The Row(35)

16

I PARK MY CAR across the street from the address Jordan gave me and wait. Maybe I should’ve argued with Jordan when he asked me to come to his house tonight. I thought about it, and he must’ve known it would bother me to come here, because before I could say anything he told me all the reasons he couldn’t leave. He was watching Matthew, and it was getting kind of late, so leaving around bedtime wasn’t an option, etc., etc.

The truth is, though, I feel a kind of dark curiosity about their house. His dad put my dad in prison. Vega had always been the monster of my nightmares, but Jordan and Matthew have kind of shattered that idea. So what is left? Could the monster who stole my dad away also be a loving father? Do they have a happy home?

Is it how my home would’ve been if Daddy had never gone to Polunsky?

Plus, I did promise to come and tell him how things had gone during my visit with my dad.

But now that I’m here, I’m terrified. He said his father would be gone for the evening, yet just the idea of him suddenly showing up is keeping me here in my car—where I have been for the last ten minutes.

With a sigh, I fold my arms over the steering wheel and rest my head on them. The idea of simply walking up and knocking on their door is extremely daunting. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe I should’ve told Jordan he had to wait until we could meet somewhere, anywhere else, but I didn’t.

Oh, screw it, I’m going in.

Pushing away my fear, I step out of the car and cross the yard, jogging up onto the porch before I can change my mind. My hand shakes as I raise it to knock on the door, so I get the three raps over with quickly and hide it behind my back.

1 … 2 … I count in my head just to keep my thoughts from going crazy while I wait. 3 … 4 … Please let Jordan be the one who answers. Please. 5 … 6 … Does Jordan have any other siblings besides Matthew? How have I never asked about this before? 7 … 8 … I take two quick steps down the porch, sure that I should just go home—

The door opens, and Matthew looks up at me with a puzzled frown that clearly says I know you, but I don’t remember from where. His Avengers pajamas have creases like they just came out of a drawer. The dark, wavy hair that perfectly mimics Jordan’s is all messy. He must’ve figured out where he knew me from because he suddenly grins at me, both front teeth now missing. “I remember you!”

“Hi, Matthew. I remember you, too.” The toothless smile is infectious. Resistance is futile. “Is Jordan here?”

“Yes!” He continues to stand there, smiling at me. I imagine he should be in bed by now, but I’ve never really been around kids this age and certainly don’t know what to do with this one. “You’re Riley, the girl who likes the purple car!”

It probably would’ve been better for him not to remember my name—in case he tells his dad about the girl who came by later—but it isn’t like I’m the only Riley in Houston.

“Yep, that’s me.” He sounds so excited, I chuckle and wonder if I should start introducing myself this way all the time. It’s definitely better than my other options: I’m Riley, the girl who visits death row every week! Or the girl who got drunk that one time and told her biggest secret to the completely wrong guy! No, Purple Car Girl is definitely my best option. Shifting my feet forward, I peek around Matthew, hoping to possibly see Jordan lurking somewhere in the background, but no luck.

“Thanks for visiting,” Matthew says like an usher who opens the door for people when they’re leaving a museum. He sticks his small hand out to shake mine again and my worries about coming here dissolve.

“You know you’re not supposed to open the door by yourself.” The door suddenly jerks back and Jordan pokes his head around the edge. His expression goes from concerned to apologetic when he sees me, and he puts his hands on Matthew’s shoulders. “Sorry, we’re still mastering door etiquette. I hope you weren’t out here very long.”

Matthew holds tight to my fingers and I’m not sure how to pry him off without offending him. So I just keep shaking and say, “He’s better company than you anyway.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Jordan grins down at his brother. In one move, he lifts him up onto his shoulder, effectively freeing my hand. He turns his back on me and walks inside, leaving the door open behind him. In between bouts of Matthew giggling I hear Jordan say, “Come on in, Riley.”

I stand still on the porch. Every inch closer to the Vega family feels like some sort of betrayal. What would Daddy think if he knew I was here tonight? What would he say?

I draw my shoulders back and stand up straight as I walk into the brightly lit interior of Vega Central. I don’t know if I’m expecting it to look more like a holding cell than a house, but as I close the door behind me and my eyes adjust, I’m surprised by how welcoming it all feels. Everything in the living room I’ve stepped into is warm and inviting. It’s decorated in a southwestern style with brown couches and white pillows with accents in pops of teal and terra-cotta.

Absolutely nothing reminds me of my nightmares about the man who lives here, and I’m grateful for that.

Everywhere I look, it feels like it has a woman’s touch and I’m hit by a wave of sadness as I remember Jordan’s mother’s accident. Daddy has been gone long enough that I don’t see constant reminders of him when I look around our house. I can’t decide if the memories would make it easier or infinitely harder. Probably both.