Page 17 of Crossed
Her cheeks flush and my stomach drops.
“But Quin has an appointment today. You promised you’d be here.”
She waves me off. “You can get him there, yeah?”
I sigh as a heavy weight drops down in the middle of my chest. “Yeah, Mom. I’ll take care of him.”
I don’t add that I’m always taking care of him. That I’m pretty sure he’s supposed to be mimicking by now or smiling and making noise. Bringing up my concerns will just make her angry, and she likes to throw things when she gets mad. Her mood can flip as quick as a switch, and I learned years ago to pick my battles.
Besides, this isn’t anything new. Mom disappears most days, leaving me alone to care for Quinten. Ever since she came home from the hospital.
She’s never even told me who his father is.
After she leaves, I strap Quinten in a stroller and take to the quaint city streets to pass the time before his checkup. We live on the edge of town, where the French architecture is starting to crumble and the homeless sleep in tents, but it’s only about a twenty-minute walk from the main square, and I like to go there whenever I can to take in the dark brick exteriors and steep roofs. There’s something so magical about Festivalé, something that makes me want to immerse myself in its history and soak up the culture.
The square itself is teeming with people, most of them likely tourists, coming to the area to experience “Little France” without leaving the country. The main attraction is the Notre- Dame Cathedral, which was erected in the late 1800s and has been preserved beautifully ever since. We go there on Sundays for Mass, but otherwise, I stay far away.
Religion creeps me out.
The sun beats down on my head as I push Quinten’s stroller past the Champlain Patisserie and am about to turn around and head to the doctor’s office when a sound rings out from the back alley and draws my attention to the noise.
My jaw drops as I take in the sight of my mother’s boyfriend. Parker has a woman pressed up against the brick wall, her pasty white leg wrapped around his hip and her auburn hair stark against his blond.
I stop in my tracks, jerking the stroller so harshly that Quinten begins to cry.
Both Parker and the mystery woman’s bodies fly apart, and as they do, she comes fully into view.
Florence, the woman who’s always helping with Communion during Mass and is always glaring at my mother. She smooths down the front of her skirt, her giant diamond wedding ring glinting in the afternoon sun, and Parker’s eyes narrow when they zone in on me.
I spin around and scurry away before either of them can say a word, my heart pounding as I try to compartmentalize what I just saw and whether I should tell my mother.
If I tell her, I’m sure she’ll have us packed up and ready to leave before the sun can fully set. And I love it here. I want to stay. No matter what.
Three nights later, long after I put Quinten to bed and lay down to fall asleep, Parker crept into my bedroom.
I remember my blood pumping in my ears and my stomach tightening in fear when the mattress dipped behind me, his large frame cocooning mine as his hand reached around my side and up to cover my mouth.
“Don’t make a sound,” he said.
I didn’t.
“Whatever youthinkyou saw the other day, your mother doesn’t need to know. Nod if you understand.”
Slowly, I nodded. My mouth ran dry, but I bit my tongue to keep quiet.
“I can make your lifeverydifficult, sweet Amaya. I’d hate for you to find out just how depraved of a man I can be.”
His hand ran down the front of my nightgown and slipped between my legs, and my teeth chomped down on my tongue so hard, the taste of copper started flooding my mouth. Tears pricked behind my eyes, my muscles tense and ready to fight, but his next words stopped me in my tracks.
“Say a word and I’ll kill her in front of you and then take this little pussy for myself while she bleeds out at your side. Is that what you want, sweet girl? You want your mother’s last vision on earth to be the man she loves fucking the younger,tighterversion of her?”
Bile surged up my throat, and I shook my head, my lungs burning from the need to let out a sob.
“Good.”
He pressed a kiss to my cheek and then he was gone, just as quickly as he had arrived.
I never did tell my mom.
