All The Shadows We Made

Chapter 18 - December - Kat

December

Kat

"Momma, is that Maggie? Please, I need to talk to her! Please!"

Mom hits the end button and puts my phone on the kitchen table. "Judging from your call log, I think you've had enough time on the phone for one weekend."

I'm desperate. I need to talk to Maggie. I need to know if she's going to be able to see Mickey, if maybe I can, too. If I can call Jamie back and tell him to sober up and go. "Please, Momma, it's important. It's really important."

Duane comes and stands at the door between the kitchen and the dining room. Normally, that would be enough to make me zip my lips, be a good little girl or face the consequences, but not today. Today I don't care.

Mom sighs. "What's so important, Katherine?"

I pause. This isn't the kind of thing I can discuss with my mother on a good day, and today is not a good day if she hung up on Maggie. She won't understand. She'll go off on a rant about my no good friends and how I shouldn't be hanging around with people who would do something like that in the first place. But I remember Mickey's face in the firelight, how he said we're family, and I know I have to try. For the sake of the family that's really mine. For the sake of the boy who's drunk right now and the girl who's curled up in a ball in her grandmother's afghan.

"One of my friends, he-" I try to think of a way to explain that won't start a round of recrimination from Charlotte. "He's not okay right now. I need to talk to Maggie and see if he's all right."

"Not okay how?"

Crap. There's no way around this. The skin prickles on the back of my neck. Duane must still be standing there watching me. "He, well, he tried to commit suicide last night. We're all trying to make sure he's okay."

Inexplicably, Charlotte's eyes soften. "Honey, I'm sorry. What happened?"

I move closer to her across the scratched up wood floor, catching my sock in a crack between the boards. I shake it loose. "He drank a lot and took a bunch of pills. They pumped his stomach, so he's alive, but that's all we know right now." My voice stays steady, but just barely. I'm not as cried out as I thought.

Mom nods, but before she can say anything, Duane's voice sounds behind me, quiet and deadly. "The little shit should have blown his brains out instead, done it right," he says, smooth as silk. "You have dumb friends, Katherine."

My vision goes red, redder than when I found out about Mickey and Maggie, redder than any time when Duane has taunted me or thrown an ashtray my way or called my mother a whore. Bright crimson floods my whole being. My lips narrow into a line thinner than I ever knew they could.

I know Duane is dangerous. I know he's six-foot-five to my five feet, three inches. I know I'm slender as a rail and he's, as he likes to brag, "built like a brick shithouse." He can wipe the floor with me in the time it'll take me to turn around, knock me out before I can open my mouth. And he'll do it, too. But right now it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

"Fuck you." It's out of my mouth before I know what's happening. I whirl around and glare as I say it. I hear Charlotte's quick intake of breath, see Duane's eyes widen. I'm a good girl. I've never done anything like this before.

"Say that one more time?" Duane's voice remains quiet. Despite his bulk, he reminds me of a snake. A vicious viper waiting to strike.

I should take it back. I know I should. I should apologize, diffuse the situation. But instead, I say it again. "Fuck. You."

Duane steps forward. It takes everything in me to hold my ground, but I do. He looms silhouetted against the dining room light. "Well, well, well. The little girl finally grew some balls. Good for you." He laughs. It's a cruel laugh, heartless and cold, and I know it's not good for me, not good at all. I clench my hands into fists. I'll go down, but I'll be damned if I go down without a fight.