Body of Ash

by Bonnie Wheeler

  “I’m sorry,” Katie cried. “Please stop.”

  “Your father wants you to live with him. Imagine what he would think if he knew you like I do.” Without relenting, Marge pulled tighter on Katie’s hair. “How can I look like a decent parent, if you do stupid shit? No man will want you now.”

  Spit flew from her mother’s mouth, spraying Katie with each word. Her mother was barely recognizable with her hair disheveled and expression incensed. Her eyes looked hardened and cold and completely unfamiliar.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” Katie whimpered in terror. Once on her knees, she tried gaining leverage, desperate for relief from the woman’s hold.

  “No,” Marge murmured, quickly dropping her hand, “of course not.” Marge stepped back and looked down at her hands. Her facial expression shifted suddenly from infuriated to confused.

  Katie’s head stung. Her mother’s unprovoked attack left the sensation of hundreds of slivers dotting the surface of her skin. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up, and grasped the wall for balance. Her face ached from the blow, leaving a jabbing sensation across her jawline. Running her fingers over the back of her head, an egg was forming where it struck the frame.

  Her mother stood in front of her, staring puzzled at her hands. In slow repetition, Marge stretched out her long fingers only to curl them back into a fist. Over and over, with her head tilted to one side, she studied the continual motion.

  Eyeing her mother, Katie was unsure if her punishment was over. Marge used to hit her when she was a child, but hadn’t in years. Abuse wasn’t her style; she even avoided raising her voice. When Katie was thirteen, Marge had given her a bloody nose after she called her mother a bitch in public, but that was the last time her mom ever laid a hand on her. The two talked out their problems, being friends first.

  With her mother’s silence and bewildered facial expressions, Katie began panicking. Marge seemed relaxed, as though nothing just happened. A desperate fear welled up from the recesses of Katie’s consciousness. She didn’t want to see it; she didn’t want to give it a voice. Her mother was insane. There was no use in denying it anymore.

  “I can’t stay here,” she whimpered, trying to hold back her sobs. “I’m going to go live with Dad.”

  “You can’t leave.” Marge looked up from her hands, her face now passive and calm. “I need you.”

  “You hit me.” Katie snapped.

  “I thought you were a burglar.” Marge smiled, but her confusion still lingered. “Your father showed up at my job and said he’s taking you away from me. I came home to tell you we had to fight him over this, but I didn’t recognize you.” Shrugging her shoulders, her mother looked back down at her fingers.

  “What? My hair cut? That warrants what you just did to me?”

  “It wasn’t me. It was stress.” Marge shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Her mother’s disorganized thinking made no sense.

  “Well, I’m sorry too,” Katie replied angrily. “I’m sorry I’ve let you treat me like shit for so long. But, you know what? No more. If you can’t put me first, I’m gone.”

  Pushing past her mother, Katie ran to her bedroom and locked the door. Her eyes burned with tears as she sank to the floor. Shocked with what just happened, she tried to control her tears, but was gripped by a wave of despair. Covering her face with her hands, she tried stifling the sobs that forced their way up from within her chest.

  What the hell is wrong with her?

  Emotion spiraled deep inside her gut. Not so much sadness, but fear and rage. Her mother was losing her mind and having her father make demands just brought it to the surface. She didn’t know what to do.

  “Katie,” her mother’s voice crooned from the hallway. “Don’t be mad, sweetie. I didn’t really hurt you, did I?”

  Dragging the back of her knuckles against her wet cheeks, Katie wished there was a reply she could give that was both honest and encouraging, but she couldn’t force herself to pacify her mother this time. Feeling crushed and scared, there was no way she could pretend everything was okay and sooth her mother’s guilt.

  Katie needed a plan, a way to pack her things without Marge becoming unhinged, but she couldn’t think. Her grandmother was too sick to help and her grandfather never came to visit, even when her mom was in bed for six months after the divorce. Other than Veronica, her mother’s boss from the shop, and Brian, the woman didn’t keep close friends.

  Can Jones help? Or is he making her worse?

  Despite wanting answers, her mind produced nothing.

  “Come on now baby, I need you. We’ve got to stick together.” Her mother’s voice sounded small and childlike on the other side of the door. “Things will get better once Brian and I are married. I know he’ll give us everything. You’ll see.”

  Rocking herself in slow agony, Katie blocked out the sound of her mother’s voice. In detailed fantasy, Marge romanticized their future from the other side of the door. Katie didn’t want any of it. If her mother couldn’t get a grip on reality, it wouldn’t matter who she married.

  36

  RACHEL

  Friday 4:10 PM

  The whirring hum of industrial strength dryers incased the laundromat, creating a refuge from the sounds of cars and sirens that littered the streets. Other than a television in the corner and gaudy Halloween lights strung across the window, the slate grey walls and fluorescent lighting didn’t offer visual interest. The establishment was packed with warm bodies, but it was the scent of fabric softener and detergent that permeated the room.

  Despite the humidity, Rachel felt protected from the view of passer byes on the street. For two hours, she remained seated on the bench, placed between a row of washers and vending machines. There she sat, hiding from Ernie.

  Taking in a deep breath, Rachel closed her eyes. The activity around her had become familiar. Parents with small children moved in and out, transferring their garments from laundry bags to washers, then on to dryers before finally folding them in neat little piles on the provided tables. Even as a two small children, a boy and a girl, both with dark brown hair and eyes, played at her feet, Rachel no longer monitored the front entrance, fearing who would come bolting through. Off the unfamiliar streets, she felt safe and free to explore her options. The one thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t hide forever; the place would be closing soon and she needed a plan.

  Finding the Whirl n’ Twirl was pure luck. If she hadn’t, God knows how long it would have been before Ernie and Mars spotted her, maybe even forcing her into the pickup. Maybe if she put her foot down and demanded they treat her with respect, the jerks would have knocked it off. Maybe they were just testing her, but the way Ernie looked at her really scared her. The thought of being alone with the two of them terrified her, even more than returning home.

  After replaying their confrontation, she knew she might have been reading too much into their words, but she doubted it. If Jason had taught her anything, it was for her to trust her instincts and they told her to run, so she did. As soon as she had passed through the rear exit on her way to the ladies room, she hit the parking lot sprinting. For a brief moment, she thought of her backpack left in Ernie’s Nissan, but even that didn’t slow her down. Staying close to the sides of buildings, she ran as quickly as possible, even darting through alleys to avoid intersections, where she might be spotted. Wanting to be near people, she looked for a store or a restaurant, someplace she could rest and make a call.

  Spotting the neon sign for Whirl n’ Twirl, Rachel ducked in behind a large family unloading their laundry from a Caravan. Despite the “No Loitering” sign at the entrance, the glossy haired attendant with a Tom Selleck mustache behind the counter didn’t even look up as she walked past. Unsure if his lack of interest in what she was doing was because he was too invested in his John Grisham novel to ask her to leave, or because he hadn’t spotted her, Rachel sat near the children, hoping to appear like a mother’s helper if he did decided to size
up the customers.

  But with what to do next not being so forth coming, she buried her head into her hands, searching for answers. Her first thought was to call Jason. Knowing he could be there within an hour to get her back home was a comfort, but it wasn’t an option. At least not yet. If Rachel’s parents called the police, they would have told them that her boyfriend was most likely involved. If the cops had any sense, they would question Jason’s involvement. She didn’t want him to get in trouble.

  Or imagine what he would do to Ernie…

  Jason was short on patience, especially when it came to anyone giving Rachel a hard time. Last summer, while spending an afternoon at the lake, a couple of teens from out of town had been giving Rachel and her friend Nicole unwanted attention. Despite the attempts of the newcomers, both girls made it clear that they weren’t interested.

  While swimming out to the deeper section where Jason and Nicole’s boyfriend, Bobby, were treading water, one of the guys crept up behind Rachel and thought it would be funny to dunk her. When the stranger grabbed her shoulders, she yelped right before her head slipped under water. She emerged just in time to see Jason planting a fist in the boy’s face.

  Through the hectic sounds of splashing water and raised voices, Rachel could hear Jason threatening to rip the guy’s head off if he ever touched her without permission again. Bright red blood gushed from the kid’s nose as he apologized for the joke. A quick whistle from the lifeguard and they were all thrown out of the water. The cops were called and although no files were charged, the patrol officer who came to the scene made it clear that they were all old enough to have a record if they got in trouble again. Before leaving, the officer delivered a warning that further fighting could keep them from getting into college. It scared Rachel enough to want to keep her boyfriend’s temper under control.

  She knew Jason would kick Ernie’s ass. After blowing her money on drugs, insinuating that she would have to put out if she wanted a place to stay and letting his creepy friend harass her, Rachel didn’t think her boyfriend would remain all too calm. Ernie put her in danger after promising Jason he would keep her safe. They had less than a year before they could move to Cambridge and begin college. A guy like Ernie Macy and his gross little friend Mars, weren’t worth throwing away their dreams over. Still, she would have to tell him something and she wasn’t a liar, but waiting until she was in a safer situation would help.

  Rachel thought of her friends. They too would have heard she ran, but she didn’t think they would be much help. Jason was the only one who drove and both Nicole and Beth would squeal to their parents. Not that she blamed them – if they were lost in a rundown city, she would gather her parents to aid in their rescue too. The only other person Rachel considered calling was her grandmother. Sylvia Bennett was a delightful woman, but even she knew her mother’s mother wouldn’t agree with her attempt to escape. No, Sylvia was both formal and refined, a good woman to discuss college plans and homecoming corsages with, but not the kind of grandmother to run crying to.

  Suddenly, her Sidewalk Prophet’s ring tone, “Live Like That,” began playing from inside her coat pocket. As quickly as that, it was back – the nervousness, the dread in the pit of her stomach, the sense of something pending, was heavy and weighing on her shoulders. A glance at the phone and she silenced the call. It was her mother, calling yet again to demand she come home. Her inbox was filling with the messages she refused to listen to. Rachel knew her mother wanted her home, to be the daughter they expected her to be, without caring one bit what Rachel’s wants or needs were. Listening to the guilt trips and ultimatums weren’t necessary. She already had for seventeen years and that was long enough.

  Glancing around the room, Rachel noticed the attendant’s feet were now up on the counter, with his body lounging back in his chair, his book resting on his chest as he dozed. While wondering how he could sleep on the job, Rachel spotted a bulletin board by the front entrance. Gathering her wallet, she made her way over to the door, eyes darting from the street to the attendant and back, hoping neither would prove alarming.

  Countless business cards were tacked to the board. Everything from babysitting services to construction, web design and tax professionals. There were bulletins for organizations offering fuel assistance and tag sales, area fundraisers and food banks. Scanning the information quickly, her eyes spotted what she hoped for: church tracks. Passing up the Watch Tower and LDS’ flyers, Rachel knew what to look for. Denominations were diverse, but if she could find a local evangelical church, it was possible she could find help.

  One caught her eye; “Heaven Is Real” adorned the cover. Scanning the inside, the six steps to salvation were similar to what New Hope always taught with a slight difference here or there. A phone number and church address were listed.

  Finding her way back to the bench, Rachel studied the booklet. Having grown up with the teachings, she could have written it herself by the time she was seven-years-old. To believe Jesus was the son of God and died for our sins, was the only guarantee that one would go to Heaven after they died. But what did it mean if her father wasn’t a real Christian? Could he be if he didn’t follow the teachings he taught others? If so, what did it say about her? She always believed because her parents were Christians, she was too. Now she didn’t know.

  Paul Becker, the preacher’s name, was listed on the back. What would she say if she called him?

  She knew churches offered charity to the poor. Her father preached the importance of donating to the Benevolence Fund all the time. One night, when she was home alone while her parents were having dinner with the McNally’s from church, Rachel had taken a call from Bud Dupont, a parishioner that once attended New Hope. Sounding desperate and upset on the phone, he told Rachel that he was on the streets of Bridgeport, hungry and with no place to go. His car had been towed and he had been kicked out of the boarding house he had been staying in. Without any means of his own, he wanted to know if Reverend Jones could help him. Even if all he could do was call a church in the area and ask they put him up for the night until he could check into the local homeless shelter the next day. Rachel took all of his information and promised she would have her father call him back as soon as he returned from his evening out.

  It was impossible to imagine anyone in such a terrible position, especially a brother in Christ. As soon as Brian and Angela returned home, she pleaded Mr. Dupont’s case to her father and expected him to drive straight down to Bridgeport and rescue the man himself. Instead, her father went into his office to make a few calls. It wasn’t until the next day when Rachel overheard her mother talking about the Dupont family, and how far Bud had fallen, that Rachel learned the truth. Her father didn’t think the man was worthy of help, so left him on the streets to fend for himself.

  Is that what will happen to me? Will I just be turned away?

  Rachel looked around at the patrons folding laundry. With high-pitched children swarming around their feet, most of them looked as frazzled as she did. It was almost dinner time and their kids were getting cranky. They weren’t in any position to help her. She could ask where a local mission or homeless shelter was, but she would have no point of reference or understanding of landmarks to even follow directions. Plus, Ernie and Mars, or someone with worse intentions could spot her and she didn’t want that. Her knowledge of church kindred was all she had.

  I need a story, something they will believe…without asking questions.

  Rachel figured she could pass for eighteen. Maybe even a college freshmen heading home for the weekend. Torrington was big and must have a train station and plenty of bus stops. Perhaps she could tell them she was taking the trip to a friend’s house up near Boston and that she missed her connecting ride, that another wasn’t scheduled to come through until tomorrow and that she left her money and ID on the bus. She could offer them a fake name and claim to be a member of a church from down south.

  Over the years, she had visited congregations all over the S
outh, when her family took their yearly trip to Georgia. Her father loved to visit the churches that supported his New England mission work. Whenever he told them he was stopping for a visit, the congregations would either put them up in a fancy hotel or offer guestrooms in their loveliest of homes. They were treated like foreign dignitaries and Rachel actually enjoyed meeting some nice families.

  I could try it…if they get too suspicious, I’ll just have to run.

  Tomorrow had to be better. Hopefully Jason would hear what her parents were expecting to do, and maybe even get his parents to help. Anything else was too much to consider. Reaching for her cell phone, Rachel offered up a short prayer and hoped God was actually listening.

  37

  ANGELA

  Friday 4:30 PM

  Wrapping herself in a terrycloth towel, Angela stepped out of the claw foot tub. Failing to lay down a bathmat, beads of water pooled at her feet. It was a simple precaution she had preached for years, always chastising Rachel when the teen forgot. Staring at the floor, Angela no longer cared where the small rivers flowing between the grout tiles went. After all that had been said and done over the last twenty-four hours, a little thing such as that seemed pointless.

  Staying up all night left Angela exhausted. Her muscles ached and a slight headache gnawed at the base of her skull. With finger-like tentacles, the pressure fanned out until it wrapped around her temples. Drinking coffee didn’t help. The caffeine left behind jittery nerves and a nauseated stomach. Hoping a shower would refresh her body and awaken her mind, she found it did just the opposite. The quiet lull of the spray made her sleepy, knocking down her defenses until tears began to fall.