing me, paralyzing me. Even as I cleanse myself over and over for God, seeking His attention, my prayers for rity are never heard¡ªrefused. My sins too many to cleanse, to garner His attention.¡°Delphine? You okay in there?¡±¡°I need . . .¡±Eyeing my bedroom doorknob from the tub, I squint to see it start to turn. Capping my bottle, I rise slowly from the water, grabbing my towel and palming it over my chest. ¡°Tyler, do note in!¡±¡°I¡¯m not . . . I-I wouldn¡¯t.¡± His confusion has me blinking to realize the knob has not turned by a fraction.Get it together, Delphine, and get rid of the boy!Because that¡¯s all he is, a boy. A harmless boy.It¡¯s my fear that sneaks its way in as I keep focused on the knob.Boys turn into men.¡°How could you leave me to raise what I despise?¡±The hem of my towel soaks as it dances along the top of the water as I remain paralyzed by fear in the corner of the tub. My eyes transfixed on the cheap brass knob with the worthless lock.¡°Delphine?¡±¡°I need five minutes!¡±¡°Sounds good,¡± Tyler calls back as I rip my eyes from the knob and sip the bottle until the fear starts to slither away, coiling itself back into the darkest part of my water-drenched mind¡ªreadying itself for the next time.Unplugging the drain, I retrieve what¡¯s left of my bottle, capping it before redressing in my robe. Tugging down my sleeves, I clear my eyes before walking out to dismiss Tyler. I cannot possibly help him and am in no position to do so. Whatever this foolish boy seeks or sees in me is delusion.Opening my mouth to send him home, the words are muted when I see Tyler has aligned our individual armies perfectly on opposite sides of the table. The sight of it sparks a distant excitement inside me¡ªa flicker of a simpler time.Of a time when I was brave. Before the haze and blur. A wee feeling in exchange for fear and confusion. It¡¯s when I take in the expression of the wide-eyed boy, eyes patient and imploring, which seek my approval, that I falter, unable to deny him.¡°This is very good,¡± Ipliment as I lift one of the soldiers, brushing my fingers over it.¡°I think I see where you¡¯re going with this, Yoda,¡± he jokes enthusiastically in an effort to appease me. Kind. Always so kind.¡°Do you?¡± I reply, hearing the lingering shake in my voice, willing the burning inside my chest to subside as the numb starts to take hold, relieving me.¡°It¡¯s a game I have yed since I was very young . . . Bataille,¡± I whisper.¡°Battle,¡± Tyler trantes easily as he scans the soldiers. ¡°If I would have known this is what I was prepping for, I would have cut off a few more days.¡±I roll my eyes at his arrogance. ¡°You will not be so smug when I take your army down, private.¡±My threat does not deter him as he lifts one of his soldiers. ¡°So, who taught you?¡±¡°Matis.¡± I slide into the chair opposite of him.¡°Matis?¡±¡°My father,¡± I rify, to which he gives me a forlorn nod. Tyler ran here tonight, and by the look of him, it seems he did not n toe. As I scrutinize him, that truth bes more obvious. He has not yet memorized the books but came to seek refuge from his life at home.Stupid boy. What refuge could he possibly see in me?In needing and seeking my own escape, I decide not to reject him.¡°What?¡± He peers over at me, realizing how closely I¡¯m watching him.¡°Study your opponent,¡± I instruct. ¡°Memorize them. In every exchange, look for tells, for lies, and most important, for weakness.¡±He nods quickly¡ªtoo quickly¡ªand I¡¯m unsure if he heeds my warning.¡°So, T yed this?¡± he asks, positioning his men, his question because of his affection and bond with Ezekiel.¡°Yes, and he was very, very good.¡±¡°Challenge epted,¡± he draws out. ¡°Did he ever beat you?¡±¡°Never,¡± I ry with a grin, pushing up my sleeves so as not to knock any of my soldiers over. It¡¯s when Tyler stills that I look up to see his gaze locked on my forearm. I follow his focus to see the angry red teeth marks and the surrounding swollen skin before quickly pulling my sleeves back down.¡°Ezekiel was a very skilled,¡± I continue, ¡°very wise opponent,¡± I manage without shake before unscrewing the cap of my bottle.¡°Well, this¡±¡ªhis tone lifts to match mine¡ª¡°right here is my task to master,¡± he informs me with no shortage of ambition. One I don¡¯t dismiss easily this time.Instead, I nod in silent confirmation, fully aware of Ezekiel¡¯s ns.ns my oldest nephew is now putting into motion with Ormand¡¯s help¡ªthe first contact I gave him when hended in France. My intention for making that connection is to help aid Ezekiel in his quest to do what I didn¡¯t¡ªavenge Celine and Beau.Another of my failures that Ezekiel took upon himself to rectify. More weight thatys heavily on my soul, but weight I¡¯m thankful for.¡°Delphine?¡± Tyler drawls. ¡°Where did you go?¡±¡°Shh,¡± I whisper, ¡°know your enemy.¡±I focus on my new and willing opponent as he does the same. An opponent that, in truth, is an ally, eager to take on a part of Ezekiel and Dominic¡¯s quest. Tyler seems to catch on as he stares right back at me, raising his chin, unflinching.It¡¯s in Tyler¡¯s unwavering gaze that I allow myself to think mentoring him could be another chance to do my part¡ªto honor Celine. A chance for vengeance that the haze denied me. A chance that Dominic continues to refuse me. Maybe with true effort, Tyler will grant me the ability to right some of my wrongs. A start that I¡¯ve attempted for years while fighting through the haze and numbing with drink.To try.¡°Let¡¯s begin.¡±

 Severed Heart: Chapter 14

    STALKING DOWN THE mostly vacant hall to meet Dom¡ªwho summoned me by text¡ªI catch the heated whispers as they escte, pinpointing exactly who¡¯s exchanging them as I round the corner.¡°Fucking snitch,¡± Sean spits venomously just before throwing his mid-evil right hook. In an instant, I¡¯m at Dom¡¯s side as Sean takes one of his own defensive linemen to the floor. Their beef having started in middle school over some stupid bullshit. This means that given any reason or chance ke Spellman gives Sean to keep the feud going, Sean takes it.Sean and ke¡¯s brawl starts to escte, their sneakers squeaking loudly while their collective grunts intensify. The sound of their scuffle muting Mrs. Hill¡¯s English lit lecture just outside her ssroom door.It¡¯s when a few lingering students take notice and start to walk in our direction to watch the spectacle that Dom gives Sean the heads-up.¡°Wrap it up, or the only balls you¡¯ll be ying with Friday are your own,¡± Dom snarks, arms crossed, his menacing grin in ce as we watch Sean dominate the fight, throwing punch after punch, already the victor.¡°What¡¯s this one about?¡± I ask, wincing at the shot Sean just took to his ribs, knowing it¡¯s going to sting like a bitchter.In lieu of an answer, Dom steps forward or rather stomps forward, his step subtle but purposeful as he slowly inches the rest of himself toward his idle boot. The sight of it has me perking as I gauge the satisfied look in Dom¡¯s eyes.Something¡¯s up.¡°You¡¯re good, bro. I think he got the message,¡± Dom says, as I roll my eyes, knowing better, before pulling Sean off ke. Spellman jumps from the ancient, overly polished white tile, ncing around to see who witnessed his ass whooping. Pride battered, ke wipes his mouth, spitting venom at Sean through bloodced teeth.¡°The fuck, Roberts? The fuck are you talking about, snitch?¡±¡°Rat me out to Coach again, I fucking dare you,¡± Sean barks in warning before Mrs. Hill¡¯s door opens, and the small group of students that gathered to watch the fight start to scatter. A secondter, she nails Dom with a ready re.¡°Do we have a problem here, Mr. King?¡± She shifts her focus to me. ¡°Mr. Jennings? Mr. Roberts, do the three of you not have somewhere to be?¡±¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± I state as Dom keeps nted firmly in ce.¡°Mr. Spellman,¡± she calls after ke¡¯s retreating back.¡°Do we need to take this conversation elsewhere?ke waves his hand, not bothering to turn around. ¡°All good.¡±Mrs. Hill gives each of us a pointed look as she speaks. ¡°I suggest you three get back to ss before I find both a problem and a ce for you all to be.¡±¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Sean says, giving her a flirtatious grin and salute before righting his vintage Batman T-shirt. It¡¯s when Dom nods in agreement instead of popping off that I know something is definitely up.It¡¯s confirmed a secondter when Mrs. Hill snaps her door shut, and Dom drops, retrieving and carefully cupping the prize under his boot before disposing of it in Sean¡¯s waiting hand. A hand he promptly closes into a tight fist as Dom barks his order. ¡°Hit the shop and get it back to me before sixth period.¡±¡°On it.¡± Sean shoots me a wink before sauntering off in the direction Spellman went, calling after ke in taunt. ¡°Come back, snitchy. Daddy needs a word.¡±¡°The hell?¡± I ask as Dom strides off, a smug smile blooming on his face at my confusion when I fall in step next to him.¡°Can you borrow your mom¡¯s van tonight?¡± He asks.¡°Probably, yeah.¡±¡°Good. Pick us up at midnight.¡±I pause my footing. ¡°That¡¯s past curfew.¡±¡°Then get grounded,¡± he calls back to me, ¡°it¡¯ll be worth it.¡±Sighing, I decide it¡¯s better for now not to ask, especially since Dom¡¯s in a theatrical mood. Not long after the clock strikes twelve, the three of us are creeping to the other side of town in Mom¡¯s minivan. Cam¡¯ron¡¯s ¡°Ki Cam¡± ys in the background before I cut it off and park where Dom instructs. When the three of us sit idle for a few long seconds, blocks away from an open-gated industrialplex that houses three buildings, I finally demand my exnation.¡°Speak,¡± I state before Dom rips his gaze from one of the buildings and turns to me.¡°We¡¯re going shopping,¡± he states matter-of-factly.¡°For?¡± I ask as Dom gets out, grabbing the packed duffle he brought. Sean and I follow suit, shivering at the change in temp, as Dom bends, unzipping the bag at our collective feet.¡°Love to your mom and all,¡± Dom starts, pulling out three ski masks.¡°So much love for Regina,¡± Sean interjects, palming his heart before sliding it down to cup his junk. I waste no time thumping his ear as hard as possible. His features pinch in pain before they disappear behind his ski mask when he pulls it down, cocking his head. ¡°Was that absolutely necessary?¡±¡°Yes,¡± I state, pulling my own mask on along with the gloves Dom supplies next.¡°Your mom isva fucking hot, bro,¡± Sean quips as he pulls on a glove, ¡°deal with it. God knows I want to.¡±¡°Like I was saying,¡± Dom snaps to shut Sean up, grabbing a few more masks and pairs of gloves from the open duffle before tossing it back into the van and closing the door. ¡°Love to Mom for the loan, but I¡¯m growing tired of the minivan.¡± He turns to Sean. ¡°Got it?¡±Sean produces a key from his jeans and hands it to Dom.¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯m getting?¡± I ask as the three of us start to creep toward theplex, a shiver running up my spine. This fall has been unseasonably cold, with a few nights of early snowfall, some dropping below dead of winter temperatures. This proves to be an advantage for us¡ªat least for tonight. The frigid cold no doubt responsible for theck of life at theplex and surrounding neighborhood.¡°So, this n is sound?¡± I ask Dom, eyeing the extra masks and gloves in his hands.¡°As it can be, though I enlisted help.¡±As if aware of my question of who, a distant ¡°ca-caw¡± sounds from blocks away, and Dom chuckles in response.¡°Really fucking discreet,¡± I snap, knowing it could only be Russell. I¡¯m proven right when, minutester, he appears, dressed in ck like the rest of us as instructed, and he¡¯s not alone.¡°The fuck is going on?¡± I ask, hackles rising as Russell sidles up to us with ease, with a guy who looks around our age, brown hair and eyes, average build, wearing a dopey smile.¡°Tyler, this is Jeremy,¡± Russell introduces. ¡°This is the recruit I¡¯ve been telling you about, remember?¡±¡°Probably not. Tyler¡¯s been distracted ying with little stic soldiers on school nights,¡± Dom supplies as I re at the side of his head before scouring Jeremy.¡°Sup, man,¡± Jeremy greets me, his tone tentative.¡°Hey, man,¡± I say, feeling awkward as fuck about the impromptu meeting while bing more ill at ease at the fact I¡¯m clueless as to what¡¯s going on.¡°We can finish the meet and greetter.¡± Dom jumps in, sensing my apprehension. ¡°Russell, Jeremy, you two head over first and try the lock,¡± Dommands, as if he¡¯s been doing this his whole life. Extending the masks and gloves to them, he then lifts the key for Russell. ¡°We¡¯ll watch your six.¡±¡°Six?¡± Jeremy mimics in clear confusion as he pulls his mask down.¡°It means to watch your back,¡± Russell supplies, taking the key after gloving up.¡°Shit, sorry, dumbass,¡± Jeremy says through a self-deprecating chuckle. It¡¯s clear he¡¯s nervous, which makes me even more so. It¡¯s my trust in Dom that curbs some of the edge I¡¯m feeling.Dom, Sean, and I stay back, scanning theplex and surrounding streets as I front them out while Jeremy and Russell creep toward one of the buildings.¡°The fuck? You nned this without me?¡± I hiss.¡°Not really,¡± Dom says,pletely at ease. ¡°Think of it more as an early Christmas present.¡±¡°You know damn well I¡¯m not the one to move on shit without knowing the n.¡±Dom palms my shoulder. ¡°This is impromptu, brother. We didn¡¯t know if we would be able to get the key.¡±It strikes me then how we¡¯re gaining ess to the building and why. The key I now know belongs to ke Spellman. The why is because he works for his dad, who provides car parts¡ªmany custom¡ªfor garages and shops in and out of Triple Falls.¡°You had him start a fucking fight to pocket that key,¡± I surmise.¡°If I had started it,¡± Dom spouts, ¡°it wouldn¡¯t be believable, and that key ring is now tucked safely back in ke¡¯s pocket thanks to some unexpected consoling from Ginger after school. Nothing heavy.¡±Ginger is Dom¡¯s on-again, off-again hookup and has been since middle school.¡°Fight was happening anyway because he did rat me out to Coach,¡± Sean pipes as the door opens, and Russell and Jeremy wave us over.¡°We lucked out he had the key on him,¡± Sean adds as the three of us sprint through the darkest part of the path to get to the door. My adrenaline spikes as Dom locks it, and the three of us begin to scout the office for security cameras, relieved when wee up empty.¡°All clear,¡± Dom sounds out before opening the door, which leads to therger part of the building. The space is the size of a small warehouse, which Russell and Jeremy are already scouring.¡°This is the warehouse Spellman¡¯s dad uses to keep the vintage parts he sells for mad money online. Merry fucking Christmas.¡± Dom grins, holding the door open for Sean, who ps Dom¡¯s chest in celebration as he passes.¡°Fucking genius, bro.¡± Sean beams, stopping just past the door as I follow him. ¡°And totally worth the loose mr,¡± he adds, eyes sparkling as he tightens his gloves with his fingers in anticipation. ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, boys, I¡¯m going to collect my winnings before I go grab a good night kiss from Tyler¡¯s mommy.¡±Sean barely dodges my swing before jogging over to join Russell and Jeremy. I watch the three of them for a few seconds as Dom walks back into the office, gazing out the window to make sure we got in undetected.¡°So, Jeremy?¡± I prompt as Dom thumbs through a few papers on a nearby desk.¡°Transnt,¡± he says, ¡°checked out of Raleigh a few months back.¡±¡°Checked out?¡±¡°Boys home,¡± Dom says, stalking over to join me at the door. ¡°He¡¯s no mechanic, but he¡¯s really good with his hands.¡± He pitches his voice into the warehouse. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Jeremy?¡±Jeremy nods, his mask already lifted to his forehead before he reaches into his jeans and lifts a wallet.My fucking wallet.¡°The fuck?¡± I say, palming my back pocket in shock as Jeremy saunters over, giving me a sheepish grin.¡°Sorry, man¡±¡ªhe nods towards Dom¡ª¡°his idea. It¡¯s all still there.¡± He pats my shoulder. ¡°Thanks for letting me in on this.¡±Before I can tell him I had nothing to do with it, he runs back over to help Russell.¡°Shit,¡± I whisper, utterly shocked at how he managed to pickpocket me. ¡°I didn¡¯t feel a thing. How the fuck did he even get close enough?¡±¡°Talent,¡± Dom quips with a pleased grin before he lowers his voice, canting his head toward me. ¡°He¡¯s been surfing from dumpsters to sidewalks, sleeping in any hole he can climb into, and robbing only when he has to, to try and keep from getting picked up again. He¡¯ll do anything to avoid being tossed back into the system. He came to the garage a month ago asking Russell if we needed help, but has no experience. Russell¡¯s been talking to him since, and he¡¯s been hanging around King¡¯s for a few weeks now.¡±Dom crosses his arms, leaning against the door before turning to me.¡°I¡¯ve checked him out, bro. I swear I vetted him thoroughly. He¡¯s had it rough¡±¡ªhe stares back at Jeremy¡ª¡°really fucking rough, but he¡¯s willing to put in the time to learn to be a mechanic. I thought¡±¡ªhe shrugs¡ª¡°if it works out, we could consider putting him on payroll. We need another full-timer anyway, and he can work every day. What do you think?¡±I eye Jeremy. ¡°Yeah, I mean, I want to talk to him first, feel him out myself, but yeah, I trust your judgment.¡±¡°It¡¯s time to build our nest, and what better way to induct him than have him incriminating himself with us?¡± Dom chuckles.Sensing our conversation, Jeremy lifts his eyes, volleying them back and forth between the two of us with what I know is guarded hope. It¡¯s then that I feel the inclination to speak up. ¡°Didn¡¯t Sean just put an old couch in themercial bay for his hookups?¡±Dom turns to me. ¡°Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Didn¡¯t know if it was too soon.¡±I lean over, eyeing Jeremy. ¡°It might bnce the scales, right? Maybe enough so Santa won¡¯t cross us off his list before Christmas Eve.¡±¡°Fuck Santa,¡± Dom snarks, walking backward into the warehouse, his silver eyes dancing, ¡°we¡¯re going to make him look like a stingy, irrelevant fuck.¡±I can¡¯t help but chuckle as I trail him to join the rest of our growing nest. Ironically, that night, aftermitting my first punishable offense and after a thorough tongueshing from Mom for breaking curfew¡ªwhich seemedughable in contrast¡ªI slept like the dead. But I woke up with a smile, spending my shower reying the events ofst night in detail, realizing Dom made our induction to a life of criminality utterly painless.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 15

    WINTER 2004¡°TYLER!¡± DAD BARKS from the front door, the jingle of the merry little bundle of bells Mom has hanging on the knob distorted in delivery as he ms it.In the weeks since both our confrontations, my parents have been avoiding me more and more. Probably because when they do meet my eyes, I never let them forget what they¡¯re doing to each other and to me, refusing to live their lie.It¡¯s their decision to live with and my punishment to bear witness to the slow, painful desecration of their ideas of one another.¡°Tyler!¡± the man I once knew as my father hollers as he smacks into the wall next to my door before his heavy footfalls resume on the hardwoods. His mud-covered bootse into view before he stumbles inside my bedroom, tripping on nothing but alcoholism and bitterness.As feared, Dad¡¯s DUI had him discharged from the Corps¡ªthough honorably, in consideration of his decades of service. Now seen as a liability, they cut him loose. I wasn¡¯t given any more details than that because I didn¡¯t ask. As far as I¡¯m concerned, there¡¯s no conversation to have. Unapologetically back to his old habits mere weeks after histest and most detrimental fuckup, he¡¯s more unbearable than ever.Closing my book, I passively stare up at him, feigning confusion while knowing he¡¯s spoiling for the fight he couldn¡¯t find at the bar. Chances are Brian threw him out after I failed to retrieve him¡ªa call I purposefully ignored.¡°Why the fuck didn¡¯t you pick me up?¡±¡°Mom spent half the morning cleaning the floors,¡± I divert as he charges in further, failing to get the flinch he so desperately wants from me.¡°Yeah? Good on her. And what the fuck did you do today that was productive?¡± His delivery is a mix of spit and slur as he sizes me up.¡°I attended school, which is age appropriate considering I¡¯m a senior in high school, and worked my shift at the garage after. You?¡±Tension and fury radiate from him as he leers at me from only a foot away.¡°Maybe I¡¯ll take the fucking truck away,¡± he threatens.¡°That would be pointless because it¡¯s not running yet, and you can¡¯t take what you don¡¯t own.¡±¡°Yeah? Well, I own the fucking roof currently over your head!¡±I don¡¯t mince words. ¡°Are you kicking me out?¡±¡°Did I fucking say I was?¡±Mom predictablyes to my aid, appearing in the doorframe, shoulders slumped when she sees the state of her floor before her eyes frantically dart between us. I firmly shake my head at her just as she opens her mouth to speak. It¡¯s a clich¨¦ situation, and sadly, the solution for me lies in enlisting the second I turn eighteen. Arge part of me wishes I could leave now, but it would only shift his focus and wrath on her. With his rapid spiral, I refuse to do it¡ªnot even to spare myself. Though, she hasn¡¯t extended the same courtesy. Swallowing the litany of insults I want to hurl at him, and in seeing Mom¡¯s state, I go diplomatic.¡°I¡¯m sorry, Dad. I¡¯ll pick you up next time. I grilled tonight and left a te for you on the counter.¡±Dad¡¯s lips peel back as he res at my books. ¡°You won¡¯t be no fancy college boy. We can¡¯t afford it.¡±¡°I have no ns of attending Harvard.¡±I just have to test well enough to enlist. A subject I¡¯ll no longer broach with him, nor any other, since he endangered my mother¡¯s life.¡°If you do go, you¡¯re going state because Uncle Sam is gonna pay. He fucking owes me.¡±Annoyed that his belligerent ass isn¡¯t understanding that I¡¯m not arguing with him, I nod. ¡°Hungry? Let¡¯s get you fed.¡±Grabbing my new cell phone from my dresser¡ªanother early Christmas present from Tobias¡ªDad tosses it on the book in myp, failing, yet again, to get his wanted flinch. One which would require a modicum of respect and fear I no longer have when ites to him. Instead, I lift my chin in defiance as he does his worst to best me while making sure he fucking fails.¡°The next time I fucking call you, you answer. Do you hear me?¡±¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. I¡¯ll do better,¡± I utter in a lifeless, rehearsed tone.¡°Don¡¯t fucking patronize me,¡± he snaps, lifting a finger less than an inch from my nose. Fury begins to build inside me as I take a few cleansing breaths. The only upside to his nightly tirades, in which he now targets me, is the practice of controlling my rage with Delphine¡¯s breathing techniques.¡°I¡¯ll do better, be better,¡± I recite. ¡°I¡¯ll be a man you can be proud of, sir.¡±He weighs my words, knowing I no longer mean them. ncing over his shoulder at Mom, he turns his back to me.¡°Look at what you raised, Regina. Arrogant, disrespectful, and smug. Aren¡¯t you fucking proud?¡±Tears brim in Mom¡¯s eyes as he crashes past her before they focus on mine, shining with an unspoken apology for subjecting us both to his slow, toxic implosion.The minute Dad passes out, I text Dom, push into my sneakers, and grab the bag from my dresser on my way out. Stalking through the house, I¡¯m stopped short by the sight of Mom putting thest of the glittering decorations on the tree. Her attempt in resurrecting the familiar d¨¦cor tonight an obvious Hail Mary. Her underlying hope to spark some nostalgia while knowing she has no semnce of family left to host.Trying to slip out undetected, I fail when Mom spots me sneaking through the kitchen toward the garage, calling my name in summons. As I approach, she reaches into a shoe box before thrusting a familiar decoration toward me.¡°First grade,¡± she boasts, as I eye the ancient artwork I constructed with craft paper and cotton balls. ¡°Come on,¡± she drawls, nudging me, ¡°you always put it on the tree.¡±¡°That was then,¡± I say, refusing to buy into the charade as I turn and stalk toward the front door.¡°Tyler,¡± she calls after me.¡°I¡¯ll be home before curfew,¡± I utter before shutting the door, hoping I¡¯ll catch Delphine before she hits her own wall. The irony not lost on me that I¡¯m seekingfort in exchanging one alcoholic¡¯spany for another¡¯s.Thesest weeks have passed by in a blur. Delphine¡¯spany being the one I crave most. Between Dom¡¯s brooding about Tobias¡¯s extended absences, working his share of shifts at the garage, and holing up in his room on the, he¡¯s been scarcer. Sean¡¯s been tied up as well, working between the Pitt stop and King¡¯s, finishing the football season, and building his little ck book.As always, we still band together, inseparable and on each other¡¯s heels in the halls at school, even if we split after thest bell to do our own thing.Me, I¡¯ve been running every morning and night like my ass is on fire to reach a timed three-mile mark with easy strides. Also working my share of shifts at the garage while spending almost every night with a French fireball who keeps me on my toes. Most of those nights are spent bing overtly attuned to her.Eyeing the gift bag as I walk up the drive, I second-guess my decision to deliver it tonight, but it¡¯s herpanionship that¡¯s saving me from dwelling on the war zone in my house.Knocking lightly on the storm door before I can reconsider, I peer through the frosted ss only to lock eyes with Delphine, who¡¯s standing on the other side of the counter. Cracking the door open to gauge my wee and her mood, she gives me an easy nod, and I walk over to greet her.Tonight, she¡¯s dressed in a thinner robe than her typical blue. Unable to ignore the knot holding it together ising loose, I manage to glimpse a side view and curve of one of her perfect breasts. The rest of the groan-inducing view is obstructed by the silky dark braid resting atop it as she unfolds a packet of powdered painkillers. Pouring it on her tongue, she follows it with a sip of water before finally addressing me.Her constant indication that I¡¯m no one of importance only further encourages me to stop the ridiculous fucking fixation that began months ago. One I¡¯m fueling with every look I steal.¡°No game tonight,¡± she states, her temperament hard to gauge with her delivery as I allow my eyes to sweep the perfection of her profile. Her features alone are utterly fucking surreal, having no less effect on me than they did yesterday or the day before.No chance in hell, Jennings.Thesest weeks have been a mix of heaven and hell. In giving me the education I practically begged her for, I¡¯ve bepletely cognizant of just how much of her beauty I was formerly blind to. Every day, I resign and align myself to the fact that my attraction for her is not only dangerous but utterly idiotic. That logic thwarted the instant I again catch sight of her.At this point, I can¡¯t even lie to myself that it¡¯s training alone that keeps meing back. Day by day, she consumes me a little more with her mystery while giving me bits and pieces of herself¡ªher intelligence, her humor. She even has a warmth anyone who respects her enough and treats her well enough can easily draw upon. A warmth that¡¯s smothered by the hostility and resentment that surrounds her¡ªnamely Dom¡¯s.¡°Evening, and I¡¯m not here to y,¡± I say, my tone threatening to betray me in how my seconds-long assessment of her affects me. She¡¯d probably find my lingering gaze endearing and childish if she noticed at all. But she never lets on for a second that she¡¯s aware of my growing fixation because I don¡¯t, at all, let her see it. I do my best to make sure she can¡¯t feel it, either.Looks can be felt, and I know this from ying the game myself with my hookups, so I don¡¯t go there with her. Ever.I would chalk it up to nothing more than a crush, but ironically, herck of acknowledgment is the only thing currently crushing me.Because you¡¯re seventeen, you fucking idiot!And because this simmering attraction growing between us is entirely my own, I¡¯ve been tossing my mental hard-on aside in lieu of the invaluable knowledge she¡¯s bestowing upon me. So far, I¡¯ve been presented with a mind-blowing arsenal of shit I¡¯ve never considered before.¡°He¡¯s in his room.¡± Delphine dismisses me, interrupting my inner musings while pointing in the direction of the hall that leads to all three of their bedrooms. Instead, I draw closer to a fire I have no business warming up to, let alone attempting to y with. Opting to stay near it, I take a few steps closer while leaving myself on the opposite side of the counter, which serves as a partition separating the kitchen from the living room.A safe distance from her to shield my growing delusion and prolonged humiliation. Knowing good and well that if I ever give her the slightest hint of my growing attraction, I will lose herpany.Though, when I look at Delphine, I don¡¯t see Dom¡¯s aunt or our age difference¡ªnot since the day I got my first real look at her. If anything, I see a twenty-something who¡¯s wearing her grandmother¡¯s wardrobe. Her skin fucking glows with youth, her onyx hair silky in look.In noticing that, I¡¯ve acquired a healthy suspicion that she purposefully tries to mask both her body and beauty.¡°You off to work soon?¡± I ask in a shitty attempt at conversation. Hertest job is working the graveyard shift at a boxingpany¡ªone of the only other factories in Triple Falls, aside from Horner Tech, which she quit when Celine and Beau died.¡°Non, I¡¯m off tonight.¡±I eye the clock on the stove. ¡°So, why are you drinking coffee?¡±¡°Why the questions?¡±¡°Because maybe I want some, and it was my polite way of hinting around to what you haven¡¯t offered,¡± I jest, ¡°with your impableck of hosting skills. So, how about it?¡±¡°No,¡± she replies sharply, barely sparing me a nce. ¡°From this moment forward, you will eat only things which grow from the earth and lean protein. Water to drink. Only water. No drinking or drugs.¡±¡°All right, so no more experimenting with crack. Got it,¡± I state pointlessly, which earns me a barely perceptible lift of full lips. ¡°Though I can¡¯t help but think this is punishment because I¡¯m winning, General.¡±¡°Non, you are not,¡± she rys, ¡°we¡¯re still very much at war.¡±¡°I leveled over half yourpaniesst night,¡± I counter.¡°I was waiting for you to watch me make my next move,¡± she says, walking over to the table, where our battalions are on opposite sides of the line, engaged in our first long-term war. I study the board to see not a soldier out of ce and give her a nod. Coffee in one hand, she flicks her fingers with the other.¡°Airstrike. Airstrike,¡± sheughs maniacally while shooting my soldiers to the kitchen floor.¡°The hell?¡± I balk.¡°Uh-oh, sniper,¡± she sing-songs, flicking several more soldiers before ncing over to me with a shrug. ¡°And now you have no soldiers in your right nk.¡±¡°We¡¯ve never done an airstrike. That¡¯s cheating.¡±She quirks a dark brow. ¡°And what¡¯s the name of our new game, Tyler?¡±The slight purr she uses to draw out my name rolls through me briefly, making me forget the question for a beat. My reaction only further letting me know I need to hook up with Kayley, and soon, so I can again respect myself. The notion of us is ridiculous, even to me.¡°Mmm?¡± Delphine prompts as I search for both the question and answer before squeezing my eyes shut.¡°1911. Fuck. The first air strikes happened in 1911, the Italo-Turk war.¡±¡°And you know this why?¡± she presses.Her books, my curriculum. ¡°Point taken.¡±¡°Not yet. We might have moved on from BC wars, but I gave you all you needed in the name. You did not prepare,¡± she taunts as I nce down to see her advantage. It takes me seconds to assess how it will y out.¡°Shit, I¡¯ve already lost this war,¡± I state, sinking where I stand. ¡°Haven¡¯t I?¡±¡°Maybe next time,¡± sheughs as I narrow my eyes.¡°I demand a rematch.¡± My battered pride speaks.¡°You will have it, but before you get one, you need to know all avable weaponry during that time. It¡¯s time to¡±¡ªshe frowns, searching for the right expression, and I don¡¯t dare hand it to her¡ª¡°up to your game.¡±Good enough, I decide, as she batters another metaphor. A trantion trait I find fucking adorable.¡°Oh, I¡¯ll bring my game up,¡± I say, wanting to dissolve into the floor.Go home, Jennings, and jerk this out of your system!¡°I will start a new war soon. I don¡¯t want to ruin your Christmas.¡±¡°Oh, I think you do, which is not very Christian. So, what¡¯s the name of this one?¡±She gifts me a rare, full smile. ¡°You have to wait and see.¡±¡°Looking forward to it.¡±On a few asions, I¡¯ve peeked through the sliding ss back door after lights-out to see hertest setup and have spent entire days at schooling up with the right tactics to counter her. Then spending the rest of that time mangling pen caps while recalling new details that have nothing to do with our game.Never going to happen, Jennings. Stop fixating.¡°And¡±¡ªshe sips her coffee¡ª¡°add two miles to your current run.¡±¡°Shit,¡± I grumble. ¡°Do you have any good news? Am I at least promoted to private first ss?¡±¡°After only weeks? No chance,¡± she replies, not budging an inch. ¡°How is your breathing?¡±¡°Good, I¡¯m getting there. It¡¯s been hard to concentratetely.¡±When we¡¯re not ying, she spends our time teaching me the ins and outs of what I now know is t space¡ªtemporary emotional suppression. A state I¡¯ve since coined pocketing.The state is temporary because I have no intention of shelving my emotions entirely or trying to forget any part of my experiences. I know better, and doing so could make me a prime candidate for PTSD. Because of that, I¡¯ve dered my own mind a testingb. It might be an unrealistic ambition, but then again, the education I¡¯m drawing from Mom¡¯s psychology books has convinced me that the mind is a fucking magical thing.¡°One sip,¡± she says, offering the coffee she thinks I¡¯m eyeing, thankful she has no idea I¡¯m fixed on the divot at her throat.She doesn¡¯t bother to hide her smirk when I sip the ck tar I epted, stifling a gag as I swallow it down. ¡°This is fucking terrible.¡±¡°Dom likes it strong.¡±¡°Strong is one thing. This tastes like . . . God, aren¡¯t the French known for having the best coffee?¡±¡°That is a luxury,¡± she quips, lifting her free hand to indicate the state of the house. ¡°Does it look like I can afford such luxuries?¡±I deposit her cup on the counter. ¡°So, then change your circumstances.¡±¡°So easy,¡± she scoffs, silver-zed eyes ring with warning. ¡°You¡¯re arrogant.¡±¡°Yeah, maybe it¡¯s my youth talking,¡± I dere dryly while staring back just as intently.She ¡®hmm¡¯s in agreement, her eyesser-focused on mine for the second time in minutes as I hope, in vain, for once she doesn¡¯t see the na?ve, round-eyed kid she met years ago. Or even the boy she started drilling into recently, though I know it¡¯s a lost cause.¡°I got you this.¡± I lift the gift bag.¡°Today is not Christmas.¡±¡°I¡¯m aware. Think of it as a thank you . . . for helping me.¡±She eyes the bag as if it¡¯s shit before a flicker of something crosses her expression. ¡°What is it?¡±¡°Kind of the point of the gift-giving part and the packaging.¡±The slight lift of her lips brightens the dismal yellow kitchen bulb lighting the space. She grabs the bag and lifts the tissue paper before pulling the tin and shrink-wrapped movies out.¡°Didn¡¯t know if you¡¯d seen them, but since Dom got a DVD yer, I thought . . .¡± I shrug, having no idea where I was going with it.She frowns at the movies as if figuring out a puzzle, her mouth opening and moving as if she¡¯s about to read aloud before her eyes bulge. ¡°Star Wars?¡±¡°Yeah, these are the first two. They are prequels to the original three movies.¡±¡°Prequels?¡±¡°They take ce before Luke and Leia. It¡¯s the story of Darth Vader.¡±Her eyes light up with intrigue as she eyes the movies, and I take in her expression as a reward.¡°Have you watched?¡± she asks, taken aback by her gift, which further warms my insides while gutting me. She clearly hasn¡¯t been given much in her life, which bes more painfully apparent by the way she¡¯s reacting to such a small gesture.¡°Yeah, but I¡¯ll watch them with you if you want.¡±¡°Peanut brittle,¡± she whispers, studying the tin before lifting her spoon-colored eyes to mine. ¡°How did you know?¡±¡°You used to have a tin of it next to your coffee pot. I took a guess.¡±¡°You guessed well,¡± she says softly, her expression just as tender, ¡°it¡¯s my favorite treat.¡± She cradles the movies and tin to her chest, her whisper sincere. ¡°Merci, Tyler.¡±¡°Wee,¡± I say before tossing a thumb over my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m going to . . .¡±She waves a hand in dismissal but gifts me a rare smile as she does this. And fuck how that small reception feels like a big one inside of me. Thankful that went better than I hoped, it¡¯s when I¡¯m a few strides away that I get the inkling to look back at her. For the first time in our time together, I see her curiously staring after me. When her eyes immediately drop, I bite back a smile and continue down the hall, refusing to read anything into it.At Dom¡¯s bedroom door, a single knock with my knuckles has me opening it to catch a glimpse of Dom . . . enthusiastically pounding into Ginger. Upon discovery, my presence is acknowledged by her screech when she catches sight of me as a smug grin stretches across Dom¡¯s face. He shields her with his body as I swiftly m myself back on the other side.¡°You fucking idiot,¡± I scold, keeping my voice low, ¡°you could have told me you were tied up when I texted.¡±¡°We¡¯re saving the rope for next time,¡± Dom grunts, his words meant for the girl he shamelessly hasn¡¯t stopped driving into. ¡°Aren¡¯t we, baby?¡±As ofte, and with our collective home lives a wreck, fucking seems to be the most prominent thing on all our minds. Sex that would probably be more of an escape for me if my fantasies weren¡¯t quickly bing riddled by an off-limits woman twelve years my senior.¡°I¡¯ll meet you at the garage. One hour,¡± I snap, ¡°or I¡¯m leaving.¡±My reply is a faint moan from Ginger before I stalk back down the hall, meeting Delphine at the end of it.¡°Might want to spare yourself,¡± I say, heat creeping up my neck due to the fucked position my brother just put me in. ¡°Dom¡¯s not alone.¡±¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± she says, moving to push past me.I lightly mp her arm to stop her. ¡°Delphine, you really don¡¯t want to go back there right now. They¡¯re not studying for Dom¡¯s next spelling bee.¡±¡°Oh,¡± she says softly, indecision in her expression as she stares at the closed door just as Cypress Hill starts to bump through the entire house.ssy, Dom.¡°He¡¯s growing up, Delphine. We all are,¡± I reiterate, a little too emphatically, knowing it¡¯s pointless. Even as I try to drill that truth in, my discipline slips slightly as I take her in up close. Which proves to be a mistake. At this distance, she¡¯s positively radiant. Even dressed in an outdated robe, with no makeup and her onyx hair twisted in a simple braid, all I can seem to do is fucking want.Kick rocks, Jennings. She¡¯s off-limits.So, like yesterday and the day before, I chalk it up to curiosity and one-sided physical attraction. To wanting what I can¡¯t and, more importantly, shouldn¡¯t have.Even if there was a slight curiosity in her gaze minutes ago, it¡¯s a scarcity I¡¯ll likely never glimpse again, and it sure as hell wasn¡¯t sexual in nature. She¡¯s never, not once, looked at me like that and won¡¯t.But as I stare back at her at the foot of the hallway¡ªas Dom serenades Ginger with Cypress Hill¡ªthrust in the most inappropriate and ufortable fucking situation imaginable, my thoughts start to go just as incongruous.¡°He¡¯s not stupid, not in that respect,¡± she credits Dom.¡°You know, it might mean something if you gave him that backhandedpliment directly.¡±¡°Backhandpliment?¡±I grin. ¡°A sarcasticpliment.¡±¡°Oh,¡± she says, her full lips lifting slightly even as her eyes dim. ¡°He stopped listening to me when Ezekiel left.¡±¡°I see you trying, Delphine.¡± I shift to face her, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall as she takes a distancing step back. ¡°He¡¯s noticed. He¡¯s just got a lot to get over.¡±She gives me the slightest dip of her chin, her expression dimming further.¡°I¡¯m not saying this to guilt you, but he has noticed.¡±This seems to pique her interest, adding a glimmer of hope to her eyes. ¡°You have talked to him about this?¡±¡°Very briefly, but yes. Thing is, you don¡¯t or really shouldn¡¯t try to lecture Dom about anything,¡± I tell her. ¡°He gets that enough from Tobias. If you truly want his audience, question him, ask for his opinion. He¡¯ll likely speak up then.¡±She scrutinizes me. ¡°Have you always been so observant of people?¡±¡°Not until¡±¡ªI briefly drop my gaze¡ª¡°let¡¯s just say I got a wake-up call from one of the closest people to me when I found out I didn¡¯t know them at all.¡±¡°Your father,¡± she supplies, not at all a question, but I nod anyway.¡°It¡¯s unfortunate that we have this inmon, Tyler.¡± She holds her words briefly as if deciding whether the disclosure is worth it. ¡°But this gift of observation will get you far with your soldiering. Though, I¡¯m sorry for this for you, I, too, observe people and hear things in passing.¡±¡°Because you both look and listen for them,¡± I counter, calling her out. It¡¯s one of the traits I¡¯ve learned is practiced by those who suffer from trauma. They are often the ones to analyze people closest to them, forever looking for and expecting bad things to happen. It¡¯s a trait we share¡ªanothermonality that I don¡¯t put a voice to. Can¡¯t put a voice to because she¡¯s unaware I¡¯m privy to some of the trauma caused by her ex-husband. ¡°Tell you a secret?¡±She nods.¡°I look and listen, too.¡±She tilts her head, examining me. That look again¡ªas if she¡¯s considering me, her eyes searching. I stare right back for an entirely different reason.Get the fuck out before you embarrass yourself, Jennings.I repeat this to myself as I slip past her, whispering a quick ¡°I¡¯m going to take off. Night, Delphine.¡±She nods.Exiting the house, I bounce off my sneakers to start my nightly run toward the garage while trying to shake off the self-sabotaging thoughts invading me, knowing full well she¡¯s not going to give me a second thought tonight. That I¡¯m utterly alone with the want starting to fester inside me. And so, I do my best to burn it off as I speed straight into the freezing wind.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 16

    EYEING MY BOTTLE, I opt out of uncapping it to continue to arrange my soldiers from where I stand at the end of the kitchen table. It¡¯s when I do that I realize I¡¯ve only sipped three-quarters of the pint tonight!The low amount of drink encouraging me since I started mentoring Tyler¡ªsometimes, forgetting to sip for the needed concentration. The anticipation of our matches often has me getting lost in strategy, distracted from the haze, and helps to keep my head above water.The haze is always there but less stifling with Tyler¡¯s lessons, forcing me to stay present and focused during our matches. Much like it did in the past when I hosted meetings or when I yed with Ezekiel. Again, having something to look forward to.Trying is working!The excitement of my next match with Tyler has me situating my battalion carefully as the sliding ss door opens behind me.¡°You have no chance tonight, private,¡± I warn through augh.When I get no answer, I nce over to see Dom approaching before he tosses a small box onto the kitchen table, which knocks down a few of my soldiers. This earns him my re. ¡°I just spent an hour moving those soldiers into position.¡±¡°Oops,¡± he mutters without apology as I eye the box.¡°What is it?¡±¡°Open it,¡± he says, ¡°or rather, look at the pretty picture like you so often do.¡±His insult strikes where he intended, but I wave it off as I do the box.¡°I don¡¯t need this.¡±¡°Everyone is or has switched to cell phones, Tatie,¡± he sighs with impatience. ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time beforendlines cease to exist.¡±¡°Landlines you still use for your inte,¡± I point out, picking up my fallen soldiers.¡°For now.¡± He shakes his head with impatience. ¡°We¡¯re years into the twenty-first century, and while I couldn¡¯t give a fuck less if you want to remain in the stone age, this gift isn¡¯t from me.¡±¡°I¡¯m twenty-nine,¡± I snap, ¡°far from the relic you use me of being.¡± I pick up the box, considering the gift. ¡°From Ezekiel?¡±¡°He wants us all wired and connected, so you at least need to learn the basics.¡±¡°Fine,¡± I say, unpackaging the box before examining the cell phone in confusion. Dom sighs before flipping the screen.¡°This is . . . a keyboard, not a cell phone,¡± I tell him.¡°Jesus. The board is meant for texting.¡± He points exaggeratedly to therge letters on the box. Embarrassment threatening, I blink at the words, doing my best not to move my mouth.¡°It¡¯s a Sidekick Two,¡± he enunciates as if I¡¯m imbecilic, ¡°thetest model.¡±I can¡¯t help but smile.¡°What?¡± he demands, reading my pleased expression.¡°That is what I called Ezekiel when he was a boy. My acolyte, err, sidekick. I wonder if he remembers and it¡¯s why he got me this model.¡±¡°Doubt it. He bought us all the same one,¡± he supplies, eliminating that possibility.Smile fading, I swallow that truth and nod. ¡°Will you show me how to use it?¡±¡°There¡¯s an instruction book inside.¡±¡°Is there a French trantion¡ª¡±¡°Probably, but you can read English,¡± he snaps, ¡°I know you can, and you¡¯ve been here in the States, what, half your life now?¡±¡°I have not mastered my English,¡± I snap defensively, biting the rest of the truth away as Dom impatiently snatches the phone and powers it on.¡°What is a text?¡± I ask.¡°You¡¯re killing me,¡± Dominic sighs. ¡°Tobias was just as clueless not that long ago. Text means you can send a message to someone instead of calling.¡±¡°Oh,¡± I say, swallowing before putting the phone aside to sort my army.¡°What, Tatie? You can read English. You used to read to me.¡±I blink at him in surprise. ¡°You remember this?¡±This confuses him. ¡°You don¡¯t?¡±¡°I don¡¯t remember which books. I can learn to textter.¡±¡°Right.¡± He pauses at my side and, to my surprise, takes a seat at the table next to me. Pulling out his phone, I watch carefully as he programs each number in, adding Tyler¡¯s numberst. I avert my eyes as he does this, knowing our new mentor rtionship both puzzles and aggravates him.¡°It would be good if you joined our games, Dominic. You have much to¡ª¡±¡°You don¡¯t even know what a fucking text is,¡± he states, pping the phone on the table. ¡°What in the hell could I possibly have to learn from you?¡±¡°You¡¯re right. You have too much arrogance, and I doubt you could win,¡± I clip out, eyeing my bottle but refusing to sip more.Mysh-out seems to satisfy him, earning me a menacing smile.¡°Yeah, thought so. I¡¯m not buying this new you bullshit.¡±¡°I never imed new me. I¡¯m only trying¡ª¡± I shake my head, knowing he will never understand, never try to understand.¡°To what?¡± he prompts.¡°There is little point talking to you. You will only criticize me.¡±¡°Yeah, well, you¡¯re borrowing my friends, so let them listen to your drivel.¡±¡°Not drivel. I¡¯m helping Tyler with tactics he will need. That you all will need. Ezekiel did not balk at me as you do, and I can see Sean and Tyler¡¯s potential and appreciate it in a way you¡ª¡±¡°Don¡¯t even fucking go there preaching to me about my fucking friends.¡±¡°I don¡¯t presume to¡ª¡±¡°Save it.¡± He stands, ¡°I get enough lectures from Tobias.¡±¡°For good reason, Dom, your anger¡ª¡±¡°My anger?¡± He scoffs, an indication that he deems me a hypocrite.¡°Fine,¡± I say, exhaling as I drop the subject seconds before he ms his bedroom door.Standing, I unscrew my bottle, taking a long drink before swatting my soldiers to the floor.* * *Tylerprivit Iern to tetx to mess to yuo.¡°The fuck?¡± I chuckle, reading Delphine¡¯s text as Mom snores lightly in her recliner. Heratose noise rivaling Jim Carrey as he stutters out ¡°the-the-the-the Grinch!¡± to Cindy Lou on the screen feet away.Tonight, I caved and gave in to participating in our Christmas Eve tradition of watching our favorite holiday flicks, suffering through Mom¡¯s choice of It¡¯s a Wonderful Life before we got to mine.Though unspoken, Mom nced at the front door every few minutes in wait for her husband before eyeing the phone for his nightly pickup¡ªa duty I¡¯ve been relieved of permanently after missing one too many calls.Mom and I still aren¡¯t talking much, but I¡¯ve recently realized that freezing her out isn¡¯t something I¡¯mpletely capable of. That only hits further home as I pull one of our quilts off the loveseat and cover her with it. Before I pull my hands away, she grips one and squeezes before opening her rapidly watering eyes.¡°Merry Christmas, my beautiful son.¡±¡°Merry Christmas, Mom.¡±She turns and nestles into the recliner as a tear glides down her temple. The lump in my throat at the sight of it only fuels the paving of another brick in the wall I¡¯m reinforcing with Carter on the other side.ncing back down at my phone as I head to my room, I frown at theption of Delphine¡¯s text. One I must have missed while watching the movies. Though it¡¯s not hard to decipher, it¡¯s sloppy as hell. My smile disappears when I realize she must be drunk. Has to be.Minutester, I¡¯m peering through her sliding ss door to gauge our board and frown when I see the soldiers have been knocked off and are scattered on the kitchen floor. It¡¯s then that I spot tiny feet and inch along the ss door until Delphinees into view, slumped against the cabs beneath her kitchen sink. In seeing her, I waste no time stepping into the house and into the kitchen, noting every surface littered with flour, sugar, and other baking ingredients. Delphine sits on the floor, cradling measuring spoons in her hands, eyes glossy. She barely acknowledges me as I slowly kneel in front of her. But the second her eyes focus on me, her face lights up. ¡°Tyler! Can you help me?¡±Her expression and tone have me eagerly agreeing. ¡°Sure.¡±¡°Will you read it out loud?¡± she asks, producing a tattered brown index card from the mess on the counter before thrusting it toward me. ¡°There is English trantion on the back.¡±¡°Sure.¡± I read off the first line, which is hell to make out.¡°Say it again, one cup?¡± she prompts.¡°No, two cups, and I think, two teaspoons. The writing is messy.¡±¡°It¡¯s Celine¡¯s. She writes good English.¡±¡°I beg to differ.¡±She frowns back at me. ¡°You beg for what?¡±¡°It¡¯s an expression that means I have a different opinion.¡± I thrust the card toward her. ¡°Because this isn¡¯t legible.¡±¡°Non, you read it. Out loud,¡± she insists again, pushing my hand away.¡°All right, two cups of flour and I think . . . two teaspoons of baking soda.¡±¡°Okay.¡± She takes a steadying breath as if readying herself for much more than baking. ¡°Two cups,¡± she says, measuring the flour, biting her lip in concentration before sorting through the spoons. Putting the spoon down, she lifts the cup again. ¡°This?¡±¡°No¡±¡ªI grin¡ª¡°two teaspoons of the powder now.¡± I frown at the writing. ¡°I think this means teaspoon.¡± Thumbing the card, I flip it toward her. ¡°Delphine, it¡¯s right here. Just read it.¡±¡°I want you to read it!¡± she snaps, and I jerk back in surprise, seeing her immediate regret.¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I tell her with pinched brows, ¡°don¡¯t get frustrated. We¡¯ll figure it out.¡±¡°Celine made these cookies for Dominic. He loved them,¡± she exins a little manically as she sorts the spoons for the right one. As she rattles feet away from me, I can both see and feel her desperate need to get it right before she turns back, reads my expression, and detes.¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Her voice shakes as she rys this before tossing the spoons into the sink and stalking off, my eyes catching on the empty pint of Smirnoff at the top of the trash. She¡¯s drunk, but it¡¯s clear something or someone has triggered her.¡°Delphine,¡± I call at her retreating back as she rounds the counter, lifting her hand. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Tyler. I¡¯ll y Battle with you tomorrow.¡±¡°If you¡¯ll wait, I¡¯ll help.¡±¡°It¡¯ste,¡± she says more forcefully as I scour the kitchen. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, will not matter to him.¡± I catch her faint whisper as she retreats down the hall.¡°Merry Christmas,¡± I utter, not even sure she¡¯s aware of it, and knowing the him she¡¯s referring to is Dom. Evidence he was here by the sight of her new cell phone, which is covered in flour¡ªas if she¡¯s been texting with coated fingers for hours. Picking it up, I frown when I see she only sent one text¡ªto me. That truth ignites my chest. After cleaning the crust off the letters and wiping the screen, I leave it on the table where I found it. Staring in the direction she fled, I hear running water start between the walls, which means hours of disappearance¡ªif she reappears at all.Wanting to finish the recipe for her, I scrutinize the worn-out card until my vision doubles, and I¡¯m forced to raise my own white g. Sliding the door closed behind me shortly after, I eye the fallen soldiers as an ill feeling snakes its way into me. Some internal warnings going off in both head and chest. And I¡¯m right because it¡¯s thest time I see her for weeks.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 17

    SNOW ACCUMULATES ON the cheap iron table on our squared cement back porch as I run my finger over the scar at the back of my head. A scar I can remember. Scissors. A permanent reminder of the night in had cut my hair to the scalp after using me, for the first time, of infidelity. I light a cigarette as I refuse that memory and its rity, opting to concentrate on the murkier, much more difficult memories to summon.At my back, behind the door, the house roars with testosterone, mixed voices chattering around the kitchen table as I do all I can to avoid it. The sounds and feel of it simr, familiar¡ªso familiar it brings me back to a different time. To an image of Ormand and in at the same table when I first arrived in the States, both animated and in good spirits. It was the beginning. Years before the haze, before I began my life underwater. Myst memories and perception of both men now far different. in¡¯s forever tarnished.Ormand¡¯s memory now gued by the way he cried the night I woke in that hospital bed. That memory of him haunting me most. It was the nature of the way he grieved. As if filled with remorse.The rest of the night is nothing but a hazy mix of images that refuse true rity¡ªthe dim, pale peach lighting from somewhere behind the hospital bed. Mixed, muted voices drowned out by the pounding in my temple. The crackling fuzz surrounding my view of the slow drip of the IV, the itch of the fabric of my gown as I searched and searched my mind for the hours before I regained consciousness. As I have year after year.The only true knowledge I have of what happened after I woke in that bed is the permanent absence of something vital. As if something that was inside me no longer exists. Not my heart, which still beats true, but something more substantial. Something far, far out of reach as my vision doubles, and I blink to clear it as the haze returns. The fog I gained¡ªwhich now reces what was stolen¡ªis merciless, refusing to free me all these yearster, to allow me to see what was taken.It¡¯s as the silent snow falls that I pitch forward, willing my mind to cooperate, to press past that memory the night I woke to the next¡ªto any day after that. Bowing my head as the kes whirl around me, I again plead with God.Please, please let it y.Miraculously, the details of that night began toe to me.Ormand¡¯s hand grips mine, his features twisted in agony as a blurry Beau stands behind his chair opposite the doctor, who scratches another page on his clipboard.¡°. . . several contusions on the spine, three broken ribs . . .¡±Loudughter from inside the house disrupts any more recollection as my eyes burn with frustration. Hands shaking, I uncap the bottle and sip to try and calm my nerves. Desperate to get back to it, I close my eyes as the muddled sounds ring true while the images never fully take shape.¡°Please,¡± I whisper. ¡°Please let me see.¡±My prayer remains unanswered as only the doctor¡¯s voice rings through. As it has so many times before.¡°. . . fractured wrist and ulna. Significant damage to her windpipe. The bite marks¡ª¡±¡°Will heal,¡± I speak aloud with the memory of that voice while living the contradiction to his prognosis.Another burst of loudughter sounds from behind the sliding door. One of thoseughs now familiar,ing from my budding soldier. My chest stretches at the sound of it. Happy for him that he can feel such joy despite what he endures.His progress during our short time together is astounding. Of all the men currently inside the house¡ªand aside from Ezekiel¡ªTyler is the only one who takes anything I say into himself. When I began to train him, I had hope for the first time in years. That was until the nket came back, surrounding me in its bitter embrace, setting the ache into my bones, refusing to allow me any more rity.Before the biting cold came back to steal what peace I had, my skin had started to be far more sufferable to live in than the year before. And the year before that. All because of the beautiful boy and his desire to learn. To be the best soldier he can be.Tipping the bottle back, I mourn the loss of that temporary peace as the snowdrift summons me, and Matis¡¯s words whisper back to me through the snow, through time.¡°Je t¡¯aime petite fleur . . . Je suis vraiment d¨¦sol¨¦. Je suis vraiment d¨¦sol¨¦. Pardonne-moi.¡± I love you little flower . . . I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m so sorry. Forgive me.It¡¯s days like this when I cannot control the haze, fear, or shake¡ªthat I loathe my inability to stop any of it and the numbing consumption that follows.Failing. Failing. Failing.Again.Every day, failing to recognize the girl who flew to America so young, fearless, and ready to fight¡ªto live her dream.The ss door slides open, and I don¡¯t bother looking over my shoulder, knowing it¡¯s Tyler. The strong scent of marijuana fills my nose, and to my surprise, ck bootse into view next to where I sit.¡°You have the whole of the house,¡± I grumble, knowing no good wille of this interaction because my fear has stolen all my patience today. Breathing deeply, I summon what I can. ¡°Can you not allow me space out here?¡±¡°That maternal instinct inside you is something to behold,¡± Dominic slings in insult. Histest sarcastic remark ringing true. It¡¯s no surprise when I look up to see him staring at me spectively, armed and ready to spar. To punish. Though as brilliant as Jean Dominic is, I seem to be the one person he hasn¡¯t fully figured out yet.¡°I¡¯m sorry to keep disappointing you,¡± I reply truthfully, though my tone indicates otherwise, my heart not in the fight.Silence fills the space, and I rub my trembling hands together to keep him from noticing. Something I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll attribute to the drink. When more loudughter bursts from behind the door, it¡¯s all I can do to keep from flinching. Needing the distraction, I look up at him from my chair and eye him just as spectively. ¡°Do you despise me, Jean Dominic?¡±So tall now, so angry. Much more than Ezekiel was. So ready to hurt the world that hurt him¡ªto hurt me. Celine¡¯s face crosses my mind as I stare at her youngest son. In it, I see the care she gave me, the tenderness forever there. Always patiently reaching out to embrace whatever side of me was visible. I know it as a truth that the same capability resides in both of her sons. Though when he doesn¡¯t answer, I take his silence as confirmation I have earned his hate.¡°Rest well knowing Celine would be disappointed in me much like you because she was so very kind, Dominic. So selfless.¡±He stands idly by for a long moment.¡°You never talk about them,¡± he finally says. It¡¯s then I spot the red wings drifting through the snow as the image fills my mind.The same bird . . .I stretch forward, leaning into the memory as the cardinalnds on the fence in front of us.¡°Beau! Beau, look!¡± Celine exims next to me as Jean Dominic stands again for his second attempt to walk. Nearby, Beau smiles down at his son as he shakily stands in the yard, surrounded by bright green grass. Jean looks up to Beau as I hold out my hands to encourage him forward.¡°Come to me, Jean Dominic!¡± I urge the beautiful baby as he inches toward me.¡°in, look!¡± I call over to him, where he sits with Ezekiel, helping him assemble a toy from Dominic¡¯s recent birthday party. in lifts his eyes, watching Jean Dominic take his first step,nding into my arms before Celine greedily takes him from me, beaming with pride.¡°He did it!¡±¡°Maybe he would have taken another if you hadn¡¯t stopped him,¡± Beau jokes, his red hair glinting in the sun as his eyes, too, glitter with pride on Jean Dominic.Shifting my focus back to in, I find him looking at me much the way he did when we first began as a couple in France. We¡¯ve been together now for some time, but only mere weeks of our marriage have truly been good. Since Beau and Celine joined us in America¡ªnot long after I arrived¡ªin¡¯s been much less violent. My suspicion is that Beau has something to do with it. But it¡¯s in¡¯s return stare now which gives me hope. Maybe this year, maybe . . .¡°Do you believe in fate, Dominic?¡± I whisper hoarsely as that sunny day beams through the drifting snow before shuttering out, my eyes misting with the gift of the memory.Thank you, God. Thank you!¡°Really?¡± he jabs. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re leading with?¡±¡°With good reason. The day you took your first steps was in the backyard of this house. There, right next to the fence.¡± The image fresh in my mind, I point toward a brown patch of grass being rapidly dusted with snow. ¡°Just after, a cardinalnded, and I remember your parents walking you over to it.¡±When he further steps into view, I watch him eye the bird without much interest before he speaks. ¡°And that constitutes your tears?¡±¡°Must you humiliate me every fucking day, Dominic?¡± I whisper before taking a long sip of drink. ¡°You may think me a silly woman for my sentiments. But it was a rare good day. I still miss your mother. Very much.¡±And I remembered, I remembered!An old memory made new, one I pray stays with me. Tears of happiness sting my eyes as I push the emotion down to speak.¡°No one ever spoke about my parents or grandparents either,¡± I offer him. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if you wanted that.¡±He pinches his brows. ¡°What were they like? My grandparents?¡±Ezekiel knows I¡¯m not his true aunt, but I¡¯ve never told Jean Dominic. Ezekiel knows that I don¡¯t want my past shared with his brother yet but insists it will help our rtionship. But because of Jean Dominic¡¯s constant verbal contempt, I have yet to do so. His resentment is still too strong for him to consider me for any understanding. For Celine, I¡¯ll keep trying. For myself, too, and for the affection I harbor for the boy I taught with my own behavior to hate me.¡°As you know, your mother no longer contacted them once she got here because of Abijah.¡±He nods.¡°Your grandparents were good people. Francis was kind. Hardworking. Considerate. Marine was strict but attentive. Your mother was very close to her. They were good enough to take me in when I was separated from my father.¡±Dominic¡¯s eyes widen in surprise at my admission. ¡°What. The. Actual. Fuck?¡±¡°Your mother was not my true sister.¡±¡°I¡¯m getting that,¡± he snaps. ¡°Does Tobias know?¡±¡°Yes,¡± I say, speaking quickly to temper his shock, ¡°but we are close rted family, Dominic. You have my hair color and eyes, for God¡¯s sake. My papa¡¯s eyes. Celine¡¯s eyes. Celine and I were not sisters¡ªas much as your mother wanted to believe it so¡ªbut my experience is much the same as yours. My mother left me when I was young, and I was separated from my papa not long after. My father, Matis, was uncle to Celine¡¯s father, your grandfather, Francis.¡±He remains silent, but I know he wants to hear more.¡°The exnation for this is long, but what is important to know is that you came from a good family. Your mother was a good woman, the best I have ever known. Caring, generous, happy. Your father also had a good heart and was patient enough, but when he was angry, he could scare a room into silence. He was an authority¡ª¡± I frown, summoning the right word. ¡°. . . authorities man. A man to respect and not to cross. When he spoke, people listened. Both you and Ezekiel possess this.¡±I see in his expression this pleases him, and so I continue.¡°You have his temper, I assure you. From what Celine said, he got into many fights in school. It was a miracle they didn¡¯t expel him. In some ways, he was unpredictable, but his heart was so very loyal, and he loved your mother and his sons, you and Ezekiel, with the whole of it. Your mother loved me the same. That is why Beau tolerated me . . . and protected me.¡±¡°From?¡±¡°Life.¡± I drag my cigarette. ¡°I was not there when they met, but I witnessed their love after they came from France while your mother was growing you in her belly, and they were so very in love. Watching them with you and Ezekiel gave me so much hope for my own marriage, and I envied their connection¡±¡ªI exhale as I speak¡ª¡°everyone did.¡±Dom remains silent, his gaze on the snow and his demeanor the same, but I know he¡¯s listening raptly.¡°You were created during the best part of their love. Love of the purest kind by two people who cared deeply for other people. Who truly wanted to give you a good life and championed as hard as they could to do it before they were killed.¡±¡°Why are you talking like that¡¯s yourst bottle?¡± he asks without a hint of emotion before taking a hit from his joint. ¡°And what happened to your marriage?¡±¡°Dom.¡± Tyler speaks up, and we both turn to see the door open. He scans me, nodding over his shoulder. ¡°They¡¯re looking for you.¡±Tyler shifts his assessing gaze back to me, missing nothing. His disappointment clear as he eyes my dwindling bottle before he greets me.¡°Hey, Delphine.¡±I nod, meeting Tyler¡¯s soft brown eyes despite wanting to keep mine lowered. Thest time I saw Tyler, he found me passed out on the kitchen floor. He¡¯d lifted me from the pile of broken mini-bottles surrounding me. It was another failed attempt to cut the amount of drink¡ªto measure my consumption. Though upset about our missed game, he¡¯d been gentle when cing me in bed and stood at my door waiting for endless minutes, our eyes locked until mine closed. Though, during those tense seconds, I could practically hear every word that died on his tongue as he weighed his decision on whether to try to reprimand me. More judgment from another boy who is ying a man. Several of which my house is currently full of.Though, I can¡¯t help marveling at the fact that I¡¯m now surrounded by mirror images of a younger me. Children growing up too soon, and their ideology driving them to believe they can make a difference. To change this world and be soldiers with purpose.One of which I¡¯ve spent months with recently, knowing my drinking affects him more than most. When he¡¯s nearby, I find myself trying to hide each sip from him more and more. The fact that it bothers me now only has me lifting the bottle to take a defiant mouthful. I have no ce giving weight to the opinion of a boy, and with one hearty sip, I decide to take away any power I might have given to him to condemn me.gued by what¡¯s transpired in mere minutes by simply sitting at a fucking table, I lift the bottle continually, sipping it while wanting to both shatter and savor it. Tears blur my vision when I finally drop it with a loud nk on the table as my conflicting emotions take over.¡°Delphine,¡± a voice whispers in summons, and I realize Dominic has disappeared into the house. Tyler kneels in front of me now, eyeing my bottle like it¡¯s his enemy, as I realize I just lost myself again in the haze.¡°Where are you right now? What¡¯s happening?¡±Gazing down at him, I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m nowhere, and I cannot get anywhere,¡± I croak as he grips my hands in his.¡°You¡¯re shaking so badly,¡± he states, ¡°tell me what has that expression on your face . . . that look in your eyes. Please.¡±Loud music sts from inside the house, and this time, I can¡¯t help but flinch.¡°Jesus, please tell me what¡¯s happening right now,¡± Tyler prods and I blink more tears away to see his own eyes drowning with concern.¡°It¡¯s snowing,¡± I reply.His brows pinch together as he takes in my state while aware of my ploy to try and divert his attention. This beautiful, sad, brilliant boy. ¡°Is the noise bothering you, too?¡±¡°Do you like the snow?¡± I redirect again, and he closes his eyes briefly in frustration before answering.¡°Doesn¡¯t really affect me one way or another.¡± He holds out his bare palm to catch some of the drift before prodding again. ¡°But I know you don¡¯t.¡±Lifting the bottle, I unscrew the cap, and he ces his warm hand on mine to stop me. ¡°It¡¯s empty, Delphine. Tell me, what about the snow bothers you?¡±I shake my head. Though Tyler is young, he¡¯s not untouched by women. That much is evident in his healthy confidence. His hurt stems from disappointment by those he has faith in, not by romantic love. Any days he had of trusting without fear are already far behind him¡ªsomething that I can easily recognize.Sometimes, I want to ask him what causes his fugue states. What could have possibly happened to him to have him seeking darkness and remaining there? But now, as I seek refuge in my own reflective darkness, I want him nowhere near me. I stay silent as he stares up at me while rubbing each of my hands vigorously through his to warm them.¡°Your hands are freezing. Come inside. Let me take you toy down.¡±Shaking my head, I pull my hands from his grip. ¡°I¡¯m okay right here.¡±¡°No, you¡¯re not¡ª¡±¡°I don¡¯t want¡±¡ªI swallow¡ª¡°to e-mb-barrass Jean Dominic.¡± A sob bursts out of me with my admission as I fail to rein any more emotion in. ¡°T-Tyler, p-please leave me.¡±His eyes go distant as he shakes his head, his frustration clear as I make the same request.¡°P-please go,¡± I beg.As he stands, I see his resignation. ¡°Let me get you some gloves at least.¡±¡°Leave me, Tyler,¡± I scold. ¡°I¡¯m not in need of help.¡±¡°No? Well, let¡¯s give it a fucking minute,¡± he clips sarcastically before he shoves his clenching fists in his jeans, clearly angry he has no authority over me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he offers quickly in a soft whisper of apology. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Delphine. I didn¡¯t mean that.¡±¡°Yes, you did,¡± I sniff as another tear rolls down my cheek. ¡°I know what you all think of me. I can feel it before any of you say a word.¡±¡°You have no fucking idea what I think of you,¡± he whispers vehemently.¡°Tyler, leave me, please.¡±¡°Fuck . . . fine, but I¡¯m getting you a goddamned nket.¡±I nearlyugh at his outburst as he mumbles his frustration and enters the house. As I be lost in the flurries surrounding me, the numb I so desperately need starts to set in before I¡¯m covered by a thick wool nket. Just after cloaking me with it, Tyler again kneels at my feet, his brown eyes flickering with warmth as he looks up at me imploringly.¡°I¡¯m not trying to upset you. I just want to know you,¡± he rys softly.¡°I no longer know myself, Tyler,¡± I admit, pulling another cigarette from my pack as he grabs my lighter.¡°What do you mean?¡± He frowns while lighting my cigarette.¡°It¡¯s not important,¡± I say on exhale, ¡°what matters right now is that when I look at you, I see so much. There is so much good in you, Tyler. Your potential is limitless. I should have told you before now, but I want you to know this.¡±¡°Then stop disappearing on me,¡± he implores with a hint of agitation. ¡°You¡¯ve been avoiding me for weeks.¡±¡°I¡¯m not in a good ce.¡±¡°Neither am I,¡± he retorts instantly. ¡°And I know you know that, but we were doing good until you checked out, weren¡¯t we?¡±I nod, my eyes filling again, agitating me further. My overwhelming emotions keeping me helpless to the nket threatening to pull me back under. It¡¯s the look in his eyes that keeps me from sumbing.¡°So, fuck it. Have bad days, but don¡¯t withdraw from me, and let me try to be there for you.¡±¡°I¡¯m not a good person to mentor you.¡± I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m not good in my mind. Mentally.¡± It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve admitted it out loud¡ªto anyone.¡°Well, you are good in my mind,¡± he says forcefully.I shake my head as he wipes a tear from my chin. ¡°Tyler . . . I have very bad problems with my memory, and I often get aggravated andsh out. I don¡¯t want to do more harm than I have. I have no business shaping your mind.¡±¡°Listen to me,¡± he says sharply,manding my eyes. ¡°I already knew what you just admitted, and I can handle it. But I also know how much you helped Tobias before he left. I¡¯ve learned so much from you already, and as selfish as it may be to ask, I need this. I need your help, Delphine. Help me, and I swear to you right now, no matter what happens, I won¡¯t hold it against you. Ever. So please stop avoiding me. I have bad days, too. Very bad days. Trust me.¡±¡°I know you do,¡± I tell him. ¡°I know because there is another side to you that no one sees. Not even them.¡± I point toward the door. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous for you because you don¡¯t know what it is or will be.¡±He bites his lip as if trying to decipher whether to confirm it before nodding his head. ¡°I need help with that, too.¡±I palm his cheek, and his features twist in anguish as he presses into my palm, seeming desperate for the touch. It¡¯s then I again find myself unable to refuse him. ¡°Do not be ashamed. I can help you with this.¡±¡°So you¡¯ll help me?¡±Shivering in the nket, I withdraw my hand and nod. ¡°I will try, but you must trust me. Can you trust me?¡±¡°I already do,¡± he whispers.¡°Maybe¡±¡ªI bite the tear that lines my lips¡ª¡°if I tell you one day why I hate the snow, you will talk to me about who you be when you step into the shadows at night and stare into my window.¡±He nods.¡°Then I will try.¡±

 Severed Heart: Chapter 18

    SPRING 2005THE FIRST HINTS of spring perfume the air as I stalk toward Dom¡¯s driveway, cooling down from mytest run. Inhaling deeply, I fill my nose as Delphine spots me walking up the drive.¡°Tyler,e!¡± Approaching, I find her rooting around in the trunk of her open sedan, which is brimming with baskets of flowers and porch nts.¡°Look!¡± Delphine turns back to me, dressed in a thin-strapped dark red sundress. Her long onyx hair styled in her usual braid over one of her shoulders. It¡¯s the sight of her dressed in something other than her robe, along with the genuine smile she shes toward me, that has me stopping short of reaching her.It seems thest few months have been a little transformative for us both. After a grueling winter in which we spent a lot of time animatedly ying Battalion on her good days, we¡¯ve managed to find a way to work together around the bad. Sometimes, in amicable, oddlyfortable silence. Each of us sorting through our own individual shit.Even during the weeks the clouds refused to part, Delphine became more and more participatory¡ªmore of a presence in the house rather than hiding in the shadows with her bottle. Only taking long absences after a bad day.Thinking on it now as I watch her dig through her trunk, I can¡¯t remember thest time any of us have scraped her from any surface of the house orwn to usher her to bed.Though forever vtile and no less dependent on vodka than when we started, she seems to be slowly blooming along with the season. The changes in her so far have been subtle but are starting to add up as I study her. Having traded in her dingy robe and winter staple, it¡¯s easy to see she¡¯s added a little healthy weight, which only enhances her curves.Now, in the bright light of day, under the sun¡¯s rays, she¡¯s fucking wless. Today, she made a real effort in her appearance, which is impossible to ignore. So much so, I force myself to rip my eyes away from her dark, wine-painted lips.¡°Need some help?¡± I ask, my recovery too slow in execution as a slight tension fills the open air between us, and her eyes drop. It¡¯s then I know I¡¯ve done it again. After months of one-on-one sessions at her kitchen table, it¡¯s clear to me by now that she hates any lingering attention from any male eye¡ªespecially if it¡¯s appreciative in nature.The problem is, as ofte, I can¡¯t fucking stop taking in her details. Dozens of chewed pen caps during ss are a testament to the little things I¡¯ve memorized so far. Her metal gray eyes are the most startling in contrast with her darkshes and olive skin, which is already starting to tint from exposure to the sun.¡°I got all of this on sale,¡± she pipes before producing a ripe watermelon from the trunk and thrusting it toward me. ¡°Fresh melon! I thought it would be a good treat!¡±I can¡¯t help but grin at her ancient verbiage delivery choice or her excitement. Her expression is so fucking endearing as she searches my own for approval.¡°Love fresh melon,¡± I say as she turns back to sort her haul, while I take the few steps toward her that separate us.¡°Me too!¡± she shouts as I hover mere inches behind her, thankful she can¡¯t see my answering grin. There¡¯s an innocence about her that I swear to Christ no one sees. Truth is, no one is looking due to her flip-switch behavior and tantrums.At this point, I can¡¯t really me Dom for not looking after years of witnessing and enduring her self-sabotage. If we hadn¡¯t just spent thest seven months in each other¡¯spany, I might have missed it too.¡°The nts are beautiful, non?¡± she asks, gathering another melon in her arms as I quickly divert my attention to it.¡°Yeah,¡± I agree, finding it utterly ironic that ripe fruit and nts bring her so much joy. She¡¯s such toughpany to impress otherwise. Following her up the drive to the porch, I muse at her animation as she talks a mile a minute about her short expedition to the farmer¡¯s market.It¡¯s when we both spot Dom in the kitchen, mug in hand and reading the paper, that I feel the instant shift in the air and Delphine¡¯s brief hesitation¡ªas if we just entered a room with her parent inside.Her eyes do a quick, indecisive sweep over Dom before she speaks up, mustering some of her enthusiasm.¡°Dom,¡± she calls, presenting the watermelon, ¡°I found this at the farmer¡¯s market. Look!¡±Dom doesn¡¯t so much as spare a nce at her prized fruit. ¡°Kudos, Tatie, you found produce at the market. Will you be as excited if you find cars in a parking lot?¡±That snub is felt by both of us as she turns and silently washes the melon before pulling out a knife to slice it. Her eyes are cast down as she addresses me.¡°Tyler, will you put the rest of the nts on the porch?¡± Her tone is now void of the life it had seconds before, and I inwardly curse as I re at Dom¡¯s profile.¡°Sure,¡± I agree easily, just as Dom looks up, giving me an eye roll. One I don¡¯t acknowledge. He wants me to condone his inhumane treatment of her, but as ofte, it¡¯s starting to grate on me. He¡¯s only vaguely aware that her ex-husband brutally terrorized her in this very fucking house, and only because I told him.Memories I¡¯m sure she often needs to clear her mind of. The shake in her hands and certain sounds jarring her at times, telling me when she¡¯s triggered. I¡¯m just not sure exactly by what, yet, having only snuck in a handful of the letters between her and Celine.Her triggers are so fucking textbook that I¡¯m surprised Dom hasn¡¯t taken notice while at the same time knowing exactly why¡ªresentment. This makes me a bit of a hypocrite because I refuse to acknowledge any effort Dad makes on his rare good days. But unlike Dad, Delphine doesn¡¯t falsify reality on her good days the way Carter Jennings does, pretending like he isn¡¯t the source of the tension in our house. While my dad now expects acknowledgment forpleting old responsibilities he previously ignored, Delphine merely tries to make up for her wrongs, hoping for forgiveness and some semnce of a rtionship¡ªnot demanding it.¡°Come help me,¡± I tell Dom, sidling up to him where he¡¯s perched at the counter.¡°Busy.¡± He lifts the paper, shutting down a conversation between us that he knows will end with a reprimand from me.¡°Two wrongs don¡¯t make things right, asshole,¡± I interject anyway, bumping his shoulder before I head to her car.¡°Neither does your little hard-on,¡± he rys cooly before snapping his paper. A quip I ignore because it¡¯s bullshit, and he knows it. Despite me taking notice of how beautiful his aunt is, there¡¯s nothing remotely inappropriate happening between us, and he¡¯s aware of that. Especially when we encourage him to join us during every game of Battle, and I invite him on my runs.It¡¯s when I step back into the house that I see the full crack in Delphine¡¯s exterior as she unscrews her pint two hours before her usual first drink of the night.At the sight of it, and for the first time since Dom and I became friends, I resent his fuck-all disposition and fail to find the humor in his brutal delivery.Not your business, Jennings.Not long after, Dom leaves for the library. It¡¯s as I sit at the table to contemte my next move that Delphine approaches, hesitating with what looks to be a sketchbook in her hand.¡°More to memorize?¡± I ask, grinning up at her. ¡°You¡¯re relentless, General.¡±¡°Not exactly.¡±¡°What¡¯s got you so nervous?¡± I frown at her finger-whitening grip on the book.¡°I¡¯m not nervous,¡± she snaps defensively, and I catch the instant sh of regret in her eyes due to her harsh delivery. ¡°Non,¡± she dismisses, a slight blush ghosting her cheeks and neck, ¡°some other time.¡±¡°Come on,¡± I prompt, stopping her with my hand on the book, careful not to touch her. ¡°Let me see.¡±Biting her plump lower lip, she studies me for sincere interest before setting the book in front of me. Opening it, I start to flip through the pages.¡°The true genius of any strategist,¡± she rys, ¡°lies within the surprise.¡±¡°These are yours?¡± I ask, running my finger over one of the drawings.¡°Hmm.¡± She nods, a little pride-filled smile ying on her lips as I scan the penciled, heavily shaded artwork.¡°Delphine, this is really, really fucking good,¡± I tell her honestly.She shrugs.¡°It is just . . .¡± She pauses, searching for the words, which she does often. ¡°Rough.¡± She nods. ¡°Rough draftings.¡±I don¡¯t correct her, other than her downying her effort.¡°You put real time into these.¡± I examine some of her battle formations. ¡°And a hell of a lot of thought.¡± I point to a few on the page. ¡°It shows.¡±In thest few weeks, we¡¯ve gone forward and backward on the battles fought by expert strategists and legends, namely Alexander the Great and Napoleon, including the details of their private lives. Delphine is adamant that all aspects of an enemy¡ªincluding knowing the ins and outs of how they conduct themselves personally¡ªwill give some advantage.I don¡¯t disagree, which is why I continue to educate myself with my mom¡¯s psychology books.Despite Dom¡¯s best efforts to destroy her mood today, her optimism slowly starts to shift back as I flip through the book. From the way she speaks to me, it¡¯s as if she¡¯s been waiting for years to tell me these things. The more we talk, the more attentive and receptive I am, the more animated she bes, and I don¡¯t credit her swallows of Smirnoff for it. Her enthusiasm for this isn¡¯t at all vodka-fabricated, and it¡¯s evident the more we discuss each page.¡°How long have you been doing these?¡± I ask, noting that a few pages are less defined and sloppier in execution, as are her notes next to them¡ªthe handwriting like night and day. The deterioration, I suspect, is due to her drinking. Guilt threatens at the thought just before she confirms it.¡°For many years,¡± she rys, avoiding my eyes, ¡°since before I came from France.¡±¡°And when was that?¡± I flip another page.¡°When I was young. Younger than you are now.¡±I haven¡¯t probed into her past yet. It always felt like those questions were off the table, but I can¡¯t help but ask one.¡°Why did you leave France?¡± I ask, knowing the answer.¡°Why alle to the States.¡±¡°The American Dream,¡± I utter, my tone indicative that I¡¯m not buying it as I table it figuratively and literally for a different time.¡°You know,¡± I tell her as she nces over to me. ¡°I¡¯ve never met a woman¡ªeven those in my military family¡ªwho is so fascinated by all facets of war and, more notably, the brazen and brave acts of historical figures.¡±¡°True history is too often ignored, Tyler. Far more stories than those selected for history books. Tales of unsinged heroes who deserve recognition.¡±I hold my smirk at her misspoken verbiage.¡°There was a woman who was part of the French resistance in World War Two who was instrumental in helping to keep the Germans from reiming a stronghold in Paris. She¡¯s barely mentioned, and her efforts were many. Her acts those of a very brave, fed-up street soldier. It¡¯s soldiers like that who I admire most and respect.¡± She smiles. ¡°This is the type of soldier Ezekiel is and that you, Sean, and Dom will be.¡±¡°I hope so,¡± I say.¡°No need to hope. When Ezekiel left, I saw it in his eyes. The determination to do, not say. I see it in Jean Dominic. I also see it in you.¡±¡°You know they don¡¯t go by their birth names, right?¡±She smiles. ¡°That¡¯s why I use them.¡±¡°To piss them off?¡±¡°No, because I named them.¡±¡°What?¡± I ask, shocked by the disclosure.She nods. ¡°I named them both. It was my¡±¡ªshe pauses¡ª¡°my privilege Celine gave for being aunt.¡±¡°Do they know this?¡±¡°No, I don¡¯t want to give them more of a reason not to use their names . . . Ezekiel means ¡®strength of God,¡¯ and Jean means ¡®God¡¯s grace.¡¯¡±We stare off for a long second before collectively bursting intoughter.¡°Dom¡¯s namesake doesn¡¯t quite suit,¡± I cackle.¡°He will grow into it.¡± She beams back at me. ¡°He¡¯s still young but very much has his mother¡¯s heart.¡±My chuckle slows as a flicker passes over her features, one I know is thanks to the subject himself. It¡¯s her expression that has me fighting myself to keep my oath¡ªthat other¡¯s personal rtionships are none of my fucking business. Something I know will serve me well.¡°He¡¯ll grow out of that, too,¡± I assure her, and she waves her hand, ending the discussion. Within a matter of minutes, we¡¯re back studying the tactics of Alexander the Great.As she speaks, I can¡¯t help but marvel at her. So much of what¡¯s inside this woman¡¯s head astounds me, and more so that all of this time, I sought my father¡¯s advice when I had her intelligence within reach. Tobias has been stressing to Dom, Sean, and me that Delphine¡¯s wisdom knows no bounds and that all three of us could benefit from her, but thus far, I¡¯m still the only one paying attention.The fact that she is so fucking smart, not to mention capable, and daily chooses to drink that value away, abusing herself by the bottle, both saddens and frustrates me. In those times, I remember my ce and never push her too hard.¡°Mindset and stamina are key, private,¡± she continues, as the soft skin of her arm brushes my bicep before a light, musky scent fills my nose. It¡¯s rich but not too overpowering, and I find myself inhaling it again when she brushes against me to point out part of an old sketch. That slight brush has my spine tightening with awareness¡ªone I¡¯ve done my best to ignore for months.Though I¡¯m positive she¡¯s nothing I should want. If she, for one second, entertained a small amount of the attraction I have brewing for her, she might one¡ªtoy with me, two¡ªoutright reject me. Either way, fucking with my head and heart in a way I know I won¡¯t be easily resilient to. Even so, I¡¯m quickly finding all parts of me wanting all parts of her¡ªespecially the broken ones.But my psyche¡ªwho¡¯s currently tossing out red gs¡ªdoesn¡¯t give a damn about any of these forming opinions or observations. My cock doesn¡¯t either. This is only confirmed a secondter when my mind goes nk because I¡¯m hard.Rock fucking hard.

 Severed Heart: Chapter 19

    ¡°SHHH,¡± I WHISPER, ttening my palms on the back of my bedroom door as I thrust into Kayley¡¯s wet mouth, where she kneels beneath me.Keeping one hand firmly nted on the door¡ªthough it¡¯s locked¡ªI cup her cheek, running my thumb from the excess length she can¡¯t fit into her mouth to her stretched top lip, reveling in the obscene sight of it. Trying to ease more of it in, I earn the narrow of light blue eyes when I gag her.Hiding my grin, I scrape my lower lip with my teeth before licking its length, an unspoken promise of a pleasurable payback.¡°Rx your throat, baby, just a little more,¡± I coax, drinking in the sight of her on her knees, shirt open, bra unsped, her nipples peaked as she does my bidding. A girl not so easily swayed to please but doing her best for me, which only turns me on more.Slowing my hips, I savor thest of the rush as everything starts to draw tight, and I manage to inch in a bit further. It¡¯s the stretch that always unravels me, tipping me over.¡°Fuck beautiful, the view you¡¯re giving me,¡± I grit out, picking up my pace as she deep-throats me. I¡¯m seconds froming when a sharp knock sounds on the other side of my bedroom door.Kayley freezes, eyes bulging as I cup the back of her head to keep her there, refusing her withdrawal as Mom speaks up.¡°Tyler, dinner will be ready in an hour . . . Kayley staying?¡±Turning my head, I pitch my voice toward the other side of my room. ¡°No, Kayley has to get home soon.¡±A pause on the other side of the door has me looking back down at Kayley. Encouraging her to stay put, I stroke her chin as she res at me with watering eyes. At the sight of them, I thrust in further, sending tears streaming down her cheeks. Satisfaction fills me at the sight of the running mascara.You¡¯re a fucking asshole, Jennings.The silence stretches a little too long before Mom finally stalks off. Once in the clear, Kayley starts to pull away, and I fist her hair to stop her while uttering my warning.¡°I¡¯m going toe, with or without your help, and if Ie alone, you do too. But if you¡¯re good to me¡±¡ªI pump my hips a little¡ª¡°I¡¯m going to be really fucking good to you,¡± I promise.Shortly after delivering on said promise, I walk Kayley to my front door, kissing her chastely without any guarantee of a call. One she¡¯s never required, and I don¡¯t intend on making. She shes me a bold grin that I share before I close the door. Only partially satiated, I¡¯m halfway back to my room when a sharp order is emitted from the kitchen.¡°In here, Son. Now.¡±I walk in to see Mom rolling out pie crust, for what I know is homemade chicken pot pie¡ªmy favorite. She eyes me warily as I take the stool on the opposite side of the counter.¡°Don¡¯t you ever fucking do that again when I¡¯m in the house,¡± she barks, ¡°it¡¯s a disgustingck of disrespect.¡±¡°Don¡¯t I know it,¡± I sigh.¡°And what¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±¡°It won¡¯t happen again. We done?¡±¡°No, we¡¯re not done,¡± she says with a heavy exhale. ¡°Next time, be a normal teenage kid and at least try to hide it, or¡±¡ªher eyes drill mine¡ª¡°tell me, Son, was that some tant F U to me?¡±¡°No, Mom, it had nothing to do with you,¡± and everything to do with another¡ªyou can¡¯t have her¡ªneeded reality check.She scrutinizes me. ¡°How old is that girl?¡±¡°My age,¡± I lie, for Kayley¡¯s sake, and she¡¯s not local, which is one of the main reasons I continue to hook up with her.¡°Are you using¡ª¡±¡°Protection, seriously?¡± I hold up my palm. ¡°Isn¡¯t this a script for a father to use and way overdue?¡±¡°He should be home any minute. Want me to take it up with him?¡± she threatens.I roll my eyes at it, knowing it¡¯s empty. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m using protection. I have no ns of fathering anyone.¡±Her brows rise. ¡°Ever?¡±¡°Not really enthusiastic about the family dynamictely.¡± I pop a chopped, raw carrot into my mouth as she stills briefly at my barb before continuing to roll out her crust. We¡¯ve been in the same silent standoff for months, only talking about the surface shit¡ªsomething I findpletely ironic, seeing how it¡¯s her everyday job to get to the root of other people¡¯s problems.She¡¯s be an expert at avoidance since Christmas. Though looking at her now, I scan her contemtively. My friends forever giving me shit about how beautiful my mom is. Though their remarks repulse me, I can¡¯t disagree. Regina Jennings is beautiful and looks younger than most of my friends¡¯ parents, except for one whose technical title is Aunt. Though I inherited my face and build from my dad, as I study my mom, I wonder what inherited traits and other attributes I garnered from her.¡°What, Son?¡± Mom asks without looking up.Observant. That¡¯s one. But a given and necessary considering her profession as a psychologist.¡°Just wondering why you¡¯re going through all this trouble to cook when you know he¡¯s leaving for the bar soon.¡±Her shoulders dete as she brings her eyes to mine. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m interested in feeding my son since he¡¯s intent on leaving me.¡± A pause. ¡°You graduate in a few weeks and turn eighteen a few months after. When do you n to enlist?¡±I shrug. ¡°Not sure. I¡¯m thinking about prolonging enlisting until after Sean and Dom graduate next May. It all depends.¡±¡°Really?¡± Her eyes light with hope. ¡°On what?¡±¡°A lot of things,¡± I tell her, a sh of silver-gray eyes flitting through my mind along with the devilish grin that lights the rest of the fire. Prolonging leaving Delphine wouldn¡¯t be the only benefit.By staying, I could help ensure the club is on a more solid foundation before I start my time in the Corps. We¡¯re nowhere near ready yet, not by a long shot. Not that I don¡¯t n on visiting home as often as Tobias if I¡¯m capable. It¡¯s our task list, which is growing by the day with everyone the French bastard visits, that¡¯s be daunting.It¡¯s the idea of prolonging my stint in this fucking house that has me rethinking it all. However, leaving Mom means leaving her alone to defend herself.¡°I¡¯ve already met with my recruiter,¡± I tell her. ¡°I¡¯m taking my ASVAB test after graduation and might go ahead and schedule my physical.¡±She stops her rolling pin. ¡°Tyler, seriously?¡±¡°What?¡± I shrug.¡°You didn¡¯t think to discuss that with me?¡±¡°You know I¡¯m not changing my mind.¡±¡°If your father finds out¡ª¡±¡°He¡¯ll what, Mom? He¡¯ll what? Like he has any say in the matter.¡±¡°Jesus, if I would have known you were going to take off right after you turned eighteen, I wouldn¡¯t have started you in kindergarten so early.¡±¡°You had no choice because you were a single parent and needed help with childcare,¡± I tell her. ¡°Still are.¡±Her eyes roll down my face. ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡±¡°Sure it¡¯s not, by the way, your baby boy ate at the Pitt Stop after school.¡±¡°Perfect.¡± She discards the dough in a messy heap before pping her flour-coated hand on the counter and giving me a stern look.¡°What is this? Why such tant callousness toward metely?¡± Her eyes water. ¡°Do you think I don¡¯t want things to get better? That I¡¯m ignoring what¡¯s happening around here?¡±¡°I don¡¯t know what you want anymore, Mom. You barely look at me.¡±¡°Because I¡¯m ashamed, Tyler,¡± she croaks, holding my gaze.I drop my own eyes, hating myself a little for the tears I¡¯m causing.¡°Look at me,¡± she snaps, ¡°you wanted to hurt me, so look at it and be satisfied.¡±I do, and the guilt intensifies.¡°Feel better?¡± she asks.¡°No, Mom, shit.¡± I palm my jaw. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry,¡± I repeat, barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡¯m just in a messed-up cetely.¡±¡°And I don¡¯t me you for it, but I promise you that I¡¯m not immune to it, and I didn¡¯t think this needed exining because you are worlds above average in deciphering things like this. So, I didn¡¯t see the point in spelling it out.¡±Perceptive, that¡¯s another.¡°I just don¡¯t understand why you won¡¯t divorce him and give yourself a second chance at a better life.¡±¡°He is my life, as are you. The life I chose and won¡¯t quit during hard times and time is what he needs. What may heal him and the amount is subjective. This can¡¯t be rushed.¡±¡°You truly believe that?¡±¡°Yes, but do you really want me to give up on him?¡±¡°I want you to put yourself first,¡± I grit out. Wishing to give some of the same brand of brutal truth to the woman who¡¯s starting to destroy my willpower.¡°When he¡¯s spent the majority of his life putting others first? Especially us?¡± she counters.¡°I don¡¯t see it that way.¡±¡°Because you don¡¯t want to. When he wasn¡¯t deployed and before that godforsaken career got the best of him, he was present for you. Deny it all you want, but that doesn¡¯t make it true. That¡¯s why this is hurting you so much.¡± She sighs. ¡°I refuse to forget that and the husband he was to me. You don¡¯t just leave someone you¡¯ve spent half your life with because they¡¯re going through a dark period. That¡¯s not what you do. At least, that¡¯s not what I¡¯m going to do.¡±She holds up a defensive palm, cutting me off. ¡°But I also know I¡¯m tolerating too much. I¡¯m at the end of my rope, but I¡¯m hanging on for him. Before hisst deployment, I asked for one thing¡ªfor him toe back alive. Not to be the man I married, just toe home, and I swore to myself that I would help him through the worst of it. He fulfilled his end, and so I¡¯m going to see my end of that deal through.¡±Ignorance for want. Loyalty to a fault. This is getting fucking scary.¡°He¡¯s done nothing but cause you pain. Carter is gone, Mom,¡± I say for thest time, knowing this argument¡ªlike ourst¡ªis pointless.¡°No, baby, he¡¯s not. He just needs more time.¡±mming my own palms on the counter, I shake my head. ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡±Temper¡ªdefinitely from Dad.¡°I assumed as much, and that¡¯s why I won¡¯t talk to you about it. You¡¯re too angry to see the pain he¡¯s in, let alone anything else.¡±¡°I don¡¯t care about the pain he¡¯s in!¡± I rebuke. ¡°I care about yours.¡±Chest rising and falling, she turns and stills before pumping some soap and rinsing her hands in the sink.¡°Is it true?¡± I ask her back, knowing that I could never pose this question face to face. ¡°Did you stop being intimate with him . . . because he got burned?¡±¡°How did you . . .¡± She turns to gape at me before wiping her hands on a towel. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple.¡±¡°It never is. Exin it to me.¡±¡°That¡¯s private.¡±¡°No topic is off the table. Your words. That¡¯s what you instilled in me since I was a kid.¡±¡°Maybe, but that¡¯s too personal and for your father and me to work out,¡± she bites defensively, ¡°but do you want to know why I won¡¯t give up?¡±¡°Enlighten me.¡±¡°Happy to if you stop with the tone,¡± she snaps and inhales deeply, shaking her head. ¡°It¡¯s because your father was dead set on winning me. So much so that he spent three straight years chasing me. A year of that showering me with a kind of love I didn¡¯t think existed in anything but movies and books, and I was not an easy shell to crack. I was terrified. A gorgeous man like that, capable of getting any girl he wanted, and dead set on me? But he waited, and he was faithful to me when I wasn¡¯t even his to be faithful to. He spent every day, for three straight years, proving his love for me until I gave in.¡±¡°He¡¯s not faithful anymore.¡±Her eyes water. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for him, Tyler, for as long as it takes, and if that¡¯s three more years, I¡¯ll wait three more years. I¡¯m not condoning any of his behavior, and my resentment is building, so our marriage might not make it. But you have to love the light and the dark in a human being for longevity in any rtionship. All of that person, that¡¯s what truemitment is.¡±¡°Even if he¡¯s cheating?¡±¡°Tyler,¡± she snaps, ¡°you don¡¯t have to keep reminding me of your father¡¯s infidelity, which is unusually cruel of you. And you¡¯re missing my point. I¡¯m in it and waiting for the best friend I have made a life and raised a son with. I¡¯m still in this for a man I love far beyond our physical rtionship, and I¡¯m not leaving my best friend at his worst until I know he¡¯s safe. At least from himself. Only then will I confront what¡¯s left of our marriage. I¡¯m not in denial, Son. I¡¯m waiting. He needs help, but he needs to want it. It¡¯s the only way.¡±Shaking my head, I push off from the counter. ¡°Whatever you say, Mom.¡±Flouring her hands, she grabs the dough and resumes pounding it with her fist. ¡°You know, if you don¡¯t want honest answers to hard questions,¡± she spits bitterly, ¡°don¡¯t ask them.¡±¡°Can I take the van?¡± I counter, done with the conversation.¡°Fine,¡± she sighs in disappointment, ¡°just be home by curfew.¡±Grabbing the keys from our ancient Gone Fishin¡¯ dish, I crack the garage door and am rounding the back of the van when the whisper reaches me, and I freeze.¡°. . . I must master it as I must master my life. My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless.¡±

 Severed Heart: Chapter 20

    ¡°I MUST MASTER IT as I must master my life. My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless.¡±Terror grips me as I will my feet forward, and hees into view. Sitting on his weight bench, a stic card table sits in front of him as he continues his chant.¡°. . . I must master it as I must master my life. My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless.¡±Eyes zed, his hands blur in motion on the table in front of him as he loads and unloads his rifle. Fear is etched on his features as he stares nkly in front of him¡ªthrough me.¡°Dad?¡± I croak, terror and dread overwhelming every inch of me. Nausea threatens as my stomach roils as he continues his chant, dismantling his rifle before assembling it again in a blur of well-rehearsed motion.I jump back when he lifts it and aims straight in front of him at the closed garage door before dismantling it again, the chant pouring from his lips. ¡°. . . IS. My. Life. I m-m-must master it as I must m-master my life. My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless.¡±Paralyzed, I watch him doing this in rapid session, softly calling his name as tears start to pour out of his eyes, his voice barely a whisper.¡°. . . without my rifle, I am useless.¡±¡°Mom,¡± I croak, the fear of leaving him to get her help crippling me in ce. I don¡¯t move. I don¡¯t so much as blink as I watch him repeat his lightning-fast movements again and again, slight spittle dripping from his lips as his whispers grow more urgent.Hitting my knees, fear rips from my throat as I close my eyes.The crack of the garage door sounds before a swish of air brushes against me as Mom passes. I feel it the second she sees him.¡°Carter? . . . Baby?¡±Keeping my eyes closed, even as my fear for her sets in, I can¡¯t open them because the man sitting feet away looks every bit like my father while at the same time holding no resemnce to Carter Jennings.Dread grips me tightly, muffling the world around me before Mom¡¯s pleas break through.¡°. . . Son, please, Son, call your Uncle Grayson right now. Tyler? Please go. Carter,¡± Mom orders calmly before turning back to him. ¡°Carter, baby, look at me, put the gun down. Carter, please put the gun down.¡±Time blurs as do faces before Ie to, the neighbors crowding our yard as Dad is strapped into a gurney, his eyes glossy, mouth moving almost imperceptibly, no sounding out¡ªthough I can still hear the chant as clear as day.¡°My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless.¡±My father is living that chant right now¡ªbelieving it. Believing he¡¯s nothing without the uniform. Institutionalized in his thinking.I feel that truth in the depths of my soul. Lost would not be the word I would use to describe what I saw. It¡¯s the utter fear and devastation in his expression that guts me again and again. A blunt knife to the stomach continually stabbing into me as the gurney bangs loudly against the edge of the ambnce bed before they secure him inside.I¡¯d been balls deep in Kayley and arguing with my mother about his worth while my dad was . . . unraveling. He¡¯s been at war, in his mind, inside himself this whole time. But I pathetically had to see it to finally understand just what that hell looked like, let alone imagine what it felt like.¡°I still can¡¯t find the front door.¡±But I¡¯ve seen that hell in another face¡ªthe same haunted expression, the same unmistakable pain, in a woman who fights it daily to help me, to shape me.¡°Such a shame,¡± our neighbor Carrie whispers to another, just feet away. ¡°He just hasn¡¯t been the same since he came back . . . Regina!¡± She pitches her voice. ¡°Honey, let us know if there¡¯s anything we can do.¡±I turn on her then, fury lighting up my veins as I stalk toward her, and her eyes widen. ¡°How about stop talking about him like he¡¯s useless cattle being sent out to fucking pasture!¡±¡°Tyler!¡± Uncle Gray snaps, striding toward me with the cops on his heels as the medics m the back of the ambnce closed. And with it, I feel my own snap.¡°He¡¯s a human fucking being!¡± I shout as rage swallows me¡ªblinds me. ¡°A human being who put his life on the line for two decades so no one can dictate whates off your waggling fucking tongue!¡±Mom calls my name, the sound of it distant as Uncle Gray mps his arms around me, whispering fast in my ear, but it¡¯s toote.BLINK. BLACK.¡°Seventy-two hours under observation.¡± Uncle Gray¡¯s muffled voice brings me to where I sit in Dad¡¯s recliner. Shifting slightly, I can feel my T-shirt stuck to my sweat-dried back as his voice filters in, rity in his words. ¡°. . . and then we¡¯re going to transfer him into rehab.¡±¡°They can¡¯t afford it,¡± Aunt Rhonda whispers back to him from where she scrubs Mom¡¯s counters in the kitchen.¡°They¡¯re paying,¡± Uncle Gray states.¡°They fucking better,¡± Rhonda counters with unmistakable animosity. I don¡¯t have to hear more to know she¡¯s relieved Uncle Gray got out of the Corps when he did.Thoughts heavy, nausea threatening at the ingrained sight of Dad at that table, I stand and excuse myself.Uncle Grayson eyes me as I give him a nod, a lying gesture that tells him I¡¯m good before stalking out of the house and making the call.Twenty minutester, I¡¯m standing in the woods, staring at the full moon between two trees in the night sky, when I feel him approach. Not long ago, we gathered in this exact spot to map our n. A blueprint Tobias had no idea that Sean, Dom, and I desperately needed, grappling with our current, directionless lives. ns I cling to now with an alteration in mind¡ªmy own purpose.¡°I have a stake in this,¡± I tell him, chest still pumping from the long run to get here.¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± Tobias says. ¡°But first, tell me what¡¯s happened, brother.¡±Ignoring the shake that he can clearly see in my posture as hot tears line my jaw, I muster the words. ¡°It¡¯s my dad, I . . . I think I caught him in the nick of time tonight. I¡¯m not sure, but he was . . . I barely even recognized him. He¡¯s under observation now and going to rehab after.¡±¡°Jesus Christ, Tyler, I¡¯m¡ª¡±¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I say, finding the resolve I¡¯ve been searching for as the veryst tear I¡¯ll shed evaporates on my skin. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re sorry, T.¡±I turn to see him looking well put together in one of his suits. A look he¡¯s adopted in recent years, and I can¡¯t help but admire him, knowing that whatever he¡¯s doing, he too is taking steps to alter his mindset to be whatever version he¡¯s created of himself for the future. Even though he¡¯s often present, he¡¯s still be something of an enigma to us. Dom has hinted here and there that he¡¯s involved in something overseas, but I¡¯ve never pressed him for what. He¡¯s too used to being big brother to all of us. That has to change between us tonight in order for my own n to work.¡°I don¡¯t want your sympathy. I want you to tell me you¡¯ll back me up on this. I want you to tell me you¡¯ll do whatever it is within your power to help me see this through¡ªto the very fucking end. But before we start, this secret, until I decide otherwise, stays solely between us.¡±¡°I swear it.¡±¡°Then you need toe clean with me. I need to know every facet of what¡¯s going on, of the totality of your ns, not just what you pick and choose to let us in on, and that, too, will be our secret.¡±He crosses his arms, his eyes trailing down me curiously. ¡°Why the need to know?¡±¡°If I¡¯m to build our army and oversee its integrity, then I need the full picture, and that¡¯s half of what my stake is in this. With what I have in mind, I¡¯m going to be the one you rely on most. You and I, we can¡¯t keep any secrets between us if it¡¯s going to work. If you want my allegiance, my fealty, my loyalty, then give me this, and you¡¯ll have it.¡±¡°And what is your n?¡±¡°To take on the US military.¡±An hourter, I¡¯m in the know, more so than Dom and Sean, and make peace with it while standing across the street from my best friend¡¯s house, peering into the living room. My throat burns as I gaze upon Delphine in her recliner. The ache and need to go to her intensifying as I recall the details of thest few letters I read.He mes me for the baby and tells me God knew I would be a horrible mother . . .He¡¯s raping me now, Celine . . .Last night, he forced me to sleep on the porch in the snow . . .I am poison to the men I love . . .As she fills her ss, like my father, I know that she¡¯s mentally in a ce I can¡¯t get to. Everything inside me wants to be who she reaches for now as my heart fills with the truth.I¡¯m falling for her, and chances are I¡¯ll never openly be able to express it. It¡¯s likely I¡¯ll never get the fucking chance to try to be the man she reaches for. Or be able to battle the poison that numbs the wounds inside her that continue to fester. Wounds that keep her in the vicious cycle of slow self-implosion, right along with my dad. Love can¡¯t heal those deep-etched scars away.Or can it?Thanks to my idiotic fucking heart and its fixation, I may never get the luxury of finding out. But I can be there for her. Even if it leads to some personal detriment.But it¡¯s the broken areas where we share our mostmon ground, and it¡¯s there that maybe we¡¯ll find a ce¡ªtogether. It¡¯s then my mom¡¯s earlier words about timing resonate the most, and I make peace with it.¡°Mindset and stamina,¡± I mumble before turning on my heels and pressing off against the concrete. I run a mile, then two, reaching ten and pushing forward. The ache not abating a single second as I envision a man capable of taking on that battle, setting my sights on a man with an iron will and unbreakable resolve. Who backs his promises and camouges his own pain. A man that will break the cycle, break the fucking mold.A man to reach for.To entrust.A man that will be me.And the only fucking man for her.


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