But then she’s pulling away and staring at me with huge eyes, her mouth wet from my mouth. “I have to go,” she says quietly.
Then she quickly gets out of the car, shuts the door behind her and heads through the gate down the side of her house.
Gone.
Holy fuck.
What the fuck just happened there?
And holy fuck…
When can that happen again?
Chapter Nine
Marina
“World in My Eyes”
Where the hell am I?
I stare up at a ceiling. It’s painted blue, framed by crown mouldings.
Naomi’s place.
I lift up my head and look around. I’m on one couch in the living room and Naomi is on the other. I’m dressed in my velvet dress from last night. Naomi is in her robe and pajamas. A sea of wine bottles and tissues fill the floor between us.
Memories of last night come flooding into my brain.
Last night was a mess.
I felt so horrible for everyone.
Horrible that Naomi had to walk in on her husband screwing some random woman in their bedroom.
Horrible that I had to bail on Laz in the middle of our third date, in one of the nicest restaurants I’ve ever been to, while Laz was looking so devilishly handsome I could hardly think about anything but him.
And then there was that kiss.
I don’t know what came over me.
That never happened during any other third date I’ve been on.
But he looked so disappointed at how the night went, even though he was trying hard not to show it. I wanted to tell him that…
Hell. I wanted to show him how much I fucking want him.
Because I do.
He’s all I want.
The moment he showed up at my door, he stole my damn breath away. Even though I was still reeling over the phone call with my Aunt Margaret, suddenly he was there like a movie star, a rock star, like that Mr. Mysterious I thought he was the very first night I laid eyes on him.
And while I think I prefer him all scruffed up and beardy as he often is, it was a nice change to see that stunning jawline of his. He’s just so fucking beautiful, even now I feel the heat flaring up between my legs. Parts of me I thought were dormant are coming alive again. And they’re hungry as hell.
Naomi groans, bringing me out of my head. Now if only my body would cooperate. I can’t help my friend if I’m tangled up over my feelings for Laz.
I get up and check on her. She’s back asleep, having rolled over.
I grab a throw from her linen closet and put it on top of her, then get some Advil and water and put it on the table next to her. Part of me thinks I should stay with her but we stayed up until six in the morning and she hadn’t stopped crying once, so I think she needs a lot more sleep than this. I just hope that Robert isn’t that much of an asshole that he’ll come back.
According to Naomi though, she grabbed the gun from her closet and threatened to shoot his dick off, so I don’t think Robert is coming back here anytime soon.
With my phone dead, I have to wait until I’m in my car and halfway home before my phone gets charged and when it finally is I have a million texts from Laz and a voice mail. I assume the voice mail is from him.
I listen to that first.
“Hey, sorry if I’m flat-out harassing you at this point, I’m just having trouble sleeping and wondering if you’re okay. Hope Naomi is okay too. Okay, sweet girl, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Oh yeah, call me when you get this.”
I don’t think Laz has ever left me a voice mail before. I’m beyond touched.
He called you sweet girl again, I think to myself, grabbing onto that phrase like it’s something I can touch, holding it close to my heart.
I’m in over my head here.
I should probably head home and have a good think about this before I call him back, get my priorities straight, figure out what’s going on between us. Are we still friends? Are we dating now? Are we still learning from each other or has this whole experiment morphed into something else entirely?
I don’t have any of the answers. Funnily enough, I don’t think Laz has the answers either. We’re both in this together, completely clueless.
As soon as I’m parked in the driveway and wave hello to Barbara peering through the blinds, I walk to the backyard to check on the girls and call Laz.
My heart is beating hard and fast, the blood whooshing loudly in my head.
I’m actually giddy just placing a simple phone call to one of my friends.
What is happening?
“Allo?” Laz says, his rich accent coming through and immediately putting me at ease. “You called.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever spoken on the phone before,” I say and my voice sounds foreign, high-pitched, like it belongs to someone else.
“No, we haven’t. First time for everything. How are you? I was worried.”
“I know, I’m sorry. The phone died and then Naomi started hitting the wine.”
“How is she?”
“Horrible. Just horrible. I want to kill Robert for doing that to her. Not that I’m surprised at all because I knew he was a fuck-face like that, but I mean, they just started going to couple’s therapy for this exact thing.”
“What a twat.”
I laugh softly. “Yes. He is a twat. I always forget you have the best insults.”
“Pithy insults are one of England’s greatest exports. That and the Spice Girls.”
I smile into the phone at that, then start laughing again once I remember all the things he was saying in the car last night on the way to dinner, the bee puns.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “About last night.”
“Yeah. I know. I’m so sorry.”
“Marina, please stop apologizing. I forbid it. It happened, it’s fine. It’s more than fine, you did a good thing. But you’re also going to make up for it.”
I swallow hard. “Really?”
“Yes,” he says. “Tonight I’m coming over to your place and we’re going to drink beer, make popcorn and we’re going to sit on that sagging couch of yours and watch something. There may or may not be groping and/or kissing involved.”
Well, I’m speechless. I didn’t think he’d come out and say it but then again he surprised me last night when he said he was interested purely in me. Especially after he was hit on by Colleen Croix. I mean, I know I’m not ugly by any means but next to her, I look like a pig with a blonde wig. I’m basically Miss Piggy. She would wear a velvet dress too.
“I scared you didn’t I,” he says quietly after a moment.
“I’m not scared. I’m caught off-guard. There’s a difference.”
But yeah. A bit scared.
“It’s better I tell you now so that you have time to prepare. Although I suppose that might mean you have time to prepare some kind of defensive system. I’m picturing a wall of bees around you, ready to do your bidding.”
“Not if you behave,” I warn him playfully.
“Me, behave? If I do recall correctly, it was you who kissed me last night. There was a lot of tongue involved too.”
“Perhaps we’ll consult your Magic 8 Ball.”
“I already did. It says I can do no wrong.”
“It does not say that,” I say just as a beep of call waiting comes through my phone. “Hold on, Laz, got another call.”
I peer at the screen expecting to see Naomi’s picture on the screen. Instead it’s my aunt.
Oh fuck.
“Marina,” she says as soon as I answer. “It’s your father, he’s…in a bad way. I just came by to drop off groceries and he’s lost his mind. I might have to call the police, I can’t handle him like this.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I try to think. “Uh, no, don’t do that. Don’t do that, he can’t afford to get in trouble with them again. Where are you? What’s he doing?”
“I’m outside the house. I’
m leaving, I don’t know what to do. I think he might get violent.”
“You know he’s not like that.”
“Well he’s your father Marina, come deal with him. Lord knows I’ve had to deal with everything ever since your mother died.” She hangs up.
Everything inside me shrinks and shrivels and dies somewhere.
Brutal, Aunt Marg, that was brutal.
I close my eyes, trying to gather strength, to fight back the tears that are coming to me so easily lately.
“Laz,” I whisper into the phone, returning to our call.
“What happened?”
“It’s my dad. I have to go.”
“Where are you right now?”
“I just got home,” I say, barely able to form words. I’m suddenly so weak, the dread of what I have to do and deal with is debilitating. “I have to go.”
“No,” he says firmly. “You’re not doing this alone. Stay where you are. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Laz…”
“I’m serious. You’re not fucking going anywhere.”
He hangs up. I’ve never heard him be so harsh with me before so I don’t risk pissing him off again. I quickly go into the studio, take off my dress and slip on jeans and a grey T-shirt, take off last night’s makeup with a wipe, and then head back out just in time to see the Camaro pull up.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him as I open the door and sit in the passenger seat. “It’s not your problem.”
“It is my problem,” Laz says. His eyes are both soft and hard at the same time as they peer at me intently, his jaw firm. “Because it’s a problem to you, then it’s a problem to me. I’m doing this with you, alright?”
I’m not convinced. This is a part of my life I’d rather keep from everyone. It’s one thing to talk about it. It’s another to see it. I don’t know what my father will do or what he’ll say. I don’t know if I’ll be weak or strong. I don’t think I’m ready to show any of that to Laz.
“Marina,” he says, reaching for my face, his fingertips holding my chin until I’m looking at him. “Let me in. Let me be here for everything, all the good, all the bad. All your light and all your dark.”
I blink, keeping the tears at bay so far. Damn this man. He’s getting in. He’s getting under my skin like no one ever has before.
“Okay,” I whisper to him. “Let’s go.”
The corner of his mouth quirks in a soft smile. He nods. “Okay.”
We drive off and I program my father’s address into his phone so that the Waze app can tell him where to drive. I’m too all over the place right now to be of any help.
My father lives in a mobile home in Lancaster. It’s not close by any means and the longer we’re on the freeway, the more afraid I get.
“So run it by me,” Laz says. “I want to know what to expect and I think it will do you good to say it out loud.”
God, I would kill for a fucking Ativan right now.
“I’m not sure. My aunt dropped off the groceries, said he was basically belligerent and that she wanted to call the cops.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I mean, he gets bad but not that bad. She sounded scared but my father has never been violent. He’s gotten angry and lashed out but not physically.”
“Well I’m even more glad I made you take me now.”
“Me too.” I pause, guilt rushing through me. “Just, please don’t judge him. He’s been through so much and…”
“You think I would judge?”
“He’s not himself. When he’s sober, he’s wonderful. I mean I love him. But when he’s drunk, he’s someone else. Something else. A monster. It sounds…I don’t know, crazy, but when he’s really bad I don’t see him as him anymore. It’s like looking right into the devil’s eyes.” I don’t mention that sometimes I’m so filled with rage that I want to hurt him when he’s in that state. I want to hit him and shake him and beg for my father to come back. I’m just so fucking angry, it’s almost like whatever is infecting him is infecting me.
“I get it,” he says. “Believe me, you’re not alone.”
I thought he would make a bee pun with that but this isn’t funny anymore.
This is terrifying.
By the time we eventually reach Lancaster, dull desert stretching out as far as the eye can see, I’m a wreck. I can’t even speak. I’ve grow silent as we pull into his neighborhood.
"Is this it?" Laz asks, leaning over to get a better look at the house we’ve stopped outside of.
There isn't much to look at. My father’s place is on a corner lot and there's a small patch of brown grass out front. Behind him is a cement wall lined with barbed wire which separates his place from the junkyard on the other side. The mobile home hasn’t been mobile for a long time and it's one-level, the paint faded, the curtains always drawn. At least the curtains are new though, gauzy blue ones that I picked up from IKEA a couple of months ago. Slowly, very slowly, I've tried to bring some life to his place. I'd love to have the time to paint the house at some point, maybe a cheery yellow color. Something to make it seem alive.
But none of that seems important right now. I don't feel like I'm staring at my father's house but the dwelling of someone else. A monster I'm afraid of.
I know I should stop describing him as such because he really is a good man at heart. But at times like this, when I know everything good in him is dead and buried under years of horrible, unending guilt, he becomes everything I'm afraid of. In some ways he's like a zombie. You know why zombie movies are so absolutely terrifying? Because people's loved ones get turned. They get bitten, they get infected, they cease to be human. They turn and become something to fear. And what can you do but kill them? What choice do you have? Otherwise, you'll get killed yourself or become exactly like them.
"Take all the time in the world," Laz says softly.
I glance at him, wanting him to be my courage. I feel stronger with him here yet it's almost made it scarier, knowing he's going to see this world through my eyes.
"I'm ready. Let's go."
Maybe it won't be that bad.
We get out of the car and I notice the nearest neighbor across the street is standing on her front porch, broom in hand, staring at us suspiciously. I give her a wave, my way of letting her know everything is going to be okay, and she doesn't move, doesn't say anything.
I have to wonder how loud it's been or what he's been doing if she's noticing.
We head up the steps. The screen door is half off on its hinges. The main door is open a crack. If I didn't know any better I would say that this looked like the beginning of a crime scene.
It makes me pause, I'll give it that. Laz reaches down and holds my hand, squeezing it so tight it almost hurts. I'm not sure if it's more for me or for him.
Laz opens the screen door and I push the front door in gently. "Dad?" I call out. "It's me, Marina. Your daughter."
Silence.
I open the door wider. Dust motes float in a lone sunbeam that's made its way through one of the curtains. Other than that, the house is dim. Brown carpet, brown fake wood walls. It stinks. Like, horrible. Vomit, piss, who knows what else.
I cover my nose with my hand and take in a few breaths before I say, "Dad?" again.
Laz is behind me, stepping in flush against my back. His hand is now at my waist, his grip firm, letting me know he's here. My rock.
Then I hear a moan from the living room.
I walk in, my shoes squishing on the wet carpet, and look around the corner.
The cat, Pickles, sees us and immediately runs off to the kitchen, disappearing through the cat door.
My father is sprawled out on the floor, face down. Vomit beside him in a puddle, in his hair. The backs of his pants are stained with shit.
I gasp, instinctively turning toward Laz, trying to run.
But Laz doesn't move an inch, he’s a wall keeping me in.
"He needs help," he manages to say.
I kn
ow he does. God, I know he does.
I nod, trying to steel myself, and turn back around.
"Dad?" I walk over to him and get down to a crouch, placing my hand on his shoulder.
"Who is there?" he mumbles, his muscles stiffening under my touch.
"Dad, it's Marina. It's me."
"Fuck do you want?"
So he's angry. I was hoping that maybe he was so inebriated that he would be easy to deal with. That we could prop him up and clean him off and he'd be as limp and sedate as a ragdoll. But that doesn't seem to be the case.
"I came by to check on you," I say, trying to keep my voice light and steady.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he growls and lifts his head to look at me.
But it's not my father anymore. A blackness resides in his gaze, coming from a pit inside him, a pit that fuels nothing but hate and misery. It's evil.
"Dad," I say softly, trying to smile. "I'm just here to help. Let's get you cleaned up."
I grab his arm to help him up but he shoves me away instead so I fall backward onto my butt.
"Marina," Laz says, coming to me.
"Who are you?" my father asks, glaring at him.
He's met Laz a few times, he knows who he is.
Laz pauses and then helps me to my feet. "I'm Marina's friend. We're just here to help you with whatever you need."
"Help me?" my father roars. He rolls over on his side and tries to get to his feet, his darkened eyes never leaving us, his arm waving wildly for the coffee table for support. "Who the fuck do you think you are, coming here and helping me. Both of you fucking high and mighty. Just get out. Leave!"
I take in a deep breath but I'm shaking. "We'll go once we know you're okay."
He gets to his feet, swaying. My father is a big guy. Just as tall as Laz and twice as wide. I can feel Laz stiffen beside me. No one wants to deal with a big drunk guy who is unpredictable. Even though I don't fear for my safety, I guess I can understand why my aunt would, why anyone would. God, I miss my father so much, not this stranger that's standing in front of me.
"You're a fucking witch, aren't you?" my father slurs at me, his voice coming out low, almost demonic. "You and your fucking too good for this world. You think you’re so fucking good huh, helping your poor old dad. You bitch."