Even though I was the caretaker, the oldest and the surrogate parent to the two of them, I didn’t know what the fuck I’d do without these two punks in my life. The realization made me feel even that much more devastated for Sophie, she had literally no one in her court to advocate for her or even to back her up. I cringed remembering how she’d been taking the city bus by herself to Brook Hill late at night, how she dressed like a boy to avoid harassment, and how she couldn’t even see the assailants who might be scheming against her.
I cringed even harder when I thought that from the outside, it looked like I’d taken advantage of her.
What’s Goin’ On by Marvin Gaye drowned out the bar radio as the song took over the sound system. I wished I had a crutch to grovel with, a dozen roses, a ring, a deed to a new house in a semi decent neighborhood.
“I think that’s your cue, brother,” Malik said to me. “I’ve put my money on you in every ring you’ve ever stepped into. This fight isn’t any different, Mav. You give it your all and come out the winner.”
“I think she’s the one,” I cracked out to my brothers.
“Tell her that, not us,” Rafa said.
I knocked back the whiskey and stood from my bar stool.
Walking up the long stairway to the DJ booth was like walking the plank. Not because I dreaded doing what I had to do, but because I knew without a doubt that I wouldn’t come out the same man on the other side of this. If things didn’t work out with Sophie, then I’d likely remain single and celibate the rest of my life. I wouldn’t run the risk of hurting someone ever again.
I didn’t bother knocking, just took a deep breath and walked in.
“Kevin told me he stole your bike. He also said you didn’t beat him up or report him. He’s a good kid, just down and out like a lot of people in Brook Hill.”
“Practically left it out there with an invitation to steal.”
“Listen, Maverick. Just because my vision is impaired, it doesn’t mean I’m needy or high maintenance or some kind of ball and chain.”
“Oh, Jesus, Sophie, I’d never make that kind of assumption about you. The reason I took off has nothing to do with you or your behavior. Please don’t think that.”
“Oh my God, is this going to be a “it’s not you, it’s me,” speech? I can’t believe this is really fucking happening to me.”
She was looking at me, but still from her chair in the booth. Her face was so beautiful even shadowed in pain, it moved me profoundly.
“It isn’t you. I mean it is you, because no one has ever triggered me this much. But my hang ups are not a reflection of how I feel about you or us.”
I ran my hands through my hair and felt like pulling it all out. I still had the urge to self-harm to get some relief from the anxiety I felt.
“What did they do to you?” she asked me somberly.
"My mom was an addict. She didn’t have kids to start a family, she had kids by accident and pretty much resented us from the get-go. She wasn’t exactly skilled or educated, her father had been a drunk, so Ma resorted to solicitation to feed her never-ending habit. Luckily our dad paid for the house outright before he took off. So, our childhood was filled with random men coming in and out of our home all the time.
The little money she made went right back into the vicious cycle, so we got by on scraps and donations from neighbors and the church, school lunch and the food stamps we stole from her purse. When I was eight, she hooked up with a drug dealer who called himself Relish. He didn't really like women, especially ones he called washed up like my mom, but he sure as fuck liked little boys. He would come into my room at night and touch me—”
I stopped because I didn’t know if I could keep going. But the way Sophie looked at me, her face tilted up to the light seemed like a beacon of truth. She had to wear her truth on her face. I could at least tell her the secrets that I held in my heart.
“And the sick part was that I'd let him. I kept my mouth shut the entire time, even when he allowed some of his sick friends to take advantage of me too. I never told anyone, not my brothers, not my priest, not until right now—telling you. I believed in my eight, nine, and ten year old head, that if I kept it a secret, I could prevent the same thing from happening to my kid brothers. I figured if he kept abusing me, then he’d let them be. Didn’t find out until years later that child molesters never stop at one kid. When I was thirteen, he suddenly stopped coming into my room late at night. That's when I knew I had to make it stop. One night when my mom was passed out for dead, I walked into my brother's room and found Relish on top of Rafa.”