Don’t, she said. Don’t touch me while I’m telling you this.
I can only remember it in her voice. It’s like her voice plays in my head when I think about it.
All along I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him, because I don’t know, I just didn’t think I was ready for it, but sometimes, well, it was like my whole body went against everything I was saying. Anyway. We broke up. He said he couldn’t wait around for me to make up my mind, to stop being a child. I was devastated. I thought it was the end, that I’d never actually feel anything ever again. I was so lonely and I didn’t have anyone to talk to and I missed him like crazy.
Finally I went to his room. He lived in this small round room in a tower, it was this dark tower with a real twisting stone staircase. I went there and when he opened the door he didn’t seem right. Nothing seemed right. He said what? Like he was so mad, like he was spitting almost. I didn’t have anything to say. I’d gone there to say I was sorry and I wanted to try to work things out but when I saw him, I couldn’t say it. It was like he’d turned into someone else completely. He was like all rage. We stood there staring at each other and then he kinda laughed. You want this? he said. And he grabbed my arm and pulled me inside the room. It was like he was possessed. I could still feel the burning on my arm where his fingers dug in but then he just threw me down and he was on top of me.
You know, I can’t remember if I made a sound. I remember pushing at him. I remember trying to get him off of me but I don’t think I could make a sound. It was like I was fighting him on mute. I swear to god. It was like of all the noise in the room there was no sound. That’s what I have now, it’s like this soundless memory. And everything he did was like straight from his rage. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Like this. It was so fast. My clothes were even all on after it was over. And J. He wouldn’t even look at me. He was just lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. My whole body felt, just like cracked, like stiff, like—somehow, I don’t even know, I got up and I straightened everything out on me and walked out and once I hit the street, it’s like all the sound came back.
She stopped. She wasn’t breathing in or out. She stared at her knees. Then she took a deep shaky breath. She just looked up and into my eyes. She was folded up around herself and her hands were shaking.
Can I come over there now? I said. My chest was going to explode.
She nodded. I moved down the couch and I put my arms around her and she felt still and small and tense, everything about her knotted except her shaking hands. I’d never felt anything like the pounding in my chest and the rushing heat in my throat and my ears. I pulled Keeley onto my lap.
I don’t cry about it, she said into my neck, her voice barely audible.
I knew I had to say something. She wanted me to say something.
It’s okay, I said.
I haven’t even talked about it.
Okay. I held her head under my chin. I knew there must be something beyond the top of her head but I couldn’t see.
I can’t cry about it. I just, I don’t want to think about it anymore.
Okay.
I kept saying okay. But I knew I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought, this is what people mean when they say “animal instinct” because I knew that rage would be stronger than my mind if anyone tried to hurt her, and nothing in the world could make me let go of her.
By the time I got back from Parker’s it was after dinner and Lace had realized I wasn’t sick, not even close. Only I didn’t care. She sat me down at the table and started yelling. It was like she suddenly out of nowhere became some other kind of mother, like the ones on television shows who wore pressed skirts and soft sweaters. Out of nowhere Lace started to talk about rules and the way things would be now.
One, no more going out, she said.
Like grounded? I asked.
Not grounding. Just no going out.
That doesn’t even make sense.
Lace took a deep breath. Her hands were knotted together on the table. She stared at me.
The only thing that doesn’t make sense right now is your behavior. I give you all the freedom a kid could ask for, Noelle. And it’s not working. Now I’m going to have to make sure I know where you are and what the hell you’re doing.
So now you don’t trust me? I pushed.
I think you’ve made that impossible. She stared. And school, she said. You go, that’s it.
You think I’m not going to school?
Apparently not. And, Noelle, school is not optional. It’s not something you get to decide whether or not you’ll do. You go to school.
I stared back. I didn’t say a word. She went on. She said we needed to make the time to sit down as a family. I stopped listening.
Okay okay okay, I told her. I didn’t know how long she’d been talking.
Okay. I didn’t feel like fighting. I was so goddamn tired. I hadn’t seen my brother but I knew now I could pretend like he didn’t exist.
Was my body supposed to feel different? Was my life supposed to feel different? Wasn’t it all supposed to begin from here? Was our relationship supposed to be different? Wasn’t everything?
What was definitely different was my brother and Keeley. Or not. What was different was that I knew the truth now. I didn’t want to think about how long they’d been making everything a lie. I just wouldn’t talk to them. It was that simple. I pretended they weren’t even there.
* * *
When you’re a little kid, you don’t second-guess what your future is going to look like. There are no questions. Doubts. Not about any of it. Keeley was never not going to be my best friend. She was never not going to be my future. The day before we started high school, we decided to camp out. Nadio wanted to sleep out with us but we wouldn’t let him. We pitched a tent on the rise between both of our houses—you could see the living room lights from each house from the door of our tent. We stocked it with quilts and pillows and chocolate chip cookies and magazines and pens and mini iPod speakers and we lay side by side with our flashlights trained on each other.
Everything happens in high school, Keeley said.
You think?
It has to. It’s a whole other world.
Like what?
Like people start to treat us like adults. Like we find out where we fit. Like we get to start dating.
Dating, I said. Who?
You know. The high school is bigger. More people from more towns.
Yeah, I said. It was hard to believe.
We were quiet. We were both afraid of the same thing.
Nole?
Yeah.
The first one to get a boyfriend, we have to tell the other one everything. I mean everything.
We don’t have to worry, I said.
Why?
It’ll happen at the same time. Everything happens to us at the same time. It’s like we’re blessed that way.
Dear Dario,
I actually didn’t think much about my sister never coming home. I wished she didn’t spend so much time with Jessica Marino, and I knew there was something about her that made me feel worried, but it wasn’t until I heard Lace yelling at her that I realized this was all bigger. Lace doesn’t yell. We don’t push her. It’s just this quiet agreement we’ve always had.
Would you notice if your daughter was losing it? Would you care if she called Friday night and said she wasn’t coming home? I know Lace was worried about her. I know she told her no more late-night change of plans. What would be different if she had a dad? You know, I keep thinking that maybe if I’d had someone to talk to about all of this, then it would have all come out of my head and I’d have had the space to notice my sister. Half of all of this is your fault. It has to be.
The other part of this is Keeley. Because how do I
know how to be with her now? How do I know how to take care of her and not be him and let us go forward so she can forget about what he did to her? And what about this part of me who understands how he felt. What about that part? I know that comes from you.
I look at both of them, Keeley and my sister, and I think of the kind of people who can ruin them and it scares me.
I wasn’t sure how to be with Keeley when she picked me up for school. I felt like part of me had become another person—filled with all this anger and concern. She leaned over to kiss me when I got in the car. I know I turned stiff. I didn’t mean to, but everything about her suddenly felt fragile.
I’m the same person I was yesterday, she said.
I know. But I’m not.
Yeah, but you’re the person I feel safe with.
I wanted to ask her what made her kiss me that first night but I didn’t. She drove and I watched her.
I don’t want you to be weird around me, she said.
Well.
Nadio, I’m not made of glass. I want to get past this.
She pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car.
Have you talked to anyone?
You.
You know what I mean.
Keeley sighed. She reached out and held my hand.
I’m okay, she said. If I feel like I’m not, then I’ll talk to someone. It happened. Something bad happened to me. And I wish the first time I had sex was different. But I can’t let that be who I am.
You sound pretty certain, I said. I couldn’t stop thinking that she was trying to pretend this was smaller than it was. I imagined her nightmares, the ones she wouldn’t talk about. Keeley pulled her hand away. It was like she knew what I was thinking.
Look, I said. I’m just saying that you sound like you have it all figured out. But it’s okay to let this mess you up.
She looked back at me.
I know, she whispered. But I really feel okay right now.
I pulled Keeley’s head against my chest. I held her and she leaned into my neck. Her hair smelled like a woodstove and raspberry. I could feel her heart beating against my arm. I knew that I couldn’t save anybody—that my sister, Keeley, even my mom, only they knew what they needed to be okay, to forget or remember, but right then I felt like I wanted to save Keeley from all of it.
And I felt like I could.
The weird thing was, I didn’t really want to do it again. I sort of thought having sex once would make me know everything about it. But I was still scared to do it again.
But I wanted him to want to do it again.
With me.
Only he didn’t call.
I waited until the weekend and then I called him. He didn’t answer. It was two days before he sent me a text that said:
Hey.
Having people over tonight.
Been thinking of you.
Come.
The first two lines made my stomach hurt.
But the second two lines were all I needed.
He knew it was a school night. But I had to go. I had to. At the same time, I sort of felt like I shouldn’t go alone. I’d been going to Parker’s house for three months. It was mine more than anything else. But tonight I didn’t want to go alone. Even though Jessica was working, she said I could stay at her house. I begged and pleaded and faked a Government project that needed work and Lace finally let me go.
So I took the bus. I went alone.
Sammy’s was closed. Dim lights dripped out from Parker’s second floor apartment. The music was low, bumping. I climbed the metal staircase and let myself in.
A few people were sitting around the kitchen table playing cards. A low ceiling of smoke hung just over their heads. Some of them nodded, mumbled, looked back to their cards and drinks. I crept down the hallway. Parker was in the living room. Jessica’s brother was there, two other guys I didn’t know. Dana.
Hey, Dana said.
Hi.
Nodding. Mumbling.
Parker stood up. He kissed me quickly. It was one-sixteenth of the kiss I wanted.
I sat down on the floor at his feet. There was nowhere else. He put his hand on the back of my neck. I breathed a sigh of relief. In a second it was gone.
The two guys must have worked with Parker. One of them was leaning in, breathless.
… and she was like, these are NOT sweet potatoes. You dyed these with food coloring. You think I’d be fooled? I’m like, LADY. Nobody in our kitchen is gonna go through the trouble of dying real potatoes. Unbelievable. Meanwhile, the woman sent her steak back THREE times. Lady, you can get beef jerky at the gas station …
It’s all about back of the house, I’m telling you, Parker said.
Dana was watching me. When I caught her eye she looked away.
Hey, man, are you thinking about Santo’s offer in Boston?
He was looking at Parker. Parker was behind me. I turned around.
Boston?
It’s nothing. Parker looked at me. He looked at Dana. He looked at the guy.
Never mind, the guy said.
Silence.
Our chef is moving to this place in Boston. He asked—whatever, it’s nothing, Parker said.
I’d turned back around so I was facing the room. His voice sat over my head.
Hey, said Dana, I’m gonna open this bottle of wine. Who wants some?
It was like being at his house for the first time, like I was a stranger.
Like I wasn’t supposed to be there.
I felt it in my gut all night. I tried to breathe it away.
I tried not to need him. I tried to talk to all the people I didn’t know. I tried to talk to Dana but she kept finding excuses—to answer her phone, go to the bathroom, get another drink. She darted her eyes and stretched strange smiles.
I got too high.
I fell asleep on the couch.
I sat up slowly. Looking around.
The room was filmy and dim. Restaurant guy was asleep on the recliner. Bottles scattered across the floor. Parker was nowhere. I started to feel sick. I put my feet on the floor, leaning forward. The coffee table was littered with ashtrays, empty cigarette packs, DVDs, a pile of change and three white pills.
I don’t know what made me grab the white pills. I shoved them in my pocket.
Slowly I tiptoed to Parker’s room.
He was there. Asleep in his clothes across the sheets. Alone.
I stared at him. My sadness was desperate.
I lay down. I curled myself against his back.
Parker? I whispered.
Silence.
Parker?
Stillness.
Hey.
He shifted.
Hmm, he said.
I have to go.
Mm-hmm.
Parker? I rubbed my fingers down the back of his neck. I could come with you to Boston.
Silent, still. Then, slowly, he pulled away.
He rolled over and looked at me, his eyes wet with sleep.
Huh?
I mean it. I put my hand on his stomach. I have winter break coming up and then I could—I could go to school there. We could get an apartment …
Parker blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He pulled away from my hand and sat up slowly and looked down at me.
Hey, he said.
My heart raced. I felt the heat filling my head. I sat up, stumbling off the bed.
Noelle, come on. I mean—
No, I said. No, I get it.
I was walking carefully, then suddenly I was half running down the hall. My bag was on the counter. I picked it up. I shoved my feet inside my shoes.
I knew I was going to be sick.
Par
ker came into the kitchen. He was barefoot. He rubbed his eyes.
I gotta go, I said. The bus just started running. I can get to Jessica’s before her parents wake up and it’ll look like I slept over—just forget whatever I said, okay?
Noelle. Parker rubbed his hand across his stomach. The toe of the black cat inked above his hip bone peaked above his jeans.
Listen. He took a step forward. The table was between us. I think you’re really great, I do—
The room tilted and slid.
I just don’t think this is what you want it to be—
I gripped the edge of the counter.
I totally want us to be friends. I just don’t think this is working like this—
I took the deepest breath I could.
I just don’t want you to—
There was no air in the room. He started to move around the table.
I have to go. I backed up. My arm knocked a bottle. It rolled to the floor. Echoed.
Noelle—
It’s okay. It’s fine. I have to go—I grabbed at the door. It was locked. I turned, clicked, grabbed. It opened. Parker moved closer to the door.
Hey, he said.
No, it’s okay. I gotta go.
I floated. I fell. I ran. I stumbled down the stairs.
This was it. That was it.
Here’s what I know.
I threw up right outside his door. Then I felt lighter and almost okay. I caught the bus. I went straight to school and got a piece of gum from someone in the first floor bathroom. I washed my face and swallowed the three pills I’d taken from Parker’s coffee table and I pulled my hair back and I went to first period.
I felt distracted through double-period Chem. I could barely focus. I couldn’t stop feeling Keeley’s head against my neck. But it wasn’t just that. It was like I knew something was wrong. When Mr. Taylor came to the door of the classroom, I knew he was there for me. Only I thought it was about the half-assed job I’d done on my M.U.N. application. I was halfway out the door before he even finished talking to Mr. Donohoe.
Listen, I know it wasn’t my best work, I said.
Mr. Taylor looked at me funny.
Nadio, I’m here about your sister.
This Is What I Want to Tell You Page 9
