Page 53 of Everything We Give

A half hour went by, which seemed like forever to Ian, and nothing happened. Jackie had moved toward the highway, her back to him, and that was about it. Hopefully she wasn’t planning to hitchhike out of here. Ian wouldn’t have a way home.

His bladder burned. He scooted toward the door, thinking he could make a run for the gas station, when a big guy on a Harley cruised into the parking lot. His full beard, dark brown threaded with gray, reached his chest. His gut peeked from under his faded black shirt. He lifted off the motorcycle and ambled across the lot toward Jackie. He must be Clancy.

Finally, something was happening. Ian scrambled for his camera.

Jackie waited for Clancy, arms crossed and hip popped out. He walked right up to her, gave her rear a rough squeeze, and yanked her against his fat stomach. He kissed her, his tongue thrusting out of his mouth before it reached hers.

Ian gasped, dropping the camera. It thudded on the vinyl seat. Clancy eventually came up for air. Jackie’s chest heaved. Saliva drenched her lips. He went into the lodge office and Jackie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She glanced at the Pontiac. Ian sank low, peeking over the seat back. He felt physically ill. His damp palms slid against the seat.

Jackie smoothed her blouse and rubbed her hands back and forth on her hips the way Ian did when he was nervous. The lodge office door slammed, drawing Ian’s attention. Clancy showed Jackie a key and pointed to one of the rooms.

Who was Clancy and what did he want with Jackie?

Ian picked up the camera. He didn’t trust this guy, not one bit. Hands shaking, he took a picture of Jackie standing beside Clancy, who stood more than a head taller than she did. She shuffled her feet, waiting as he unlocked the door. He stood aside and, hand on her ass, nudged her into the room. Ian snapped another picture and the motel room door closed.

Now what was he supposed to do?

His stomach growled, and worse, he had to piss before he burst. For a split second he thought about getting a candy bar at the gas station mini-mart and using the bathroom, but he quickly discarded the idea. He couldn’t leave. What if his mom surfaced and Jackie receded while alone with Clancy? Ian needed to be there for her. He might have to help her get away from Clancy.

Ian shouldered the camera strap and opened the door. He stood there, legs shivering with nerves and fear, for a good five minutes. For something to happen. For one of them to come out of the room. An occasional car passed on the highway. Crows pecked at trash. A breeze wafted through the lot carrying the scent of pine and wood smoke, nudging his back. It was the push he needed.

Ian unzipped his fly and relieved himself right there in the parking lot in the V between the car and the open door. He groaned with relief and then, bouncing on his toes, gave himself a shake and zipped up his pants. He looked around to make sure no one had seen him.

All clear. He quietly shut the door and went to the motel room. He raised a fist to knock and hesitated when he heard a noise. He pressed his ear to the door. Muffled groans and gasps, the repeated slap of flesh, penetrated the hollow door. A deep, guttural voice cursed. More grunts followed.

Ian fell back, almost tripping over the concrete parking bumper. He’d heard sounds like those before. They came in the dark of night from his parents’ room.

Ian felt like he’d swallowed a toad. A foul, sickly lump kicked around his stomach, rose up and thickened in his throat. He almost dry-heaved.

Hunger pangs forgotten, Ian ran across the parking lot, stumbling in his haste to get to the pay phone. Gravel scraped his hands and chin. He barely registered the cuts, the burn of raw flesh. He stood and shoved open the phone booth’s glass door. He collect-called his dad’s hotel, asking to be transferred to his room. The phone rang and rang until the operator came on the line and confirmed what Ian suspected. His dad was out. Ian was alone.

He hung up.

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to run away.

He didn’t want to ride home with Jackie. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Jackie. She’d betrayed Sarah in the vilest way possible. Sleeping with a stranger was a thousand times worse than the purple blemishes that marred his mom’s skin whenever Jackie took off on one of her mysterious outings.

Outings that probably led her to Clancy. Someone had to have given her those bruises.

The phone rang, a shrill cry, and Ian jumped. He grabbed the receiver and said a croaky “Hello?”

“Ian, is that you?”

“Dad!” Relief floored him. He sagged against the scratched glass wall covered with Sharpie-inked phone numbers andCall memessages.

“What the hell are you doing in Donnelly?”

Ian rubbed the heel of his hand in his eyes to stem his tears. “Jackie brought us here.” Ian explained what he’d seen and heard.

His dad didn’t say anything for a long time. Ian thought he had hung up when he heard a dull thud. It sounded like a fist punching the wall. His dad cursed.

“Dad?” he asked, his voice unsure.

“For God’s sake, Ian, I told you to never ride along with Jackie. I also ordered you to get yourself to Marshall’s house and call me the moment your mom shifted.”

“What’s the point?” Ian yelled back. “She’ll be Mom again by the time you get home.”

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