Chapter 13- Alex
Behind them was the forest full of black
(Canto XIII, line 124)
My father glared at me and chugged half a beer in one gulp. “I don’t want you over there anymore.”
“Why? He’s my friend.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“We’ve been friends since first grade. Why can’t you leave it alone?” Tears pooled in my eyes and overflowed, blurring my vision.
“Find a new friend.” His eyes flickered toward the television, and I knew I’d escaped this particular argument unscathed. Castigating an errant daughter was way less appealing than a televised sporting event.
“Fine. I’ll go over to Chelsea’s.” I started for the staircase.
“Not tonight,” he replied without looking at me. My mother shook her head a little, and I knew not to push him any further. It was her job to provide him with beer until he passed out while I hid in my room and waited for his dark mood to pass. As I threw my book bag on my bed, I remembered Sean’s warning and quickly locked my door. One could never be too careful.
I changed into a pair of sweats and ripped the scrunchie from my hair. As I reached for a hairbrush, I accidently knocked over a glass picture frame Claire had given me for my tenth birthday. I bent down to pick up shards of glass and pricked my finger. A bead of bright red blood pooled up, then spilled over and dropped on the image of me and Claire. It looked like an inkblot. I reached down to wipe it off, but instead, the blood smeared across my sister’s thirteen-year-old face, obscuring it in a red haze.
Claire and I were close when we were younger, and I often wondered what had happened to tear us apart. I believed it was jealousy and I wished I could explain to her that her feelings were misplaced, that she should save her anger for someone worth envying.
Up until Claire turned thirteen, she was Daddy’s favorite, and I tried to do everything I could to be like her. I asked Mom to braid my hair so the two plaits fell in twin rivers down my back, but my hair never looked like Claire’s. Her locks were thick enough to stay corralled in their restraints, while my fine strands were forever escaping and frizzing around my face. I tried to sing like her, and dance like her, and play ball like her, but I think she got tired of me copying her, because when I was seven and she was ten, she stopped doing all the things she used to do.
That’s when Daddy started taking her fishing on the weekends. He said I was too young to go, and I cried and begged him to take me. I said I’d be good and catch twice as many fish as Claire, but he said I’d have to wait until I was older. My skin burned with jealousy when Claire packed an overnight bag. Her dark braids bounced with excitement as she left with Daddy on a Friday night to go to the cabin at the Lake of the Ozarks. It hurt me that they got to have special Father-Daughter time while I got stuck at home with Mommy.
I couldn’t hate Claire though. She was so good and beautiful like an angel, and I was always getting muddy and making a mess. I vowed to be extra good and extra clean so one day soon Daddy would take me fishing.
“Did you catch a lot of fish?” I asked Claire when she came home Sunday afternoon. “Did you bring any home?”
She shrugged a response and went to her room to unpack her pink suitcase. Daddy said she was tired and grouchy and that the fish weren’t biting much. He said he’d take her back to the cabin in a week or two so they could try again.
Two weeks later, Claire said she didn’t want to go fishing. She said the motion of the boat made her sick. It must have been true, because she’d been throwing up ever since they got back from the lake. She said the cabin smelled funny. She said she didn’t like fish. Daddy promised her a special treat and away they went.
When they came back from their trip, Claire had a black eye from being accidently hit by a softball. She must have had fun, though, because she never complained about going to the lake again.
I never got to go fishing with Daddy. When Claire was twelve and I was nine, she went to Aunt Carrie’s house for a week. When she came home, I could tell she was in trouble for something because her eyes were red from crying and my aunt looked really angry. There was a lot of screaming and crying, and when Aunt Carrie left, Daddy slapped Claire and told her not to tell lies. After that, my parents sold the cabin and my father never took her fishing again. I hated Claire for ruining my chance for a special Father-Daughter fishing trip. When my father began initiating special time with me, I stopped hating Claire and began hating him instead.
***
I dreamed of the lake, but in the dream, I wasn’t me. Claire and Daddy were on the boat, and I was a fish swimming below them. I was a smart fish and knew I should avoid the hook, but the bright pink bait looked tempting, so I kept swimming close.
“Come on little fishy,” Daddy said.
“Leave her alone.” My sister’s voice sounded angry and scared, and I leapt above the water to see her. She was lying down in the boat and the top of her bikini swim suit was gone.
“Come play with me, little fishy,” Daddy taunted.
“Stop it,” Claire screamed. “Leave her alone. She’s a baby.”
“What will you do if I leave her alone, Claire?” Daddy’s voice sounded far away and cold, so I dove back up out of the water to hear him better. I splashed back into the water too quickly to see what was happening in the boat.
“Anything you want if you promise not to touch her.” Claire’s breathing grew labored and she whimpered in pain. Daddy’s breathing sounded heavy and he moaned. I dove back up to see if they were hurt, but what I saw didn’t make sense. When my fish-body splashed back into the water, I felt myself changing. My fins receded and my gills closed up. I swallowed gallons of water and couldn’t breathe.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath. Reaching for my cell phone, I called the only person in the world who gave me comfort, who could chase away the nightmares, who could help me breathe again.
“Do you want to come over,” Sean mumbled sleepily.
“I don’t want to open my door,” I whispered into the phone, “Can you tell me a story? Nothing with water, though.”
He cleared his throat and began speaking, and I was reminded once again why I loved him so much. When we were kids, Sean always made up stories with the two of us as starring characters. He was Shark Boy. I was Lava Girl. Together, we were invincible. Or, at least less broken.
Chapter 14- Sean
Of naked souls beheld I many herds
Who all were weeping very miserably
(Canto XIV, lines 19 & 20)
My whole life changed in a few short hours. Cole called me after school and asked if I’d like to join his quad. I forced Alex to call my mom to ask her for the internet password to unlock the blocked sites. Alex knew better than to question me. Since it was Alex asking for it, my mom gave her the password without hesitation. Just like that, I was back on Tales of Andrometis—back on top of the world. OwlBane was a total waste of time and everyone who played it were lame-ass losers. I called work and told them I was sick. Then, I sent my former OB quad-mates a scathing email telling them where they could stick their ‘probation,’ and posted an obscenity riddled rant on the Owl Forum for good measure. Later when I received a message from the OB administrator banning me from the site for six months, I didn’t even care.
Logging on to Tales of Andrometis felt bittersweet. I sorely missed the original Stryder, but my new avatar, Stryder2, would make up for everything. I was older and wiser now. I knew how to play the game, how to avoid the pitfalls that killed my fallen friend.
There was so much to do, I scarcely had time for Alex. Fortunately, she had craploads of homework and spent most of the afternoon with her face stuck in a book. Around five o’clock, Alex started getting nervous about her dad finding her at my house and she insisted on going home. I came to a good stopping point in the game, then helped her drag the piles of heavy books back to her house.
“Why do you need all these books just to write one paper?”
My words were almost carried away by the bitter, harsh winds. The air smelled like snow and I fervently prayed we’d get at least six inches of the white stuff overnight. I could use a snow day to get a break from school.
“I need at least five sources,” she said, puffing behind me.
“So all these books are about whatchmacallit?” I couldn’t for the life of me remember the name of the two-thousand year old book she had to read.
“Yeah. You know, the books analyze The Divine Comedy. Well, one only talks about the Inferno, but you know what I mean.”
No. I didn’t.
“Who the fuck would write a book about another book? I guess someone who didn’t have any good ideas of their own,” I laughed, having answered my own question. Alex fumbled with the key to her front door and let us both inside. “Do you want me to take these upstairs?”
She hesitated for a moment before nodding. I’d been in her room a few times, of course, but not since we’d started dating. I knew she didn’t worry about me doing anything with her in her own home—her bedroom was the site of many painful memories and I would never touch her in that bed.
I stacked her books on the desk underneath her window and watched while she rooted around inside her book bag. “Shit. I think I left my psychology book at your house,” she said.
“Can I bring it later or do you need it right now?”
“No. You can’t bring it over later. Then my dad will know I was over at your house.” Her voice took on a hysterical edge and I found myself becoming angry.
“Look, Alex, this is stupid. Why do you put yourself through all this? Why can’t you just pack your stuff right now and move in with me? You’re eighteen for Christ’s sake!” I didn’t mean to yell, but exhaustion and frustration combined in a heady mixture of loss of control.
“You want me to move right next door? Then what? When my dad’s banging on your door cussing out your mom day and night, do you really think she’s gonna want me to stay there?”
“If we just told her…”
Alex interrupted harshly, “No! It’s disgusting and humiliating and we’re not telling her anything!”
“I think she kind of knows,” I admitted, looking at the ground, then back up at her.
“What? What does she know?” Her voice trembled with rage and fear. Red splotches decorated her pale cheeks and she visibly swayed on her feet in shock.
“When I was ten, I told her your dad hurt you…”
“What else? Is that all? What exactly did you say?”
“How the hell could I possibly remember my exact words? That was, like, eight years ago. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like she believed me. She just thought I was a stupid kid making up stories. Calm down.” I reached out to steady her, but she whirled away from me furiously.
“Get out of here,” she hissed.
“Oh, come on. You’re seriously gonna punish me for something I told my mom when we were in elementary school? Do you think she even remembers?” I dodged a flying pillow and ducked out into the hallway.
“Just leave before my dad catches you here. Go!” she shouted.
“Calm down, Alex. You’re not going to stay mad, are you?” I whined. I didn’t think she’d stay upset with me, but with women, you never knew. The idea of being apart from her was too horrible to contemplate. I couldn’t imagine living one day without her loving me—not just the sex, but just knowing she was mine. I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to the way things were.
“Please, Alex. I won’t leave ‘till you tell me you love me,” I threatened.
“Fine. Whatever. I love you,” she snapped.
“Then give me a kiss goodnight,” I demanded.
She bent over double in response to my thoughtless words—the words her father said every night before he abused her fragile body. Never had I hated myself as much as I did at that moment. Her face blanched from the sun-deprived pale of winter to the color of the snowflakes which had begun to fall just outside her window.
“I’m sorry. Oh my God. I just…I just didn’t realize…I didn’t think,” I stammered. My tears fell when hers did. My gut ached with repressed sobs—sobs which would later rack my body until my ribs felt bruised.
“It’s not your fault.” Her words were clipped and breathy.
“Come back to my house. You can’t be alone.”
“He’ll be here soon. I’m fine.”
“Jesus, Alex. How long are you going to wait to leave?”
“Not much longer. Just until graduation.”
“Please.” I approached her and touched her arm gently. She stepped back.
“No. Sean you have to go.”
“Fine. I’ll call you. We’ll talk all night,” I promised. A quick hug later, and she was practically shoving me out the front door. Alone in my room, I didn’t have the strength for Stryder2 or the game. It had been over forty-eight hours since I’d slept, and although I felt mentally exhausted as a result of Alex’s distress, my body wouldn’t let me rest. I fidgeted and shook until I could hardly stand it.
Tears coursed down my face as the memory of what I’d said to her crashed over me. Give me a kiss goodnight. Such innocent words twisted by a sick, cruel bastard. Those words broke both our hearts—mine and hers. Pacing and sobbing, I threw open my bedroom window and tried to compose myself. Snowflakes glistened on my truck windshield, but the imminent threat of precipitation seemed to have passed.
“Mom, I’m going for a drive,” I shouted as I headed out the front door.
Leaving Saint Edmunds County behind me, I hit the freeway and headed east over the bridge. Nirvana’s Lithium burst from the speakers and I laughed out loud at the lyrics—lyrics I could relate to. Just like my idol, Kurt Cobain, I was misunderstood. He turned to drugs. I turned to fantasy. The parallels between us were uncanny.
Later that evening, Alex called. We talked until midnight. She still couldn’t get to sleep, so I told her a story over the phone.
“I’m so sorry for keeping you up, Sean.” Her sleepy voice was endearing.
I didn’t need to sleep. I’d once read somewhere that Michelangelo only slept four hours a night. Leonardo Di Vinci hardly slept at all. The truly creative people didn’t need sleep. Neither did geniuses. Sleep was for the ordinary, so I stayed awake, feeling invincible, feeling like I’d been on a rollercoaster all night long.
***
For my thirteenth birthday, my mom said I could have a party, but I knew no one would come, so I asked her if she could just drop Alex and me at Six Flags for the day. In possession of our tickets, forty dollars food money, and the most beautiful girl in the world, I strode through the gates of the theme park feeling like a man of the world.
I presented our tickets for admission and shepherded Alex through the turnstile while entertaining fantasies of holding her hand on the rollercoaster. Two rides into our adventure, we ran into Darren and his entourage.
“Well, I guess they’ll let anyone in here these days. Don’t they have a no geeks allowed rule?” He looked like a large, red frog as he chuckled. His sunburned skin contrasted sharply with his pale blue protruding eyes and his tongue darted in and out of his mouth as he licked his wind-burned lips. I wanted to punch him.
Tyler Barrister followed the asshole’s lead and cut in with a comment of his own. “Are you even tall enough to ride the rides?”
Someone shoved me from the side and I fell to the ground, skinning one pale knobby knee on the blacktop. At thirteen, I knew I shouldn’t cry, and it wasn’t the pain that caused me to tear up. It was the hopelessness of my situation and the knowledge these jerks would once again ruin my happiness. Even forty-five minutes from Saint Edmunds, I could find no peace.
My previous sense of euphoria, my hope that the anonymity of our setting would increase my chances of making it to first base with Alex, evaporated like a spilled soda in the hot sun. Darren and Tyler helped my wallet make its escape from my back pocket, and I knelt ineffectively on the ground while m
y enemies pilfered my precious forty dollars.
“Thanks for the dough, bro,” Darren laughed. He tossed the wallet in my face, gestured at his buddies to follow him, and waltzed away toward the next ride, or victim.
“Sorry, Alex,” I choked out.
“Why? They should be sorry and one day they will be. Let’s go.” She reached down and took my hand. I had a brief flashback of my rollercoaster-hand-holding fantasy, and though things hadn’t happened as I’d planned, I grasped her hand, only surrendering it when she tugged gently.
“Do you want to stay?” I asked. “We won’t be able to get a drink or eat or…”
“I have ten bucks. We don’t need to eat here. It’s a waste of money anyway.”
“The day is ruined.” I kicked at an empty cup on the ground and watched it skitter under a bench.
“No it isn’t. Come on. This is the first time I’ve been here in forever.” She reached out and tugged my hand. I followed her from one ride to the next, trying as hard as I could to enjoy the day, but I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder in dread of the next bully sighting.
When we caught sight of Darren and his comrades later, they were huddled around an ice-cream stand enjoying frozen treats compliments of my stolen birthday money. Two security guards stood close-by, so Darren’s behavior was confined to mild taunting, but the light had gone out of the day once again.
Then something happened that redeemed everything. Noticing my dark expression and my descending depression, Alex rose up on her tip-toes and kissed me on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Sean.”
Her shyness kicked in after that and she could hardly look at me the rest of the afternoon and evening, but the day was complete.
The Fifth Circle Page 10
