by Brent, Cora
After dinner I go straight to my room, sit on the bed and look at random things on my phone. I wonder what my mother used to do to pass the time when she was my age and lived in this room. There was no internet in the eighties and Aunt Vay claims she hasn’t had a television in her house for thirty years. The first week I was here I found a row of yellowed romance paperbacks in the closet and now I take one out. It’s a love story about a teenage couple and the format is unusual. The girl’s side is told first on the right hand page. Then you’re supposed to flip it over and read the boy’s side on the left. It’s a cool idea. There’s never just one side to any story.
Aunt Vay knocks on the door to tell me she and Gary are leaving. They will be down the street at a neighbor’s house for a card game. I’m relieved Gary will be out of the house for a while. I have a plan to wedge a book underneath the door because the little button lock on the knob doesn’t seem strong enough. Part of me warns that I’m being paranoid and then I remember the worried look on Johnny’s face when I told him about Gary. He doesn’t think I’m being paranoid.
Being in this house alone is spooky. I try to skim the pages of the teenage love story but I keep hearing noises and that makes me think about the ghost movie. I’m glad we didn’t stay. I’m not sure I want to know how it ends.
I’m beginning to feel drowsy so I set the book aside face down and stretch out, closing my eyes. I’m thinking about Johnny and his temporary pet lizard. Before we left the area he removed it from his shoulder and set it down gently on the sandy ground. Once again I really wish Johnny had a phone but he says his mother doesn’t let him use her cell phone and doesn’t want to pay for a landline.
The distinct bang of an object falling to the floor makes me sit straight up. The noise sounded as if it were coming from the living room. I’m sure that both Aunt Vay and Gary are gone because I heard the murmured blend of their voices as they walked out the front door a short time ago.
I swing my legs around and slowly approach the bedroom door in my socks. I listen at the door and hear nothing so I crack it open and listen more carefully. My phone is clutched in my palm like a weapon.
“Hello?” I call into the silence.
It’s an empty house, I tell myself. The sound I heard was probably just a broom falling over or something.
Yes, it’s an empty house.
The house where my mother spent her childhood, the house where my grandparents spent their tragically short newlywed years.
An empty house.
The next sound is a soft kind of scraping noise, barely audible. It has already stopped by the time I recognize it for what it is; a low, malevolent chuckle.
I could call the police. Sure. I could call the police and tell them a ghost is laughing in Aunt Vay’s empty living room. Then everyone will say I’m crazier than my mother and they’ll sigh over what a shame it is that Suzanne’s daughter is nuts; just another misfortune heaped upon the poor Chapel family.
My mother’s high school majorette baton is propped up against the desk, exactly where it has likely been hanging out for over twenty years. I grab it, grit my teeth together and fling open the door. I’ve got the baton raised like a sword when I reach the living room but it’s empty.
Of course it is. Because there’s no one here.
Exhaling with relief I check every room one by one and nothing seems amiss. The side door was left unlocked and not completely closed but that might be my fault because I was probably the last one to come through there. I push the door closed and firmly lock it.
I spend the rest of the evening in my bedroom. When I hear Aunt Vay and Gary return I double check to make sure the door is locked and then I go to sleep.
Johnny is already waiting for me at nine the following morning. He’s got a shopping bag in his arms and he’s hugging it to his chest. Even at a distance I can see that something is off about him. When I get closer I notice that his left eye and cheek are swollen and bruised and his hands are cut.
“Rafe did that to you, didn’t he?”
I’m furious. Goddamn Rafe. Why doesn’t anyone stop him? It’s not fair. He’s older and far bigger than Johnny.
Johnny doesn’t want to show me what’s in the bag and when he finally does I can tell that he wants to cry. In a halting voice he says he managed to take it away from Rafe even though his brother kicked the crap out of him for trying.
When I open the bag I can’t believe what’s inside. It’s a small framed photo of my mother. Her senior class picture. It usually sits on an end table in the corner of the living room.
“He took it from your house,” Johnny says and coughs, wincing and holding his ribs. “I’m sorry, Caris.”
It’s not his fault and I tell him so. I’m dumbfounded as to how Rafe could have managed to get into the house and take anything and then I remember last night. The unlocked door. The crash in the living room. The echo of spiteful laughter.
Tucking the bag under my arm, I escort Johnny to the market. We need to get some antiseptic to clean up his cuts. And maybe we can get an ice pack for his eye and something to wrap up his ribs if they really hurt.
Harold Keyser is working the register and he’s very concerned when he sees the condition Johnny’s in. He gives us anything we need and takes us to a tiny office behind the counter where he bandages the cuts on Johnny’s knuckles himself. I have to stifle a cry of anguish when Johnny lifts his shirt and I see all the purple bruising.
Damn Rafe to hell. I hate him.
Harold looks very sad as he helps Johnny wrap a bandage around his torso. He wants to call the police but Johnny gets upset and makes him promise not to because he doesn’t want his brother to go to jail.
Harold bags up some snacks for us and tells Johnny to please come back and see him if there’s any more trouble. Funny, but I remember how the day I met Harold he seemed to dislike Johnny but maybe that’s just because of the Hempstead family’s reputation. Now that he’s watched us hanging out together for weeks he seems to like Johnny well enough.
Johnny’s in a better mood after getting cleaned up and coming to the realization that I’m not going to blame him for whatever sick things Rafe does. Since the skies look about ready to open up with rain and it’s supposed to rain all afternoon we take the bus all the way to the mall. We plunder our bag of snacks from Harold and I keep my mother’s photo in the bag. Later on I’ll just put it back where it belongs. As for the problem of Rafe walking into the house, I’ll just have to make sure all the doors are locked from now on.
We stay at the mall as long as we can and by the time we return to Arcana on the bus I’m late for dinner. We make plans to meet as usual the next morning and Johnny watches me run toward Dunstan Street with the plastic bag over my head.
When I get to Aunt Vay’s house I’m glad to see that Gary is nowhere in sight. Aunt Vay is already seated at the dining room table with plates of spaghetti and she calls my name in an angry voice. I don’t have time to put my mother’s picture back now so I just stick the entire bag under the couch cushion and join her in the dining room.
“I’m really sorry I’m late,” I say, wondering if she’s angry because I’m late or because my clothes and hair are wet from the rain. I smooth my damp hair back and feel the cold air blowing from the air conditioning vent overhead. “Is it okay if I go change before dinner?”
The flat stare she gives me is worrisome. “No. Stay here.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Vay,” I repeat and smile at her. She’s never been angry with me before.
There’s a fork in her hand and she’s squeezing it so hard her knuckles are white. “I went to the market this afternoon.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure why this is news.
“I spoke to Harold Keyser.”
Oh.
“He tells me you have been running around with the youngest Hempstead boy.”
I swallow. “Johnny’s my friend. We’re not dong anything wrong. We’re just hanging out together.”
&n
bsp; The hand holding the fork pounds on table. “He’s trash, Caris!”
I’m ready to defend Johnny. “That’s not fair and you know it. Do you think Johnny can help who his grandfather was? He’s a nice kid. You should meet him.”
“I won’t be meeting him. And you won’t be messing around with him anymore. That family. THAT FUCKING FAMILY!”
I’ve never heard her curse before. Not even a hissed ‘dammit’ when she drops something.
I can be stubborn when I want to be and for this I’m ready to take a stand. “Johnny’s my friend. And you can’t keep me from seeing him.”
If I was surprised when she cursed then her next move shocks me to pieces. She slaps me across the face, hard enough to snap my head back and sting my cheek but it’s not the pain that brings tears to my eyes.
Aunt Vay immediately realizes she’s made a mistake. She cups her hand over her mouth and looks at me wide-eyed.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” she chokes out.
A tear spills down my cheek. And then another one. But I still have enough courage to defend my friend. Even if my voice quivers when I speak.
“There’s nothing wrong with Johnny. Evil can’t be inherited. His grandfather was a horrible man but he’s dead. He was dead long before Johnny was even born.”
Aunt Vay takes her hand away from her mouth. She looks very old right now and her eyes are sunken. “And what about his father?”
“His father?” I try to recall what Johnny has said about his father. Very little. Only that the man died when Johnny was nine. Something about running from the police and a car crash. “What does his father have to do with this?”
“Everything.”
“What are you talking about?”
She looks at the ceiling and screams. “IT’S IN THEIR BLOOD!”
My tears have stopped but my cheek still stings.
“Aunt Vay.” If I speak softly I might be able to reason with her. “There’s no such thing.”
She throws me a disgusted look. “Were you aware that Clay Hempstead knew your mother in high school?”
“So?” As far as I can tell everyone knows everyone else in Arcana.
Aunt Vay is breathing hard, her hollow cheeks looking sharper than ever. Yet she pauses and her expression becomes uncertain. She looks around the room. The table and chairs are the only pieces of furniture in here; a long polished table with ten straight backed chairs that no one ever sits in because there are no family gatherings in this house, not anymore.
When she looks at me again the uncertainty has vanished and her eyes are narrow.
“He raped her, Caris. That’s why she left Arcana right after high school. It’s his fault she won’t come back. Clay Hempstead raped your mother!”
My heart seems to stop.
My mother, so gentle and beautiful. She gets hurt so easily. How could anyone do that to her? And why have I never known? Is this the reason for her fragility, her breakdowns? She was only two when her parents were killed. She remembers little, if anything, of them. But being raped in high school is something that would have scarred her deeply.
And the person who did that to her was Clay Hempstead.
Johnny’s father.
Johnny.
Johnny, who holds my hand and befriends tiny lizards and understands when I don’t want to watch ghost stories.
Johnny is not his father. He is not his grandfather. He is not his brother. Johnny would never hurt anyone.
“That’s so horrible,” I say, feeling ill. “But it has nothing to do with Johnny. He’s my friend and he’s going to stay that way. No matter what.”
She’s tired all of a sudden. She lowers her head in her hands and refuses to look at me.
“Go to your room.”
I stand up, ready to be cooperative before another terrible thing is said or done. But I take my bowl of spaghetti with me.
In my bedroom I lock the door and eat sitting cross legged on my bed. I assume that Aunt Vay will come softly knocking on the door at some point to make amends but she never does.
I touch my cheek and wonder if there will be a bruise there tomorrow, like the bruises Johnny often has on his face. I hope he’s all right tonight, that his freak show of a brother isn’t beating him up again.
I would give a lot to be able to talk to him right now.
Caris
The bakery is closed on Mondays so that means Jay and I get to sleep in. Yesterday after work he took me out for a taco dinner and then we went home and fucked like crazy in my bedroom until we couldn’t stay awake anymore. All day I’d been pleasantly sore but that didn’t stop me from seeking more punishment.
Everything about him turns me on.
I do wish he’d talk more. I already know he’s suffered a lot. He likely doesn’t wish to be reminded of any of it. But there’s this big void between the boy he was and the man he is. And I’m aching to know him better.
Last night over dinner I tried to veer the conversation to a more serious place by asking about the chain of events after he left Arcana. For instance, where is his mother? I don’t even know if she’s alive or not. Jay shifted in his seat and hailed the waiter to ask for another bowl of tortilla chips. When I tried to ask more questions he casually reached underneath the table and began stroking me in a way that drove all questions of any kind from my head while I gripped the sides of the table, barely able to remain upright.
Afterwards I had to wonder if the smiling waiter had any clue that as he set the overflowing bowl of chips on the table I was busy biting my tongue and trying not to moan as I came on Jay’s hand. While I struggled to keep my face neutral, Jay grinned at me in a way that was wicked and triumphant at the same time.
Holy fuck, he’s hot.
“What are you doing?” he murmurs now, half asleep, his voice muffled by the arm flung over his face.
My fingers glide over his skin. “I’m measuring your muscles. This part of your upper arm is so big I can’t even curl my fingers around it at all.”
He opens one eye and lifts his head a few inches to peer at me. I can’t stop marveling at the strapping planes of his body. For the last twenty minutes I’ve been kneeling beside him with a sheet wrapped around me toga-style and admiring him in the soft mid morning light that filters in through the blinds.
Without warning an arm shoots out and tackles me down to the mattress. The sheet has been flung aside and I’m on my belly. He straddles me from behind and I feel the hard length of him pressing against my ass. The feeling is exciting and I arch my body up to urge him on.
Jay groans and slowly rocks back and forth. His hands squeeze my flesh. “Fuck, I don’t know if you’re ready for that, honey.”
I look over my shoulder so I can see him. “Have you done it, um, that way before?”
His mouth tilts into a smirk. “I’ve done everything.”
“Oh.” I’m not disappointed. Just curious. “You’ve been with a lot of girls, haven’t you?”
A funny expression comes over his face and I wonder if I shouldn’t have asked the question. It’s very personal. Jay doesn’t like to answer personal questions.
“It’s never been like it is with you,” he says. “Not even close.”
On the inside I explode with happiness. Jay climbs off me and pats my rear end.
“Another time,” he says, with a slight hint of regret.
I get on my hands and knees and throw him a pouty look. “Be a shame to waste morning wood of that magnitude.”
No further invitation is required. Jay rips a condom open, kneels behind me and thrusts into my body so hard that I yelp with surprise. He’s concerned, pulling back and asking if he was too rough, if he hurt me. I shake my head and give him an order through clenched teeth.
“Shut up and fuck me harder.”
He chuckles and then rides me like a goddamn galloping knight. I like it when he grabs a fistful of my hair, just enough for a sweet little ounce of pain, and I come harder than ever.
/>
After he gets rid of the condom and stretches out on the bed beside me I rest my cheek on his chest. “What should we do today?”
He’s stroking my hair gently now. “Anything you want.”
“I’m so glad we have a whole day off to spend together. I’m flying to Dallas tomorrow. My folks always expect me to be home for my birthday.”
“I know. You already told me.”
I kiss his chest. “I’m going to tell them about you.”
He snorts. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”
“They will be once they get to know you.”
His hand pauses from stroking my hair and rests on my back. He says nothing. He just sighs.
My stomach begins grumbling and Jay suggests going out to breakfast. I propose enjoying a joint shower first because we didn’t get to take one together yesterday. He picks me up, bed sheets and all, and carries me straight to the shower.
And it’s magnificent.
Half an hour later I’m towel drying my hair while wrapped in my yellow bathrobe. I’m smiling at my mirrored reflection and wondering if there’s a physical limit to how many times a day a girl can experience an orgasm. I plan to test the boundaries.
Jay has retreated to his side of the house to hunt down some clean clothes. I want to look nice for him so I select a light blue dress that I wore to a wedding last year and pair it with white heeled sandals. I curl my hair into long, soft spirals and even add a little bit of makeup; some mascara, a touch of blush and a dash of lip gloss. I examine myself in the mirror and decide I look pretty freaking good, even with my glasses on.
When I step out of the bathroom I see that the connecting door between the apartments is open so I walk right through in search of Jay. There’s no one in the kitchen or living room but when I glance outside I notice Lana is on the patio.
She’s laying out on one of the lounge chairs. She’s got sunglasses on and she’s completely still, almost like she’s sleeping. I doubt she put on any sunscreen because she never does. With her tan skin she won’t burn nearly as easily as I do but she can’t stay out there forever.
