by Bry Ann
We pull up a little closer. When Rain sees me, she immediately turns to her friend before running to my car. A teacher catches her before she crosses the drive-through. It kills me when Rain flinches when the teacher grabs her arm. Thankfully, the teacher catches it and lets her go. She walks beside Rain as they cross half the drive-through to reach my car.
“Can I see your ID, please?” she asks before she allows Rain to get in.
I show her my ID. The teacher checks her iPad to confirm I am indeed her father. When it’s confirmed, she lets Rain get in the car. Rain scoots in. Normally, she scoots in right next to me, but this time she sits right across from me. I can’t make out what that means. Nor do I understand the odd look on her face.
“Well, how was it?! I'm dying over here, kiddo.”
She half-smiles. “It was good.”
“Rain! That is not all you’re gonna give me, little girl.”
She giggles. “Can I tell you at home? My brain feels very full. I think I'm a little overwhelmed. Not in a bad way, I just—”
“You’re processing. I understand,” I tell her softly. “We’ll talk about it over dinner, then?”
She nods. “Yes, please.”
I reach under the seat and grab the Claire’s bag. “Is now a good time for this?”
I swing the bag around. She squeals. “You didn’t have to, Dad!”
But that smile… Yes, I did.
I chuckle. “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Today’s a special day.”
“Thank you, Dad,” she whispers. She grabs the bag and starts pulling out everything I bought. What’s funny is she puts on everything she pulls out. By the end, she has on two headbands, five bracelets, three necklaces, and four rings. She puts her hands under her chin and tilts her head.
“Do I look pretty?” she giggles.
I laugh. “Wait, stay like that!” She giggles as she holds her pose. I pull out my phone. “Say cheese.”
“Cheeeeeeese!”
Click, I snap the picture. This one will be framed. When I'm old and grey and reduced to nothing but empty dollars that won’t ever love me, I’ll cherish this picture. For the rest of the drive, we make idle chit-chat. When we get home, Rain goes straight to the kitchen, like always.
“Hi, Miss Gabriella, what do you got for me today?”
My chef smiles down at Rain. “Hello, sweetheart, do you want to chop the onions for me?”
“You’re trying to make me cry! Nope, no way. Good try.” Rain puts her hands on her little hips and frowns at Gabriella.
“Looks like you just got told,” I tease Gabriella.
She shakes her head. “It was worth a try.”
“You can’t pull one over on me, Miss Gabriella. I went to real school today and everything, so I'm not messing around.”
Gabriella smiles. “You silly girl.”
“Non sono sciocca, Miss Gabriella!” (I’m not silly)
Gabriella beams. She’s been teaching Rain Italian. Rain is full-blood Italian and the moment she knew Gabriella spoke Italian, she begged me to help her learn. Gabriella overheard and offered, not expecting increased pay. She offered out of the kindness of her heart. She earned my respect that day. Of course, I paid her triple tutoring rates because of her generosity and, I’ll be honest, the convenience. In my busy life, convenience is worth a lot.
“Good job, Rain!”
“I’ll let you two get to it. Rain, don’t think I forgot about school. I'm gonna want to hear everything.”
“Mmmm,” she grumbles.
“Rain, attitude.”
I try not to laugh as she fights the urge to roll her eyes. She turns quickly and heads for the potatoes. I go to my office to get some work done while the girls cook. I can’t focus, though. I don’t know what to think of Rain not telling me about school right away. Although we’ve worked heavily on it, she’s usually very dependent on me and very open with me.
“Dad, dinner’s ready!” Rain screams from the other room. I’ve told her a million times not to do that, but does she listen?
Nope. That’s Rain. Polite but rebellious. Always. She’ll be a teenager next year and I am not ready.
When I reach the dining room, I find Rain already seated. I take a seat and glance down at my plate full of seasoned tofu with sautéed potatoes, onions, and spinach. It looks amazing. I’ll be real, one of the greatest luxuries of my life is being able to hire a chef. That will never get old.
Rain starts cramming food in her face at an alarming pace. Smirking, I say, “Uh, Rain, are we gonna give thanks for this food or skip that for today?”
“We’re skipping it, I think,” she says through a mouthful of potato.
I shake my head. “Just this once.”
She takes a couple more bites then looks up and meets my eyes with a serious look. “Why don’t I go by my real name, Dad? They called me Marie at school and I corrected them to Rain, but…” She picks at her plate. “But I was wondering how come.”
Exhaling a deep breath, I meet her eyes. “Because Marie no longer suited you. I wanted to give you a fresh start. I wanted to help you become someone you were proud of, someone healthy. Marie had been so hurt. It just—it didn’t fit you. Not to me. But it’s your name, sweetheart. Do you want to go by Marie?”
She thinks for a while then shakes her head. “Going by Rain makes me feel like I'm really your daughter. It’s the name you chose for me.”
“You are my daughter.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” I sigh.
“So about school, it was good. It was kind of overwhelming. I kinda freaked out a little at first. It was so loud and people kept running into me. It made me think bad things, but the day went fast. I understood the teacher, too! I wasn’t behind the other kids.”
I smile. “I'm not surprised, sweetheart. Who was that girl you were talking to when I picked you up?”
“That was Katrina.”
“Who’s Katrina?”
“Some boy pulled her hair so I pretended to like him so he’d follow me into the hall with no teachers. Then I kicked him in the privates for hurting her. I think maybe we’re friends now. I hope so. She was really cool.”
“You did what?”
She just brushed right on over that. She flirted with a boy to get him in the hallway then kicked him. Oh, I am sooooooo fucked. Her upcoming teen years are gonna kill me. Yup.
She blinks like she doesn’t understand why this bears repeating. “He pulled her hair, Dad! Girl power. I won’t let the boys be mean. I'm in school now. They need to watch it.”
I need her therapist here right now. For me. Half of me really admires this, half of me feels the need for some intense parenting, and I'm not sure which route to go.
“I think it’s good you stood up for her, Rain, but next time, you should get a teacher and not hurt people.” Or flirt with them.
She rolls her eyes. “Most adults aren’t like you, Dad. You’re a hero. Most adults don’t care.”
“That’s not true, hun.”
“It is.”
“Why do you think so?”
“The neighbors where I used to live heard Mom scream when my first dad hurt her. They didn’t do anything. I don’t trust them to help Katrina either.”
“You really like Katrina, huh?”
Let’s just change the subject for now.
Rain nods shyly. “I never thought I could make friends ‘cause I'm so weird and messed up, but she makes me think maybe I could.”
“I'm glad to hear that, Rain,” I whisper. “You should invite her over sometime.”
Rain stares down at her plate. I think she’s done talking until she says, “I might just do that.”
4
Ajax
Thirteen Years Old
This is my third foster home since Mom and Dad were killed by a drunk driver. They were going to get ice cream for me. Because I begged them and was a whiny little bitch. I remember the light being green. I reme
mber Mom teasing and telling Dad she’d have a double scoop of mint chip ice cream and Dad rolling his eyes because Mom was a health freak and would never. I remember her squeezing his arm with a giggle. I remember Dad joking with me that I’d better know how much he loved me to be doing this. I remember the green light. I remember Mom’s scream. I remember the headlights.
Then nothing.
I woke up in the hospital. Not long after, I was transferred to my first foster home. They had another son and the two of us were too competitive. I was in the anger phase of grief and they decided I wasn’t a fit. I was then moved to the Millers. Mr. Miller had a drug problem and one night beat the shit out of me in a rage. He was extremely sorry and it didn’t even faze me given the amount of pain I was in just missing my parents, but the social worker found out and moved me. Now I'm here, with the Lamounts—a rich couple who couldn’t have a kid of their own. They enrolled me in this fancy-as-shit private school. They’re never home so I think this is their way of trying to be good foster parents or whatnot.
When I walk into the school, I can immediately tell this place has money. There’s no gum stuck to the floor and lockers, there are teachers watching the hall, and the kids are all dressed nice, at least somewhat. I'm glancing at my schedule when I see a girl with long brown hair, white sandals that wrap around her ankles, and a pink dress, standing there looking lost. I watch her for a moment. I watch as she yanks at strands of her hair and tugs it out. When I walk forward, I can see her breathing heavily. There’s tension, like she’s panicking, until another girl in a floral skirt and boots walks over and shyly waves. The beautiful girl perks up. They chat for a moment and I shake my head. What the hell am I doing?
I make my way to my first class. Then my second. Then third. When the lunch bell rings, I'm relieved. I don’t wanna be around these rich people with their perfect lives and perfect families. I wait for mostly everyone to go to the lunch room so I can sneak outside to eat my lunch. When I pass the farthest hallway, I see some punk in my science class with his hands wrapped around a girl's mouth. He pulls her back and throws her in a janitor's closet. She’s screeching and kicking but his hold is too strong. I charge forward. The kid is already running off but she’s too quiet in the closet. It’s creeping me out and I'm wondering if he really hurt her. Reluctantly, I turn from him and go to the closet door. There’s no outside lock or anything, but she hasn’t left. I swing the door open and find the pretty girl with the long brown hair and pink dress, huddled in a ball, completely zoned out.
“Uh, you okay?” I ask, scratching my head. “Hey, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Shit.
I crouch in front of her and it’s subtle, but her eye twitches, almost like she wants to flinch but doesn’t. Well, maybe the families around here aren’t so perfect.
“Look, if you don’t let me know you’re okay, I'm gonna have to get a teacher. I don’t want to do that, but I will.”
She’s still completely vacant. Okay, damn it, pretty girl.
I'm dragging my feet as I head for the cafeteria where the only teachers not in the teacher’s lounge are. I really don’t want to raise attention to myself, but I can’t just leave that girl there all spaced out and alone. I don’t like to think about my parents, but they would be so mad at me if I didn’t help her. My eyes burn at the thought but I can’t cry for them anymore. Especially not now.
I walk past the auditorium stage to the round table where two teachers sit.
“Uh, excuse me.” I clear my throat. “Excuse me?” I guess I'm being too quiet, I think as frustration builds in my chest. Every second these teachers chat away, that girl is sitting terrified in a closet. “Hey, some girl is in trouble,” I shout, making both teachers and all the nearby tables turn to me. I cross my arms over my chest. One of the teachers rushes over. Yes, to address the issue, but she probably doesn’t want the other kids to know there’s a problem either.
“Your name is Ajax, right? Today’s your first day, if I'm remembering correctly.”
“Yes to both. Ryan Thrasher,” I inform, because yes I’ll tattle the hell out of him, “threw a girl in the janitor’s closet and she won’t move or anything. I don’t know what’s wrong. She won’t talk to me.”
The teacher's eyes widen. “Oh my goodness. Can you please take me to her, Ajax?”
I quickly lead the way. I'm hoping the girl is all better when we get over there, but my heart sinks when I see her still there in the same state.
“All I saw was Ryan wrap his hands around her mouth, then shove her in here. There’s no lock on the outside, obviously, but she didn’t move.”
The teacher starts to slowly approach Rain. “Did you see him do anything else?” she asks.
“I didn’t see him hit her or anything, not that it didn’t happen. I just didn’t see it. I don’t know what happened before I arrived.”
“Okay, thank you, Ajax. You did the right thing.”
I know she’s dismissing me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t first find out if she’s okay. The teacher ducks down and heads for the girl.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Still nothing. “Rain?”
Rain. Her name is Rain. What a unique name.
“Rain, should we call your dad, sweetheart?”
When she still says nothing, I snap. “Call someone who loves her! Look at her. Something is really wrong.”
The teacher jumps a little at my tone and I think she thought I was already gone. She nods reluctantly. “You’re right, hun.” I roll my eyes. “Can you stay with her for a moment while I call her father?”
“Sure.” I shrug.
When the teacher stands, I go to the closet and sit next to her. There are ten minutes left of lunch. I hope we can do something before kids start coming by here. It would suck if her reputation is all messed up because Ryan is an asshole. She’s very pretty so I bet she’s popular.
The teacher comes by two minutes later with the principal. “Did you call her family?”
The teacher nods. “Yes, we did, hun.”
The principal comes over and looks at Rain. “Your dad’s on his way, okay? Rain, I'm gonna need you to answer me.”
“She’s not gonna answer you,” I snap. “Did he say how long he’ll be?”
I cross my arms over my chest… again. They’re pissing me off.
“Mr. Brown will be here soon. What’s your name?”
“Ajax.”
“Ah, today’s your first day.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I grumble. The principal's eyebrows furrow.
“She said you accused Ryan Thrasher of this. Did you see where he went?”
“Accused? I didn’t accuse him. I saw him do it.”
The teacher jumps to my defense. “Ajax came and got me right away. He sought me out in the cafeteria, Karen.”
“Hmm.”
The principal keeps pestering Rain. Rain starts to show little signs of being present: more consistent blinking, deeper breathing, slight twitching of her muscles, but it’s like she’s purposely not responding. A couple minutes later, a very tall man in a fancy black suit comes storming in. When he sees us, he charges forward.
“Where’s Rain?”
The principal stands. “Mr. Brown, a student pushed her in the closet and she has been unresponsive. We will find the student and make sure—”
She sounds nervous to talk to him, which I bet only gets worse when he interrupts her.
“All I want right now is my daughter.”
The principal steps to the side to reveal Rain curled up. He immediately goes to her.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers. His voice is heartbreakingly sad. He really loves her. Unlike all of us, he doesn't waste a second. He scoops her up in his arms and curls her into his chest.
“You’re safe, Rain,” he says quietly. When he looks up at us, his face is firm. “Someone make sure the halls are clear when we leave. I don’t want Rain dealing with asshole kids tomorrow.”
&n
bsp; Whoa, this dude is bossy.
“I’ll make sure,” the teacher says, leaving immediately.
He looks at me then. “I'm not sure why you’re here and I’ll find out later, but if you repeat any of what happened to anyone, I’ll—”
“I won’t,” I interrupt. “I don’t even know anyone here and I doubt I’ll be here long. I just wanna know that she’ll be alright.”
“She will,” he affirms, eyes narrowed before leaving.
After that, he’s gone. So is she.
“I hope she’s okay,” I whisper.
The principal gives me an off look. “Her dad will make sure of it.”
She says it in a way that implies he has the resources to make that happen, which… good. If she has that many issues that she goes paralyzed like that, then I'm glad she has someone as loyal as her dad seems to be.
She’s not at school the next day.
Or the day after.
Or the day after.
It’s on the third day while I'm on my way to class with my head down, avoiding the crowd, that she comes from out of nowhere and blocks my way.
“I think we need to talk,” she states, hip cocked to the side, eyebrows raised.
“Well, yes, ma’am.”
Rain
After a while, their words start to make their way into my brain, but I'm not ready to face them. I'm so embarrassed. I stay frozen in my spot. I can’t believe I broke like that. When Ryan, (a.k.a. the kid who I kicked, you know, down there) grabbed me and threw me in the closet, my mind left my body. My therapist calls it a trauma response. I hate being so damaged by things that happened when I was so young. Unfortunately, I was just old enough to remember everything.
The cage.
Sleeping chained in closets.
The disgusting touching.
