Page 38 of August Lane

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

L uke always left the keys to his truck in the living room next to the television.

He’d done it so many times that when he went to retrieve them, and they weren’t there, he stared at the empty spot for a moment, waiting for them to materialize.

Then he started looking everywhere—under the couch, between the couch cushions, inside drawers, with no success.

It was ten minutes till one. August would probably be late for his birthday surprise at Delta Blue, but he needed time to set everything up for her arrival.

He’d bought her a stack of expensive journals with the kind of thick, grainy paper that made every word more important.

He’d also bought her a copy of his favorite Ray Charles album, which he’d planned to present to her, wrapped and bowed, before revealing her last present, the reason they were celebrating at Delta Blue.

August wanted to be onstage. At the club, she’d stare at the black riser with obvious yearning, but brush Luke off when he suggested she sing at the open mic night. “People will recognize me” was all she’d say, which never made sense to Luke because she sang at church all the time.

Luke had a plan, though. Today, the club would be empty. He’d play “Proud Mary,” a song she could never resist belting at the top of her lungs. He’d offer his hand and lead her to the microphone. Once she got started, her nerves would vanish. She’d be eager to do it again.

The longer Luke searched for his keys, the more frantic he became. He started looking in random, unlikely places out of desperation. Ava walked into the kitchen and saw him sliding his hand beneath the refrigerator.

“It’s nasty under there,” she said, reaching for her purse. She retrieved a lipstick tube and moved to a mirror. “You lose something?”

“My keys. They’re not where I usually put them.”

“I have them.” She showed him the loop of his key ring on her finger. “Don is having my car detailed, so I’m using it for errands.”

Luke snapped, “I need it,” without thinking. Letting Ava know she had something you wanted only made her more possessive.

“For what?” She dismissed him with a flick of her hand before he could answer. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not sitting in this dirty house so you can run around town chasing pussy. Should be doing homework anyway. Your grades are shitty.”

She moved to the door. Luke followed, trying to think of ways to make her listen. “It’s my friend’s birthday.”

She pushed the screen door open, and humid air rushed in. The high temperatures had risen steadily all week, still clinging to summer even though it was technically fall. Ava paused on the porch to slip on shades. “Goddamn, this weather.”

“Ava.” Luke hovered in the doorway behind her. “Mom, wait. I need to be somewhere at one.”

She gave him a look he’d never seen before. Pained, but not the usual kind. Somewhere other than her body. “Why do you only call me Mom when you want something?”

Luke opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She was right. In his mind, she was always Ava, the ruler of their house. His tyrannical queen, not his caretaker.

“Can you drop me off?” Luke asked out of desperation. He glanced at his watch. He was already five minutes late. “Delta Blue isn’t far from here.”

“Delta Blue?” She snatched her shades away and stared at him. “You seriously think I’m going to drop my son off at some bar?”

“It’s the middle of the day!” Luke could feel his temper rising, his control slipping, but he couldn’t stop it.

Ava was ruining August’s birthday. And while he was fine with her trashing his life on a whim, August didn’t deserve it.

She deserved the wrapped gifts he’d left sitting in the passenger seat.

She deserved the roses he’d planned to buy from Kroger on the way.

She deserved to hear him butcher “Happy Birthday” before he dragged her onstage to pretend she was already in Nashville, realizing her dream.

It had become his dream, too. That’s what he’d planned to tell her.

“Wait for me,” he’d say. “Once Ethan’s at college, I’ll come find you.

We’ll dig out our old songs and be us again. ”

Ava’s eyes were glassy with rage. His temper was a beast, but hers was a dragon. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“I’m sorry.” Luke lifted his hands in surrender. “I really need the truck. Someone will be disappointed if I don’t show up.”

She stared at him hard. “Not Jessica?”

Lying was pointless. “No.”

“Then who?” When Luke didn’t answer, her eyes became slits. “Whatever. Keep your secrets. And tell that bitch I said good luck. If she’s messing around with you, best get used to disappointment.”

Ava stalked to the front door, slammed it closed, and locked it. Luke thought for a moment she’d changed her mind about dropping him off, but then she waltzed to the truck without a word. He tried to follow her, but she stopped him. “Wait here.”

“What?”

She pointed to the stoop. “Sit on that porch and wait for me to get back.”

Luke shook his head. “Why?”

She yanked open the driver’s-side door. “So I don’t throw you out of my house.”

He moved, but the look on her face stopped him. It was eager. This was something she’d been waiting for, an excuse to do what she was too impatient to let happen on its own. No more Luke down the hall. No more fighting. No more reminders of what she’d lost.

He stepped back. Ava’s eyes shuttered, and she started the ignition. He watched her pull away with August’s gifts still in the passenger’s seat, only he didn’t sit like she’d told him. He stood, staring at the road until the truck disappeared.

She’d taken his house key. Both doors to the house were locked with a deadbolt.

Ethan was at band practice and wouldn’t be back for hours.

The sun was blazing, so Luke moved to the porch.

The shade wasn’t much relief from the heat.

He wore an undershirt under his button-down and took off the top layer.

Only ten minutes had passed since she drove away.

Thirty minutes later, his T-shirt was soaked to the skin.

He ripped it off and blotted the sweat streaming down his face.

He thought about cooling off with the water hose but remembered that Ava had cut it off last year, complaining about the water bill.

There was nothing to drink. Realizing it made him thirsty, and his mind spiraled from one panicked thought to the next.

She may not come back. No water in ninety-degree heat was dangerous.

He thought about his freshman year when one of his teammates had collapsed during practice.

They were all struggling, so when the guy complained about being dizzy, everyone ignored him.

The sight of his body crumpled on the field ran like a film reel through Luke’s mind.

They’d had to call an ambulance. The paramedics had asked for his name, and no one remembered.

New Kid. That’s what they called him. New Kid can’t take the heat. New Kid nearly died.

Luke’s chest was being squeezed slowly, choking off his airway. He had to get inside. That’s what his lungs were telling him. Get inside that house, or you’ll never breathe again. But the doors were locked. So were the windows. Even outside his home was a prison.

He stared at the locked door, then ran into it, shoulder first, but it didn’t budge. He screamed, “Fuck it! Fuck you! Fuck you !” until his throat was raw.

There was a rock beside the stairs. He picked it up and hurled it at a window. It flew through the glass, made a collage of webbed cracks bursting from a hole the size of a baseball.

He stared at it, blinking through sweat. Then smashed the glass with his fist.

Luke dreamed about August. She hovered over him, backlit by the sun, singing the lines she’d written the last time they were together. “ You can take this part / Keep it close / There’s no space in my heart / But don’t worry baby / I’ll slide you over / if there’s room. ”

In his dream, she kept repeating don’t worry, baby on a loop. Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry over and over until the sun dimmed, and the singing became sobbing, and Luke tried to blink away her image because he didn’t want to dream anymore.

August cupped his face and leaned in close. “Luke. Can you hear me?”

She smelled like lavender and buttery lotion. Her hair haloed her face in huge curls. He tried to touch one but stopped when pain knifed through his arm. His hand was covered with cuts. A bloody T-shirt was wrapped around his forearm and held in place with rubber bands.

Luke realized he was lying on the ground. He tried to sit up, but August stopped him with both hands on his shoulders. “Don’t move. Tell me where the phone is so I can call an ambulance.”

The cordless phone was in Ava’s bedroom, which they were forbidden to enter without permission. “Don’t do that,” Luke managed. His words slurred and his mouth tasted like sour cotton. “Don’t call anyone. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Her eyes were swollen from crying.

Blood streaked her hands and clothes. “I got worried when you didn’t show up, so I came here.

You were passed out.” She gestured at the floor next to the couch.

An empty Jim Beam bottle lay on top of bloodstains on the carpet.

Luke remembered thinking he could pour it over his wounds like he’d seen in movies.

Then he’d thought of August waiting for him, how he’d ruined her birthday, and he’d poured whiskey on that, too.

“You’re still bleeding.” She probed his arm. “I think you need stitches.”

Luke moved his fingers and was relieved that, aside from the pain, they were still functioning. He hadn’t done any permanent damage. “I can take care of this,” he said, even though he wasn’t exactly sure how. “You should leave before she gets back.”

“She who? Your mother? I’m not leaving you with her.”

“I can handle it.”

“Well, I’m here now. So you don’t have to.”