Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(9)
“Christ,” Henry says, rubbing at his forehead. “I don’t blame you guys for getting the hell out of there.”
“There’s more,” Jess says, and the crease between Henry’s eyebrows deepens.
“I called the cops. When they showed up, asking about a disturbance, Mom stood out of sight, shaking her head, silently begging me to turn them away. I didn’t. They had warrants. Lots of them, for things we didn’t even know about. Long story short, they’re both in jail.” If she gets lucky, she’ll do court-ordered rehab instead of doing time, and then probation. Whether it’s jail or rehab, I know she’ll be fed, sheltered, and sober. I don’t care how it happens.
I still remember the way she looked at me. How I held her stare, resigned, as I slowly swung the door open wide, and did what you never, under any circumstances, do in a neighborhood like mine. You don’t rat out anyone, ever. Especially not your blood.
But as I looked at Jess, swollen, bloody, and humiliated, I knew he needed me to show him that someone would love him like he deserved. Stand up for him. Protect him. That I loved him like a mother and a sister and a best friend, and I would always do what’s best for him, even when she wouldn’t. And I did it for Crystal, too. If she has any chance of living a normal life, or even a sober life, then maybe jail was the best and safest place for her.
So, I’ll be the rat. The snitch. I’ll be whatever the fuck you want to call me, and I won’t regret it. Not even for a second. That doesn’t mean we wanted to stick around to see what happens on the off chance they get off easy, though. Plus, with Jess getting caught hacking into the school’s system, changing grades, his beef with the piece of shit dealers he was stupid enough to get involved in, and me finding out Eric lied about everything, it was the perfect storm. We needed to get out before it swept us away. There was no other choice.
Henry sits there quietly, his features twisted into something I can’t decipher. Guilt? Anger? Or maybe it’s discomfort, because he can’t really defend her, knowing he failed us, too.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “You kids are welcome to stay here until they kick me out.” Henry mentioned on the phone that his lease was up soon. The owner is selling the place, but I was too desperate to care. “I’m not here a whole lot, though. I’ll keep the lights on. You two will be responsible for your food. All that I ask is you respect my house, and maybe leave me a plate of dinner every now and then.”
“And the 4Runner?” I ask, hoping I’m not pushing my luck. Henry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Why not. Bring it by the shop. I’ll give it an oil change and make sure it’s in decent condition.”
That was easy. Too easy. Experience tells me I should be wary, but my gut tells me he’s being genuine.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.
He stands and gives me a nod before he walks away. He pauses after a few steps and hesitates before speaking.
“I, uh, know I left you kids…” He trails off, seemingly uncomfortable. “Truth is, I was as bad as your mother back then. I won’t pretend to be a saint. Not now and sure as hell not then. But I’m sober. Have been for years, save for the occasional beer,” he says, jerking his chin to the empty on the table. “I know the chaos that surrounds your mother better than anyone, and you won’t find that here. That’s one thing you can count on.”
He forgets that I was old enough to know what was going on. Even in my ten-year-old mind, I could see that my mother was poisoning everyone around us, including him. His intentions were good, but the execution was bad. And then he left. He’d left before, but that time, he never came back. Our mom spiraled. The little care we did have was gone. No one made sure we had food to eat or clothes to wear. No one made sure the light bill was paid or that we got to school. So, I did what I could to raise us both while harboring bitterness and resentment toward Henry for leaving.
Jess is quicker to forgive. He puts on a front of holding out, either because he doesn’t want to admit it or maybe he just doesn’t want to disappoint me, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s ready to have a dad, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. He was too little to understand when Henry lived with us. Maybe he wasn’t a doting father, but he was there when our mom wasn’t. He never hit us. Never yelled. And I felt like he liked us well enough. Then, he left. I don’t know what’s worse—remembering that you once had a parent who cared, at least a little, and then losing them, or not having much memory of it at all.
I don’t feel sorry for myself. It’s just the way things are. I’d venture to say a good eighty percent of kids in our hood live the way we did. It wasn’t anything out of the norm, but it doesn’t mean I don’t resent my parents for their choices. For the life Jess and I could’ve had if they had their shit together.
Jess looks to me as if to say can we trust this? And I give him a slight nod of encouragement.
“Thanks,” Jess mutters to Henry, and then he pulls a tattered book out of his backpack, walks to the couch, and plops down, where he will most likely stay all night. Henry walks upstairs, where he will most likely stay for the rest of the night. I sit down next to Jess. Wordlessly throwing an arm over his neck, I lay my head on the side of his shoulder before lifting the cover of his book to see what he’s reading, even though I already know what I’ll find. The Outsiders. I’ve never read it, but he once joked about being a modern-day Ponyboy.