Rage: A Love Story

by Julie Anne Peters

  I can’t see Reeve. Novak passes at the head of her row during “Pomp and Circumstance,” but she seems lost in her own little world. Where’s Reeve?

  The bleachers are packed. I search but don’t see anyone I know, not that I expect to.

  The speeches are endless. Mrs. Goins accepts an award for her years of service and she almost breaks down. At the end, she opens her arms and says, “I’ll miss you most of all.”

  My throat catches. Mom said that to me. Tessa was moving her out of the house to the hospice and Mom was looking at her things, touching them for the last time. Mom clasped my hand and said, “I’ll miss you most of all.” I think it hurt Tessa’s feelings. But Mom meant both of us, Tessa. She did.

  The roster of names goes on. When I get my diploma, Mrs. Goins hugs me and says, “Johanna. I’ll remember your kindness and generosity.”

  “You will?”

  A flashbulb blinds me.

  Then it’s over. We stand as a class and flip our tassels. I look around at all the people I know, and don’t know, and a wave of panic sweeps over me. Real life starts now.

  “We have to get over there.” Robbie points.

  I can’t see through the forest of robes. Robbie begins knocking people aside with his trusty case.

  Reeve has already found her way to the family area, where her mom slumps next to her, looking strung out. Anthony’s there, his slicked-back hair. He blows out a stream of cigarette smoke and says to Robbie, “The retardo graduates.”

  Anthony smiles at me and my skin crawls.

  There’s no one else in their family group. Anthony keeps smiling at me.

  Reeve says to no one in particular, “We have to go turn in our robes.”

  Anthony flicks a long ash onto her cap.

  Robbie yanks Anthony’s wrist up so hard it makes him yelp. “Don’t!” Reeve says. She chops down Robbie’s arm. Robbie brushes the ashes off her cap.

  Anthony stubs out his cigarette in the grass and says to me, “I hope you’re coming to the party.”

  I look at Reeve, but she’s gazing off into the distance.

  “Reevie”—he fingers my tassel—”if she’s too much woman for you, I’d be happy to share.”

  Reeve doesn’t hit him or kick him or spit in his face. She’s fixed on an object, a moving object, coming our way.

  Something tickles my neck and I flinch. Anthony has lifted my hair and is blowing on my neck. Blech. Get away.

  Reeve says, “He’s here.” She ducks her head and shoots past me.

  “Who?”

  People have spread blankets on the grass and kids are running around. The zipper on my robe scritches and I glance down to see Anthony pulling it.

  I lurch away, then charge off in Reeve’s direction, feeling violated. “Reeve!” At the end of the folding chairs, she stops.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She wheezes. “I can’t see him. I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “Who?”

  “My dad.”

  I check over my shoulder. A skinny guy in a skullcap gives Anthony a high-five handshake. Robbie is rubbernecking the crowd and I hold up a hand to signal him.

  Reeve yanks down my sleeve. “I don’t want him to see me. Get me out of here.”

  I take Reeve’s hand and we jog to the main building. At the gym, Reeve falls back against the brick wall, breathing hard. “He’s come for us. He’ll take us. He said he’d come and he did.”

  She doubles over and dry-heaves.

  “Baby.” I rub her back. “No one’s going to take you.”

  “Where’s Robbie?” She straightens fast. “Oh my God. I left Robbie.”

  I snag the back of her robe as she tries to bolt. “Robbie saw us. He’s coming.”

  Reeve raises her eyes to me. “You don’t know what my father will do. What he did to us.”

  I know enough. I wish I didn’t. “It’s over, Reeve,” I tell her. “No one’s going to hurt you again.”

  “You don’t know that.” She pushes me. “You don’t know anything. You can’t just say that and it fixes us.”

  I grab her wrists and draw her to me. I hold her hard. She starts shaking and I tighten my grip. I hold her until the earthquake ends.

  “Where’s Robbie?” she asks again.

  I peer around the corner and Robbie almost decapitates me. He swishes by me in his billowing robe and halts in front of Reeve. They don’t say anything to each other. Robbie flattens his back against the wall beside her, crushing his case to his chest.

  “I killed him,” he says. “I killed them both.”

  Reeve goes, “Sure you did.”

  He could splinter their skulls with that case.

  Reeve says, “It’s so hot.” The noonday sun is directly overhead. “Let’s take these off.” Reeve unzips her robe.

  Robbie unzips his. Mine is halfway unzipped already and I finish the job. We step out of the robes and I begin to gather them. Reeve says, “He knows we have to turn these in at the gym. Just leave them here.” She kicks them into a heap. “Someone will find them.”

  I’ll lose the deposit. But I never really paid it.

  “We can’t go back out there.” Reeve shudders.

  “We won’t,” I say. “We’ll figure out—”

  “The party.” Robbie fits his cap on the end of his case. “That rich bitch’s party.”

  “No,” I say. “We’re not going to Novak’s.”

  Reeve looks at me. “Why not?”

  My eyes fall. “I just don’t want to go.”

  He says, “I do. It’s the best place. We’ll be safe there.”

  Reeve knuckles Robbie on the head. “Smart thinking, brainiac. Sometimes your mental powers scare me.”

  Robbie says, “The retardo graduates.”

  She laughs. I love Robbie for making her laugh.

  But I really don’t want to go to the party.

  Chapter 28

  A hundred cars cram Novak’s circular drive. We have to park in the cul-de-sac.

  Reeve says to Robbie, “Leave your case here.”

  Robbie squashes it to his chest.

  “No one’s going to take it,” I tell him.

  His eyes bounce around the car.

  “I’ll lock the doors. It’ll be safe.”

  Reluctantly, he sets the case on the floor by the backseat.

  The patio is a feeding frenzy. You can’t see the band, but you can hear the reverb. The three of us hang at the fringe for a minute and, surreptitiously, I seek out Novak.

  Robbie splits off and Reeve calls, “Where are you going?”

  “I smell meat.” He sniffs the air, then raises both arms like a zombie.

  Reeve says, “Get me something too.”

  He weaves through a clot of blue-hairs toward the food tents and we lose him. “The whole fucking school’s here,” Reeve mutters.

  She slides her hand into mine and smiles up at me. Her eyes shine. She’s gone heavy on the makeup, green and silver, our school colors. “I always feel safe with you,” she says. “That worries me.”

  “Why?”

  “It just does. You might be the first person I’ve ever trusted.”

  I wrap my arms around her and close my eyes. I will the sick feeling inside to go away.

  “Lesbo!” Attacking from behind, Novak swings me around and smothers me in a hug.

  I peel her off.

  Novak thrusts her fist into the air and whoops, “We did it!” She laughs in my face. Her shoulder glances mine and she says in my ear, “Thanks for last night.”

  Warning flares go up. Where’s Reeve?

  Novak touches my hand. “Meet me at the greenhouse?”

  I step away, and see Reeve glaring at Novak. I reach for her but can’t grasp her hand.

  “I’m hungry,” Reeve announces. “I’m going to find Robbie.”

  Novak’s arm hooks around my neck. “Kiss me.”

  “Stop it,” I say between clenched teeth. “Please,” I plead wi
th her. Please, Novak. I run to catch up to Reeve.

  She’s found Robbie in a food tent, where he’s bent over a steaming vat of Swedish meatballs. He plucks out a meatball with his fingers and goes, “Hot.” He pops it into his mouth. He shakes the steaming gravy from his fingers back into the pot.

  A caterer in a white shirt smirks. Reeve slams the metal lid on Robbie’s fingers. “Get a plate,” she orders. “Get a couple. And forks too.”

  “What’s she on?” Reeve says to me.

  “Who?”

  “The love of your life.”

  I just look at Reeve. “I don’t know. You name it. And she’s not.”

  Reeve goes, “What’s going on between you two?”

  Heat rises up my neck. “Nothing. We’re friends. I told you.”

  Reeve narrows her eyes like she doesn’t believe me. Then they go imploring like she wants to—needs to. Robbie shoves a plate in her face and says, “The meatballs taste like caca.”

  That sort of breaks the tension. Reeve and I inch along the buffet line, filling our plates. We’re so close, I think. She trusts me. Nothing, no one, can be allowed to jeopardize that.

  The first wave of people have finished eating and Reeve leads us to an empty table out on the lawn. People drink or dance or lounge around the pool. Robbie wolfs down his food. We eat in silence, watching all the people. I wonder what Tessa and Martin are doing. Are they here?

  Reeve says, out of the blue, “So, where’s the greenhouse?”

  “What?”

  She balls a fist.

  The greenhouse, relative to where we are …? “Over there somewhere.” I wave my fork.

  Reeve pushes back from the table and stands. “I know we weren’t invited, but you don’t mind if we come along with you.” She yanks Robbie up by his arm.

  “I wasn’t going … I’m not go—”

  She takes off, with Robbie in tow.

  Don’t be here don’t be here please don’t be here—“Shut the door!” a voice calls. I wait until Reeve and Robbie are inside.

  She slouches against the far wall, an open bottle of vodka clutched in her hand. Bottles are littered across the dirt floor. “Welcome to my grad bash.” Novak hoists the bottle to her lips.

  If she drank all of this by herself, I think, she could die of alcohol poisoning. God, Novak.

  “What are these?” Reeve asks. Her fingertips graze a blossom.

  “Orchids,” I tell her. “Novak’s mom raises orchids.”

  “As opposed to children,” Novak says, and laughs hysterically.

  Robbie coughs behind me. I look at him and he plugs his nose. Yeah, it’s pungent in here. Fertilizer and mold and booze. Sweat is filming on my skin.

  Reeve moseys down the aisle, touching each of the orchids. A rectangular table splits the greenhouse in two. There are pots of orchids arranged on the table.

  I cross to the other aisle to get to Novak. “You’ve had enough.” I wrestle the bottle out of her hand. She grabs a beer beside her and I take that too.

  Novak says, “When is it ever enough?”

  I scan for Reeve. She’s picking a tall purple and white orchid. No, don’t pick them!

  “Come on. You need to get up and walk.” I try to pull Novak up, but she’s limp.

  “Joho.” She smiles up at me. “Johanna, Johanna, you are a banana.” She cracks herself up.

  I yank on her arm.

  Novak says, “Can I stay over with you?”

  Across the table, Reeve’s eyes meet mine.

  “I promise to be a goo’ girl this time. You know I’m good.”

  I mental Novak: Pleeease.

  “You slept with her?”

  “No,” I huff. “It wasn’t like that. We talked. Dante dumped her and she needed to talk.”

  “She stayed overnight?” Reeve says.

  Novak goes, “You kissed me first.”

  I whirl on her. “Stop. You promised.”

  Reeve makes a sound in her throat.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I say.

  “You did it, Joho. You finally got me.”

  “Shut up,” I snap at Novak. I catch Reeve’s eye again. “Nothing happened.”

  “You slept in the same bed?”

  Novak goes, “Naked.”

  “Shut. Up. We were not naked.” I need to get to Reeve. “Novak was upset and she didn’t have anywhere to go.” I gauge the distance. I’m closer to the door, so I veer in that direction, stiff-arming Robbie out of my way. “Her mother kicked her out.”

  Reeve moves in the opposite direction, toward Novak.

  “Lesbo’s damn good.” Novak clunks her head against the glass of the greenhouse. “But you know that, huh, Reeve?”

  Reeve stops. She kicks Novak in the stomach. Novak grunts and doubles over.

  “Reeve!” I yelp.

  Reeve kicks her again in the side.

  “Stop it!”

  Then in the face. “Reeve!” I charge and push her away.

  Novak groans. She crumples over and curls into a ball. I’m grasping Reeve’s arm, but she kicks Novak hard again.

  “Goddammit.” I spin Reeve around. She fists my face. I feel my neck snap and something come loose. She slams me again.

  The Earth trembles and Robbie’s there, clenching Reeve’s wrist, then both of them, forcing her back.

  Reeve lets out this keening wail and wrenches out of Robbie’s grasp. I step over Novak to get to her, to Reeve.

  Reeve starts trembling uncontrollably and I say, “It’s okay.” I draw her into me.

  Behind me, Novak writhes on the floor, moaning. She could die. She could pass out and die.

  “I’m here, baby.” Blood drips off my arm, onto the floor. “I only love you.” My blood, spurting from my nose, smearing in her hair. I hold her tighter, squashing my nose into her head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” I sniff and blood runs down the back of my throat. “She doesn’t mean anything to me.” My eyes shift down to Novak. “She’s nothing.”

  Novak hauls herself up to her hands and knees. Her hair covers her face and she pukes.

  Robbie goes, “Dude.” He staggers backward. I steer Reeve ahead of me, out the door. I hear Novak hurl again.

  Reeve’s focused on me, her eyes wild.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. There’s blood all over her hair and in my mouth. “It’ll be fine.” I press my wrist to my nose to stanch the flow and a sharp object scratches my face. The gold watch. “Let’s go,” I say. I take Reeve’s hand and tug her toward the car.

  “Where’s Robbie?” She stops.

  Where’d he go?

  “We have to find him,” Reeve says.

  “I will,” I say.

  She blocks me. “You can’t go.” Her eyes skim down my front, my face. She swallows hard. “I’ll go,” she says. “We’ll meet you at the car.”

  With the bottom of my tee, I wipe off Reeve’s arm where blood dripped. It soaked into her shirt, but only the side. I want to kiss her so bad.

  She touches the watch.

  “It’s yours,” I say. What’s mine is yours. Just love me. I unlatch the wristband, or try to. It’s stuck. Reeve backs away before I can get it off.

  The dark is bitter, thick and viscous. The dark fills every crevice and crack in my nails as I scrape bottom. I’m alone in this bottle of ink, this bottomless well of sticky pitch. I open my mouth to cry out, “Where are you, Reeve?”

  She answers, “I’m here.”

  Her voice is so faint.

  I claw through the murky tar as it hardens.

  “I’m here.” Her voice sounds clearer.

  “Here.”

  Closer.

  I reach her. We clasp hands. She’s clean and washed, the water fall cleansing her skin pure and white. I swim up next to her and feel the release, the warm, sweet rush of water. The darkness falls away, the ink rinses clear and free. A diluted pool of grayish scum swirls at my feet and down the drain.

  She plucks a rose petal fro
m my hair.

  The petal liquefies in her hand and drips blood off her fingers.

  She cries.

  • • •

  Chapter 29

  My nose is broken. Overnight the bridge swelled to a bulb and the bruise radiated out and under my eyes. I stare at myself in the medicine cabinet mirror for a long time.

  I deserve this. For what I did. I’m so … so weak.

  Reeve, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  I don’t know how long I stood looking at the busted back window of my car. Apparently, Robbie got his case. He and Reeve disappeared and I drove home feeling lost.

  Then I remembered—Novak. I left her dying there. She couldn’t die, could she?

  Even though she promised—she promised not to tell—she didn’t know what she was saying. She was hammered.

  Betrayal all around. From all of us.

  I think about driving to Reeve’s house and reassuring her. I’ll always be here for you, baby. I’ll never leave. I’ll explain how I really do understand her need to test me, to see how far I’ll go with her.

  All the way, Reeve. All the way.

  I go back to my bed. But for the life of me, I can’t conjure up Joyland.

  By afternoon, the bruising has spread down my whole left cheek. It symbolizes something—trust? Intimacy? You can trust me to take what you dole out, Reeve. I gaze into the mirror and think, This is a phase of our love. We’re taking it to the next level.

  I’ll give Reeve time to regroup, or whatever, then I’ll go to her. I need to focus on the future, next year. If Reeve wants to go to Florida State, I’ll find a way to make that happen. I’ll go with her. Robbie can tag along and I’ll watch out for him. Why hadn’t Reeve and I talked about the future? Because she doesn’t feel like she has one and my future is her, the only thing I want in life.

  A knock sounds on the door. “Johanna?” Tessa calls.

  I don’t want to see her.

  She pounds harder. “I know you’re there.”

  I shouldn’t have parked in the driveway.

  Tessa’s dressed in flimsy drawstrings and a tank. I have this flashback to her last night home before college, when we stayed up all night to talk. All those nights. She’s not talking now; she’s slack-jawed. “What in heaven’s name …?”