The Best I Could by R. K. Ryals Page A

stable, and she refuses to stay focused on any kind of
treatment.” I studied his face, my voice dropping. “You’re the only
one of her kids who doesn’t see her as a monster. I don’t know what
Heather does or doesn’t know, but she and Mom don’t click. Mom
needs to feel … loved .”
    Jonathan laughed, the sound short. “And Pops
thinks that if I know what she did, that if I start treating her
like everyone else does, that it will push her over the edge.”
    It was a burden my brother shouldn’t have to
bear, but it was there.
    “I agree with him,” I admitted. “It’s why I
haven’t said anything.” It took every bit of compassion I had left
in me to add, “Don’t hate her, Jon. She’s got enough people hating
her right now. I don’t think there’s any room for more. Just don’t
ask me to love her.”
    Jonathan stood, ran his
fingers through his hair, and then straightened, his shoulders
back, his face stoic. “I don’t think I could hate her. I just need to think
about all of this. You know, I … I feel kind of sorry for all of
you.” He pushed past me. “I don’t blame you for any of this, Eli. I
want you to know that, but could you … I don’t know … back off of
everyone just a little bit.”
    My eyes fell closed, my jaw tensing. “I need
a ride to the boxing club.”
    He grunted. “Why don’t you drive yourself?
You didn’t seem to have a problem last night.”
    Re-opening my eyes, I snagged the cigarettes
and the car keys I’d dropped next to the bed the night before. “I’m
assuming the boxing club reports to my probation officer.” Throwing
him the keys, I smiled coldly. “Try locking your shit up at night,
brother. You never know what monsters are lurking in the dark.”
    Jonathan caught the keys. “Where did you go
last night?”
    I froze, my thoughts instantly on the
barefoot, wildly sweet, punk-hippy girl at the clinic. Tansy was
such an odd collection of contradictions. “For a drive. I needed
the air.”
    “Just a drive, huh?” my
brother mumbled. “Tell me, if you hadn’t gone for that drive , would you have told
me about Mom this morning?”
    “No,” I admitted.
    He nodded and started walking toward the
door. “Maybe you should take a drive more often, then.”
    I glared at his back. “Lock your shit up at
night, kid.”
    “So you can talk yourself out of a drive?” He
left, leaving the front door open behind him.
    Grabbing a duffel bag, I stuffed a change of
clothes inside and followed.

NINE
    Tansy

    The smell of dirt … I think
that’s what I loved most about gardening, about digging my fingers
into the soil. The earth lived. The smell and feel of it reminded
me how happy I was
to be alive. It kept me from sinking to the lows Deena had fallen
into. It kept me from sinking into the lows which killed my
father.
    My fingers pillaged the dirt around Hetty’s
house, testing it.
    Lifting the sediment, I watched it sift
through my fingers, the damp scent touching my nose. It fell.
Falling, falling, back down to the ground.
    “You look ridiculous,” Deena called
haughtily.
    Glancing up, I found her hanging out of a
bedroom window, her nose scrunched. She’d pulled the glass up and
removed the screen.
    “You’re like some stupid dirt whisperer,” she
added.
    Sitting back, I stared up at her. “Do you
even know how to replace that screen?”
    “No fucking idea whatsoever.”
    “You do that on purpose, right?” I asked,
shaking my head. “You know the cussing would be more effective if
you did it more selectively. Throwing it into every sentence makes
it look like you’re trying too hard to be a pain in the ass.”
    “Are you saying I’m desperate?” she
scoffed.
    I shrugged.
    “Whatever, Tansy. Just go back to sniffing
your dirt.”
    She tried slamming the window closed, but it
caught on the removed screen, sending the mesh sailing into the
yard.
    A giggle escaped me. “They’re really easy to
get out, but a nuisance to get back