Page 51 of The Wrong Track
Tobin stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. He pulled me to him so that my face rested next to the baby’s on his chest and he hugged me. I kept my arms at my sides but I didn’t pull back. “You’re away from all of that,” he said. “That life is over. He’s really dead, Remy. No one will control you anymore, not ever again.”
“I should go. Because what if your boss found out about me living with you? There were other charges.” I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at the baby as I said it. “I was arrested for solicitation, too.”
Tobin didn’t speak for a while. He rubbed my back through his grandfather’s coat.
“Are you…” I wasn’t sure what to ask. Mad? Upset? Disgusted?
“How old were you when you met him?” he asked.
“Seventeen. I had just turned seventeen.” I felt him sigh when he heard that. “I had left home and I met a girl who worked for him. She made it sound like a party. I knew it wasn’t,” I said. “I was dumb but not totally clueless. I went with her and got really high…then I didn’t want to do it but I already owed him for the drugs so I had to work.” That first time had been the hardest. Even with all the pills I’d taken, I’d still screamed, I’d still sobbed. “He said he’d kill me if I tried to leave, and he would have. Every day I was so afraid.” And that echoed.
“Now it’s done. It’s over.” He tilted my chin so he could see my face. “I can feel you struggling to breathe.”
“I’m ok.” No. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s keep walking.”
We did, slowly but as fast as I could go at that moment. I needed to get back to the house to my inhaler, I needed to close us in where we were safe. I could lock the doors and pretend that the outside could never touch us.
“I’m ok,” I repeated to Tobin. “All that stuff I said last night about echoes was total bullshit. I’m just fine now. Those dreams don’t mean anything and they’ll stop after a while.”
Probably in cop school they taught you how to figure out if someone was lying. He looked at me and he knew that I was.
Chapter 11
There was no chance of locking us in that morning: his mom’s car was in the driveway when we approached the house. And his mom stood next to it, her arms crossed. She watched us walk toward her and I could feel her eyes, not on her son, but lasering into me.
“Shit. I forgot she was coming over today.” Tobin sighed. “She wants me to do yoga with her.”
“Really? I didn’t know you did that.”
“I don’t. She goes a lot and I have a few times, but not in a while. She thinks it will help my healing and get me out of the house.”
And away from me. I understood her, and didn’t blame her at all.
“What are you two going to do today?” he asked.
“We’ll be ok,” I said.
“I don’t want you to drive. I didn’t know that you don’t have a license.” His eyes went to the baby on his chest, and I read his mind. More poor judgement. Remy doesn’t think at all. She obviously can’t be trusted since she keeps breaking the law.
“Before, I never drove and now, I knew that I should have…” I let the words trail off. There was really no excuse for any of my behavior.
“It’s ok, you can get a Michigan license. It won’t take that long for me to get your birth certificate. But until then, you’re going to be stranded.” He looked worried, and I knew why. I’m leaving this person alone with a baby, he was thinking. I’m leaving this addict, the one who let another man choose when she could shower, in charge of a helpless infant.
“I have a lot of sewing to do,” I said, which was another lie. Annie hadn’t given me many more jobs, probably because she was unsatisfied with the time it had taken me to complete the last ones or maybe because she thought the workmanship was poor.
“Let’s talk later. Here’s my mom,” he announced and I heard the warning in the words. Of course I wouldn’t tell her any more than she could find online, but I knew that what she could read about me there was more than enough.
“Hey, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and we walked inside. “Remy, can you help me?” Together, we contrived to remove Ella from the carrier but she was not happy about it. Neither was I when Tobin said, “I’ll go change,” and left the three of us in the living room without his presence as a buffer.
“How is she doing?” Charlene asked. She eyed the baby.
“Ella’s really good. The pediatrician says it,” I answered. I almost went to get the height and weight chart they’d given us. It would prove that I hadn’t done anything to hurt her, wouldn’t it?
“That’s good. I’m happy to hear it.”
She sounded actually glad, too. Well, she was Tobin’s mom, and he cared so much about other people. She couldn’t be all bad. Right?
“Do you want to hold her?” I offered.