The Truths We See

Chapter 2

I only had one friend and it was the girl from kindergarten that I had told about my dad's bottles. She always had a short fuse, a temper that, when aimed at you, was almost frightening. It wasn't that she would physically harm you, but she would throw in your face exactly what she thought of you and what you were doing. I'd never earned that from her, until that day.

We were in my room and I was getting ready for a funeral for a man I'd never met because I felt a deep need to go there as some sort of apology. Or maybe closure. Mostly, I wanted to see what his family looked like. I had to see the lives my father had changed forever.

Sue sighed again for the millionth time, signaling something was on her mind but she was only going to say it if prompted. Knowing this, I didn't say anything. I didn't think I could put someone else's troubles on my shoulders and carry them with me. The weights I bore felt like it was enough to keep me from leaving this house.

It wasn't until I was putting on makeup to hide the redness around my puffy eyes that she finally sat up and looked at me. Her eyes made me cautious. "Don't you see anything wrong with this?" she asked.

I looked at her in the mirror. "What do you mean?"

"You're not even concerned about those people, but you're going to a funeral for a stranger. Why are you doing this?"

I stared at the jagged edges of my concealer for a long moment before beginning to gently blend them. "Because I need to see."

I felt her staring at me. When I finally made myself meet her eyes in the mirror I found shock. "So they're nothing more than a curiosity for you to go and gawk at," she said, disdain dripping from her words. "That's just sick. They're in pain, Brenda. They don't need people coming there just to watch them grieve."

My mouth opened of its own accord, but no sound came out. Her words, even though I knew she would later come to me with apologies for them, were right. I was going there to satisfy some sort of curiosity. I shook my head and turned to her from the mirror. "I'm not going to stare at them. I simply want to look at them and then leave."

She shook her head at me, nose wrinkled with disgust. "You need to stop acting like you're the victim here. Your father is in jail where you can easily go see him any time you want. His trial is in two months. You'll see him in then if nothing else. Those people will never see that man again!"

I still ended up going to the funeral, saw the woman standing with her kids, one clinging to each leg as she sobbed. I simply looked at them, gathered around the grave, from afar before continuing on down the road.

But those words: stop acting like you're the victim. Those are the words I heard as I held my brother's wife as she sobbed. Those were the words that now haunted me when I wanted to cry over my father's trial next month, over my brother being shoved into the backseat of the car in handcuffs, over my dead mother who died in childbirth. I wasn't the victim. Louis was dead; Lilly was married to Ben; my mother lost her life bringing another into the world. I wasn't the victim.

I wasn't the victim.

---

It took her a long time, but eventually Lilly stopped sobbing and she went down to the station to see how much it would take to bail out Ben. While she was gone, I retreated to my room. I had a stack of old books on my desk I could read, but they weren't appealing. They were full of people living happy lives, not knowing what it was like to have everyone taken from you.

I resented that.

Anger, hot and bitter, rose up in me and I screamed as I threw them at the wall. A tiny chip of the plaster flew back at me. It felt good. I grabbed my old backpack and threw that at the wall, too. I kept throwing everything at the wall until finally I grabbed my board and threw it at the spot. I froze and stared, panting, at the new hole in the plaster that I knew I was going to have to fix. I heaved a sigh and collapsed onto my bed.

Tears began coming and then they wouldn't stop. I sobbed until my breaths were ragged and I felt raw. My face felt like it was on fire. My eyes had no tears left. My pillow was soaked with them and a million emotions. Mostly, I felt empty. I'd spilled everything inside onto my pillow.

I buried my face in the damp cloth and let myself rest. My body was weary, and my eyes didn't want to stay open. It didn't take long for me to drift off into the dark nothingness of sleep.

---

Either a long or a short time later, I awoke to the sound of Lilly coming home, angrily mumbling about something. I hurriedly sat up and rubbed my face. As absurd as it might sound, I didn't want anyone to know I'd been crying. That was something I would only do in secret.

I only allowed it to be known through red, puffy eyes.

"What's wrong?" I called as I walked out of my bedroom.

Lilly didn't answer. I found her in the kitchen sitting at the table, head in her hands. "They said a bond hasn't been set but the hearing will be tomorrow morning," she said, voice hoarse. "I can't go tomorrow because I have to work, and you can't go because you've got that-"

"I'll skip it," I said immediately.

She looked up at me. Her eyes were red and puffy to match mine. "You can't just not show up to a job interview!"

I shook my head. "If they're watching the news, they'll understand why I'm not there. It should be fine. Anyway, Mr. Buckley is a really nice guy and I'm sure if I show up an hour or two late he'd be fine with it when I tell him what I was doing."

Lilly rubbed her face, smearing her makeup. "Fine," she said through her hands. She sighed as she dropped them to her lap. "Thank you," she whispered.

It's not something I normally did, but I couldn't stop myself from walking around the table and giving her a big hug - she looked like she really needed one.

So did I.

---

The sky was gray as I rode my skateboard to the courthouse. It felt fitting to the day's events. I kept riding, ignoring the people waving at me. Instead of returning their gestures, I pulled my beanie down further, covering my ears to muffle their voices. One less thing to feel guilty about.

The building I was going to wasn't large - one story - but it felt like it loomed over me as I slowed to a stop by the doors. Maybe it was knowing my father was housed in one of the long-term cells inside, or maybe it was knowing we probably didn't have enough money to cover Ben's bail. For whatever reason, my feet felt like lead as I walked up to the doors.

I took a deep breath, held it for a second, and slowly released it, trying to push down the anxiety that was beginning to claw at me.

The walk to the courtroom was short since the part open to the public on days like today was a rather small area. There was a receptionist since this was also the police station, but he only glanced at me as I walked past. I frowned. There was pity there, and I hated pity. But that was how the people in this town saw me now: someone in need of their pity.

It made my feet move faster.

A single officer waited in the hallway to the courtroom at the metal detector. He took my board and my keys, along with my wallet and change. Finally, I was allowed through.

The room was packed, just like it was when my dad was having his hearing. I made my way to the seat right behind where my brother was going to sit and the person already seated there moved when he recognized me.

After a couple of other short hearings they led my brother into the room. He didn't see me right away. He looked thoroughly ashamed, and I couldn't blame him. I would be too if I were being led into a courtroom in front of most of the town in a prisoner jumpsuit.

When he reached his seat he finally looked up and our eyes locked. Surprise was written across his features. Before we could do anything else, he was seated and the hearing began.

Twenty minutes later, my face was buried in my hands. His bail was ten thousand. That meant his bail bond would cost us a thousand. A thousand dollars we didn't have. Between his job and Lilly's job, they barely kept their heads above water. She made minimum wage, he made only slightly more.

After a couple of minutes of thinking, I stood up and left the courtroom. I had to get Ben out of there. He didn't belong in there.

He was innocent.

I could just feel it.