“So, I think you have a little problem on your hands. When I give my statement of what I witnessed, it isn’t going to go well for you.” The man rocked back on his heels. His eyes never left my mother’s face.
“I didn’t think I had time to—”
“Eh, save it.” He flicked his hand in the air. “We both know that isn’t going to fly. You had plenty of time. You stood here and let him burn to death. That’s murder.”
My skin prickled with goose bumps and my stomach fell to my toes. Murder? No, no, she didn’t murder Jack. But… she didn’t help him either. He was still alive, and she just stood there. A knot grew in my chest. It swelled until it became painful, pushing my organs out of its way. I rubbed my chest and tried to take a breath, but the knot cut off the air to my lungs and I could only take small, fast gasps.
What is it? I wondered. What’s happening to me? It must be grief—Jack is gone.
But it wasn’t grief. It was anger. Pure rage. At the man. At Jack for driving. At the road for its curves. At her for not helping him. Especially at her.
“Do you have an insurance policy?” Ralph asked my mother.
She nodded and looked over her shoulder. We could hear sirens in the distance. It would only be minutes—maybe less—before they were on scene.
He leaned in, eyes bright. “How much?”
“Two million,” my mom whispered, “plus whatever I can sell his carpentry business for.”
“Well, then, we may be able to work something out. You have money, and I happen to need money. Give me some of your insurance and I’ll keep quiet.”
The sirens were closer. Just around the bend. “Tell them I didn’t have time to get him out before the explosion and I’ll give you half.”
Ralph smiled and held his hand out. My mom took his hand, and they shook once. Seconds later, the police arrived, followed by the ambulance.
We all gave our statements: “Jack had too much to drink. He took the curve too fast, lost control, and hit the tree. Janine’s first instinct as a mother was to make sure her daughter was safe. When she tried to return to help her husband, the flames had overtaken the car and she couldn’t get to him. It exploded seconds later.”
The police were satisfied and the case was closed. After a small memorial service, Jack was out of our lives for good. We hardly talked about him after that.
Ralph had told the truth when he’d said he’d become my mother’s worst nightmare. The night of the accident, he insisted that we move in with him and for the next week, he never left her side.
“I’m not letting you outta my sight and risking you taking the money and running. We stick together on this,” he’d told her.
The first night we were at his house, his eyes raked over me and his lips curled in disgust. “Is that yours?”
“She, not a ‘that’,” my mom snapped, “and, yes, Willow is my daughter.”
“Cripes. I didn’t want to have to deal with a kid too. I hate kids. Hey!” He snapped his fingers and waved his hand at me. “Get over here.”
I walked to the recliner where he was sprawled out. His gelatinous belly spread across the seat. “Be seen, not heard. Do what you’re told, when you’re told to do it. Stay out of my way. Don’t touch my stuff. In other words, be invisible and we’ll get along fine.”
I opened my mouth to say something, and he gave me a look and raised his eyebrow. My mouth snapped shut. I nodded and backed away.
The seventh day we were at Ralph’s, he dropped a bomb. “We’re getting married.” He smiled and kissed my mother. She pushed him off her and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Marriage was never part of the deal!” my mom yelled.
I sat in stunned silence. There was no way she was going to marry him. No way. He was a mean, nasty tool. And revolting. He reminded me of an egg, if eggs had arms and legs. My insides started to shake. But what could she do? He knew what she did. He could tell.
“Getting married is the only way I can be sure I get my fair share of the money. You’re not cheating me out of one cent. I will tell what I know, Janine, make no mistake.” He poked her with his finger. “But we can’t get married yet. You need to have a proper amount of time to mourn the loss of your husband. Six months. That’d be good.”
He stood and walked to the stove to fill his plate with more hash. Picking up the skillet, he scraped every last morsel onto his plate. My mom sat at the table, looking into her empty coffee cup. Her shoulders were slumped forward and her face pale. That was when I knew that Ralph was calling the shots. He was in charge.
“During your six months mourning, you won’t spend a cent of the life insurance money. Tell people there’s a hold up or some governmental red tape… whatever. But you spend nothing.”
“What? How are we supposed to live?” My mom stood up so fast her dining chair fell behind her.
“I don’t know and really don’t care. Six months. Then we get married.”
“How long are you going to stay married?” I asked Ralph.
He glared at me. A glare so dark and menacing that I flinched away. “I told you, you are to be seen and not heard. This is your last warning.”
A few days later, my mom found a job in a diner. We couldn’t afford the monthly mortgage payments on the house we lived in with Jack without his life insurance. And if Mom and Ralph got married, she didn’t need the house anyway. So she listed it for sale. We planned to live in it until it sold. It sold two days after it went on the market and we had to move out.
We rented a small trailer in a questionable neighborhood. The trailer was rundown and dumpy, but it was clean and had plenty of room for the two of us. We lived there while Mom and Ralph pretended to meet, date, and fall in love.
They got married six months later.
Then the beatings started.
I told them about the abuse. The beatings. Jaden. The abuse to my mom. Everything. I was almost detached from it. The words tumbled out of my mouth.
Finally, Detective Samuels said, “Okay, Willow.” He laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “We’ve got enough. You can stop now. You don’t need to keep reliving that.”
Detective Renard clicked the recorder off and slid it into his jacket pocket. “Is there anything you need? Anything we can get you?”
“I’d really love a Coke,” I answered, rubbing my eyes with the tips of my fingers.
The detective smiled and shook his head. “After all that, the memories you just relived, and all you want is a Coke?”
“Okay,” I said with a small smile, “some M&Ms would be good.”
He walked out of the door. “Coming right up,” he called over his shoulder.
“You did really good, Willow. I think we have all we need in your statement to keep you off the witness stand, but that’s going to be up to the lawyers.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I tried to be as thorough as I could with your part of the investigation. I have a daughter your age. If she’d…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what I’d do if someone treated her like you’ve been treated. I don’t want you to have to keep reliving this part of your life over and over. So,” he put his palms on his knees and pushed himself out of the chair, “I hope we have all we need. And you can start fresh at college.” He grinned at me.