I'd only tried going down on a guy once before. Geoffrey had asked me, using a slightly frustrated tone. We've been together for three months, he’d informed me, as if I'd missed my cue. When I’d taken him in my mouth, he hadn't been completely hard, and it had felt wrong, like trying to suck on something squishy or fluffy, not at all erotic. I’d felt so self-conscious, and his reprimands hadn't exactly put me in the mood. “What are you doing down there?” he’d asked. There was one easy way to answer that question. I'd stopped going down there. Come to think of it, he'd broken up with me not long after.
Everything from start to finish had been completely opposite with Ian. I couldn't wait to do it all over again soon. But today, I had to head back to my family's house. It was my day off, and my mum needed help.
Reluctantly, Ian and I said our goodbyes. It was raining hard outside, reflecting my mood. The train ride seemed to take forever.
Back at the house, everything was a mess. It looked like no one had picked up, no one had done laundry, no one had even touched the dishes for days. Mum had a bad cold, and it seemed as if neither Jess nor Liv had raised a finger to help.
While I was standing over the sink, scrubbing furiously, Jess had the nerve to try to give me a guilt trip. “It's so hard with you gone,” she sighed. “None of my friends have to deal with everything I have to. They get to go out and have fun, while I'm supposed to stay in and do all the dirty work.”
I threw the sponge into the sink and turned around, hand on my hip. “Dirty work? Are you complaining to me about doing dirty work? What do you think I've been doing for the last 10 years?”
“All I'm saying is I've had to pick up all the slack with you gone. And it's not fair.”
“First of all, from what I see around here you're not picking up much slack. And second, who said life was fair? Do you think it's fair that I've had to stay here and take care of all of you? Do you think it's fair that my one day a week off I come here and clean up after all of you?”
Mum appeared in the doorway, bags under her eyes, a worn housecoat tied around her pajamas. “Please don't fight,” she pleaded. “I have such a headache. And we never get to see you anymore, Annie. Let's try to be nice to each other.”
I bit back my response. I didn’t say that they never got to see me anymore because I was off trying to make some money because that was the only way I was ever going to escape this trap. I felt tears burning at my eyes, but I kept quiet.
Liv walked into the house, earbuds in and listening to music on her phone.
“Where’s Brian?” Mum asked. Liv didn't hear, she just tried to push past her in the doorway. Mum reached out and pulled an earbud out of her ear.
Liv acted like she'd been physically assaulted. “Mum!” she shrieked.
“Where is your brother?”
“I don't know,” Liv replied, indignant. Until she remembered. “Oh, right, you told me to get him at the library.”
“Jesus, is Brian at the library without anyone?”
“I'll get him.” Resigned to my fate, I grabbed the car keys and headed out the door before anyone could stop me. Not that anyone tried. They were used to me doing what needed to be done, cleaning up everyone else's mess. I'd trained them to rely on me far too well.
Thank goodness we lived in a small town. Brian was behind the main desk with the librarian, greeting everyone who came into the library like it was his job. Mrs. Watson had known him since he was a baby, and didn't think twice about keeping an eye on him until someone came to pick him up.
“Annie!” Brian tried to climb over the desk, he was so excited when he saw me.
“Hey, Bri. Go around the desk.” I made my way around and he did as well, throwing his big arms around me. “When did you get taller than me?” I asked him, ruffling his hair. He just kept hugging me. Looking over at Mrs. Watson, I said, “thank you.”
“Not to worry, dear.” She went back to sorting books.
We drove home, and I got right back to it, washing and folding laundry, vacuuming, and cleaning the bathrooms. I kept quiet, not wanting to stir up more trouble for my mother. But inside, I was making a resolution. I hadn't minded putting my life on hold while all my siblings had been young. But now? I needed to get on with it. I was 25, and it was time to start leading my own life.
Around nine, I decided I'd take the last train back to Ian's that night. I usually slept over with my family on Sunday nights, fixing everyone breakfast the next morning and helping them get off to school. But not this time. Tonight, I wanted to get back to Ian. I couldn't wait to be in his arms again.
My mother had already fallen asleep, out cold with medication. I wrote her a note, letting her know I'd headed back, telling her I hoped she'd feel better soon. I knew she hadn't wanted me to sublimate my own hopes and dreams to raise my younger siblings. Yet it had worked out that way, nonetheless. I didn't resent her, but I did need to assert myself more.
Heading back, I grew more and more excited. I'd never had this kind of a connection with anyone. Ian and I were still at the start of discovering each other, so much still to experience and learn together. But I felt a deep conviction that there was something remarkable there between us. He seemed to feel the same way. He looked at me as if I were a marvel. He touched me as if he were worshiping my body, making me feel like the most gorgeous woman in the world. He laughed like he thought I was funny. He asked me questions like he thought I was smart and interesting. He framed my art as if I were a true talent. He made me feel so good about myself.
Until he didn't. When I got back to the estate, climbing out of a taxi and entering in through the giant front doors, the whole place was dark. Had he gone to bed early? I poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen, and then I heard a sound from the library. Maybe he was still up?
Heading in, I found Ian stretched out on the couch, an empty bottle of scotch lying on the floor, another bottle in his hand.
“S'you,” he slurred, barely tilting his head up with glassy eyes. Shit. He was drunk. “Mary Poppins.” He lifted the bottle and took a long swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
I noticed a dark reddish smudge at his hairline. Over by his side, I realized it was dried blood. “Ian, are you hurt?” I reached out to try to touch his forehead, but he pushed my hand away.
“Am I hurt?” He mocked my question, snickering. “What do you bloody, fucking think?” He gestured down to his legs.
I pulled back. He sounded so bitter. Looking down, I noticed his jeans looked muddy. One of the knees had a hole in it. “Are you okay?” I tried again.
He laughed. “You're a riot.” He drank another glug. “No, Mary, I'm not okay.” Gesturing at his crotch, he asked “D’you want to make me feel better?”
Way to make a girl feel good. I recoiled, barely recognizing him compared to the man I'd said goodbye to that morning. Struggling, he worked himself up to sitting on the couch. Now I could see that his sleeve was torn and bloody, too.
“Ian, what happened to you?”
“Took a walk.” He held up his hand, waggling a finger at me. “You're the one who gave me the idea.” He began using a fake cheerleader’s voice, making fun of me. “You can do it! Go Ian!”
“What do you mean?” I felt sick to my stomach
“I went out. Took a walk in the rain. Rocks are slippery when they're wet.” He took another long sip from the bottle. “Took a bit of a fall.”
“Ian.” I felt a tear slide down my cheek and I tried to wipe it before he saw, but I wasn't quick enough.
“Don't give me your pity,” he spat out. “I didn't even want you here in the first place. The only reason I let you take this job was so I wouldn't lose my inheritance. What do you have to say to that?”
I had nothing to say to that, that's what. I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. But there was blood at his temple. I couldn’t stop worrying about him. “Ian, do you need to see a doctor?”
He let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “Yeah, that'
s what I need. More doctors.”
“But if you're bleeding from your head, maybe you're seriously injured?”