Chapter Three 6 страница

I tighten the first screw. Oh yes, I have done my homework.

We have babies because we want them to love us, to make us important, but they only make us tired and fat and stinking of spit up because they’re babies, not saviors. Their fathers leave us, sick of crap and sour milk, sweatpants and tears.

But the babies still need all of us, only there isn’t anything left to give because we based our worth on the lowlifes who knocked us up and around.

So our babies end up screwed up and screwed with because now we’re single again, too, so we’re bringing home guys who secretly like pink satin baby skin more than our silvery stretch marks. We don’t see what we should see because having anyone is still supposedly better than being alone.

I know the grim probability of my own future.

The odds are high that the best of me has already been ripped away and that if I don’t keep hold of myself I will lose what’s left. Without the structure of my rules and rituals, I’m a free-for-all open to any guy who wants to hurt me.

And I don’t want to be hurt anymore. I want to be someone who makes it through.

I tighten the final screw. Test the remote.

Put everything away. Slide the cardboard box under my bed.

I’m sorry, Gran, but it has to be this way.

I leave a message on her machine in case she misses the note, saying I had to come home again and that I’ll call her soon. Then I head over to Andy’s.

Chapter Fifteen

T he Mobile Mechanic’s truck is parked next to Ms. Mues’s car and the repair guy is leaning into the Caddie’s engine. He straightens and looks at me. “Hi. ”

“Hi, ” I say, flustered. It’s been a long time since someone close to my age has been civil. I clear my throat and nod at the car. “Uh, think it’ll make it to Iowa? ”

He shrugs. “She runs okay, but the tires show some wear. I don’t know if I’d chance it. Kind of a wing-and-aprayer–type thing. ”

“Yeah, that’d be about right, ” I say and head for Andy’s.

“You going to Iowa? ” he says.

I stop and look at him. Tall, skinny, damp blond hair curling out from under a red bandanna. Curious smile. “Not me. My…them. ” I point to the Mueses’ door and see Andy watching from behind the glass. “Well, I better get going. ”

“Hey. ” He waits until I turn back to him. “What’s your name, anyway? ”

“Meredith, ” I say finally.

He leans a hip against the side of the car. “You live around here? ”

I nod cautiously.

“You always so suspicious? ”

I nod again.

“Okay. ” His eyes dance with amusement. “So Meredith, you got a boyfriend? ”

The only word I can manage is, “Why? ”

He laughs. “Why? Because maybe I want to ask you out sometime. ”

“Meredith? ”

I whirl, spell broken, and see Andy’s head poke out the back door.

“Are you coming in or what? ” he asks.

“Yeah. ” My voice is scratchy. I clear my throat. “Yeah. ” Look back at the Mobile Mechanic who watches me, eyebrow quirked. “I…see you. ” I head for the steps, heart pounding.

“Give me a call sometime, ” the mechanic says. “You know where to find me. ”

I wave without turning and slip past Andy’s wheelchair into the cool kitchen.

“What was that all about? ” he says, closing the door.

“That? Nothing. Oh, he says your car will probably make it to Iowa. ” I grab a glass and fill it with water. Why do I feel guilty? I didn’t do anything. He’s the one keeping secrets.

“Oh yeah? What else did he say? ”

I hear something new in Andy’s voice.

“He hit on you, didn’t he? ” he continues, rolling up alongside of me.

“I guess, ” I say as if it isn’t a miracle.

He hoists his bottle, hesitates, and wedges it back between his thighs. “Did you tell him you already had a boyfriend? ”

No. Almost. I was going to, but it happened so fast…. I glance at his legs, still as stones and thinner than when he’d first moved in. “What if the victim soul cures you? ” I say instead. “What’s gonna happen when you can walk again? ”

“What do you mean? ” He hooks a finger into my side pocket and tugs me closer. Slides an arm up around my waist and tries to pull me down onto his lap.

I ease free and wander over to the table. Run my finger along a spent incense stick and tap the long ash into the tray. “You know what I mean. You’ll get a job and a car and a real life and then what? ”

“Then I have a job and a car and we can go places and do things like normal people. ” He uncaps the bottle and drinks. Coughs and rubs his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Mer. Don’t you want me to walk again? ”

In a perfect world, yes, and I’d be there to stand with him, dance with him, lay down with him. In this world, no, because if he can walk then he’ll walk away. “It’s not that, it’s just that you’re putting all your faith into this victim soul person instead of…I don’t know, other things…and I’m just afraid you’re going to be disappointed. ”

“Are you? ” he says. “Because it doesn’t sound that way at all. ”

I stare at the table.

“Well, ” he says finally, flicking back a strand of hair. “I’d better get packing. We’re leaving early tomorrow. ” He rolls his chair forward and back a few times, the equivalent of tapping his foot with impatience.

“I won’t keep you then. ” I put my glass in the sink. “’Bye. ”

He touches my arm. “Come on, Meredith. I have to do this. ”

“I know. ” My voice is distant. “I’m not stopping you. ”

“Yeah, you are. ” He rolls in front of me, forcing me to look at him. “Now I have to leave knowing you’re pissed at me and Mr. Mechanic’s right out there waiting for you. ”

“What does this have to do with him? ”

“He can walk, Mer. How am I supposed to compete with that? ”

Oh God, he has this all wrong. “I’m not asking you to compete. I don’t want you to. I just want everything to stay the way it is. ”

“Yeah, well, it can’t. ” He backs up and wheels around me.

“Andy. ”

“Look, when I get back I’ll walk over and knock on your door, ” he says with a crooked smile. “Then we can start all over again. How does that sound? ”

I push the fluttery panic away. Lean down and rest my forehead against his. “It sounds good. ” I kiss him and run out before he can see the lie in my eyes.

Down to the sidewalk. Past the Mobile Mechanic, who’s on a cellphone, and keep right on going. Step off the curb into the court—

My back door opens and my father struggles out, carrying bags of garbage.

There’s no way to duck out of sight.

He looks over at the Dumpster and right at me. “Meredith. ”

“What? ” Amazingly, my voice comes out sullen with no ripples of fear.

He opens his mouth. Looks at the mechanic and at me. “Meredith, come here, please. ” His tone is deceptively pleasant. “I’d like to talk to you. ”

Yeah, I bet he would, seeing as how our last conversation sent me diving out the window to escape. “So talk. I can hear you fine from here. ”

He holds my gaze, but I don’t move, and he finally breaks the standoff. “Have it your way, then, but I could use a little help, ” he says, limping down the steps and lugging the garbage toward the Dumpster. The bags are unwieldy, banging against his legs, with the white gauze covering one knee….

I scurry around scooping up Barbie stuff, cramming both hands full, using every single finger because he’s promised that if I clean up my mess before the second hand sweeps the twelve, we’ll go for ice cream. Breathless, I race to the carrying case, but the lid is shut. I try to flip it open with my bare foot but the catch is locked. “Daddy! ” I cry, as the second hand ticks closer to the twelve. I’ve cleaned up my mess but I’m still going to lose. “Help me! I can’t do it by myself! ”

Laughing gently, he bends and flips open the case. “Easy, it’s not the end of the world. Next time make sure everything’s ready to go before you start, okay? ”

“Okay. ” I quickly cram Barbie and her belongings away. Peer at the clock and wilt. The second hand is past the twelve. I didn’t make it. I lose.

“C’mon, silly girl, ” he says, tugging me to my feet. “This was a learning lesson. I figure that’s still good for one scoop, right? ”

“Right! ” My eyes magically dry and my heart swells with love. I hug him because he helped me and one scoop is still better than nothing….

The ache starts in my chest and spreads through my veins. The abuse I can handle; it’s the happiness that cripples me.

I go over and pluck a bag from his grasp. “There. Open it. ”

“Thanks, ” my father says as if determined to be pleasant. “Looks like they spiffed this thing up recently. Nice paint job. ” He lifts the lid and heaves his bag up over the side. “Whew, it still stinks, though. ” Tosses my bag in, too, and lowers the lid. “I looked for you, you know. Ran around like an idiot until I got your mother’s message. Are you going to put me through that again or are we gonna go in and talk like normal human beings? ”

“Why do I have to go in? It’s summer and it’s Saturday. ”

He turns his back on the mechanic and says quietly, “Well, did you ever think that it’s been years and I might want to spend some time with you? ” His golden baseball catches the sun and flashes like a lighthouse warning of treacherous reefs below.

I wonder if Andy’s watching us. I wonder if the mechanic can hear this.

“I’ve missed you, ” my father continues. “I’d lay there at night remembering how great we were together, wondering what it would be like if it was just the two of us, if it was you I was coming home to. Did you ever think about that, Chirp? ”

No, I have never thought about that. Never, on purpose.

“You know what I wish? ” he says, stroking the bangs from my forehead.

I lie dead beneath his hands. I am shrunken and shriveled inside, a rotten chestnut hidden beneath a deceptively smooth shell.

“I wish we could make it just you and me, ” he says. “No one but us. I don’t love anybody in the whole world as much as I love you. Maybe someday…. ”

A door slams behind me and the sound of the Calvinetti twins’ squabbling echoes across the court. They’re fighting over a soccer ball and don’t see us. I watch, stomach sinking, as my father discovers them. Close my eyes and want to scream at the boys for being stupid enough to be seen. They know what he is and what he’ll do. Why didn’t they just go out their patio door and play in the backyard, safely out of sight? Why are they out here sweating and galloping around right in front of us? Can’t they smell his desire? Can’t they feel—

“No, ” I blurt to squash my rising panic.

My father looks back at me, startled. “What? ”

I shake my head, too miserable to speak. I know now that I’m the only one who really understands the threat and if I’m ever going to be free of him, really free, once and for all, then I will have to bite the bullet and spend time in his company. Stake out the sacrificial lamb. Uncoil the rope so he can hang himself.

“Anyway. ” He touches my hand. “There’s so much I have to tell you. I was going to keep a journal, but you know how lousy my chicken scratch is. Well, that and I couldn’t risk anybody else seeing it. That’s why all my letters were so lame. Can’t be too careful, right? ” His laugh is bitter. “Besides, I’d much rather talk in person. What do you say? ”

He’s manipulating me and I have to let him. What comes next will be ugly.

In his mind, I am the pure, sweet milk and honey of the Promised Land.

In mine, he’s the pointy-toothed cannibal turning the spit at hell’s barbecue.

But I have what he wants, and when he reaches for it…

I step around him. “Coming? ” I toss over my shoulder, heading for home.

Chapter Sixteen

I go in ahead of my father, who pauses to fuss with the garbage can and am immediately enveloped in chilled air and murky shadows.

“Come here, ” my mother calls. “I have a surprise for you. ”

I open my mouth, close it again, and go dutifully into the living room doorway. The sliding glass curtain is closed and Barry White is on the CD player.

“Here’s a hint, ” she purrs and I track her disembodied voice to the swivel rocker facing away from me. “Think back twenty-seven years, to the presents you gave me the night you asked me to be your girlfriend. I was so excited that I wore them almost every day for six months straight, remember? Well, guess what? ” She spins the chair around to show off an ancient green-and-white softball cap and team jersey. “Recognize these? ”

No I don’t, but the colors are familiar, seeing as how the entire Estertown school system, from kindergarten through high school, still uses them.

Her flirtatious gaze meets my anguished one and in the split second before she snaps upright a medley of shock, guilt, and anger contort her features. “Meredith! What are you doing here? I told you supper wasn’t until six! ”

“I found her outside, ” my father says, coming up and settling his hands on my shoulders. “I thought it would be nice if we finally got a chance to talk. ”

“Talk? ” my mother says. “Now? But I thought we were going to—”

“Plans have changed. ” My father’s fingers dig into my skin, preventing me from bolting. “We’ll discuss this later, Sharon. ”

“Later? Later when? We’re supposed to be together now. You know I’m ovulating—”

“Sharon! ”

“Oh, she already knows we’re trying to get pregnant, ” my mother snaps, glaring at me like I interrupted them on purpose. “Or at least we’re supposed to be trying. ”

I’ve heard enough, but my father’s hands pin me and the moaning in my head still isn’t loud enough to drown out what comes next.

“What about yesterday? ” he says.

“Once! One time. Big deal, ” my mother says sulkily.

“Once is all it takes, ” my father says.

“So that’s it? That’s my reward for waiting three years? ” The chair creaks. “That’s not fair, Charles. I’m doing everything I can for you. You know I am. ”

“Keep it down, will you? ” my father says. “The neighbors. ”

“Oh, screw the neighbors, ” she cries. “I don’t care about them, I care about us! ”

“Well, if you care about me, you’ll shut up before somebody calls the cops, ” he says, releasing me and striding over to her.

“Oh, ” she says, sounding stricken. “I’m sorry. I forgot. ”

Somehow my brain’s frantic signals reach my legs. I turn and with robotic stiffness, walk straight to my bedroom. Enter. Close the door. Lock it.

Seconds later my father tries the knob. “Meredith? Open the door. ”

“No, ” I say.

“Open the door. I want to talk to you. ”

I shake my head. I don’t care if he can’t hear me. I walk around the bed and perch on the edge of the mattress, watching the doorknob jiggle.

Click.

The door opens.

My father comes into my room and stops in front of me. Holds up a thin, metal rod, the all-purpose key to open any all-purpose door. “I’m not going through a repeat of this morning’s little adventure. From now on, no more locked doors around here, okay? ”

I round my shoulders and consider my feet. Reach over to the nightstand and pluck the bottle of black nail polish from the rainbow assortment. Tuck my knee beneath my chin, unscrew the cap, and begin painting. Dab, dab. Short strokes. My hair interferes with my concentration so I tuck it behind my ears. Hiding behind the curtain doesn’t matter now because my face muscles are paralyzed and my eyes have seen their fill.

“Meredith, ” my father says softly. “Chirp. ”

Dab, dab.

He sits down next to me. His body radiates heat and the faint scent of my mother’s CK Obsession cologne. He waits. Sighs.

Short strokes. I exceed the nail’s limit and paint a glossy, black streak across the top of my toe. I leave it there. Do it again and again.

“Look, I know you’re upset, ” he murmurs, touching my arm. “I don’t blame you. Your mother wasn’t supposed to tell you about this new baby. I wanted to tell you myself and I would have if you hadn’t skipped out on me this morning. ”

I move on to the next toe and don’t even try to stay within the lines.

“You know nobody could ever take your place, ” he says, toying with the skeleton key. “Believe me, this new baby won’t come between us. We’ll take care of it together, I have it all figured out. We’ll teach it shapes and colors and ABCs…. ”

I remember his ABC game. I had to sit on his lap and whisper in his ear, repeating one foul word after another in alphabetical order.

Shaking, I stick the nail wand back into the bottle. Slip my hand into my right pocket and press the teddy cam remote. Scratch my thigh and, without looking at him, continue painting my toes. My duplicity feels huge and obvious. My face burns.

“Chirp? What’re you doing? You’re making a mess. ”

I blink and find three perfectly round blobs of black polish spotting the pink floral comforter. I move my heel and smear it into the dainty weave.

“Don’t do that. Your mother’ll have a fit. Do you have any nail polish remover? ” His hand lights on my back. “No? We’ll keep it our secret, then. ” He caresses the curve of my spine. “When did you start wearing a bra, baby? ”

My head droops. I become a marble statue as his trembling fingers twitch to my side, dip under my armpit, and pause, spasming, at the curve of my breast.

His breath hitches. “Oh God, ” he whispers, then exhales in a stale rush and closes his fingers around me and—

“Charles? ”

He snatches his hand away.

“Charles? ” my mother calls again. “I thought you were going to be right back. ”

He clears his throat. Quietly. “I’m coming, Sharon. ”

The mattress springs up as he rises. The gauze knee patch flexes and fresh scrapes tic-tac-toe his shins. Desire rolls off him in waves, a deadly, invisible gas that will strike me down unless I take the necessary precautions.

I should have taken my vitamins today.

“I wish I didn’t have to go. ” He lingers, stroking my hair. “Promise you’ll be here when I get back? ”

I nod once, slowly, but don’t look up.

“Okay, then, let me go do this, ” he says and adds apologetically, “I have to shut your door. Your mother wants this private. ” He pauses in front of me, too close. “Hey, what if after dinner you and I go down to the Dairy Queen for some ice cream—”

“No, ” I say loudly.

“Charles? ” my mother calls.

“Coming, ” he says hurriedly.

I listen to the swish and snick as the door closes. Wait, motionless, until their muffled voices rise and fall beneath the throbbing bass.

Then I shut off the camera and climb out the window.

Chapter Seventeen

I drop to the ground and stumble but don’t fall.

Mrs. Calvinetti watches from her porch. She hisses and makes arthritic hand signs to ward off my evil. The twins have abandoned their soccer melee and now roll around the front lawn, locked in mortal combat. They grunt and curse and practice wrestling moves on each other. When they see me they stop fighting, hitch up their baggy shorts, and call, “Hey, how’s your faggot father? Did he blow any kids today? ”

Mrs. Calvinetti scolds them shrilly in Italian.

The Mobile Mechanic’s gone and Nigel’s Buick is parked near Andy’s steps.

I head for the court out of habit. I can see and hear but I don’t feel anything and I wonder vaguely if my mind has closed down to keep me from opening my pocketknife and ending this whole stupid mess with one swipe.

I stop walking and look at my wrists. They need washing.

I sink onto the curb, sick with the realization that I have nowhere left to run to, that I can’t get away, and with the exception of my grandmother across town, my entire life spans a distance no greater than that of the condo complex and, more specifically, the Dumpster court.

I’m like a pinball bouncing off the same people over and over again, flinging myself around in a desperate attempt to avoid disappearing into the black hole of my father’s embrace…

“My daddy, ” I whisper, staring up at the four big white ceiling tiles framed within the curtain track. “I don’t want him to get in trouble. I just want him to stop. ”

“Shhh, it’s all right. ” The lady with the velvet eyes warms my frigid hands. “You’re safe now. We’re not going to let anything happen to you. ” Her voice is soothing, but she’s wearing rubber gloves and the smell turns my stomach.

I gulp and concentrate on the ceiling. One two three four, my gaze travels from corner to corner, over and over again. The tiles are white, the curtain is white. The sheets on this bed are white, too, just like the ones at home were before…. My breath hitches. “He’s gonna be mad. I wasn’t supposed to tell. ”

“Tell what, sweetie? ” the lady says softly, exchanging glances with the quieter lady on the other side of the bed who is doing something prickly to my arm.

I shake my head and think of white. Clouds are white, cotton is white. I need two more to make four. I need to cry but I can’t. Oh. Snow and eggs. Am I still bleeding? I don’t think so. There were doctors here, but now they’re out talking to my mother. The look in her eyes as they took her out said, “Quiet, be quiet. ” I tried, I will tell her. I tried, but I couldn’t.

I’m up and moving again, running headlong into the smothering heat.

I won’t bleed for him anymore.

Parking lot pebbles gouge my heels, sweat streams from my pores.

My mother’s giving him another baby.

“What did you tell them? ” my mother whispers, stepping back in and bending over me after the velvet-eyed lady leaves, and she and I are now alone behind the rippling white curtain. “You didn’t mention Daddy, did you? ”

The drugs stretch me see-through and I drift above myself, touching the four tiles, wondering why she needs me to talk when she can see the answer in my head.

“You didn’t blame him, did you? ” Her breath is sour in my nostrils. “You know he didn’t mean it, he loves you, he really does. It was a mistake, Meredith, so nobody’s really to blame. You understand that, don’t you? ”

“I told them, ” I mumble, floating like a wispy, white cloud.

“You told them? ” She isn’t whispering anymore. “How could you do that? Don’t you know what’s going to happen? ” Her fingers yank me down from the peaceful place. “We’re supposed to stick together, family is supposed to stick together. He made a mistake! Lots of people make mistakes and no one tells on them! How could you? ”

The curtain swishes open. “Mrs. Shale? Your daughter needs rest. ”

“Don’t touch me, ” my mother growls, clinging to my arm. “Meredith, tell them you were wrong, tell them you lied. Go ahead, tell them. ”

“Here she is, guys, ” the nurse says grimly. “Be my guest. ”

My mother yelps and walkie-talkies squawk and the bed pitches and jerks, but everything is smudgy and distant and dark as I float away….

I pound across the burning macadam, an eighteen-wheeler running at full throttle, past Andy’s and then right back up the hot, metal steps to his door. The curtains twitch and I find myself returning Nigel’s gaze.

“You arrested my father that day, ” I say as he lets me in. My eyes don’t adjust to the darkness quickly enough and the air-conditioning makes my head spin. I stumble and Nigel steers me into a seat. “Tell me again what you saw and this time I want details. No more of that ‘we got the call, arrested him, and that was it’ crap. I was in the middle of it, remember? If that didn’t kill me, this won’t, either. ” I smear sweat from my forehead and drain the glass of water Ms. Mues offers.

“Now? ” Clearly uncomfortable, Nigel runs a ham-size hand over his hair and trudges back to the table. He sits and the cushioned chair wheezes beneath him.

“What’s going on with you, Mer? ” Andy asks and his hands close tight around the Jim Beam bottle. He looks like he wishes he were already in Iowa.

And that pisses me off because I can’t run away to Iowa or to Leah Louisa’s or drown myself in alcohol. I have to stay to protect others and keep my wits sharp to protect myself. “My father and mother are trying to have another baby. ”

Andy hoists his bottle and drinks.

Chapter Eighteen

T here’s more. ” I go to the sink and wash my hands. Push the words out over the sound of the water. “He touched my…above the waist. Over my shirt. The camera was on. ” I cringe at the thought of everyone seeing my humiliation.

“Camera? ” Ms. Mues asks.

Nigel explains the nanny cams while I rinse the soap away.

“When I got home before, my mother was in the living room. He told me to wait in my room while they messed around. ” I scrape myself with paper towels. My hands and wrists are clean, but the rest of me still feels filthy.

Nigel’s brows hang low over his eyes. “You’re telling me he groped you and now that kinky son of a bowlegged hamster and your mother are going at it in the living room? ” He shoves his chair from the table and his footsteps rattle the dishes in the cabinets. “Will somebody tell me what the hell it’s gonna take to get this guy a one-way ticket out of here? ”

“Nothing, because nobody cares, ” Andy says, staring at the ceiling. “No matter what he does or how many kids he ruins, he’s still a human being and he still has rights under the law. He’s sick, and because he is, we’re screwed. ” His fingers are busy twisting the bottle cap off and on, off and on. “God sure does work in mysterious ways, huh, Ma? ”

“Please, ” Ms. Mues says, distressed. “The unjust shall be punished, if not in this world, then in the next. ”

Andy snorts. “Don’t hold your breath. ”

“My grandmother was hoping he’d be murdered in prison, ” I say to get him to look at me. It doesn’t work and I feel like kicking him. I probably would if his mother and Nigel weren’t there.

Ms. Mues stares worriedly at Andy. “Please don’t start questioning your faith. Not now, when you’re so close to a cure. ” She glances at Nigel. “There must be something we can do. Touching Meredith must have violated the terms of Charles’s probation—”

“No offense, Paula, but how about joining us in the real world for a minute? ” He shakes his head, looks us over, and heaves a resigned sigh. “Oh, all right. Little girl goes to the ER. The mother doesn’t want her kid talking to the doctors. The cops are called in. The kid talks to the rape counselor while they’re swabbing up DNA samples. ”

Andy sets the bottle on the table and leans forward in his chair, plants his elbows on his knees, and stares at the floor. His T-shirt is dark with sweat.

I wish he would look at me.

“The detectives question the mother, who’s looking to lawyer right up, while me and my partner head over to the house to grab this…” His face twists. “To grab up old Chuckie. He doesn’t answer the door, so we kick it in and find him stuffing bloody sheets into the washing machine. ‘Course that’s not gonna do nothing about the blood smeared all over his shorts and legs, though, is it? ”

Ms. Mues makes a low, wounded-animal sound and glances at Andy, who is staring stonily at his feet.

I didn’t know about the washing machine. I wasn’t in court for the entire case and know nothing of the others’ testimony. All I know is that shame and shock sealed my throat when the most sordid details of the story needed telling.

“When I read him his rights and ask what he’s doing, he says he’s trying to save his daughter the embarrassment of seeing how heavy her first period was. ” Sarcasm shreds his words. “Seems it caught her by surprise. ”