“Yeah,” he replied.
“But what did he mean?” I asked.
“Hm?” he asked distractedly.
“He said you cleared my father’s debt. That didn’t make sense. Don’t I clear it by marrying you?”
Tommy’s eyes focused on me and he said, “I paid your father’s debt.”
“Huh?”
“Pop gave you to me as a gift. But I paid it anyway.”
I shook my head and frowned, not understanding. He continued, “I paid it. Despite the gift,
I wanted the debt paid. So when we got back from Mexico I paid it, with interest. To make it done.”
I started to feel spinny, “You paid for me?”
“Not for you, for the debt. To end it.”
“You paid money for me.” My fingers were at my temples.
“Tia, listen---”
“You really just had to ‘own’ me, didn’t you? You had to pay money for me because I’m a piece of fucking property to you!” I pushed at his chest to get away from him.
“No, that wasn’t it,” he made me look at him by grabbing my chin and staring right into my eyes, “I paid money so that the debt was settled. The debt being settled meant my father wouldn’t meddle, wouldn’t think he had a right to do anything to your father again. Because he’s your father I did that so that you wouldn’t have to deal with my father fucking with your father’s life anymore. I know how Pop’s brain works. If I hadn’t settled the debt, he’d still think he had a right to continue to settle the score. Stealing you wasn’t enough. Fucking with Greg’s life wasn’t enough. It might never have ended. Never. And you’re not just a piece of property to me; you’re every fuckin’ thing to me.”
I couldn’t think straight, I wanted him to let go of me. I pushed at his chest again but he pulled me tighter against him. Instead of fighting, which I knew was useless, I just went limp. He held me close and rocked me for a long time and I was just limp. No tears, no expression, no thoughts. Just limp.
“Baby?” he finally said and touched his lips to my forehead, one hand threaded into my hair.
I closed my eyes tight, “I can’t.” I said.
“Athena,” he hauled me back a few inches and held my face in both of his hands. I opened my eyes.
“I love you,” he said.
I nodded a little.
“Baby, I love you,” he repeated.
I opened my mouth but nothing would come out but a little sob that I pulled back. Tommy’s expression dropped and he let go of me and I dropped limply onto the pillows. He left the room, slamming the door. I’d promised him just this morning that I’d always say it back. I failed him.
Sarah was tapping my shoulder. I jackknifed up in bed, gasping.
“Sorry, Chiquita; you been sleeping 3 hours. Tommy has to go away on business. I need to pack a bag for him, he asked me to tell you. He’s in the office if you wanna go say bye. He says he’ll be gone a few days.”
I put my head back on the pillow and pulled the blanket up over my head. I didn’t fall back asleep; I just sort of laid there. I heard her leave a few moments later.
I didn’t know where Tommy was going and I didn’t care. Whatever. Him away instead of here meant I wouldn’t have to endure his mood swings, endure his wrath without the protection of his necklace.
Five Days Later…
For five days I stayed in the bedroom other than to make trips to the kitchen, the Ms. Pacman machine, and back. I read, watched TV, and played games on Facebook. I’d gotten my period for 4 days and now it was gone. I got a big zit on my chin that was now pretty well near gone, too. My knees were almost healed, my throat no longer had a bruise (not on the outside but I suspected I was scarred for life from it).
I was raging for sugar or something comforting other than ice cream, anything but ice cream, but Sarah had no other junk in the house other than sugary cereal, which was bizarre because she was a sugar hater but purchased several boxes of cereal with the word “Sugar” in a huge ass font on the box so I threw myself headfirst into said sugary boxes of cereal, using them to drown out the emotions about my life, my parents, my future, my relationship. Sarah brought me food. Sometimes I ate it, sometimes I didn’t. I woke up every night several times. I think I was looking for him but I wouldn’t allow myself to acknowledge it.