Clean

by Amy Reed

  CHRISTOPHER

  It’s after community

  meeting and before Group, and everybody’s outside on the patio, but I’m staying inside because my asthma’s been acting up from being around everybody smoking all the time. I’m just waiting around, trying to hit the Ping-Pong ball against the wall, which isn’t really working too well, and guess who just comes right up and starts talking to me? Jason. I don’t think he’s ever actually talked to me. Like we’ve been part of the same conversations before, but we’ve never directly addressed each other. So he just walks right up and says, “Christopher, can I talk to you?” like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Well, not really natural, because he seems pretty nervous if you ask me, but you know what I mean.

  So I’m like, “Yes?” and he starts telling me what happened last night, all whispering like I’m his best friend and he’s telling me his biggest secret, and I’m trying to be a good listener even though the whole time I’m thinking, Is this really happening? and wondering if he’s playing a trick on me. But he keeps talking, and I realize his voice sounds different from normal, like he’s not making jokes or pretending he doesn’t care about anything, like he actually sounds serious, and that’s when I really start listening.

  At first he was talking about how he’s horny. To be honest, that’s why I wasn’t really listening at first, because I was sure it was the beginning of some mean joke where I was the punch line. I’m used to that kind of thing. Even at youth group, where you’d expect everyone to be nice and live as a model of Jesus. Well, they’re not and they don’t, and they still make fun of me. And Jason’s talking about how being in here and not having sex has been torture and he can kind of understand why guys do the kinds of things they do in prison. And I’m like, Hold on right there. I am not interested, thank you very much, even though I don’t say that out loud. I just kind of look at him like he’s crazy and I’m a little scared of him. But he doesn’t even notice. He just keeps talking, and I realize he doesn’t really want to have a conversation. He just wants someone to listen, so I try to get comfortable and just listen.

  He’s saying something about how he was waiting in one of the shower rooms last night and freaking out because it was the least romantic place on earth, and I’m thinking, Why would you want the shower to be romantic? And he keeps talking about how he realized how sober he was, like really, really sober, and how it’s kind of embarrassing that he’s never even been with a girl without having at least a few drinks in him, and he’s probably never been with a sober girl before either, and what if neither of them could remember what to do? And I’m like, “What are you talking about?” and I say it out loud this time, and he’s like, “Are you even listening to me?” like I hurt his feelings, which I can tell you is a strange thing to see from Jason. So I say, “Yes, of course I’m listening.”

  He keeps talking about how he felt like a virgin last night, all insecure and nervous like he was going to puke, and how he knew if he just had a few beers in him he’d feel okay, just a shot or two to take the edge off and he’d feel like a man. He was just standing in there in the shower stall, waiting to have sex with a girl he didn’t even know, and that bothered him for the first time in his life. That’s when I realize what he’s talking about, and I’m like, “Oh, Kelly!” and he’s like, “Is something wrong with you, dude?” and I say, “I’m always like this,” so he keeps talking.

  He thought he was going to have a heart attack when he heard Kelly open the door. Then she said, “Jason?” and he said, “Come and get it” or something equally stupid. He actually admits to sounding like a douche, which I figure means this therapy is working. Kelly wanted to turn off the lights, so it was dark, and Jason accidentally elbowed her in the ribs when she got into the shower stall, which was definitely not romantic, if you ask me. Then they started kissing, and he couldn’t tell if she was kissing back, and he wondered if that’s the way it’s always been, if the girls have only ever been half there and he’s just been too drunk to notice.

  Then he starts getting graphic, talking about his hand going up her shirt, and her arms around his neck and pushing against him, and sliding his hands into the waist of her jeans, and her breath all warm and wet on his neck, and I’m like, Why are you telling me all this? but I don’t actually say it, because I’m kind of in shock. He’s talking about how he should have started feeling the electricity by then, but he was still thinking too much. That’s when he noticed that Kelly’s body was limp, that her arms were just hanging around his neck, that her lips were barely moving against his, just opening and closing like a fish breathing. So he asked her if she was still there, and then it felt like her body was tightening, like she was retreating, and he doesn’t know what he did wrong, so I tell him, “I don’t know either.”

  That’s when he stops looking at me. It’s like he’s trying to get his eyes as far away from me as he can without actually turning around and leaving. He keeps talking, like I’m not even there but he has to confess to something, even if it’s just to the air. He says that’s when he panicked. He thought he had to do something fast or she’d change her mind. He had to act or she’d leave him. So he started unbuttoning her pants. His other hand found the back of her thigh and pulled her leg around him. It wasn’t fun anymore but it felt like something he had to do. I don’t tell him I’m starting to get uncomfortable. I don’t tell him I’m scared of what he might say.

  He says she said “Stop” when he put his hand in her pants. But he didn’t stop. And she said “Stop” again. He says he remembers her straining against him. He remembers his mouth on her neck. He remembers feeling her pulse in his lips. When she said “Stop” the third time, she did it with her fists against his chest, and then he was up against the wall. He could feel the burn of her shove on his skin. He could hear her crying in the darkness. He could hear her trying to catch her breath.

  He remembers feeling angry. He remembers thinking it was not him who made her cry, it was not his fault, how dare she think it was his fault. He said, “Kelly, say something.” He thought, You’re pathetic. How dare you. He said, “You fucking bitch, say something.” His hands found her wrists. Then he shook her. Hard.

  That’s when the door opened. That’s when the lights turned on. He could suddenly see her face in front of his, her pupils adjusting to the sudden light, her eyes big with fear and worry and who knows what else. He let go of her hands then. He stepped back, and she was small and cowering in the corner of the shower stall. He could not get far enough away from her. There were footsteps. There was someone breathing across the tile wall behind them.

  That’s when he heard the AC on night duty say, “Time’s up.” That’s when the shower curtain was pulled open to reveal Lilana saying, “Kelly, are you really as dumb as you look? You know I check on your room every fifteen minutes. Did you want to get caught?”

  Kelly’s eyes were closed and her hands were clenched at her sides. I wonder what she was thinking then. I wonder what she wanted to say.

  Lilana said, “Wait till Shirley hears about this. Boy, you’re in trouble.” She looked right at Jason and said, “Are you proud of yourself?” That’s when he felt the knife slicing through him. Because he was not proud of himself. Not one bit.

  Lilana said, “Kelly, come on.” Kelly’s eyes opened, but she didn’t look at anything. She just said, “Sorry,” and I can almost hear how her voice must have sounded, like something fragile and breaking.

  Lilana said, “You think I can’t tell what you were just about to let this boy do? Do you think I’m stupid?” Kelly said, “Sorry,” again, and Lilana said, “You bet you are,” and they walked out of the shower stall, and they were sent to their rooms to worry until the morning.

  That’s when Jason looks at me and says, “I’m not afraid of getting punished.” He looks me right in the eyes and says, “I’m afraid of what I could have done if Lilana hadn’t stopped us.”

  I don’t know what to say, and I tell him so. All I k
now is that I feel like I’m looking at someone I’ve never met before. “So what happened?” I finally say.

  “That’s the weird part,” he says. “Nothing happened. Shirley called us into her office this morning and said we’re not allowed to be within ten feet of each other. That’s all. Kelly didn’t say anything.” He looks down. “I almost wish she had.”

  We stand there for a while not talking, and it starts feeling pretty awkward. I feel like I should make a joke or something to break the silence, but for once in his life Jason doesn’t look like he’s in a joking mood. I open my mouth to say something stupid, but all of a sudden Jason says real quiet, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear him, “I don’t want to be my father.” I don’t know what to do, so I pat him on the back. Just a couple of pats. Then I take my hand back. I say, “You’re not a monster,” and he looks at me, and I swear he’s almost crying, and he says, “Thank you,” and I can tell he really means it.

  That’s when everybody starts coming inside, and just like that, Jason looks like regular old Jason again. “Time for fucking Group,” he says, all normal, like this conversation never even happened. He starts heading toward the room, and I’m left standing there holding all this new information. Then I see Kelly, and she looks at me for a second, and something’s definitely different about her. Then I can hear Shirley yelling at everybody to “Sit the fuck down now,” and Kelly starts running toward the room, and I follow her because I don’t know what else to do.

  GROUP

  SHIRLEY: Eva, I was hoping we could spend some time in Group today talking about you.

  EVA: How about not.

  SHIRLEY: Just humor me for a few minutes, Eva. Then you can go back to your silent act.

  EVA: Fine. What do you want to know?

  SHIRLEY: Why don’t you tell us a little about your friends, school, life, and home. Anything. You pick.

  EVA: I don’t know. My friends are cool.

  SHIRLEY: How are they cool?

  EVA: They’re not shallow and fake like everybody else at my school.

  CHRISTOPHER: Do they do drugs?

  EVA: A little. Not much, really. Not like me.

  SHIRLEY: What was their reaction to you coming here?

  EVA: They all came over the night before I left. They said they’d support me in any way I needed. Like they wouldn’t get high around me or anything.

  KELLY: Wow, you’re really lucky. My friends just acted like I don’t exist anymore.

  SHIRLEY: What do you think about that, Eva? Do you think you’re lucky?

  EVA: Sure. Whatever.

  SHIRLEY: It sounds to me like your friends really care about you.

  EVA: I guess.

  SHIRLEY: How about school? What’s that like for you?

  EVA: What’s it like for anyone? It sucks.

  SHIRLEY: Can you elaborate?

  EVA: I go to class. Sometimes I do my homework. If I’m lucky, maybe I learn something. Mostly I’m just waiting for it to be over so I can graduate and get out of there.

  SHIRLEY: What are your plans after you graduate?

  EVA: I don’t know.

  SHIRLEY: Just try to imagine it.

  EVA: I guess move to Seattle. Get a job making coffee, maybe. I haven’t really thought that far.

  SHIRLEY: Okay, that’s fine. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about your family?

  EVA: No.

  SHIRLEY: Your mother dying must have been really painful for you.

  EVA: I’m done talking now.

  SHIRLEY: I know this is hard.

  EVA: I said I’m done.

  SHIRLEY: Eva, you’re only going to get as much out of this experience as you put in.

  EVA: I know.

  SHIRLEY: I can’t force you to open up. I’m not going to try to trick you.

  EVA: Okay, then.

  SHIRLEY: Fine.

  EVA: Fine.

  PERSONAL ESSAY

  OLIVIA

  Did I mention that I’m not from around here? I’m from a gated community of mansions in Virginia, a quick commute to DC for my father. I could have gone to any number of high-class rehabs back home, the kind that have a revolving-door policy with the many boarding schools in the area. But my family decided that I should come here, on the other side of the country, far away from anyone who would notice.

  CHRISTOPHER

  There’s this girl, Samantha, who I’m supposed to marry as soon as we’re both eighteen. We’ve known each other since we were babies, her mom is friends with my mom, and she’s homeschooled and just as weird as me, maybe even weirder, so it makes sense that we’d end up together. Here’s the plan that’s been decided for us: The summer after we finish high school, we get married. Then we both go to the state college in Pullman. Then missionary work for a couple years in a poor country. Then we move back and find a house in the same neighborhood we grew up in and start making babies. Pretty exciting, huh?

  JASON

  When I was ten, I beat up this kid Sammy Melber. He was in the hospital for three days. I don’t even remember why I did it. He was just one of those kids, you know? The kind who are asking for it, the guy with the mom who made him lunches every day and wrote a little note on the napkin. He never did anything to me. It just felt like it was my duty to bring him down a little.

  KELLY

  My sisters are sick. Like, really sick. They have Down syndrome, which would be more than enough by itself, but they also have this really bad heart condition that sometimes goes with it. It’d be bad enough to have one sick sister, so imagine what it’s like having two perfect little fragile angels who are constantly needing things and could die any minute. Don’t get me wrong—they don’t whine. No, they’re too perfect for that. We can’t afford vacations but we can still somehow afford to travel across the country every July for the National Down Syndrome Congress, so I can sit around a stuffy conference center while the twins run around being special and reuniting with all their best friends from the year before. There are all these meetings for kids with Down syndrome, meetings for parents of kids with Down syndrome, but there’s nothing for bored sisters of kids with Down syndrome, so I basically spend the whole time sitting by the pool scamming drinks off the loser waiters. Some of them are brave enough to ask me to join them in a supply closet or walk-in fridge. And I always go, because what else am I supposed to do?

  EVA

  The world was perfect and then it was not. Humans are animals and they adapt. The girl was whole and then she was not.

  OLIVIA

  This morning I got a card from my grandmother that said “Good luck at the new school,” so I’ve surmised that I’m supposed to be in an exchange program with an imaginary private school that just happens to share its name and address with an adolescent rehab facility on the outskirts of Seattle.

  CHRISTOPHER

  I’ve known Samantha my whole life, but I don’t know what her middle name is. Or her favorite food, or her favorite book, movie, song, what she thinks about when she’s alone. And the sad thing is that I don’t really care.

  KELLY

  My parents let me stay home from the convention this year. I somehow convinced them I was mature enough. They keep trusting me, even after I get in trouble a million times a million different ways, even after I come home way after curfew every weekend with another lame excuse, even though they must smell the alcohol on me and they must notice my bloodshot eyes night after night after night. They came home after their weekend of healing at the convention to a trashed house with shit stolen and a couple passed out in their bed. And what do they do? Do they yell and scream and throw shit? No. They send the twins to their room, make us all a cup of tea, sit me down, and say, “Honey, what’s going on? Are you okay? What do you need from us?” Seriously? Who fucking does that? I wish they would just scream, even hit me—anything would be better. Because at least I could scream back. But all I can do is say I’m sorry. All I can do is clean up the mess and wait for the next one.

  K
ELLY

  I don’t know why Shirley

  was so easy on us. I don’t know what I expected her to do, but we deserve more of a punishment than just having to stay ten feet away from each other. To be honest, the fact that I don’t have to deal with Jason is a relief more than anything, like I’m getting a break from being me. But why did Shirley have to be so kind? Why didn’t she scream and call me a slut like I deserve? Why didn’t she bring it up in Group and humiliate me in front of everyone? It’s not like her at all.

  Jason won’t even look at me now. It’s like I don’t exist anymore, like I’m nothing to him. But that’s what I get for being a tease, right? That’s what I get for being stupid like I always am, for laughing at all his dumb jokes, for pretending I like him, for kissing him back, for letting him put his hands wherever he wanted, for letting him think I’d do anything he tried. But that’s what I always do. Because doing what guys want is easier than anything else. Letting them have their way is easier than saying no. It’s like I can just flip on a switch and suddenly I’m on autopilot. My body knows all the right moves, but I feel nothing. That way, they get what they want, and I’m numb, and everyone’s happy.

  It has always been so easy. I just get as drunk and as high as possible, close my eyes, and do what I’m supposed to do. The only thing I can feel is the warmth of the alcohol and coke in my blood. I feel the warmth of him wanting me—even though it’s not really me, even though it’s just my body—and that’s usually enough. I don’t need much when I’m drunk and high. That’s the beauty of it. I don’t need love or self-respect. I don’t need you to care about me or how I feel. You could be anyone and it wouldn’t matter. I cannot feel you or what you do to me. That’s how it’s supposed to go. That’s what I’ve gotten used to.