I close my eyes—just thinking his name makes me sick. The smell of him, the feeling of him near me—it crawls under my skin. I almost can’t bear it. I look around the room and see Cameron’s phone next to the bed. I grab it and try Retha again.
“Retha?” I say as soon as she answers. She must read the panic in my voice.
“Savvy?” she asks. “What the fuck? I’ve been calling you. My grandmother said you sounded upset.”
“How’s Travis?” I ask quickly.
“He’s good,” she says, and there’s a soft lift in her voice. “He honestly is. They have a new program out here; counselors don’t seem like total assholes, at least. Everything’s going to work out,” she says. “Honest.”
I smile, even as my body aches. I almost don’t tell her any of it.
“Savvy,” she says, concerned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Although I want to save her the worry, my control slips away.
“It’s bad,” I say in a low voice.
There’s a rustling on the line, and I imagine she’s getting out of bed. Retha has always had my back, and I know she’ll have it now.
“He broke my arm, Retha,” I say. “He broke my fucking arm.”
There’s a low growl in her voice when she asks, “Who?”
“Patrick. He found me at the mall . . . he wanted me to apologize.”
“Tell me what happened. Tell me everything so I can figure out exactly how I’m going to kill him.”
So I do. I tell Retha everything, even the parts I wouldn’t describe for Cameron. I can still see it, still feel everything he did. It’s like a horror movie starring me.
“And, Retha,” I say, “he had to see it. Evan had to see it all. He pissed his pants he was so scared, and it was my fault.” I cry hard, loving that I can, loving that Retha doesn’t try to soothe me.
“Where are you?” she asks quietly.
“Cameron’s.”
She pauses. “It’s six in the morning. Did you sleep there?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, girl,” she says under her breath. “Now about Patrick—did the cops already pick him up?”
“I didn’t call them,” I say. “It’ll probably be the same assholes who arrested me when I stabbed him. His word against mine—who do you think they’ll believe?”
“Right,” Retha says. Her voice is controlled, like that night in the cornfield. Like she’s plotting something serious.
Before she can go on, my heart breaks apart. “Kathy’s taking Evan, Retha. She’s getting custody of him.”
“No,” she whispers. “Oh no.”
“She’s taking him today. I’ve lost him.” The sound of Evan’s laughter filters into the room, and I look toward the door, quickly wiping my tears. “Look,” I tell Retha. “I can’t talk about it right now. I’ll call you later?”
“Of course,” she says, then pauses. “I’m so sorry, Savvy.”
“Love you,” I say. She tells me she loves me too, and we hang up.
Just as I set the phone down, there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call.
