Push(44)

Michael is behind the taxi driver, carrying two more bags. As soon as he walks in and sees Bobby on the sofa, his face changes. It is a look of perverted happiness. He is happy that I did this. He is happy to catch me doing something he and my mother have forbidden. He is happy that I have handed him a reason to go ballistic. Once all the bags are inside and the taxi driver has been paid and dismissed, Michael sends my mother to their room to start unpacking. She gives me a small hug as she passes and tells me it is good to see me. She nods at Bobby, who has since gotten up off the couch and is standing next to me with his hands uncomfortably in his pockets. I hear her suitcase rolling down the hallway behind her clacking heels. Then I hear the door close.
Michael starts by saying hello to Bobby and asking after his parents. He asks him how the baseball season is going and if Bobby thinks they have a chance at a winning season. Sit down, he tells us, relax. It is slow torture for me, and Michael is relishing every second. Bobby has no clue what is going on. He thinks Michael is finally coming around to him. He thinks his curiosity is genuine. Michael asks him if I told him their rule about not having boys in the house when they are out of town. Bobby pauses, unsure of what to say. Then he makes the conscious decision to totally screw me. He tells Michael, right in front of me, that he was not aware of the rule and that I told him that it was okay for him to come over. I want to punch Bobby into oblivion. I want to scratch off his face. I want to spit flames on him. But instead, I just sit there. I am bracing myself for what will come. And I know that in school on Monday, Bobby will get what he deserves.
After a few more minutes of small talk, Michael tells Bobby to leave, and as he is walking out the door, Bobby turns to me and tells me that he will see me later. I say nothing from my place on the couch. As soon as the door closes, Michael is up out of his seat and bent over me, with his hand clasping my chin tightly. He is in my face screaming about my disrespect for my mother and about my disregard of the house rules. I tell him to go f*ck himself and swipe his hand off my face.
In an instant he is on top of me, grabbing both my wrists and pushing me into the corner of the couch. I screech at him to get off me, but instead, he twists my arms up and over my head. Stop it, I tell him, you’re hurting me. I try to buck him off me, but he is so angry. He switches his grip to hold both of my wrists in just one of his giant, hairy hands, and he smacks me hard across the face with the other. Then he lands a punch to my stomach. It bites into me and jars my bones into the sofa. I’m still struggling to break free, but his grip is too strong. I scream as loud as I can, hoping my hapless mother might decide to step in. Michael says that I need to change my f*cking attitude. I need to show him a little respect. And if I don’t, he’ll send me, and my mother, out the door. I stop fighting immediately, though I’m not sure why.
Isn’t that what I want? For me and my mother to be separate from Michael? For him to be out of our lives? But on some level I wonder, what if she says no? What if she chooses staying with him over coming with me? What if I have to watch her beg Michael to let her stay? I can’t lose any more of her. I can’t be separate from her. I won’t let him have all of her. I won’t let him wreck us any more than he already has. He won’t win.
When I am still, Michael lets go. He stands up and looks over my head. I know that my mother is there. That she heard me scream and that she saw and heard what he did. But neither of them is saying a word. A moment passes, and Michael walks toward the front door, picks up a bag, and heads down the hallway. I hear my mother walking behind me. But her footsteps aren’t getting closer, they are growing quieter. She is not coming to me, she is walking away.




chapter Twenty-One

Emma—Present Day

It is nine o’clock at night. David and I are sitting at my table with the box from Michael in between us.
“Are you sure you want to open it?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m sure,” I say, reaching for the box with both my hands. David stands up, digs in his pocket, and pulls out his keys. He uncoils a Leatherman from the key ring and unfolds the blade, handing it to me as soon as it is open. I use the knife to slice the tape, then I fold the blade closed and hand it back to David with an awkward smile. The air feels heavy. And I feel queasy. I hate that I am hesitating. I hate that Michael has such absolute control over this moment. I hate him for doing this. I hate him for doing everything he has ever done. And I hate myself for being so goddamned curious about what is in this box.
“I hope it isn’t a f*cking tarantula,” David says, I think to lighten the mood.
“Wouldn’t there have to be two tarantulas for that?” I say, looking up at David with a small but serious grin. I’m joking, yes, but I feel sick. “I’m pretty sure that I would prefer a pair of tarantulas getting it on to whatever is actually in here,” I add as I am bending open the flaps. David puts one of his hands on top of mine, stopping me.
“You don’t have to do this, Emma,” he says. “You can throw it away or we can tape it back closed and return it to him without even looking.” I know all that. I know I don’t have to do this. I know that by deciding to open this box, I am doing exactly what Michael wants, but I can’t not open it. Because what if it is something from my mother? What if it is something I am supposed to have?
“I know,” I say, “and I appreciate your wanting to protect me from this.” I pause for a minute and eye the box. “It says a lot about you, you know.”