Captive - FourTris

Thirty-Nine

OCTOBER 24
1 MONTH, 24 DAYS

His father came back today. For good. There were bags scattered around the front door.

That was how I knew.

He didn't come out of their bedroom when I walked past it. I was kind of glad. I don't think I want to meet him.

Now Tobias and I are sitting on the hardwood floors in his room, debating whether or not he should introduce me. Neither of us can decide if I want to meet him.

I know so little of him. Just little pieces that tell me he's not a good guy. Pieces that say he's made Tobias's life hell.

"Shit, let's just do this," he says. Tobias is on edge, a little fidgety and uncomfortable looking, like the neck on his shirt is just too tight. He stands up, grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. I want to reach up and do something silly, like ruffle his adorable dark hair, but it seems stupid so I don't.

I've never even seen a picture of Marcus. I don't know what he looks like. Evelyn took them all down when Marcus left three months ago.

Tobias told me not to get used to it. He said his dad would be back.

He was right.

Tobias knew exactly how it would work. For a few weeks, his mum would act as if it was out of the question. She wouldn't speak of Marcus. It would be like he was dead.

But she would slowly lose her resolve. His name would be spoken again. Just in passing. Like, "Oh, Marcus used to..." or "Not that one, Marcus broke it. Hand me the other one." But after that it would progress.

She would say things like, "I wonder what he's doing right now."

Or "I think I might call him."

And when she hit that point, it would progress rapidly. Within a few weeks, Marcus would be back. And Tobias predicted it. Step by step, he knew what would happen.

For those weeks he was gone, it was bliss. Though I'm sure it was in the back of Tobias's mind all the time, it was gone from mine. Marcus existed only in stories. And he could not touch us.

And yet now I'm following Tobias, my hand so small in his, through the cluttered house. And now we stand here at his parents' bedroom door, listening as the TV blares. Neither of us moves to knock on it; we just stand in silence. Finally he squeezes my hand, then lets it go and knocks.
I hear Evelyn call us in, and we step inside their room.

Marcus sits on the edge of the bed, a bag of Doritos in his lap and a beer can on the table beside him. He's wearing a ratty T-shirt and a pair of grease-stained carpenter jeans.

"Hey, uh, Dad. I just wanted you to meet Tris. My girlfriend."

I smile politely and nod at him.

"Hi." He smiles a little, I think. It creases his beady little eyes. I can't really tell for sure, because he has a little, trimmed stubble that obscures most of his mouth. It's grey.

I guess I pictured him more in his prime. I guess I pictured dark hair and bulging muscles. He's still tall, of course. He has to be at least six feet tall. But the man before me is just a man.

"Okay... well..." Tobias just grabs my hand and we leave the room and return to his.

"He seems..." And I don't know what to say. Because if I say anything nice, it lessens the things he's done to Tobias. And if I say something mean, I'm making fun of his father.

"I know."

And that's all we say. Tobias slides a beat-up Scrabble box out from under his bed and we open it up and start turning all the letters over.