The Impossible Knife of Memory(53)

The polite mask fell off his face. Adrenaline shot into my heart.

“You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d say ‘Trish? The drunk who abandoned us?’”

There was a knock at the front door.

The snake opened her mouth. “Hayley,” she said, “you have to give me a chance.”

“I don’t have to give you shit!”

“Enough!” Dad’s voice shook the walls.

The noise in my head was so loud I barely heard him. I had crossed the floor. I was in her face. “Get out now or I’m calling the cops.”

The knock sounded again. Spock headed for the door as it opened.

“Excuse me,” Finn said. “It’s just . . . you were yelling. Everything okay?”

“We’re fine,” Dad said.

“Miss Blue?” Finn asked.

Assess

Trish hadn’t flinched. She met my gaze, having to look up a bit because I was taller than she was. She wore contacts instead of glasses. Concealer that couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, hair dyed a flat brown with faded highlights. Her blush stood out like stop signs on her cheeks because all the color had drained from her face.

The front door closed. Finn’s footsteps and then his voice, “Hello, Mr. Kincain. I’m Finn, remember? We met a couple weeks ago.”

“What are you doing here?” Dad asked him.

Trish stepped around me and walked up to Finn, her hand outstretched. “My name is Trish Lazarev,” she said. “I’m an old friend of the family.”

Finn shook her hand. “Finnegan Ramos, ma’am, new friend of the family.”

“You told me you’d be with Gracie and her brother,” Dad said.

“We were. We were just calling it a night,” Finn said. “I walked Hayley home because she was cold.”

“You’re cold ’cause you’re not wearing any goddamn pants,” Dad said to me.

“It’s a Halloween costume, Andy,” Trish said mildly. “It’s very cute.”

“You should see the mask,” Finn said, holding out the bird face.

“Stop it!” I shouted, not willing to let them turn this into a game of plastic people talking about nothing while hungry lions paced in the middle of the room.

“Hayley, please,” Trish said.

I pointed at my father. “This isn’t about Halloween or pants.” I pointed at Trish. “It’s about you. Did you drug him? Is he having a brain bleed? I mean, God—”

“That’s enough, young lady,” Dad growled.

“No, Andy, don’t!” Trish shouted.

And this, always this. The part where Dad loses it, except he was supposed to grab her, not me, that’s what it said in the script; she’d bitch at him and nag, or he’d yell at her and no matter how it started, it ended with shoves and screams and broken things, and sometimes the broken thing was her, and sometimes it was him. Never me because I was small enough to hide in the closet or under my bed. But that wouldn’t work anymore. I was too big.

Dad’s breath smelled like whiskey and apple pie. This close, his eyes were dead flat, with no expression, not even anger. He looked at me like he didn’t know me. Maybe if my hair was still in pigtails, maybe if I was two feet shorter and missing my front teeth, then he’d see me.

Finn shouted something and suddenly he was next to me. Dad shoved him away. Finn came back and Dad grabbed his coat and there was Trish right in the middle of everything, her face inches from mine, from Dad’s. This was where she’d slap me or maybe Dad or maybe even Finn. This was where the screaming would pitch up and then something would fly through the air, an ashtray, a beer bottle, a table, and they would roar at each other and somebody would bleed and—

“Andy.” Trish’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Look at me.”

Dad squeezed the front of Finn’s coat tighter.

“Please, Andy,” she said. “Please look at me.” She put her hands on my father’s fists. “What have we been talking about all night?” she whispered.

Daddy closed his eyes and opened his hands.

Finn and I both stepped out of range. I mouthed “Go,” but he shook his head. Dad sat heavily on the couch, expressionless. Spock hopped up next to him and laid his shaggy head on Dad’s lap.

“How about we let Hayley get her sweatpants and go to her girlfriend’s for the night, like she planned?” Trish asked.

The only sound was the whump, whump of Spock’s tail on the couch cushions as Dad scratched his ears.

“Or I can leave,” Trish said. “Whatever is going to make you comfortable.”

Whump, whump, whump, whump, whump.

Dad looked at the dog, but spoke to me. “You should go, Hayley.”

“But—”

He shook his head. “I need to talk to Trish. Will this guy walk you to Grace’s?”

“Of course, sir,” Finn said.

“Would you mind waiting for her outside?” Trish asked.

Action





_*_ 56 _*_

I emptied my backpack on my bed, then stuffed it with a pair of jeans, socks, underwear, a couple of books, and all the money in my secret stash . . . heart pounding legs running lungs heaving . . . I pulled on leggings and then sweatpants . . . get out get out get out . . . Put on a turtleneck and my heaviest hoodie . . . run hide watch your back . . . Took the hunting knife out of my sock drawer and put it in the pouch.