You're Not Safe

Chapter Thirteen-Araba

I held onto Emma’s left arm from behind so she could relax. Touching her smooth skin, I could feel her shivering despite the heat of the weather. She flicked her gaze from me to her mother with an expression so blank it haunted me.

“…I remember his voice;” Anna said on the phone as she stood in front of the silver sculpture head of Martha Stewart, the one that always freaked me out in my early teens. “There was not a single ounce of remorse. He wasn’t even man enough to look me in the face.” She waited, listening to the caller. “Exactly. We can’t do anything about it. At the end of the day, he took the one person that could bring us all back together. It still feels empty without him, but the good thing is we’ve moved on.” She paused for a minute. “Hey, are you alright? How have your days been? I wish we could hang out sometime and put everything from the past behind us. What do you say? Hello? Hello?” She realized the call had been cut and uttered a tiny sigh.

Anna turned around and smiled at us with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Why?” Emma asked but a thought seemed to have hit her mother as her face straightened. At once, she drew closer and embraced us in a bear hug. I caught a whiff of the banana-flavoured shampoo she used during her showers. “Aw, my baby. I am so sorry I scared you. I’m so sorry for spooking you back in the kitchen. I know you get triggered when you watch me stand close to the window and make calls. It reminds you of that shitty day. I’m so sorry. I was caught in a bit of a surprise, so I forgot.”

Emma brushed her hand on her mom’s arm. “I’m fine. Who was on the phone?”

Anna kissed Emma’s forehead and then rubbed her palm over my cheek with a tiny smile. “The man who killed your dad….” She paused in a grimace as if she would get diarrhoea from uttering a word. “..Alonso. I hate saying that name. He’s being let out on parole.”

I uttered a small gasp. I felt Emma's pulse quicken a bit. “Really?” She asked.

“Yeah.” She looked at me. “Your mom informed me, Araba". 

“Oh,” I said, even though I wasn’t comfortable having her call the one place I felt safe.

“He'll be released in the next two months.”

“That is horse shit,” Emma said. “He’s supposed to be let out after the next two years. The son of a bitch had two DUIs when he was fourteen to fifteen. Are they kidding me?”

When Emma slid her arm from my clutch, I caressed her back so she could relax.

“Apparently they still believe his bs sob story. He’s an alcoholic my ass.” Anna rested her palms on her hips. “The court still claims it was manslaughter and a DUI. But it’s a common lie. The people on jury duty were so dumb. It was premeditated murder. Ezra and he used to fight at work like WWE wrestlers. The one person he’d complain about when he came home was Alonso. He’d say Alonso did this. Alonso did that. Now he gets to walk free while my husband’s still in the ground.” She puffed out a breath. “The deed is done, I guess. We can’t do anything about it.”

Emma shook her head. “I soo wish he would get hit and run by someone. He needs to die.”

“We could play Would You Rather on him,” I told Emma. “It’ll be good therapy for you”.

Anna curved a brow at me. “I’m sorry, Would You Rather on him? How in the blue hell is that good therapy?” She asked.

“We came up with our version of the game where we’d choose the people we hate in real life and, instead, decide which death to choose on said person.”
It wasn’t long before Anna understood this crazy idea Emma came up with.

“Very interesting. Araba, you’re a genius. It is good therapy.”

“It was her idea,” Emma pointed out. I gave her a questionable look. “Last night she came up with it.”

Anna gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That’s dope.” I decided not to say the truth; that Emma came up with the suggestion after I'd been depressed about running into my uncle and not standing up to him. I knew what she was doing, so I took the praise with pride. It felt good anytime Emma and Anna complimented me. It was a similar feeling to when Emma told me she loved me last night. Anna winked at me, then rushed upstairs to leave me and Emma, clearly still in distress.

“Are you okay?” I asked my bestie, still rubbing her back.

Emma nodded but she couldn’t even make eye contact. She was definitely boiling with rage but she kept it all bottled up inside by masking it with a blank face. I didn’t like how quiet she’d become, especially when she wasn’t speaking.

“Let's go to the range,” I offered. “You can pretend to be shooting Alonso. You can go buck wild on those cardboards and let out all your-”

“Thanks, Rabi. You’re sweet. But I just want to be left alone right now. You mind?”

“Oh, not at all. I’ll give you space. Only if you promise you won’t give me the silent treatment, being all moody on me for days. Please I hope not.”

She only scoffed, then shot upstairs, again not saying a word. I stood there, watching the only person I cared about climb the steps with hard stomps. She made hard stomps when Anna used to seize the TV remote from her to watch true crime shows when Emma wanted to watch bodybuilders lift weights. She stomped her feet when Anna ate the leftover brunch she was saving in the fridge.

Catching a glimpse of Emma’s blank face, I couldn’t help but feel her pain. It must have been the worst feeling in the world not to grow up with a father in your life. I also felt sort of abandoned, so, unable to hold them any longer, I allowed the tears to pour down my cheeks.

VOTE and hop onto the next chapter if you want to know how Emma really feels about Alonso, the hit-and-run criminal.