This family is so fucking screwed up.
“The nearest neighbor is about five miles away, but if you want to go there and use their phone, I’ll drive you,” he says quietly as he gets to his feet.
“Why would I want to use their phone?” I ask, wrinkling my nose in confusion.
“To turn me in, Maddi. I just confessed to a crime—the reasonable thing would be to tell the authorities now,” he replies with a shrug as he takes a shuddering breath.
“And what would the unreasonable thing to do be?” I ask, getting to my feet and looking up into his eyes.
“Nothing.”
“Then let’s do nothing. I think that’s the better option, don’t you?” I reply with a shrug.
Uncle Huck looks at me uncertainly for a moment. It’s almost as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying to him, but I honestly can’t stand the thought of something happening to him. He’s much too kind to suffer any consequences for someone being cruel to him for not being as up on the take as everyone else.
“Maddi…” his voice trails off for a moment. He clears his throat and tries again, “Maddi, your Momma was good at keeping secrets for me too.”
“Really?” I ask curiously. “Like what?”
He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and walks past me, beckoning me to follow him.
And I do as I’m told.
I follow Uncle Huck down the hall, into his bedroom and sit on the bed like he tells me to. He walks over to his closet, ruffles around the top shelf for a bit before he comes and sits next to me with a small, square wooden box in his hand.
“Open it up,” he urges quietly as he leans forward on his legs and begins to pick at his nails. I smile slightly for a moment because that’s another nervous tick I have, but I didn’t know that he has it too.
I slide the lid off the box and place it on the bed next to me, then peer inside. There’s a bunch of old Polaroids, black side up, and as soon as I flip them over, my eyes become wide, and I can feel the embarrassment settling over me almost instantly.
It’s pictures of Momma when she was about my age. Suggestive pictures of her in her bra and panties, lingerie, half-naked, and finally in bed seemingly naked staring at the camera seductively.
And then I feel a little angry and betrayed. I toss the pictures back into the box and shove it at him.
“What was the point of doing that to me? I ask him heatedly.
He reaches down and scoops the box off the floor, placing the pictures back inside, before he leans over and grabs the lid. He stops for a moment, hovering across me and looks into my eyes.
“To find out if you can keep a bigger secret too.”
I don’t know if it’s the anger, the betrayal, or the heat radiating from his body, but I shove him away for a moment. Uncle Huck looks down at the box in his hand, slides the lid in place, then gets to his feet. He walks back to the closet and sets his secret back in its safe place.
“Don’t tell Abigail I showed you those, okay? We had a fucked up childhood and it only happened once.”
I’m confused now.
What killing his wife had to do with taking naked photos of his sister isn’t making sense to me.
Not until he comes back to the bed and pulls me to my feet. Not until he uses his finger to raise my face to look at him.
Not until I see it in his eyes.
The want.
The need.
The hunger.
Just like Daddy.