Walking Through Needles

by Heather Levy

  She held the wet washcloth up to his mouth, but he stood up.

  “I wasn’t supposed to fix the fence, Sam.” His eyes implored her. “I promise I would’ve fixed it if I was supposed to, but he said he was going to do it.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” It didn’t matter now if he was telling the truth. It wouldn’t bring Maddie back.

  Arrow huffed out a sigh. “Please. What happened?”

  She knew he would keep bugging her forever until she told him something. She finally blurted out, “Whatever you think happened.”

  Arrow walked around his room, back and forth, like he was going to go crazy from not knowing. He looked so eager to know as if he was waiting for her to say the right words to be mad at her.

  She couldn’t explain to him how calmness eventually washed over her as Isaac held her in place by her throat. Arrow made her feel good, but what Isaac did was different. She had been used to giving herself pain for so long, but Isaac doing it was so much better. It was as if she had been down with a fever for a long time and it broke, releasing her from hurt she didn’t know was trapped inside of her.

  Arrow stopped pacing his room. “Just tell me. Please.”

  Sam looked down at the wet washcloth in her hand, Arrow’s blood blooming in the center.

  “He’s different. Like me,” she said.

  “Different? How?”

  “Just different, okay?”

  “You’re sick,” Arrow yelled. “He got into your brain like he does with everyone.”

  Isaac was right; Arrow wouldn’t understand how she was. She tried to hug him, to reassure him it didn’t change her feelings for him, but he moved to the other side of his bedroom and stared at his Evil Dead II poster.

  “Go be sick with him. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

  Sam shot up from his bed and threw the washcloth at his wall, barely missing his poster. She rushed to her room and locked her door.

  Maybe she was sick. The week prior, she had made the mistake of telling her best friend she dreamed of kissing Isaac. She left out the part about him choking her in the dream. Chrissy looked like she was going to throw up. She then proceeded to tell Sam that her mom, a licensed professional counselor, would say it was daddy abandonment issues, that she was seeking positive male attention. Sam finished her ham and cheese sandwich and stopped listening. Chrissy had a new boyfriend every other week.

  Sam looked out her bedroom window, at the departing sun streaking purples and pinks against the sky. Soon, it would be dark. Until then, she would wait.

  Sam knew it was the worst idea she’d ever had, but she couldn’t make herself leave the barn. She knew he would come here eventually, as he always did late at night, and she knew what would probably happen when he did.

  She leaned against Maddie’s old stall, the wound of losing her that day raw and tender. After Isaac had moved Maddie from the barn to bury her, Sam cleaned the empty stall, laying fresh hay as if her goat would pounce back into the barn and give her a playful headbutt.

  She thought of her mama, how she cowered in the background as Isaac repeatedly hit Arrow. She wondered what her mama would do if she knew what Isaac had done with Sam in the barn before dinner.

  The Bible said the wife was supposed to listen to the husband, do everything he says no matter what, which Sam thought was dumb as hell. Her mama believed every word, though. Grandma Haylin said man wrote the Bible and man is weak and stupid.

  Sam heard someone walk into the dimly lit barn and she pressed herself into the stall’s gate to steady her nerves. At first, she worried it might be Arrow, but she knew he was hiding up in his room.

  Isaac walked to the back of the barn and stopped at the wooden ladder leading up to the loft. He rolled up the sleeves of his plaid work shirt, and Sam could barely make out the scarab beetle tattoo on his forearm, a remnant from his time in the army.

  “Come on out,” he said without turning to look at her.

  There was only one good light in the barn, and she stepped out from the shadows of Maddie’s stall to the middle where Isaac could see her under its yellow glow. He slowly turned around and took in her outfit, a strappy blue summer dress she had dug out from her closet because Isaac once said he liked it.

  “Come here.”

  She did, her stomach reaching up to her throat with every step.

  He stared at her and shook his head. “What are you doing out here? You should be in bed.”

  He sounded so much like a parent she wanted to cry.

  “I—I thought…what happened…” She wasn’t sure what to say, that she wanted him to make her feel the same way again—like she didn’t have to think about anything and could just sink into what was happening.

  Isaac sucked in a breath and scanned her from head to toe. “I care about your mama.”

  She didn’t know what that had to do with anything.

  “She’s a good Christian woman—not like me. Or you.”

  No, Sam wasn’t like her mama—thank Jesus. She wasn’t sure what she believed anymore, but she knew she didn’t believe the same as her mama.

  Isaac hesitated, but then he reached up to caress Sam’s cheek with his thumb. “It was a mistake. Do you understand?”

  “No.” She shook her head, her face burning. “I don’t understand at all.”

  “Sam, it can’t happen again,” he said, slower. “You know that. You’re a smart girl.”

  She had to feel the same way again. She had to feel whatever it was, the thing she couldn’t easily define. It was like the time she went to Branson with Chrissy and did the zip line eighty feet in the air, the exhilaration of being out of control and frightened but knowing she was safe too.

  She reached for Isaac’s hand and before she could open her mouth to speak, he had her against the ladder, his hand over her throat. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his fingers tightening.

  He let go of her neck and his hand trailed down the front of her dress before he backed away from her. “Goddamnit, you’re killing me.”

  She didn’t move. She knew he expected her to run off, but she stood there tall, a tower of stone.

  “So brave,” he said, “and you don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?”

  She didn’t know what he meant, but his arrogant tone gnawed at her.

  “Like you’re brave,” she said, “beating up on your own son? Like some redneck asshole.”

  The grim lines of Isaac’s tan face softened into a grin. Then he laughed at her, so boisterous that some of the goats stirred in the stalls. Normally, Sam would’ve kicked a guy in the balls for laughing at her, but she couldn’t imagine anyone hurting Isaac and surviving.

  “Have you ever smoked?” He held up his hand like he was pinching a joint.

  Her lips curled to match his smirk. “A little,” she lied.

  He started up the ladder and looked down at her. “You coming or what?”

  She thought of Arrow alone in his room, of her mama at her stupid church bingo night, the only church event Grandma Haylin seemed to enjoy, and followed him up.

  Once they climbed the ladder, Sam’s eyes darted over to the loft window. Under it was a heart and initials she and Arrow had spent an hour carving into the wood. Isaac went to the opposite side of the loft. He dug around and came back carrying a small metal tin. A nervous tickle fluttered in her stomach. She had never even tried cigarettes.

  Isaac fiddled around with rolling the weed, licking the thin paper, his eyes locked on her as he did it until she had to look away.

  As she had waited in her bedroom for dark to come, she imagined confronting Isaac about hitting Arrow. Whether or not he was supposed to fix the fence, Arrow didn’t deserve to be hit. But when she saw Isaac, it was like her brain would only focus on what happened in the barn and if it would happen again. Guilt twisted in her stomach. She had a sudden urge to go back to the house, to bring Arrow some ice for his busted lip.

>   “Has Eric ever told you about the Center of the Universe?” Isaac said.

  “No.”

  He sat on a bale of hay and motioned for her to sit next to him. He lit the joint, inhaled deeply, and handed it to her before releasing the smoke. She took it and attempted to inhale as deeply as Isaac, but the burn in her chest exploded into a coughing fit. Isaac laughed and took the joint back from her.

  “It’s this weird place in downtown Tulsa,” he said. “We lived there for a while when his mom was working at the college. She was pregnant and about ready to bust. Eric must’ve been around eight then, and he kept hearing about this strange, magical place from the kids at school, so we finally set out to find it.”

  Arrow once told her about his mom losing a baby, how she went to the hospital with her huge belly and returned home with nothing. His face had gone solemn when he described how sad his mom and Isaac had been.

  Isaac took another hit from the joint and held it back from Sam, teasing her. She grabbed it from him and took a long drag, longer than she should have but she held it in more than before. She still coughed a ton.

  “Did you find it?” she asked.

  Isaac grinned to himself. “Yeah, but it wasn’t what we expected.” He looked up at Sam, his brown eyes looking black under the florescent light. “You stand on this spot and you can yell, sing—whatever—and you hear your voice echoed back to you, out in the open air. No one outside of the spot can hear the echo.”

  She pictured a young Arrow hollering his head off, jumping up and down in delight.

  Isaac handed her the joint, and she inhaled as much as her lungs would let her this time. She felt lightheaded and disconnected from her body. She liked the feeling, although it scared her.

  “That place sounds cool,” she said.

  “It was until Eric freaked out. He was in the spot shouting and laughing with his mom, and then his face dropped like someone had stepped on his foot.” He held up the joint he took back from Sam and shook his head. “Took us forever to calm him down.”

  “Why was he upset?”

  Isaac tapped the joint on the metal tin until it went out. “He said he couldn’t hear his brother’s echo.”

  Sam touched his hand, worked her fingers until she force-held it. He didn’t look over twice her age with his ash-blond hair curling around his ears and the weed haze surrounding them. He looked young and weightless, even talking about losing a baby. She wanted to be weightless too.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Isaac slowly nodded. “I don’t even know if he remembers. Probably better if he doesn’t.”

  She rested her head on his lap. After a minute, Isaac rubbed her head. She imagined her daddy stroking her hair, something she remembered him doing when she was young. She wouldn’t think about him. He didn’t want her. She didn’t want him either, and she wouldn’t waste more tears on him.

  She looked up at Isaac’s face, and he stared down at her, his eyes thoughtful. She was nervous to ask him the questions stirring in her for so long, but she made herself speak.

  “Do you like pain too?”

  He paused in rubbing her head. “In a different way.”

  She thought she knew the answer, but she asked it anyway. “You like to give pain?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you done it to other people?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know. Several.”

  “Did they like it?”

  He paused. “Yes.”

  “Have you done it to my mama?”

  “Sam—”

  “Sorry.” She covered her face with her hands, the sudden shame hitting her, and she couldn’t keep her tears in. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I’m such a freak.”

  He held her hands away from her face. “You’re not a freak, okay. You’re young and curious, but you don’t understand what you want. You think you do, but you don’t.”

  She reached up and touched Isaac’s chest over his heart, felt the muscle contract under his shirt. Hardness rose from his lap and pressed against her ear, and she looked up at him. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly parted, and he had stopped rubbing her head.

  “I want,” she said, but the rest of the words didn’t want to come out: I want to understand. I want to learn.

  He shifted his body so she would sit up.

  “Go back to the house.”

  “But—”

  “Go.”

  Sam didn’t know what she had done to cause his mood to change. She made her way down the ladder, pausing on each rung, hoping he’d change his mind. She ran back to the house, the unusually cool August night raising goosebumps on her body. The house was quiet and dark, and she knew her mama and grandma were still out.

  She climbed the stairs, her eyes on the golden beam of light under Arrow’s bedroom door. She went to his door, opened it, and saw him lying on his side on top of his covers, his headphones on, eyes closed. She shut the door behind her and turned off his lamp, which made him turn over to see her next to him. He removed his headphones, and she could hear Tool playing.

  “Did you do something with him?” he asked, anger cracking his voice.

  “No. Don’t be an idiot.”

  Arrow sat up in bed, scooting over. She stretched out next to him, resting her head on his chest. His heart was beating so fast.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, but she wasn’t sure why she said it. Sorry for forgetting about him? Sorry she had sometimes thought about Isaac when they were having sex?

  Arrow caressed her hair. “I’ll kill him if he touches you again.”

  Sam pulled herself up and kissed him. He was too gentle in kissing her back, and she felt like she was kissing herself, which annoyed her. She pinched his nipple hard and he pushed back from her.

  “What the hell was that for?”

  She pinched him again, harder, and he wrestled her flat on the bed.

  “Are you crazy? That fucking hurt.”

  “Do it to me.”

  “No.”

  She giggled so much the entire bed shook.

  “You’re high. Aren’t you?”

  She laughed and pinched him again. He pinned her down.

  “Did you get high with him?”

  “What are you gonna do if I did?” She tried to kiss him, but his face was too far away.

  He released her arms, and she pulled him to her. He touched her face as they kissed again, and she moved his hand to her neck, pressed his fingers into her skin.

  He stopped kissing her and sat up.

  “Please,” she said. “I want you to.”

  He reached up and held her throat for a limp second before his arm went slack at his side.

  “No.”

  “Fine.” She rolled onto her side. “Forget it.”

  After a few moments, Arrow finally draped his arm over her waist.

  “Don’t ask me to be like that,” he whispered

  Chapter 15: Eric, 2009

  Thunder crashed, and Eric woke up with his heart somewhere outside of his body. Sam’s tiny white dog jumped up on the couch beside him and licked his nose, startling him. He pushed Zeus off the couch, but the dog jumped back up and licked him again.

  Lightning lit up Sam’s living room, rain hammering the windows. No matter how much Eric tried to ignore it, storms bothered him. His mom used to say storms cleaned out the bad energy in the world, but he didn’t believe it. Storms carried the bad shit and blew it all over the place.

  He recalled the night before and cringed at how much he drank. He and Sam had finished off the bottle of whiskey, and he vaguely remembered talking about Meredith. Sam kept asking him questions about her—what was she like, was she smart, was she pretty—and the alcohol flowed through him and words fell from his lips. Yes, she was pretty but not like Sam, and yes she was smart but not in the same way. What was Meredith’s mother like? Here, Eri
c broke through the alcohol enough to shut up. He didn’t remember much after that.

  He dragged himself up from the couch, noting he was missing his shoes and jeans and he didn’t recall taking them off. He stumbled his way through the dark until he found a bathroom. His piss sounded so loud, louder than the storm outside, he was sure it’d wake Sam. He walked passed a bedroom, realized it was the master. He entered Sam’s room and stood by her bed. He watched her chest rise and fall, the streetlamp outside creating spidery shadows on her face and the walls.

  Her room was large for a historic home, and she had a small sitting area by the window. He went to sit on one of the chairs and tripped over something. He looked down and saw a dog toy. He tossed it aside so Sam wouldn’t trip on it. He thought about staying in her room, but he decided it was probably better to leave and sleep a little at his own place, so he headed for the bedroom door.

  “You can stay.”

  He turned around and Sam sat up in her bed.

  “It’s really coming down outside,” she said, her voice groggy. “Come here.”

  She scooted over to let him lie next to her, and it was like they were teenagers again, sneaking through the old farmhouse into each other’s beds each night.

  He faced her and watched the rain shadows stream down her cheeks.

  He couldn’t see the details of her face well in the darkness, but he heard her steady breathing, steadier than the metronome Grandma Haylin used to start up whenever she taught Sam piano. She had tried to teach him too, but he never caught on.

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you ever regret knowing me?”

  Another thunder rolled over the house before Sam finally said, “No.”

  It was a lie, but he took it and cherished it as truth.

  “I won’t ever love anyone else. I tried.”

  “Eric…”

  He thought he caught the gleam of real tears mixing with the rain shadows on her face, and he touched her bare shoulder, felt the strap of her top, and pulled her close to him until her face was against his chest.

  “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true.”