She laughed. “Exactly. I’ll picture them ripping the tails off my newts. They’re my science fair project.”
Mr. Wilkins’ door was open when I got to the Guidance office right after final bell. He waved me in with an overly friendly smile.
“Come in, Veronica. I’ve been expecting you,” he said.
“Mr. Quesnel made me come. It wasn’t my idea.”
“I know, but I don’t want you to feel like this is a punishment. I want to help you.” He gestured towards a tweed-covered chair near his desk. “Please sit down. Let’s talk.”
I perched myself on the edge of the chair, determined not to get comfortable. I hoped this wouldn’t take long.
“So Veronica, I understand there was an incident this morning with another student. Why don’t you tell me what happened.” Mr. Wilkins sat behind his desk fiddling with a chain made of paper clips. A file sat open before him. My file.
“The whole thing has gotten blown way out of proportion,” I said. “Deborah was hassling me on the way to school today and started ripping apart my books. So I punched her. She had it coming.”
“You mean she deserved it? How so?” Mr. Wilkins asked.
More explanations. God this shit would never end. “She’s part of a group that has it in for me for some reason. They keep bugging me, insulting me, that sort of thing. I had enough.”
“Why are they bothering you?”
“They keep talking about my sister, running her down and telling lies. She can’t defend herself now so I have to.”
He glanced down at the file. I knew he was reading up on Katherine’s death. “I’m sure it’s all right there in black and white,” I continued.
”You think it’s your right to punish them for what they said about your sister?”
“If I don’t take care of things they don’t get done.”
This comment piqued his interest. “Do you take care of a lot of things? Where are your parents in all of this?”
I was here about the fight and nothing else. My family situation didn’t have anything to do with it. “It’s not about my family. It’s about those girls. Don’t turn this all around on me. I’m the victim here, not Deborah Ramsay.”
Mr. Wilkins was like a little terrier that wouldn’t let go. “So you don’t want to talk about your family? I think your sister’s death has made you very angry and Deborah just got in the way.”
I stood up to leave. He held out his hand and gestured for me to stop. “Wait, please, let’s continue. I didn’t mean to upset you. Sit down, just for a few more minutes.”
I slumped back down in the chair and looked away. Why was I getting blamed for someone else’s bad behaviour? Mr. Wilkins was quiet for a few moments, then continued. “Has anyone helped you deal with your sister’s death? Are you seeing someone to work through your feelings?”
“That’s a joke, right? I don’t want to talk to anyone about Katherine. I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine to me. You’re hurting. A lot.”
“Can I go now?”
“Just one last thing for today.” He slid open a drawer and pulled out a spiral-bound notebook. “Take this. If you’re not going to talk about your feelings, at least write about them. Get things out in the open before they eat you alive.”
“What’s with you teachers wanting me to write about everything? First English class and now this?” I pushed the book away. “I’m not writing about Katherine’s death for some homework assignment.”
He pushed the book back at me. “Not homework. Just sort things out on the page for your eyes only. Nobody will ever see it. Try it, it works.”
“If I take the book, can I leave?” I grumbled.
He nodded. “For today. I want you to come back in a week, though. It’s either that or a three-day suspension for violence.”
“Fine.” I grabbed the book and stuffed it into my duffel bag. “But there’s nothing to write about. No thinking, no feeling. That’s my motto.”
“Does it work?” he asked, standing up and showing me to the door.
“It has so far.” I turned my back to him and crossed the threshold. I was so out of there.
Chapter Thirteen
Mom was working the three to eleven shift again, so the house was empty when I got there. I dropped my duffel bag in the foyer and went straight to the kitchen. The light was flashing on the answering machine. I pressed play and listened to the message. Sure enough, it was Q-Tip calling to tell Mom about the fight. I erased the message.
As I turned to leave the room, the phone rang so I let the machine get it. A minute later the red light was flashing again.
“Hey Ronnie. It’s Danielle. Call me as soon as you get this message, okay? I’m worried, you totally avoided me all day.”
I debated calling her back but decided against it. I guess I should have felt a little bit guilty for the cold shoulder but I’d scream if I was forced to explain myself to one more person.
I had left the part bottle of rye in my bedroom. I grabbed it and started taking swigs without even bothering with a glass, swallowing gulp after gulp as quickly as I could.
It was all fine that Mr. Wilkins wanted me to embrace my feelings but writing down my thoughts wasn’t going to make things better. Keeping a journal wasn’t going to bring Katherine back and it wasn’t going to tell me why she killed herself.
I was feeling nice and loose, that mellow swimming through Jell-O feeling again. I took a few more swigs to finish off the bottle, then tossed the empty into the garbage.
It had always bothered me that Katherine hadn’t left a suicide note. And without one I’d never know what had pushed her to the limit. All I had was a comment from her ex-boyfriend that she had been acting weird and wouldn’t let him touch her. Not a lot to go on.
There had to be a reason why she did it. People don’t just kill themselves out of the blue. I wobbled my way to Katherine’s room and started rummaging through her things one more time. I didn’t even care about making a mess, I just wanted answers. But there was nothing. Either she hadn’t left a clue behind or Mom had taken it.
I closed the door to Katherine’s room, leaving a swath of papers, photos and yearbooks strewn across the floor, and went to my Mom’s bedroom. If there was an answer, I bet it would be here instead. My mother had a tall six-drawer dresser and two nightstands. I had plenty of time to go through them all before she got home.
I flipped through an old Bible in the first nightstand. Nothing. A few pocketbook novels, lip balm, body lotion and an issue of Good Housekeeping magazine but nothing about Katherine. Nothing in the first five dresser drawers either, just clothing, underwear and bathing suits.
I pulled open the final drawer and found a metal box with the key still in the lock. This was my last chance for answers. My hands were shaking as I twisted open the lock and started rummaging through the papers. Mom’s will was there, some old mortgage information about the house and the divorce papers from Dad. Beneath it all was a thick, manila envelope addressed to both my parents.
I opened the envelope, slid out the contents and began reading, my hands still trembling. Certain words jumped off the page. Self-inflicted. Massive blood loss. Fetus.
I dropped the papers in shock, my heart pounding, my blood roaring in my ears. My parents had known all this time but they had never told me.
The room was spinning but not from the alcohol. I was stone cold sober now. I gathered up the autopsy report and slid it back into the envelope, clutching it to my chest. I couldn’t put it back in the drawer. I couldn’t let go of the answer.
Katherine was in the kitchen making a cup of tea. The kettle was boiling, steam whistling as she switched off the burner and poured the water into a mug advertising our local radio station.
“Want some?” she asked. I nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. She handed me the cup she had poured for herself and got another mug out of the cupboard. “Well, aren’t you going to say som
ething?”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Of course you do, you’re just afraid of what my answer might be.”
“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”
Katherine sat down across from me, her fingers wrapped around the warmth of her mug. She gave me a grim look. “Why don’t you ask Mom and Dad?”
“Because I’m asking you.”
“You’re not going to get any answers from me. You have to face your fears on your own.”
We were going around in circles and it was making me agitated. I got up and paced the kitchen, straightened the dish towel hanging on the stove, wiped water drops off the counter. “I’m not afraid of anything,” I said.
“Then why won’t you admit how you really feel about me?”
Her question confused me. “What do you mean by that? You know I love you.”
“You have an odd way of showing it. Getting drunk. Beating people up. You’re self destructing.”
“You’re one to talk.” I crossed my arms.
“Why won’t you tell me what you really feel?”
My throat closed, choking me. Tears burned my eyes but refused to fall. “I hate you,” I finally whispered. “I hate you for dying.”
The bitterness of those words burned in my throat like bile. The admission sat in the hollow of my chest where I kept the grief, the space growing to make room for the guilt. It hurt to breathe.
I hated Katherine. For the way she did it. For not telling me what was going on in her life. How could I have missed something that big? I tried to think back, to remember her moods but all I could recall was that she spent a lot of time in her room with the music cranked. I thought she had been studying, being the honour roll student as usual. But it had been so much more and I was blind to it all. I had been so wrapped up in my own stupid little life I couldn’t see my sister was in pain. Fuck, I was such a loser.
Morning came. I hadn’t slept well but I hadn’t reached for more rye, even though I wanted to. I understood now why Mom drank so much: to shut off her brain, to not feel anymore.
I didn’t want to go to school but I didn’t want to stay home either. I wasn’t ready to face my parents. To ask for an explanation.
I spent the day wandering the town, ending up at Harrison Park. I got an ice cream cone and sat on the swings, fed the ducks my leftover crumbs and walked along the exercise trail. Everyone was either working or at school, giving me time to think, time to sort out my feelings. Time to make a decision.
I headed home once I knew Mom would be at work, and went to Katherine’s room. The phone rang but I ignored it. It rang again and again and I still ignored it. I grabbed Katherine’s pom poms and stretched out on her bed.
The sound of the doorbell ringing repeatedly woke me up. I jerked awake, wiping my hair out of my eyes as I opened the door. Danielle and Griffin stood outside with anxious looks on their faces. Danielle pushed her way past me and came inside.
“God, Ronnie, don’t you answer your phone anymore? We called and called you all day and you never picked up!”
Griffin hung back, only entering the house once I nodded that it was okay to come in. “We were really worried about you,” he added, taking me in his arms.
“You look like total shit. What the hell is going on?” Danielle asked.
“I didn’t go to school, that’s all. No big deal.”
“Well get ready. We’re taking you out to dinner. Griffin’s driving. I’ll even let you sit up front with him, that’s how nice I am.”
“Look guys, I really appreciate this but I’m not much in the mood for socializing right now.”
“You’re never in the mood for socializing,” Danielle said. “How is today any different?”
I didn’t have an answer for that so I went and touched up my makeup.
After a greasy, yet delicious, meal at McDonald’s, Griffin dropped Danielle off at her house, leaving just the two of us in the car. “Want to go for a drive?”
“Okay,” I agreed. We drove down to Kelso Beach to catch the last glow of sunset. Griffin leaned across the front seat of the car and stroked my face. The warmth of his fingers lingered on my skin, awakening the familiar ache. I wanted more of him. “I have a blanket in the back,” he whispered. “Why don’t we grab it and get out of here?”
The sand was cold when we sat down with our backs against a willow tree, its branches swaying in the wind. Griffin wrapped the blanket around us to shield us from the evening breeze and I snuggled in close to him, breathing in the subtle scent of cologne and boy. He kissed me and that familiar hunger awakened. I wanted more.
His head dipped to kiss my breast and I gasped, his lips leaving a trail of heat right through my t-shirt. The hardness pressing against my leg showed he wanted me but I wanted him even more. I wanted this happiness. This was the one spark of joy in my entire life and I needed it.
Chapter Fourteen
“I know Katherine was pregnant,” I said to my parents. I had called my father after school the next day and insisted he pick Mom up after work and come over.
The manila envelope was in my hand. Mom lit a cigarette and Dad sat anxiously beside her on the edge of the couch. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.
My mother jumped off the couch and tried to wrench the papers from my hand but I pushed her away. My father just looked at the living room floor. “We were trying to protect you,” he finally said. “We thought it would be better this way.”
“How could lying to me possibly be better?”
“We didn’t lie, Ronnie,” Mom said. “We just kept some things private.”
“Private. Like I didn’t deserve to know what happened to my own sister!” I stared at the two of them in disbelief.
“We did it out of respect for Katherine. We didn’t want people gossiping about her,” Dad explained.
“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me not knowing why she died?”
“It’s been hard for us too, Ronnie,” Dad said, his face gray with strain. He slumped down on the couch and began flicking his lighter open and closed. “We found out about the baby after she died. Reading that report was like her dying all over again. We thought we were doing the right thing, protecting you, by not telling you the details.”
“I didn’t need protection. I needed the truth.”
I picked up a photo of the four of us that had been taken the year before, back when we were a family, and hurled it across the room. It smashed against a wall, shards of glass scattering across the hardwood floor. “I will never forgive you,” I screamed.
Katherine was waiting for me at the swings. “What happened now?” she asked.
I sat down on the swing next to her and started pumping, my thoughts whirling as I rose higher and higher. “Mom and Dad knew about your pregnancy and they never told me. How could they keep that a secret? Assholes.”
“I didn’t tell you either. What does that make me?”
“That’s different. You must have been scared shitless.”
“They were scared too.”
“Stop taking their side. Not telling me was wrong.” I jumped off the swing and stared at her full on. “Why didn’t you let us help you?”
Katherine shook her head sadly and reached out to hug me. I shrugged off the embrace and started to walk away. When I finally looked back, Katherine was gone.
Steam rose from the bath water. I stripped off my clothing and climbed into the tub, water rising to my chest as I stretched out. I was scared but I had to do this.
My fingers trailed along the edges of the tub feeling the slick smoothness of the enamel. My hand stopped at the spot where she had placed the blade. Was she calm when she sliced along her skin, sure of her decision, or was she terrified and filled with doubt? I would never know. The tears came but I didn’t try to stop them anymore. I wept until the bathwater was cold.
Mr. Tanner was waiting for me at my locker with a sheet o
f paper in his hand.
“Veronica,” he called. “Good news! The school board has announced the winners of the contest and your poem won third place.”
“Yippee.” I tried to slink past him to get to my locker. No luck.
“Why aren’t you more excited?” Mr. Tanner asked. “You placed third out of over two hundred entries. That’s wonderful.”
“It wasn’t my contest to win, Mr. Tanner. You were the one all excited about it, not me.”
He didn’t seem to have heard me because he continued to rave about the win. “The award ceremony takes place in three weeks. You’re allowed to bring family so be sure to tell your parents about it.”
I shook my head. “My parents are busy. They won’t be able to come.”
“There must be someone who can attend with you. It would be a shame for your family to miss your moment of glory.” He glanced at his watch and started to turn away but not before thrusting the announcement into my hand. A happy family moment. Yeah right.
Danielle ran up to me not five minutes after Mr. Tanner had given me the news. “I just heard!” she said. “Aren’t you thrilled?”
“Oh yeah, I’m positively overwhelmed by it all. I just got back from the nurse’s office. She had to dose me with smelling salts because I passed out from all the excitement.”
Danielle smacked me playfully on the shoulder. “You’re so funny. I’d totally pass out for real if I won something like that. You’re almost famous.”
“Almost famous?” I squinted at her. “What do you mean by that?”
“I heard Mr. Tanner at the office talking to the school secretary about it. I bet there’ll be an announcement this morning.”
Terrific. All I needed was more negative attention. This was just great.
Apparently my fuck off and die vibe was on the fritz. Not only had the win indeed been a topic on the morning announcements but Mr. Wilkins, my guidance counselor, had also snagged me in the hallway between classes and insisted I come in today after school for another discussion session.
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