Destruction: The December People, Book One (9 page)

Patches of flush had broken out on Emmy’s neck. She would boil over any minute.

“Emmy, is there something you want to say?” David asked.

Patrick winced and shook his head, which David took to mean,
you should not have asked that, you stupid, stupid man
.

“She’s a witch,” Emmy said. She pointed her fork at Evangeline in accusation. She would have made the Puritans proud.

“Emmy!” Amanda scolded.

“That’s not an insult,” Evangeline said, calmly. “You are something much worse. You are a Mundane.”

“What does that mean?” Emmy spat.

“It means you are
nothing
. Ordinary. I would rather die than be a Mundane.”

“Jesus, you’re completely crazy, aren’t you?” Jude said. “You really think you’re a witch. Psycho.”

“Jude!” David shouted.

A slender crack branched up the side of the water glass Jude held. Then the glass shattered.

“Fucking shit,” Jude said. Drops of blood dribbled down his fingers onto his placemat.

“She did that,” Emmy said. She stood and pointed at Evangeline again and said, “Witch,” in classic
Crucible
fashion.

Amanda examined Jude’s hand. “You’re fine. It’s not that deep. Go clean yourself up.” Then she turned to her daughter. “Emmy, we don’t point at people and shout ‘witch.’ That’s completely unacceptable. Sit down right now.”

“She’s right, Emmy,” David said. “Apologize to… Evangeline.” He had gotten very close to saying “your sister”.

“It’s okay. She doesn’t have to apologize,” Evangeline said. “It’s not a mean thing to say. I am a witch.”

An expected amount of silence followed this pronouncement. But, for some reason, Amanda was the only person upset by this statement. Her eyebrows rose and then furrowed as if she had to massage the words into her brain. Her hands shook.

“Emmy,” she said. “Go get the broom and dust pan and clean up the glass.”

“She should have to do it,” Emmy said. “She broke it.”

“Emmy, if you don’t go get the broom, I swear to God…”

She didn’t have to finish her swear because Emmy left to get the broom.

And that completed their first family dinner.

Amanda went to go check on Jude, and David stayed with the rest of them. He told them to take their plates and finish eating in their rooms.

“Why am I being grounded?” Patrick asked. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You’re not being grounded. I just want everyone to chill out.”

“You know what,” Patrick said. “That’s fine. I vote that we all stay in our own rooms all the time from now on.”

“Fine with me,” Emmy said.

Evangeline and Xavier picked up their plates and got up to leave, too, glowering at Emmy the whole time. He had to admit, when they glowered, they
glowered
. He thought maybe he
should
actually scold them for looking at her.

“Emmy, I need to talk to you,” David said.

“No.”

“It’s not optional.”

He waited until the other kids had left the room, then sat down in the chair next to her. She started crying before he even started.

“I’m not speaking to you,” she said with wet cheeks. “You’re an adulterer.”

“It’s okay for you to be mad at me. You should be.”

She used her napkin to wipe away her tears as soon as they left her eyes, as if somehow he might not notice them if she grabbed them fast.

“But it’s not okay for you to be mean to Evangeline or Xavier. They didn’t do anything to you. And they’re going through a lot. You have to be nicer.”

Emmy’s lip quivered. He sensed she had a lot of responses to this. But David figured Emmy knew as soon as she opened her mouth she would start to sob.

“Do you know what happened to them?” he asked her. “Did Mom explain?”

She didn’t answer. He’d hoped she’d nod. He didn’t want to say it again.

“Their mom was murdered,” he said.

“Your girlfriend,” she clarified.

“She hasn’t been my girlfriend in a very long time.”

“How long?”

“Twelve years.”

“I’m thirteen,” she said.

“Yes.”

Emmy stared down at the broom and dustpan she held. Apparently, Amanda’s punishment of holding the broom and dustpan hadn’t ended, even though she had already cleaned up the glass.

“They were there when she was murdered. They saw it. And… it was more than that. Their stepfather abused them.” He couldn’t explain to his baby girl that their stepfather had raped them repeatedly. He didn’t want her to know something like that happened in the world.

“Does it make you sad?”

“Of course, I’m sad my children were abused.”

“No, are you sad she’s dead?”

“Yes. Emmy, she was a human being. What happened to her is sad.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just… never mind.”

“What?”

“Did you love her, or was it just for sex?”

A question you don’t want from your daughter.

“I loved her.”

“As much as Mom?”

He hesitated. Honestly, he couldn’t answer that question. He had chosen Amanda. But he had never really known why. The decision had come from his gut, not his head, or even his heart.

“No, not as much as Mom.”

“You hesitated before you answered. Are you lying?”

“No.”

“Was she a witch too?”

“You mean Crystal?”

“Her name was Crystal? That’s a stripper name.”

He had to chuckle. “Well, she wasn’t a stripper.”

“Was she a witch?”

“Emmy, none of them are really witches. Witches aren’t real.”

“Mom said they think their stepfather was a dark wizard. And that’s why he abused them. They say he wasn’t always a bad guy. The dark magic broke him, messed up his brain.”

“They believe that because it’s harder to believe the truth.”

“Which is?”

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He didn’t know at which point she began lecturing him, but the conversation had veered off track.

“That they were abused by their regular human stepfather, who was a very bad guy.”

“That’s what you believe?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“Are you saying you really believe they are dark wizards?”

“I know they are.”

“You’re thirteen. You’re too old for that kind of thing.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Emmy had been pissed at him before, almost every day in fact, but not like this. Her hate made his throat burn.

“They’re cursed too,” she said. “Just like their stepfather.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“It’s not their fault, but they are. It’s sticking to them. The evil is getting on my clothes.”

Reason had left the conversation before it had even started. Since when did Emmy believe in witches? Maybe he should have listened to her more carefully when she talked.

“I’ll take her shopping tomorrow. You don’t have to share your clothes anymore if you don’t want to.” As if this would fix everything. Emmy would no longer get curses on her clothes.

Amanda knocked on the door to his office—a small but unsettling change, since she usually just walked in. He opened the door, and she handed him sheets and a comforter. She wore the gray pajama pants he found oddly sexy. He guessed the pants themselves didn’t do much for him, but she wore them with a tank top that showed her midriff when she moved at certain angles. Most importantly, she wore these pants to bed and he had pulled them off her many times. He also happened to know she wore her sleeping clothes without a bra or panties. Useless and tortuous information now, like how he still had the salad dressing choices memorized from the restaurant he waited at in college.

No small talk. She went straight to business.

“I made their first therapy appointment for Thursday. They’re scheduled with different counselors, but it’s at the same time. I can drop them off on the way to work. Do you think you can pick them up? Also, do you think you can work from home as much as possible until they start school? I know they’re old enough to be on their own, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah. I—”

“I emailed you some links to private schools. I was thinking that might be better. I just can’t imagine sending them to public school right now. The high school has almost 4000 students. I think it would crush them. I thought maybe somewhere with small classes, where they could give them more attention, get them caught up with their peers. It would be less overwhelming, don’t you think?”

“I like that idea. Can we afford it?”

“We’ll manage. It would have to be temporary. Maybe for just this school year. Patrick may have to wait on getting a car.”

David groaned.

“I know,” Amanda said. “It’s not very fair to him. But he’s a sensible kid. I think he’ll get over it. We’ll make Jude share his truck.”

“What do you think the counselors will make them do in therapy?”

“Talk… I’m assuming.”

“They hate that.”

“Evangeline likes to talk.”

“Only about witchcraft.”

Amanda chuckled, the closest she had gotten to a smile since she’d met her stepchildren.

“Maybe we should postpone therapy,” he said. “They’re not going to want to talk.”

“David, they watched their mother murdered, then proceeded to watch her corpse burn just weeks ago. They’re going to therapy. That’s not negotiable.”

“I know…”
Please don’t say things like that out loud
.

“Honestly, I don’t think they’ve dealt with any of it. They just float around the house like ghosts. They’re in shock. Completely numb. Xavier doesn’t even talk, for Christ’s sake. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when the shock wears off and they have to feel it. Trust me, you want them in therapy.”

“That’s what scares me. The therapist will make them talk about it. Make them say it all out loud. I don’t like thinking about what that’s going to be like for them.”

“They’ll be okay,” she said. This felt less comforting coming from the same woman who explained why they were not okay less than ten seconds ago.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Good night.”

They had kissed each other before bed every night they had slept under the same roof for the past twenty years. He could tell she felt the absence. She suddenly looked too tired to stand.

“I love you,” he said.

Her eyes got red and wet, but her mouth contorted as if she might spit on him. She looked like she might come back with an angry retort, but he knew her well enough to know if she opened her mouth, she would cry. Just like Emmy. She left without saying anything.

It seemed wrong not to follow her. She didn’t like him to see her cry, but he always at least made an attempt to comfort her before she pushed him out the door with an, “I’m okay. Leave me alone”. But things had changed.

He let go of the breath he held and sat down at the computer. He Googled “Helping Teenagers Deal with Grief”. The authors of the articles seemed to have written them about other people’s kids. The only thing that seemed true was teens worked very hard to hide their feelings, especially boys. He found a Mad Libs-type fill in the blank,
About Me Storyboard,
to give a teen to help them share their feelings.

The person I lost was____________.

When I found out about the death I was____________.

Now I feel____________because__________.

I get mad sometimes when________________.

The thing that makes me saddest is____________.

One thing I miss about the person is______________.

I wish I could tell them_________________.

His kids lived in those blank lines. He couldn’t imagine them having to live with words in them.