The red light glared at me. I glared back.
A faded blue sedan squeaked into the gas station on the corner, engine rattling as it parked. It shut off, the intersection quiet again. A man stepped out, limp-swaggered inside. The door’s bell chime was clear across the empty streets.
Still the traffic light was red. Redder, if possible. More insistent.
No cameras perched on top, no one around to care. What’s it matter?
The thought dropped into me like a battleship anchor. Sighing, I leaned back in the seat. Raked my hand through my hair, the ends dropping back on my shoulders, and remembered the days when it was too knotted to comb.
Everything matters.
I had no way of knowing that getting my wisdom teeth out at eighteen would ruin my life. You can’t know you’ll steal from your parents and pawn your mother's engagement ring or fuck for drugs until you run out of money. Because you need that fix. Because you’re shitting your brains out and you know everyone knows and everyone’s looking at you and all the muscles in your body tighten like unthreading screws. The world is fucked, and you’re dying.
My mother always encouraged me not to be morally corrupt, not to focus on material things. So what was an expensive watch, to lose? What’s this or that? The love is what matters, not the ring, right? Pawn, pawn, pawn…
And then it stops. Then people see who robbed them blind. You see yourself in their eyes and you’re ashamed and you duck out or get kicked out or both. The streets are hard, but the need is worse and you do things you never thought you’d do. Rob old ladies, sleep with that dickhead pimp, that john, whatever it takes for a pill. You lose the thread of who you are but you can’t be bothered to care until you’re coming down, and then you’re lost in misery’s squall.
If you’re lucky, you die. Most rot in the streets.
I did. Every day was static, until I saw Aunt Cici. I barely remember it, just that she walked out of a Walgreens and looked so smart and clean. I was in worn flip flops a size too big that I’d found in the lost and found bin at the shelter. Hadn’t bathed in weeks, no clue on when I’d brushed my hair last, and my clothes were men’s sweats, stained and ripped. The fibers filled with smoke, booze, and shame.
Maybe I was hours or days from ending up like my friend Ivy, dead in the vines and trash of a ditch two minutes from downtown. Maybe I had years more to waste away. I’ll never know.
But I know I’m never going back.
Everything matters. Every small step the wrong way, matters.
The red light clicked into green as if it’d said all it needed to say.
Wetting my lips, I eased onto the accelerator. Drove past the pastures and tiny neighborhoods toward Aunt Cici’s house. She’d been the family rock since my grandfather died and my grandmother drowned herself in Jameson. She was the only one who never gave up on me. Refused to let me give up on myself.
But she had cancer now. Pancreatic.
I promised myself I’d honor her by being a better person, earn every day I woke up without feeling like I was on the edge of death.
“And then there was Kara,” I muttered when the house came into view.
Disgust turned my stomach but I pulled into the oil stained driveway. The click in my engine seemed louder in the smaller space, next to my cousin’s shiny black Altima.
Kara was Uncle Mike’s haughty, snotty Baptist daughter. Everything she did was right, and she never missed a chance to brag about it. She was in a master’s program for religious studies. Raised money for whatever charity she could find. Wore enough makeup to cover whatever blemishes her nasty little soul eked through.
Everyone in the family loved her. Except me. Even before.
Just get it over with. Flash a smile, be polite, grab your charger, and go.
I pushed the car door open and snatched the keys from the ignition. Slamming it behind me, I walked up the driveway and knocked on the door. Looked at the rusted bell, long broken.
A moment passed. Wind whipped my hair, lashing it at my cheeks and eyes. Pinning it back with one hand, I put my spare key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.
“Aunt Cici, It’s me.” I listened hard, hoping I didn’t have to play nice with my cousin.
Nothing.
Oh thank God, they’re probably in the backyard.
I pictured Aunt Cici laying in her lounger in the grass, catching the sun and watching birds argue in the trees like she did when I was growing up. She’d tell me all their names and when they would leave for the winter or when their mating seasons were. These days she remained silent in the sun, a bemused smile on her pale face.
Closing the door, I walked through the living room toward the kitchen. Grabbed the charger from the outlet above the countertop and looked out the back window. The pool was bright blue and lapping at the walls. Leaves waved from their branches. An acre away, the neighbor started up his riding lawnmower, but Cici’s backyard was empty.
Where…
A sound, from the back of the house. A moan.
She’s fallen.
“Son of a bitch!”
My flip flops smacked the back of my feet as I half ran, half slid, down the laminate hallway toward her bedroom. Grabbed the frame of the open door and stopped dead.
A black blindfold covered Aunt Cici's eyes. Thick leather cuffs clung to her wrists, strung over her head to the top of the bed. She was nude, knees bent and legs splayed wide. My cousin Kara’s fingers were rubbing between them, her lips at her nipples. Tits hidden between Aunt Cici’s thighs, her curved ass wiggled in the air. Black straps hugged her hips.
“You fucking cunt.” My words punched the air as hate burned through my gut. "What do you think you're doing?"
Cici’s head rose from the bed, her face in my direction. “Mouse? Is that you?”
Her voice was sharp, concise. Oriented.
I stepped back. Stared at her.
Kara sat up. Raising her eyebrows at me, she put her first two fingers in her mouth, lips pillowing over them as she pulled them back out shiny. Smiled. Then she leaned down and pushed them inside Aunt Cici. Nasty smile still painted on her face, she gently fucked our aunt.
“Oh, fuck, Kara.” Cici moaned, her head thrashing to the side. “Fuck.”
Her hips bucked. As if they beckoned her, Kara leaned forward. Pressed her mouth against Cici’s clit, licking and fucking harder and harder. Sloshing and smacking, my cousin’s shaven pussy and asshole presented before me as my aunt moaned, screamed, thrashed her legs as her restraints went taut.
“I… Jesus. Mouse?” Aunt Cici struggled to catch her breath.
Kara looked at me, her mouth and chin glossy.
I felt my upper lip snarl. “This is not over.”
My cousin grinned wide. Rearing up, she pulled something from between her legs. A smooth, thick dildo, attached to the straps at her hips. She pressed it between my aunt’s pussy lips and sank inside her.
Cici’s ties went taut again, her mouth dropping into an O. Her head tilted back and a moan broke through her open lips.
I turned and stumbled through the house the way I’d come. Slammed the door behind me, the world a whirl, as the neighbor's wind chimes washed away the sounds of my aunt’s orgasm.
*****
I don't want to be me anymore.
Swallowing, I dumped the noodles in the bubbling pot in front of me and stirred. Set the plastic spoon on a paper towel on the counter and rested my hands on the cold edges of the shiny black stove. Stared at the bright green numbers glowing from its face. 6:00pm. Moments passed and it blurred into a blob. The continuous hiss of the shower in the other room faded into space.
I felt the promise of it, pulling at the edges of my mind. A mental scrub. The relaxation of my muscles, my mind. Vicodin, Oxy, heroin, fentanyl. God, I missed it. So familiar. So easy.
No.
The clock snapped back. 6:04pm.
I took a deep breath. My mouth was dry.
Fake it till you make it, Adrienne.
I picked up the spoon. Stirred. Let the steam cling to my skin, as if it could flush out the sickness.
My aunt’s moans pulsed in my memory.
How long as this been going on? The thought surged through my mind over and over, until the boiling water spit in my face.
I grit my teeth. Straightened.
“This is so fucked up,” I muttered.
“What, babe?”
My boyfriend’s voice made me freeze. Spotting my glass of water on the counter, I grabbed it. Took a sip and looked over my shoulder.
Corey stepped through the bedroom doorway. A big white towel was slung around his tanned hips. His ripped torso taunted me as he rubbed another over his still-wet blonde hair, mountainous biceps bulging.
“Something wrong with the pasta?” he asked, squinting. “Want me to run up to the deli and get dinner?”
“No, I…” Turning fully, I watched beads of water crawl down his sculpted body. Veins popped in his muscles, engorged from training clients this afternoon. Heat rose between my legs like molten lava.
“Babe?” Corey prompted.
“Dinner is fine.” Shifting my weight, I met his eyes. Remembered how he helped bring me to life when I joined the gym after recovery. He’d listened intently, sitting with me on the ground in front of the mirror. Then he taught me to work through it. Through the emotions, through the physical limitations of my body. Everything felt so deep, and I couldn’t figure out if my feelings for him were recovery, lust, or romantic until he took my hand and held it. Looked into my eyes the way he was now, and asked me out on a proper date. Even after I’d told him what a mess I was.
There wasn’t much I couldn’t tell him.
“Is there anything else going on?”
Well, darling, I just walked in on my Bible beater cousin eating out and fucking my dying aunt. Disgust roiled my stomach.
I shook my head. “Family stuff.”
“What’s up?” Snapping his hair towel over his tanned shoulder, he leaned on the counter, blue eyes focused on mine.
“Just…” I turned around, put the strainer lid on the pasta and walked it over to the sink. Drained it, steam billowing between us. When it was empty, I set it on the sink and looked at him. “I guess I’m trying to figure out a situation with Aunt Cici without causing drama in my family.”
His brows furrowed, lines creased in his forehead. “That doesn’t sound good. Anything I can do to help? Need to bounce some ideas off me?”
Every muscle on his body was thick, from his hulking traps to the lines of abs, even the hint of the lats under his arms. The towel at his waist hid the muscle I ached to see hard and strong. I’d like to bounce on you myself.
“Ade…” He chuckled.
I laughed and cleared my throat, refocusing on the conversation at hand. “Sorry, sorry. No, I’ve just got to sort through this. Thank you, though. Hungry?”
Standing to his full height, he nearly blocked the light from the huge windows at the other end of the apartment. He smiled, the stretch to his boxy jaw making him look almost typical rather than mouthwateringly attractive. “When am I not? Holler if you need me.”
Corey turned and walked back through the bedroom door, his powerful back taunting me. My fingers ticked, begged to drag over its crests and shallows, until he disappeared into the room.
The wet heat between my legs made me think of my aunt and cousin again.
“Fuck. Damaged for fucking life. God damn cunt.” I muttered, heaving up the pot and bringing it back to the stove. Anger and disgust boiled away my lust. Holding onto the counter, I closed my eyes. Tried to clear my mind to think.
Morally bankrupt and manipulative people didn’t get better with age.
They got worse.
What’s Kara’s play?
*****
Bearing witness to things that should remain behind closed doors wasn’t on the agenda for my life. But neither was breaking my promise to my aunt and to myself. I wouldn’t abandon her.
Which is why I stood under the calm of sunlight, listening to the soft hiss of traffic on the highway behind the trees. Waiting for her to answer my knock.
