The Familiar Dark(33)

“But your grandma was a sweet little thing. I think she probably had some romantic idea when she married him. Thought she might civilize him.” Louise paused. “But he ground her down into nothing. I’d see her in town from time to time over the years, and she was like a shadow, eyes down, skittish, thin as a rail. Dragging your mama and her other two behind her.”

I thought of women I’d seen over the years, bodies constantly hunched for a blow. Thought of myself when Jimmy Ray had been around. “My mama had a brother and a sister, right?”

Louise nodded. “Your mama was the youngest. Her brother ran off when he was about fifteen. Never seen hide nor hair of him again. The sister, Tanya, ended up like your grandma. Married to some man who treated her worse than an old stray dog. They moved away years ago. Don’t know what became of them, but I can imagine.”

“I know my grandpa died when my mama was young. What happened to my grandma?”

Louise looked away. “No one knows. She just stopped coming into town. Your grandpa claimed she’d run off at some point, but rumor was he’d finally gone too far and beat her to death. Thrown her body in the woods somewhere.”

I swear, I sometimes thought there were more bodies tossed in the woods around Barren Springs than had ever been buried in the town cemetery. “And the cops didn’t do anything?”

“What was there to do? There wasn’t any proof he’d killed her. And it was different back then. People left family matters to families. Your mama’d always been a sharp-eyed little girl. But after your grandma disappeared, she was hard as nails. Looked like she’d rip you to shreds if you so much as touched her. And then, a few years later, your granddad died of that stomach cancer. Your mama was about Junie’s age and totally alone in the world. People around town tried to help her, show her some kindness, but she was like a feral animal. All teeth and claws and biting anyone dumb enough to reach out a hand. I know social services got called at some point, but your mama was wily. She knew the holler like the back of her hand, knew people she could hunker down with, places to hide, favors to ask. Somehow, she made her way.”

It wasn’t hard for me to imagine my mama surviving alone. She’d been doing it since I’d known her. One of those rare creatures who didn’t seem to need much of anything, not love or money or a purpose, to keep on breathing.

Louise shifted in her seat so she could look straight at me. “When something like that happens to a person, it either shapes them or it breaks them. And God love her, your mama didn’t break, I can say that much for her. Most people would have. But your mama saw the way her world worked and she adapted. But she let it shape her into something ugly, let it turn something inside her. Or maybe she was born like her daddy and was always gonna end up this way, I don’t know. I still remember the day I saw her in town, her belly all swollen with Cal, and my heart dropped, worrying about what kind of mama she’d turn out to be. And then, years later, you walked into the diner looking for a job, so much like her but not completely gone over yet. Because you had Cal, had someone to keep you afloat. But it wasn’t until Junie was born that a light went on in you. Bright as anything.” Louise reached over and took my hand, smoothed it between her own. “I didn’t tell you this story to make you feel sorry for your mama or to make excuses for her. I told you because I can see how she’s pulling at you, making you think her way might be the right way. But it isn’t true. Junie may be gone, but you don’t have to slide backward, Eve. There’s other, better choices.”

I let her hold my hand for another minute, kiss me on the cheek as she got out of the car. I promised her I’d think about what she said and that I’d do a better job eating. I said what she needed to hear because I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was too late; I was already at home in the dark.



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When I got back to my apartment building, I turned off my engine and waited, listened to the sound of the night: trees rustling in the wind, a man’s far-off hollering for a dog or a child, the tinny sound of someone’s radio drifting out through their open apartment window. But I didn’t hear any reporters, saw no news vans or clicking heels racing over to check who was inside my car. They must have given up and gone to look somewhere else. Maybe they were camped outside the Logans’ house, a more picturesque scene, to be sure.

I wasn’t sure I had the energy to get out of my car, walk across the parking lot, and climb the flight of stairs to my apartment. Open the door and face the empty rooms that still smelled like my daughter. But falling asleep in my car and being awoken by cameras in my face would have been even worse. Not because I really cared about being captured with drool on my cheek and sleep in my eyes, but because I’d never hear the end of it from Cal. Land, either. There was a protocol to grieving on a national stage and I’d already fucked it up once. I wouldn’t be allowed to do it again.

My footsteps made hollow slapping sounds on the concrete steps as I climbed, my steady progress screeching to a halt when I stepped out onto the landing and saw a man sitting in front of my apartment door, knees drawn up and forehead resting on his folded arms. He raised his head when he heard me, stared at me through bleary, beer-heavy eyes.

I crossed my arms across my chest. “What are you doing here?” I’d always taken Junie to Izzy’s house, or picked Izzy up at her own. Izzy’s parents had never been here. I wasn’t aware Zach Logan even knew where I lived.