Everything I Left Unsaid(27)

“I didn’t think you were going to be home until next week,” Tiffany said to a small man wearing a tee shirt and jeans a few sizes too big. He had mean eyes and big hands. A terrible combination.

The hair rose on my neck.

My throat closed with fear.

Quickly as I could, I ducked back inside the concrete walls of the laundry room, but through the open door I could still hear Tiffany and Phil talking.

“No, I f*cking quit that bullshit job,” he said.

“Wait. What?” Tiffany asked, her voice suddenly shrill.

Careful. Oh God, be careful.

I moved my wet things from the washer one at a time into the dryer, wishing truly that I were anywhere but that laundry room.

“What happened?” Tiffany asked, obviously strained.

“It was bullshit. The whole thing. Supposed to be such a hotshot, but that dude was just an * like the rest of them.”

“Phil, we need that money—”

“Jesus Christ, Tiffany, I just got here and already you’re ragging on me?”

“I’m not…I’m not, I’m just saying, we’re already behind on everything—”

“Maybe if you wasn’t spending money on shit like this?”

“Don’t! Phil!” Tiffany cried, and I jumped at the sound of a balloon popping.

I wiped my hands under my eyes because I was crying. Terrible stress tears.

Desperate, I looked for a back door or something, some way to get out so I wouldn’t have to walk by them. Wouldn’t have to see them.

“It’s Danny’s birthday,” Tiffany breathed.

“Where is the little shit?”

“Please,” Tiffany begged. “Please don’t ruin this—”

“Ruin it? The f*ck you talking about, Tiff? I’m paying for this shit. Your mom sure ain’t giving you enough to pay for jack.”

“You’re right. Phil. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But we’re having a nice party. Look, there’s cake, honey. Why don’t you have some cake?”

This conversation was engraved on my heart, beaten into my brain. I knew exactly how this was going to go.

Tiffany would keep apologizing. Over and over again, swallowing all her anger so that this man wouldn’t raise a fist to her. To her children. So he wouldn’t demolish the small bubble of normalcy she’d so painstakingly blown for her children with all the air and hope she had in her.

But in the end it wouldn’t work.

It never worked.

Because guys like Phil—like Hoyt—they walked into the room knowing what was going to happen. Whether they would smack a person around or not. They had all the power. Her apologies were for naught. Her pain and fear—irrelevant. All that mattered was what that man wanted to do to her and he’d made that decision way back in his lizard brain—miles ago. Maybe years ago.

I have to leave.

It didn’t matter that I couldn’t sneak out, that I had to walk right past them and their awful domestic drama, the miserable unhappy end of which I knew too f*cking well. Gathering up my book and laundry soap I ducked out the door, my head down, hoping not to garner any attention. This was the last situation I wanted to get pulled into or bear witness to.

Holding my breath, I got past the rhododendron bush and ran smack into someone.

“Careful,” Joan said, picking up the book I had dropped. Joan wore a pair of short cutoffs and a tee shirt with the neck and sleeves ripped out, the ties of a bright pink bikini visible underneath. She had her eyes over my shoulder, trained on Phil and the blooming catastrophe.

“You shouldn’t go over there,” I said.

“I shouldn’t?”

“No. It’s…they’re fighting.”

“And you think we should all just stand around with our thumbs in our asses while he beats her up?”

That was what was going to happen. That was exactly what was going to happen and I was walking away. Head down. Eyes averted. Thumb in ass. “No…but—”

“Get out of my way, kid,” she said, clearly through with me. Joan brushed past me, stomping past the rhododendron, making the leaves quake as she went by.

“Hey, a birthday!” Joan cried, out of sight. “Sorry I’m late, Tiffany. Hey, Phil—”

“Get the hell out of here!” Phil yelled. “You f*cking bitch.”

“Honestly, Phil, you should dress up like a clown for birthday parties. You’d be great,” Joan said. “Is there assigned seating or can I sit anywhere?”

“You’re not wanted here!” Phil said, low and mean, and I could just imagine him saying that through his teeth, right in her face.

“Joan,” Tiffany said. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“Bullshit it’s fine,” Joan said.

“You know something?” Phil yelled. “Fuck this shit. I don’t need this. Later, cunts.”

A car door slammed and the Dodge revved back up and drove away.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Tiffany snapped in the silence after the car’s deafening departure. I could see, through the leaves, Tiffany yelling at Joan, who stood up slowly from her seat, looking older. Looking pained.

“Saved you from another black eye, so…you’re welcome!”