“I’ll deal with this,” Mitch caught my attention. “Load up the truck.”
My eyes went to the uniformed police officers before going to Mitch. I was thinking this was not good. Bill was an idiot but he was my cousin and he was the kids’ Dad. There was good in him somewhere, I knew it. I just needed to stop screwing around living in denial and find a way to jumpstart him by pulling out the good so he could get himself sorted. I needed to remind him how we used to talk about how we wanted our lives to be and how we’d dreamed and schemed of making them something better. I just needed to make sure Billy and Billie were safe while Bill sorted himself out and I was thinking my plans might be foiled if Bill was thrown into jail because of me.
“I think –” I started to say to Mitch.
His eyes narrowed before he clipped, “Baby, load up the f**kin’ truck.”
The uniformed police officers were both studying me with what appeared to be weirdly intense interest but I was again frozen in the face of Mitch’s fury. It was then that Billy moved forward, calmly grabbed Mitch’s keys and headed to the door carrying four bags full of clothes and shoes. Billie followed her brother.
There it was again. I was not in charge.
Damn.
I glanced at Bill and followed Billie.
After the first round I made the kids sit in the truck while I got the rest of their stuff. When I opened the door and walked in, Bill was ranting, flailing and struggling with the police officers. He did this while Mitch glared at him, his phone to his ear, his other hand to his hip. I scurried through the house to go and grab some more bags.
On trip three, the last of the trips, I heard Mitch say in his phone, “Give me a second.” Then he called, “Mara,” and I looked at him. “That it?” he asked, dipping his head to the bags I was carrying.
I nodded.
“Don’t come back,” he ordered. “Stay in the truck with the kids.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“You freakin’ bitch!” Bill shouted at me. I tried not to look at him but I had to look at him so I looked at him to see he was cuffed and sitting on his couch, bouncing clumsily around. His eyes were shooting daggers at me. “You freakin’ bitch!”
“Mara, out to the truck,” Mitch demanded.
“I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” Bill yelled. “My f**kin’ family. Flesh and blood! You bitch!”
“Out to the truck, Mara, now,” Mitch clipped.
“Fuck you, Mara!” Bill screamed at me. “Fuck you! You just bought yourself trouble, you bitch!”
I looked at Bill and explained, “Bill, they haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’ll f**k with you!” he shouted.
“Mara, out to the truck,” Mitch ordered but I ignored him.
“Somewhere inside you, you have to know they deserve better. You know how you’re making them feel. You know you don’t want to make them feel that way,” I said softly to my cousin.
“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Bill yelled loudly to me.
“They’ve been gone for hours. They came in, Bill, and you didn’t even look at them. Now you’re not even asking about them,” I pointed out and Bill scowled at me.
Mitch started toward me with a warning, “Mara.”
My head jerked to him then I looked to my cousin who was glaring at me, too far gone to let anything penetrate. Then I nodded and turned to the door.
And as I walked out the door, I heard Bill shriek, “You’ll regret this, you bitch! You’ll regret it! I swear to f**kin’ Christ you’ll f**kin’ regret this!”
I closed my eyes hard and walked swiftly to Mitch’s truck luckily making it there mostly blind.
Mitch came out before the officers led Bill out and we were away.
“Everyone okay?” Mitch asked into the silent cab when we’d made it to Speer Boulevard.
“Oh yeah,” Billy answered with a smile in his voice which made me feel slightly better.
“I’m okay,” Billie answered uncertainly which made that slightly better fade away.
I stared out the side window. I was terrified out of my head for a lot of reasons and wondering what on earth I was going to do next.
“Mara?” Mitch called.
I kept staring out the side window, focused on my terror.
Mitch’s fingers curled around my knee and squeezed. “Sweetheart?”
“I’m okay,” I lied to the window.
We got home and Mitch and Billy unloaded the truck while Billie and me (well, mostly me), separated darks, lights and whites before we started loading up the washer.
When they had it all in, I announced, “Billy, you’re in the second bedroom. I’ll pull out the futon later. Billie, you’re with me.”
“Yippee!” Billie cried, that Teflon fortress clearly having clamped tight around her and life was no longer scary and uncertain, it was wonderful again. She was on an adventure, on Billie vacation. She’d always liked visiting her Auntie Mara’s house.
I ignored Mitch who scared me normally but his behavior at Bill’s scared me more than normally and continued my pronouncements.
“Before we deal with sleeping arrangements, we have to go to the drugstore.” I turned to Mitch. In an effort to dismiss him politely from his self-appointed duties, I told his shoulder, “Thanks for everything. Uh…we’ll talk tomorrow?”
“What do you need at the drugstore?” Mitch asked and my eyes slid to his.
“We’re okay now,” I assured him. “I’ll pop by tomorrow –”
“I didn’t ask if you were okay. I asked what you needed at the drugstore,” Mitch replied.
“Um –” I mumbled.
Mitch, who was standing at the mouth of the hall, walked to where I was standing in the middle of the hall by my stackable washer and dryer. He did this while Billie, who was standing beside me and Billy, who kept his place where he had been standing beside Mitch at the mouth of the hall, watched Mitch move.
When Mitch made it to me, he got close, my head tipped way back, his chin dipped way down and softly he said, “Mara, sweetheart, I asked what you needed at the drugstore.”
“The kids need shampoo,” I whispered because with him that close it was all I could do.
“Right,” Mitch whispered back, immediately turned and asked the hall at large, “Who’s comin’ with me to the drugstore?”
I blinked in surprise at his back.