Tonk Jr. (Cocker Brothers Book 19) Page 4

  At 3:45 I finally acquiesce to the idea that she isn’t coming. Jogging up the park’s stone steps in the heat, a sliding bead of sweat travels down my spine. I mess my hair out of frustration, launching myself on 114th St. and heading home.

  When I walk in the door, a cloud of marijuana smoke greets me. Waving my hands because it’s so thick, I snap, “Daniel, open a window.”

  He glances over from the couch and yet another fucking video game. “What?”

  “Nevermind.” Our refrigerator is empty. “Daniel, you ate my food.” I slam the door and glare at him.

  “What’s got into you?”

  Quick strides bring me to the blessed window, and I yank it up, and duck outside to escape the smoke. Taking a seat and knowing full well that this is where I spotted her last, my head hangs as I scoop in deep breaths of fresh air.

  The window creeks open. I look over to see Daniel peering out. “Tonk, what’s up? You’re never in a bad mood, man. I’ve eaten your food for over a year and you’ve never said anything before.”

  I blink at him in a stupor. “And that makes it okay? You knew this whole time that you were eating my food and you still did it?” I can hear my harshness. This isn’t like me at all. He waits for me to settle into my true body, shake it out. I take a couple deep breaths and stare ahead at the park where I’ve been hoping to help someone I care about. Helpless, I mutter, “I met this girl that I can’t shake.”

  “You didn’t shake her out when you just shook it all out?” he jokes, and loses the smile when he sees I’m not kidding around. “So what happened? She rebuff you? She break your heart or something? I didn’t even know you were dating anyone special.”

  “I wasn’t. Just ran into her a few times. Then I invited her to meet me down by that statue.” I pause, locking eyes with him. He nods and I continue, “She didn’t show.”

  His arm is straining under our old window, so he pushes it higher and eases his body out of harm’s way to join me. We wince as the thing slams shut. The Super said he’d come and fix it. That’s never happened.

  “Tonk, you know what I know about women? Even they don’t know what they want. They say they want a relationship, man, but they don’t. They want to play games. They want to tug you around. They want to keep you on a string like you’re some kinda cat chasing a ball of yarn.”

  Staring at the drifting leaves across the street, I sigh, “I don’t think it’s that. I’m worried. She’s with somebody. I think she lives with him.”

  He purses his lips with subtle surprise. “Never saw you as the house-breaker type.”

  “I think he might be abusing her.” Daniel and I stare at each other for a few meaningful moments as this sinks in.

  We return to staring forward at the beautiful day. He’s processing how he can help me with this situation. “What’re you gonna do about it, Tonk? How do you even know? Are you sure?”

  “She must live just north of where I take classes. I can search for her around my schedule and not lose any classwork. If I get home before the time I saw her walking by, I can remain vigilant and have a goal.” I point at the sidewalk below.

  “She walked right by here?”

  “Yeah. I was shocked too. We conversed a bit. Walked together for a while. Felt really good to talk with her. Anyway…” I hang my head.

  He claps a friendly hand on my shoulder and gives it a shake. “Hang in there. You’ll find a way.”

  I flick him a glance. “Think so?”

  “Tonk, ever since you moved in with me I’ve thought, now this is one special dude. I can’t really explain it, but you’re different. If you’ve got this feeling in your gut about this girl, I have no doubt you’ll find a way to make it happen.”

  Inhaling through my nose, I stare out at pigeons flying by. They flutter over as if they want to sit on the railing, maybe have a chat, but decide against it.

  Do pigeons mate for life?

  I’ve never looked into it.

  And I haven’t come across it in my many studies. But growing up in a household where marriages stick, I’ve always known I wanted that for myself one day.

  A t class tonight, my usual professor has been replaced by Professor Miller, due to a food poisoning incident, she explains.

  During class she treats me the same as any other student until time is up. I behave as I always do, asking more questions than anybody else, taking a slew of notes. But in the back of my mind I’m not really here.

  How can a woman get into your head so much? How is it that one person can have an impact when you barely even spoken with them? Does fate exist, or is this just a chemical combination that works for me?

  As I gather my things to leave with everybody else, Professor Miller says, “Mr. Lewis, can I have a word with you?”

  Slowing my steps I separate from the herd and walk over to her with my eyebrows cocked.

  “I find it refreshing to have a student in a class I sub who actually pays attention. You’re usually that student. Tonight you seem to little off.”

  “No reason, but perhaps I was expecting Professor Walters to be here. I had a question for him. And you know me, when I get something on my mind it doesn’t leave easily.”

  The last student exits, leaving us alone in the cavernous room. Her tone changes to more familiar. Intimately familiar. “I thought it was because of what happened with us. You’ve acted normally until tonight.”

  “I enjoyed what we shared, and don’t regret a second of it. But as we mentioned then, it was a one time thing.”

  With hooded eyes she confesses, “I wouldn’t mind if it happened again. Are you busy now?”

  The man in me scans her body out of instinct alone. I enjoyed our carnal interlude, but the thought of doing it again is not appealing. I don’t want to make her feel like it’s a personal judgment when it’s not, so I reassure her, “You are so sexy it’s hard to say no.” She smiles as if that’s a yes until I explain, “However, I’ve met somebody. And I need to see where it’s going.” At the subtle, dejected slump in her spirit I hastily add, “It would be too difficult for us to maintain anything long-term. And everyone deserves that. We both do. I have so much respect for you. And for this girl I met. So don’t let it simmer that this has anything to do with something lacking in what we had. It was perfect. Some things are meant to be drops of perfection in a sea of mediocrity, until we find land.”

  I hold her eyes until I know for certain that sunk in. Turning on my heel I leave her to the rest of her night and hope that it will be a good one. What she does with this is up to her from here on out. All I can ever do is handle myself in an honest way and be the best man I can be.

  CHAPTER 7

  T ONK JR.

  3:05 P.M. three days later I swoop underneath the window with a freshly made tuna sandwich in my hand. It’s got kale and cherry tomatoes on it, and I’ve been looking forward to this ever since my last class ended. I spent time scouring the neighborhood before I came home to man my post, and I am starving. Taking a seat I crunch the right corner of tuna heaven.

  Mmm.

  Damn, this is good.

  “Tonk?”

  My eyes spring open at the unexpected sound of her voice and I lean over, looking down. I can’t believe it! Swallowing so I can talk, I start coughing, smacking my chest, my eyes locked on her like if I close them again she’ll vanish. She smiles at my rough hacking. I croak, “Hi!”

  “Hi,” she says more quietly, her fingers gripped around the stroller’s handlebar. I don’t know if that’s it’s technical title, but I’m so used to motorcycles, it’ll do. It’s a sunny, eighty-degree day so she’s wearing sunglasses, but her posture says hesitant when her gaze cannot. A soft dress of white hangs to below her knees and there are comfortable sneakers on her shuffling feet. “I was just going to the sculpture.”

  “Wait there! Not at the sculpture! I mean here. There! Where you’re standing! Wait there!”

  The window gives me trouble. I wrestle using only on
e hand, win the battle, and swoop inside, running the second my feet hit the floor. Tossing the once-bitten sandwich into the sink, it makes a dull thud and falls apart.

  Daniel asks from his video game, “You done with that sandwich?”

  “It’s all yours!”

  “Cool.”

  I race down the stairs while finger-combing my hair, heart racing faster than my feet.

  As I explode out of the building, part of me expects her not to be there. Or at least be halfway up the street by now, having second-guessed her choice.

  It’s my lucky day, and I slow my steps to stroll up and offer my best smirk that I’ve seen Jett Cocker give so many times to Luna back at the plantation. I’ve practiced it since I was a boy. “I was just heading there, too.”

  We start walking and she doesn’t call me out on my white lie.

  “How have you been?” I ask her, shoving my hands in my pockets.

  “I’ve been okay,” she whispers, staring ahead.

  The stroller’s wheels bump gently across cracks in the sidewalk along the way. Traffic on Morningside and 114th St. is congested, as usual. Angry honking is a prerequisite skillset for driving in impatient New York City.

  We wait for the green light while I try not to scare her off. As we cross the dirty street, my hand instinctively touches her lower back to guide her, or protect her from cars, or I don’t know what. Never would I have purposefully touched her under these circumstances.

  She glances to me but returns to profile again. Behind the glasses I see long eyelashes fluttering with relief, and my gut tells me she likes this touch. Like she needs a hug and this will do since she can’t have more. Am I assuming?

  “This okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you tell me?”

  She pauses. “Yes, I would tell you.”

  The staircase is a challenge with this stroller so I hurry ahead in order to help. My gaze drops to the baby girl’s flawless, golden skin. “I’m sorry, is it okay if I meet her?”

  Stacy’s smile opens in surprise. “I don’t mind. Thank you for asking.”

  “Hi Celia, I’m Tonk Jr.” Flicking a glance to Stacy I laugh, “Never thought I’d introduce myself to my older sister! You know what I mean. Feels weird.” Huge brown eyes stare up at me. They dart right as a pigeon swoops into the park, nearly buzzing my head. A smile flashes across little Celia’s face. It’s pure, innocent joy. “Your daughter’s smile could cure wars.”

  Taking hold near the front wheels, while Stacy lifts the back, we begin to carry the stroller down the steps. “Stop. What am I doing? Hold onto it.” Coming around to the side, I lift it on my own and carry little Celia down without a problem.

  Unencumbered, Stacy fixes her hair with tentative fingers. I’m sure she’s wondering why she came here, maybe even second-guessing it. But each step keeps moving forward and not back. That’s all I can ask for.

  “There you go, Celia.” I set the stroller down. “Have you ever seen a faun before?”

  “I haven’t brought her down here yet. Those stairs aren’t easy when you’re alone. Especially getting back up. I guess I didn’t have the strength that day,” she quietly says.

  “Was it after I said to meet me?”

  Her lips flatten. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t show up. Were you here?”

  “For a week. I would have waited longer, but I thought perhaps I was missing you walking by my apartment and so I decided to stay there instead. I’ve been there every day since in that exact spot hoping that you would come by. I know that sounds probably crazy, but I kept hoping.”

  “Tonk, I wanted to come. But I—” Celia cuts her off by becoming fussy, letting her momma know that she would like to come out and see the world, thank you very much!

  Stacy walks around the stroller to pick her up, and in so doing, offers me a view that tightens my chest. Behind her glasses I see a fresh bruise she’d been hiding by walking on one side of me, and turning her head, this whole time.

  She lifts Celia onto her chest and murmurs to her, bouncing on the balls of her sneakers. How could he hit her when all I want to do is bring her close to me and protect her? Immediately I want to demand his name, where he is, so I can hurt him back.

  But talking to her is like making friends with a deer. Caution wins and I work to slow my heartbeat so that my tone doesn’t come off aggressively. The last thing she needs right now is aggression.

  Relaxed, she smiles at Celia and points to the sculpture, but then Stacy freezes, realizing I’m on her right side now. Her head turns and we stare at each other.

  I gently remove the glasses. Tears of shame liquefy her eyes. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

  Celia starts fidgeting, kicking her legs. Stacy caresses the soft scalp, her gaze never faltering from mine. “I’m scared, Tonk. I’m really scared.”

  My throat is so tight it’s hard to speak. “I’m glad you came to me. I can help. I want to.”

  “You don’t know me. You don’t know him. He is not like you.”

  “Are you saying I’m scrawny?” I smile.

  A teardrop slips down her cheek. “When he gets angry, he’s impossible to predict.”

  I guide her closer to the statute so that Celia has something to touch. Tiny fingers slap the iron bear’s nose as I slide the glasses back on Stacy before the approaching tourists get a peek.

  Sniffling, she looks at her daughter. “That’s a bear. That’s his nose. See, you have one to.” She touches it then touches the bear’s, to teach her daughter. “Nose.”

  The tourists chat down the path and pause to admire the famous statue. “What a beautiful child,” the woman smiles.

  “Thank you,” Stacy says, her smile tight. Our postures suggest we want to be left alone so the tourists take the hint and keep walking. “I’m just glad they weren’t the type that has to take a picture everywhere they go.”

  Matching her low volume I agree and add, “Maybe they’ve already seen it. They might be staying at a hotel up the street. They didn’t look like they were that interested, and this is a spot that everyone comes to when they’re in Morningside.”

  Celia starts poking at the bear’s eye. “That’s his eye. You have them, too.” Stacy points to her daughter’s set and again at the statue’s. “Eyes, can you say eyes?” Looking at me she explains, “She hasn’t started speaking yet. I think she said mom the other day but that might’ve been wishful thinking. I’ve been hoping she would say Dad first so he didn’t get jealous.” Stacy’s voice catches on that last part and I can’t help it, I have to draw her into a hug.

  “Do you want out? Is that why you came to me? I will help you if you want me to.”

  Her shoulders shake while she desperately tries to keep the tears at bay. It’s the middle of the afternoon and those weren’t the only people walking by. Sobs hover in her voice as she whispers, “I was afraid he would…kill me last night. He said he wanted to and he might while I was sleeping. I didn’t close my eyes all night.”

  Rage twists my soul. She needs a promise which I am ready to give. “I’ll make him go away.”

  CHAPTER 8

  STACY

  A s I unlock the apartment that I share with a man who threatened my life, my spirit is weak against hope.

  I heard what Tonk said back there.

  But there is no way out of here.

  If I try to leave, Vic will stop me.

  He covets hate and scarcity in his heart.

  Ever since I was a little girl I hoped I would find someone who would love me until the end. I think all little girls want that ideal. We want to be princesses and find our princes, or princesses. It is absolutely without a doubt the most wonderful fantasy to nurture, to be with someone who has your back through everything, who creates and shares all the best memories with you so that you can enjoy them that much more. And it should be a reality, if only so many variables weren’t involved when real life comes into play.

  None of our fantasies i
nclude being threatened or injured by our prince or princess. None of us is dreaming of our self-esteem wilting into nothing until we are crushed and no longer believe we are lovable.

  No little girl has that dream.

  There is so much beauty in the world yet I can no longer see it. Even when I look at my daughter I feel only anxiety for a future filled with pain.

  What example can I give her, living with a man like him? How do I explain that her father isn’t capable of love? His heart is a shriveled raisin, honey, don’t take the way he talks to Mommy personally. He can’t help it. He’s a hateful person, but you still go ahead and find a good man or woman to love. It’s possible, I swear. Don’t use us as an example, even though we are your biggest one.

  How do you tell your daughter to stay away from Daddy?

  Wiping my eyes, I set Celia down to change her diaper, remembering how I used to have such potential. A college degree would have given me the key to a life where money would have been a tool rather than a ball and chain. I don’t have any. He made sure of that.

  I don’t want to bring Tonk into this. He’s so sweet and I’m afraid Vic would hurt him. The thought makes me want to die. He’s so kind and good. I’ve never felt such a desire to be close to anyone, and I’m hoping it’s not because I am reaching for a way out. I don’t want to use a man like Tonk. He’s so…

  Stop thinking about him.

  It’s not an option.

  He would get hurt.

  If I were to try to escape to my parents’s house, would Vic follow?

  Would they make me go back to him? Would they hear me when I cried? Would I be too ashamed to, when they reminded me that a daughter needs a father?

  Tossing the diaper and the wipes, I clean my hands and lift her, cuddling her close as I lower myself into a chair and whisper, “Come on, Celia, please try to eat the way he wants us to. He’s on his way home. Let’s make him happy.” I offer a swollen nipple to my stubborn baby. She bites me a few times but won’t latch on. “He’s going to be home soon. You’re hungry. Please don’t make me get the bottle. I can’t risk it!”