Page 35 of When You Stayed
My face hurt from smiling, and after all the laughter, I couldn’t remember the last time I had so much fun with my family, and it made me completely forget all about Rodney, the Hollow and best of all, my guilt over Ford.
NINE
ROYCE
Me: Is this too much?
*Attached Image*
Taryn: Is that a gift basket?
Me: Yes…I’m trying to say sorry to Ford.
Taryn:…
Nerves attacked my stomach as I bit my thumbnail. Her not replying was a reply within itself.
Me: He’s going to laugh at me, right?
Taryn: No. I think it’s nice, but giving him a whole ass gift basket sort of sends a message.
My fingers flew over the screen as I replied.
Me: What message?
Taryn: ….
Me: WHAT MESSAGE?
Taryn: Just that you care, sis.
Me: What’s wrong with caring?
Taryn: Nothing…it’s just, you used to care a lot about him, and I’m worried what it could lead to if he doesn’t respond the way you want him to.
Me: I was a kid, T…I’m not still into him or anything.
Taryn: Good. Then, yeah, give him the basket. I think that’s a good idea. You have a big heart, sis, I just want to be sure it’s never taken advantage of.
Me:
It was the day following our karaoke night, and the guilt over Dad hitting Ford had eaten me up. I rode my bike toward the new part of town and slowed once I got to the flashy sign revealing the up-and-coming neighborhood. I wasn’t sure where Ford was exactly, but I planned to ride around until I found him. A myriad of vehicles lined the narrow street, while a massive industrial garbage bin sat against the curb, totally in the way. Further down was a flatbed truck loaded with heavy machinery.
The new neighborhood had three homes already complete withfor salesigns out front, and the rest of the lots were either dirt or concretewith framing set up. Men milled about like little ants, all over the lots, each doing something different.
I had no idea how to find Ford in the mix, but I had a general idea of where to head.
The only open spot I could find to park where dirt wouldn’t land all over my bike seat was near one of the completed houses, which was rather far from where all the movement was. A little walk wouldn’t hurt. Sliding my helmet up, I set it on the seat and then began unwinding the bungee cables I’d wrapped around the basket to keep it on the back of my bike. I was sure I looked ridiculous riding around Rose Ridge, but I didn’t really care.
Gathering the basket in my arms, I began walking down the paved road toward the largest mix of people. There was someone pointing, yelling, and seemingly directing people where to go. That had to be Ford.
Dirt floated in the air in a cloud, drifting in my direction, which made me rethink my outfit. I wore a pink cropped shirt that showed my midriff and my leather riding pants. My hair bounced against my back as I picked up my gait, trying to cover more ground. I was nearly to the center of all the commotion when someone whistled. I knew better than to turn my head, but I hoped it was a one-off. Another whistle joined in, and a person catcalled, then another. Suddenly there were machines cutting off, and men shouting salaciously as I walked.
I faltered, remembering there was a video of me on the internet, wearing almost nothing that men had been staring at for the past few days. Could these specific men have seen it? A lot of them were members of Dad’s club. I had done my best to push the thoughts of that video away, ignoring it as if it were something I could pretend didn’t happen. It wasn’t just that making me want to curl into a tiny ball right there on the dirty asphalt, the red tainting my cheeks had to do with growing up around the club and dealing with the assholes there.
Ford was quick to assume that I didn’t care if someone got hurt on my behalf, what he didn’t know was how many times I hadn’t reported being touched. There were at least ten different instances that I’d been touched, groped, or crowded into a corner at the club. I knewthat if I had told my dad, he’d have killed them. The weight of their lives literally hung around my neck like a stone, and I felt completely silenced and forced into complacency because of it.
I walked around in a bubble because to others it was a faux confidence that they couldn’t touch. It was my own version of armor, but it took time to erect that bubble around myself. In town, it was easier, but in a place like this…with all these men, I could hardly breathe, much less pretend.
