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  “Olivia?”

  Oh crap, Gabby’s home. What am I going to say? She’ll be devastated her almost-boyfriend did this to me. I have to lie. Or just say nothing. Maybe Gabby won’t ask anything.

  Gabby barged into the bathroom. Typical, Olivia thought. In our family, there was never any privacy growing up and nothing has changed.

  “Are you taking another bath?” Gabby asked, looking at Olivia strangely.

  “Um... yeah. My back... from the bruises—it’s sore. I just wanted to soak again,” she lied.

  “What happened in the living room? There’s a coffee cup on the floor with something wet all over the couch. It looks like someone had a pillow fight in there.”

  “Oh, I guess I fell asleep and knocked my tea over. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. I was trying not to get your blanket wet and just threw it and the pillows off the couch,” she lied again.

  “Oh. Well, do you want another cup of tea? I’m going to fix me one,” Gabby offered.

  “Yeah, that would be cool, Gabby. Thanks.”

  Gabby left to make their tea and Olivia pulled the drain on the tub, then stood up and turned on the shower. She wanted one more rinse with clean hot water, as hot as she could stand. Maybe it would wash away the memory and she wouldn’t ever have to share it with Gabby.

  The Girl in the Box

  She awakes to the sound of fabric rustling close by. She is still in the same pitch blackness, but now she can feel something over her eyes and wrapped around her head. She tries to reach up to see if she’s been blindfolded, but her arms have been restrained. She can’t lift them.

  She can smell the scent of a man. A silent man, but for his breathing.

  He is here.

  Probably just standing there staring at her... deciding her fate. He must have blindfolded her before she woke up.

  Her heart begins to beat wildly out of rhythm; it feels like it is jumping around in her chest. Panic begins to bubble over until she can’t help but yell out in terror.

  “What do you want? Say something!” she screams, trying to sound fierce.

  She pauses to hear his reaction.

  He doesn’t answer; he seems to just stand there, close enough to feel his breath on her face.

  “Untie my arms, you bastard! What are you afraid of?” she provokes, trying to get a reaction from him, just to hear his voice or taunt him—anything to make a change in the situation.

  Even if it were a risky chance it would become much worse, she has to get out of this box; she feels like she’s losing her grasp on reality with the never-ending darkness and isolation.

  She screams her frustration again, and then waits.

  He will not give her a reaction.

  After a few moments of his silent treatment, she hears the fabric rustling and the squeak of his shoes as he walks away, leaving her in her dark and cold prison... alone with only the memories of their past and the sorting of them.

  CHAPTER 7

  Gabby smelled something good and her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the hastily prepared meals she’d eaten in the past few days—macaroni and cheese or frozen Mexican dinners. Her stomach begged for the source of that familiar aroma.

  On random birthdays over the years, when they could afford it, their parents had treated her and Olivia to Olive Garden on their birthday, and Gabby always ordered the same thing—the Pasta Fagioli. But since her parents’ separation, they hadn’t been to Olive Garden even once.

  “Gabby,” Mom yelled, “Mark bought your favorite! Pasta Fagioli and breadsticks! Come eat before you leave for work.”

  While Gabby took too long of a moment pondering the safest response, Mom walked into the bathroom where Gabby was finishing up her hair.

  “Gabby, did you hear me?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry, but no thanks, Mom. I’m not hungry,” Gabby lied, trying to sound humble, covering the truth that she was so hungry it felt like her stomach was eating her throat. Lately, anything to do with Mark brought them to an argument. Gabby didn’t want to fight with her; she just wanted to leave and go to work—get away from them.

  “Are you still upset at your sister for going back to Billy?” she asked.

  “Uh... yeah, Mom. I am upset about that. Figured you would be too. It’s bad enough we know he beat on her, but now he won’t even let her call or come over here. I haven’t talked to her since she got up early and snuck out the morning after she stayed over. I barely got to talk to her that night. You know it has to do with Billy. She’d call if she could. I can’t believe you don’t do something about it. She’s still only sixteen, even if she is married,” Gabby answered.

  “Gabby, you’re about to really piss me off. Why don’t you mind your own business and leave your sister alone? I don’t think you not being hungry has anything to do with her anyway. I think it has to do with Mark,” she said angrily.

  “Nope. Just not hungry, Mom,” Gabby answered, not missing the fact that Mom managed to completely avoid dealing with Olivia’s situation again, as if it wasn’t serious or life-threatening. It pissed Gabby off that she had let... no—probably encouraged—Olivia to work it out with that piece of shit.

  “Gabby, why don’t you like Mark?” Mom asked. “He’s done so much for us. He takes us out to dinner, he’s helped fix up the apartment, and bought you and your sister gifts. He even offered to give you that old car he’s not using. Why is it so hard for you to be happy I found someone?”

  “Mom,” Gabby said, her voice growing defensive. “He’s your boyfriend. I don’t have to like him. I just want you to be happy. I’ll be nice to him, but I don’t want his gifts or that nasty old beater of a car. I’ll save up and buy my own later.”

  She couldn’t put her finger on just why she didn’t like Mark. He seemed too perfect. He owned his own business, even if it was just a bar. He always had money. He was clean and dressed very nice. As far as Gabby could see, he treated Mom well, and Emma seemed to absolutely adore him. But something just felt off. She just couldn’t let herself be comfortable around him. But she wasn’t about to tell her mother all that.

  “But if you had a car, you could go out some and meet a boy,” Mom argued. “At your age, I was already married. It’s time you get out there.”

  “When would I, Mom?” Gabby said, trying to keep any attitude out of her tone, so Mom didn’t feel Gabby was placing blame on her. “If I’m not working, I’m usually taking care of Emma. When would I ever have time to meet a boy?”

  “Mark knows a boy that comes into his bar. His name is Gabe. I’ve seen him and he’s really cute. We could get a sitter and take you with us this weekend to meet him,” Mom offered.

  “No, Mom. I don’t want to meet a boy at a bar. Especially at Mark’s bar. Those people in there are nasty—I don’t even want to ever go back into that dive,” Gabby said. “Besides, I’m not supposed to be in a bar. I’m still sixteen. I’ll meet someone else eventually. Right now, I don’t have time,” Gabby said with as much emphasis on sixteen as she could muster without pissing off her mom.

  When would Mom realize this was not her era? Sixteen is still a kid. It was like as soon as she had her new life, she expected her girls to automatically transform into adults. Well, Gabby wasn’t ready, even if Olivia thought she was. Their Mom needed to just step up for a few more years and let them stay kids.

  It’s not that Gabby didn’t want to have a boyfriend either. She just felt she had nothing to offer one right now. Even if she had the confidence to meet another guy, she had no time to spend with him right now. Most days she was either working or babysitting Emma.

  Besides, Gabby had already had a potential boyfriend and look how that turned out. Out of the blue he stopped coming over, never to be seen or heard from again... not even a good-bye or demand to put out or fuck off. Obviously he’d found someone else. She guessed that’s why they used the word “crush.” It certainly applied to Tom. He’d crushed her.

  “Okay, Gabby. Suit yourself with your stubbornness.
You know Mark went through a great deal of trouble to drive to Olive Garden and get your favorite for all of us. And it wasn’t cheap either. I guess you can go to work hungry,” she said disapprovingly.

  “Thanks anyway, Mom,” Gabby replied, grabbing her purse and heading out the door, trying to hold her breath on the way from the bathroom to the apartment stairs—the aroma of the food was torture on her empty stomach and she was sure she’d still be smelling it until the end of her shift. Damn my pride! Maybe I’ll sneak in the kitchen and look for leftovers after they go to bed, Gabby thought. Surely, they won’t eat it all tonight.

  “Gabby,” Mom said, gently rubbing her shoulder. “Wake up. Mark and I brought someone to meet you.”

  “What? What time is it?” Gabby sleepily asked.

  “It’s late. We closed the bar at 2:00 a.m., and Gabe followed us back here,” Mom said. “I know you said you didn’t want to meet him, but he begged me to introduce him after Mark told him all about you. I promise you’ll really like this boy. Get up! Get dressed! I’ll tell him you’ll be out in ten minutes.”

  This is weird, Gabby thought. Mark and Mom bringing home a boy in the middle of the night to meet me. How desperate do I look? I can just imagine the conversation: “Hey, want to hook up with my girlfriend’s daughter? She’s cute—looks just like her mama.” How freaking embarrassing. This guy was probably like all the other weird people at what she’d begun to call “the mutant lounge.” If he was so cute, why was he there with a bunch of drunken old farts?

  Gabby quickly ran a brush through her hair and rubbed on some Burt’s Bee’s lip balm. She looked down at her clothes. Oh well, guess he probably won’t expect me to be dressed at two-something a.m., she thought.

  She walked out to the living room wearing a baby-doll tee and sweatpants. She was speechless. Definitely not a mutant lounge typical customer. This guy was cute. Not just cute, but outrageously gorgeous. Tim McGraw sexy, without the cowboy get-up... and he had to be a few years older than her.

  He was wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans with biker boots. One sexy green eye sparkled out from under a mop of short, but messy straw-colored hair; the other was covered with a spike of too-long bangs. The muss and spike looked intentional and definitely worked for him. His chin had a dimple, big enough to nibble around the edges. All Gabby could think about, as she stood there looking stupid, was how much she’d like to try out that theory. He stood up and swiped the hair away from his eye, smiling mischievously at her as she entered the room. Her stomach flipped, and her hands started sweating.

  Before Gabby could say a word, Mark said, “We’re just going to leave you two to talk. We’re going to bed.”

  Somehow, in the past few months, Mark had slinked in and wound up living with them. While Gabby didn’t like the arrangement, it was helpful with Emma. Mark worked at the bar at night, so most days he picked Emma up from school and helped her with homework while Gabby was at work, which kept her from constantly asking the store manager to redo the schedule around school hours. Gabby still didn’t like Mark, but at least Mom and Emma were happy.

  “Okay, goodnight,” Gabby said to Mom. Mark winked at her as he walked away, headed down the hall to Mom’s room. Gabby shrugged off the wink defensively, giving Mark an eye roll while hoping Gabe didn’t see her attitude toward his friend. But she just couldn’t help herself. Mark got on every last nerve she had, even if he was trying to do something nice for her.

  After she loosened up, she was actually grateful to Mark. Who would have thought? Gabe did seem to be a super nice guy, on top of being drop-dead gorgeous. Once they got over the awkward introductions and Gabby’s embarrassment, they talked for close to two hours, into the wee hours of the morning.

  Gabby finally got around to asking what he did for a living, but he danced around that. Maybe he was a general laborer and he was embarrassed. She really didn’t care what he did, as long as he had a job. Shortly after that question, he said he needed to be going. Gabby waited for him to ask for her number or give her his number, but he didn’t. As he walked out the door, Gabby realized he must not be interested. I’ll never hear from him again, she thought, disappointed and puzzled.

  “Mom!” Gabby yelled. “Where’s my new blue shirt?” Gabby was frenziedly trying to get ready for Gabe to pick her up. He had called her the next evening after they met, getting her number from Mark, and after a month of him just stopping by at random times and talking for hours or watching a movie at the apartment, he was taking Gabby out on a real date for her seventeenth birthday. Gabby really liked Gabe.

  The only problem she had was he was still somewhat a mystery—almost a ghost. She never knew when he was going to show up and he never stayed long. They never went anywhere, but when he was here at the apartment, as long as the conversation didn’t steer toward age—and she still didn’t know how old he was, but was guessing eighteen to twenty—or his job, but they got along great and never bored of each other. They talked about music, books, movies, and everything in between. But Gabby didn’t even know where he lived. She was dying to see him outside the apartment. She wasn’t even sure if they were actually considered dating. Gabby had dropped hints repeatedly about which evenings she had off, hoping he’d ask her out. Now finally, they were going tonight, on her birthday.

  “Doesn’t matter what you wear... I’m sure it’ll be off by the end of the night anyway,” Mark said sarcastically.

  Lately he’d been dropping all sorts of sexual comments about the time Gabe and Gabby spent together. Mark was wrong; the most that had happened between Gabe and Gabby was some kissing and cuddling on the couch during a movie. But whatever. Gabby wasn’t going to backtalk Mark. It would only make Mom mad at her and ruin Gabby’s night.

  Gabby jumped into Gabe’s truck. “Where we going?” She scooted across the bench seat to sit right next to him. This was the first time they’d been in a vehicle together, or anywhere for that matter, other than the apartment. She was so happy to be getting out, especially with him.

  Gabe hesitated, seemingly nervous. “I was hoping we could drive down by the lake and talk. I have a birthday present for you. Then we can go get something to eat.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Gabby said, smiling, barely able to contain her excitement at going out for her birthday.

  Gabe didn’t seem in the mood to talk, so Gabby turned up the tunes and sang along with the radio all the way to the boat landing. Gabe pulled his truck right down to the boat ramp, looking out over the water. It was dark, but there was a full moon shining over the water. It was beautiful and there wasn’t anyone else around. They had the place to themselves.

  “Gabe, this is going to sound cheesy...” She hesitated. “I’ve always been here in the daytime, never at night. At night, with this moon, it’s the most romantic place I’ve ever been,” Gabby embarrassingly admitted.

  He leaned over and kissed her. Now she was beaming. He scooted Gabby over to the passenger door, then slid himself to the middle, lifting her up and putting her on his lap and sliding them both back toward the passenger side for more leg room.

  He kissed her again, deeper and longer, pushing her firmly down onto his lap where she could definitely feel things heating (and hardening) up. She still couldn’t believe he was interested in her, with nothing to offer: a dead-end job, a tiny apartment she lived in with her mother, and no car. With his looks, he could probably be dating some spoiled college girl who maybe had a cool place, a nice car, and a life. Gabby had nothing. It was another missing piece of his whole mystery. Why her? When he unbuttoned her pants, she felt a moment of hesitation but didn’t stop him. All she had to offer was herself, and she hoped that would be enough to keep him. For the next hour, he took everything she had—and more.

  When he was finished, Gabby awkwardly redressed in the cramped truck, while Gabe got out to relieve himself. She was glad for the privacy, feeling slightly embarrassed that her first time was in the front seat of a truck. She had no way to clean u
p and was sure she looked a mess. Gabby hoped he wouldn’t try to take her into a restaurant; maybe they could just pick up something through a drive-thru and come back to the lake to eat, and he’d give her the present he’d promised.

  Gabe pulled out of the boat landing, and kept his eyes locked on the road. Gabby turned up the radio to fill the awkward silence, and he reached and turned it off, his jaw set.

  “Gabe, is something wrong?”

  “Nope.”

  “Something seems wrong.”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you going to talk to me, or what?” Gabby asked, getting angry and embarrassed. Is there something wrong with me? she thought. How was she to know if everything was all right? It was her first time and it seemed like everything went the way it was supposed to. He sure seemed happy enough back at the boat landing, moaning and groaning and yelling her name at the end. Geesh, are all guys this selfish? She was the one who had to feel the sharp pain, then was uncomfortable—smacking her head on the roof while her back scraped against the dash—not to mention her cramped legs from keeping them bent so long, sitting on his lap facing him.

  Gabe didn’t answer. He drove straight back to the apartment. When he pulled in, Gabby looked at him, confused. “What are we doing back here? I thought we were going out for my birthday?”

  “We did. And you got your present, Gabby. Tell Mark I said thanks.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Gabe? What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabby was quickly becoming furious.