Breaking Her Bad by Michelle Mankin

 

 

 

 

 

Kyle

“We gotta come up with a band name,” Tommy said outside the shit hole.

“I never thought about naming a band.” I’d never seriously thought I’d ever be in a band either, yet here I was.

My gaze on the ink-black sky, I leaned against the stoop’s rusty railing. I took another drag on my cigarette, and beside me, Tommy took one on his.

“Well, you’d better start thinking.” Glancing at me, Tommy shook his head. “Because the girls came over to the restaurant, and my dad brought it up. So you know they sure as shit are putting their pretty heads together and coming up with lame-ass girly names.”

Thinking, I nodded. “A band name is pretty personal.”

“Yup.”

“It’s not just a name. It says something like a mission statement for the group.”

“Not disagreeing.” Tommy took another drag.

Behind us, a roar shook the apartment walls. The whole fucking Southside High football team was inside celebrating something. I’d put Gary in charge and went the hell outside.

“What kinda music do you like?” I exhaled smoke through my nostrils.

“All kinds except disco.”

“I hear ya.” I took another drag. “Claire’s into Anthem. If we do this just us, we’ll be a three-piece like them.”

“She told me about digging Anthem.” Tommy leaned his head back and puffed out a smoke ring. “What’s your favorite band?”

His brown gaze narrowed as he refocused intently on me. Apparently, Tommy understood like I did how important that question was.

“Led Zeppelin,” I said. “No other even close for consideration.”

“They don’t make bands like that anymore.”

“No, they do not.”

“Let’s be a fucking kick-ass band like them.” He took another drag that hollowed his cheeks.

“Sure, cool like them, but also not like anybody else.” I nodded, thinking it through. “Not just crank out shit we think will be popular, but create stuff the three of us can believe in and get behind.”

“Definitely, man.”

“Middle finger to anyone who doesn’t get us,” I added, warming to the subject matter, even if I had my doubts about us really going anywhere. At least as it pertained to my part in it.

His cigarette dangling from his mouth, Tommy grinned. “Double middle finger.” And then demonstrated with both hands.

“Right on.” I bobbed my head. “How about No Quarter?”

“That’s a Zeppelin tune. A psychedelic rocking one.” His brow furrowed. “A term meaning no pity or mercy. Makes us like soldiers or warriors showing no quarter to an enemy.”

“No quarter to anyone who overlooks or underestimates us.” Or to a certain asshole who kept shortening my leash.

“Let’s do it.” Tommy peered over at me through the cloud of smoke I’d exhaled. “So, who’s gonna tell Claire about the name, and that she’s gonna have to take on bass since we need a bass player and you’re lead guitar?”

“You?” I asked hopefully.

“No fucking way, man.” He shook his head. “It was a rhetorical question. You’re the band leader, not me.”

I didn’t argue that point. Claire acted as though I was. She’d asked me if I was in, like my vote was the decisive one. I could be the leader, but my woman was the axis around which our new friend group rotated.

“I like you, Tex.” I put the heaviness of that into my gaze, but I kept my tone light. “Like you a fucking lot. But you leaving that shit task to me is gonna suck.”

“Hey, Kyle.”

Gary stuck his head out the apartment door. He had his cell in his hand. From his harried expression, I knew before he explained who was on the line.

“Skellin wants to talk to you.”

“Great.”

Not great. My leash was being yanked. Again.

I tossed my cigarette away and ground it out with my heel. “I’ll take the call in my office.”

• • •

 

Claire

Something was wrong.

Slowly, I woke from a deep sleep. Pressing forward, I struggled through a long dark corridor before I reached the surface of consciousness and cracked open my eyes.

The living room was dark, the interior of the apartment varying shades of black and charcoal gray. The late-night color palette reminded me of Kyle’s eyes.

After a moment, I realized what had woken me. Muffled sobs came from the bathroom, and I turned my head that way.

Addy or my mom?The latter seemed more likely.

I gave it a few more moments, but when it continued unabated, my eyes stung and my throat got scratchy.

Climbing off the couch, I stood and went to the door. Standing close, I knocked on it softly. “You okay, Mom?”

The crying stopped. But several notable beats passed before she answered.

“Yes, Claire,” she said, her voice raw. “Go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Okay.” I turned back, glancing at the couch and my rumpled covers.

I was really tired. It had been an eventful day, but I knew I couldn’t go back to sleep. Remembering Addy’s advice, I thought about all the new things I’d learned about my mom. It made her seem more like a person and less like my adversary, or maybe it was just me who was changing.

“Come out and sit with me.” I swallowed hard, saying words I’d never said to my mom. “We could talk.”

A few beats passed, fewer than before. I heard a shuffling noise, then the popping of the lock.

My mom opened the door. Her hair up in a haphazard bun, she was in pajamas like me, but I wasn’t prepared. Tears sprang to my eyes as she threw herself at me. The blanket draped around her shoulders fell to the floor like a heavy mantle she just couldn’t carry alone anymore.

Sobbing, she choked out, “I miss him so much.”

My throat tightening at her words, I brought my arms around her.

“I miss him too, Mom. So much.”

I stroked her back, noting how frail my mom felt, how thin. Leading her to the couch, I sat first. She seemed unsure what to do, something she never was.

Taking her hand, I said, “Sit. It’s okay, Mom. It’ll be okay.” Reassuring her, I reassured myself too.

“I can’t do this anymore.” She collapsed onto the cushion beside me, but there was a more major deconstruction going on inside her. I could feel her breaking.

She buried her face in her hands. “How can I be me anymore without him?”

I understood that feeling. On more than one level.

Without my dad, I was no longer his daughter anymore. I couldn’t be the old me without him to fall back on, so I was becoming a different version of myself.

A big part of that transformation, I knew, was due to Kyle. Being his made me different—stronger, certain, and more settled. In his eyes, I was that beautiful swan I’d always wanted to be.

But I wasn’t naive about the danger involved in us being together. Us as a couple was far from a sure thing.

Could I continue to be this new version of myself without him?

“You can’t be the same without him,” I said.

Surprised, Mom peeked out at me from behind her hands. I took one and squeezed.

“I’m not the same either. He was the best dad, so encouraging and affectionate. I miss how he always had the best advice whenever I struggled. I miss how he always knew the right thing to say to make me feel better.” Tears welled in my eyes. “I miss his hugs. I miss him.”

“Me too,” she whispered, her hand spasming in mine.

“I know, and I’m sorry, Mom.” The gathered tears spilled. “I know you’re hurting. I’m just so sad too that there’s barely anything left inside for me to be helpful to you.”

Until Kyle came back into my life. Because of him, I had reserves of affection to share with her.

“I’m sorry too.” My mom dropped her head on my shoulder. “I don’t have anything left inside with him gone. Sometimes I think . . .” She trailed off, and I felt the shudder that rolled through her. “That you’d be better off without me. You and your aunt Addy.”

Shocked, I took a moment to answer.

“No, Mom. Tears burned my eyes as I squeezed her hand. “I definitely would not be better off. Addy wouldn’t either. We need you. I need you. Please.”

Those hot tears spilled onto my chilled skin as I cast about desperately for something to say that would make a difference.

“Please don’t say stuff like that. Don’t even think it. Dad wouldn’t want you to give up. Just because something seems difficult—”

“Or impossible,” she said with a big sniff, “doesn’t mean it’s not worth the effort or the risk.”

I gave her a small sad smile. “Yeah.”

“He was so strong. So certain. About us. About so many things.” She sat up a little straighter. “With him, I felt like I could do anything. Now I feel so brittle, like even the smallest thing might break me.”

“I understand.” More than you know.

“Do you?” She lifted her head and glanced at me.

“I do. The right person makes you feel strong and can bring out the best in you.”

Before Kyle came back into my life, I was broken. Now I wondered if that breaking was necessary to rebuild me into something new, something better.

“Yes, Daniel did. I agree.” She swallowed. “So, the boy you’re . . . dating.”

“We’re not exactly dating.”

“Do kids not date anymore?” She tilted her head to an inquisitive angle.

“Some do. We’re just more complicated than that.”

“Do you care about him?” she asked.

“Yes, Mom. I do. A lot.”

“And he treats you right?”

“He does.” As well as he was allowed to. “He’s gentle and kind, protective and strong.”

“Your dad would want that for you.” She swallowed, but her voice was rougher afterward, not smoother. “I want that for you. In Southside, good things like gentleness and kindness are rare.”

“Yeah,” I said. And Kyle was good, though others probably didn’t see that. Even he had doubts.

Mom’s brow creased. “Addy told me someone hurt you today. Who?”

“Just a girl.” I pulled in a breath. “I’m handling it.” If only I could remember all the stuff Tommy had taught me.

“I’ll bet you are.” Mom swiped at her cheeks with her free hand. “But if you need any help, I’m here.”

“I know you are. But enough about me. I want to know what you’re doing to make you better.”

“There’s nothing to make me better, honey. My time for happiness has come and gone,” she said dully. “I’m just hanging on.”

Hanging on until what?

That wasn’t good. She sounded defeated. Like Kyle had sounded before . . . well, before me. I lifted my chin, knowing that to be true. And he didn’t just have me, and I didn’t just have him. We had a group of friends helping us.

“I think you’re wrong, Mom. There’s good around, if you look for it. Even in Southside, it can be found. You’ve reconciled with your sister now, and Addy loves you. You have a job, and friends too, if you would reach out and let a few in.”

I thought about Barry. He and my mom had been friends in the past. Surely, they could be friends again. Maybe Addy and I could facilitate a reunion.

“There’s music too,” I said gently, “if you’d only pick up an instrument again.”

Mom was quiet a long moment. “You’re right, Claire. And wise like your father.”

High praise. My throat closed. I couldn’t speak.

“But you left one good off your list. The best good for me.” My mom swallowed again, her eyes brightening like a clear blue sky after rain. “I have you.”