“I’m sure Dad is faithful to you too, Mom, just like you’ve been to him.” I leave her with that, knowing she’s picked up on the double-edged sword.
Mom made Dad quit football a few years after I was born even though he was working toward the NFL. Thanks to me, he never made it. He was gone all of the time and wasn’t helping out around the house or with me, and of course, Mom was jealous of his budding career since she was already forced to give hers up. Being overachievers in sports is what they had in common. Had. She was supposed to enter the 1994 Olympics for women’s figure skating, but I was kind enough to ruin both of their dreams when they forgot to use a condom one spring night. I was an oops, and they blamed me for their failure to achieve their dreams, but not until later in life when the vanity of a cute baby wore off.
She laughed at my comment, repeating the word “faithful” over and over as if it were a word she’d never heard. “Daphne, don’t be naive. I walked in on your dad screwing a twenty-five-year-old in our bed last week,” she says, placing emphasis on the ‘our bed’ part. My stomach turns inside out and I want to put my hands over my ears and tell her to stop talking. Dad’s sleeping with someone five years older than I am. What the hell is wrong with him? What the hell is wrong with her? What kind of screwed up world am I living in? I want to scream and tell Mom to shut up just so she realizes what these confessions do to me—what they’ve done to me my entire life. Her confessions stripped me of my innocence and childhood just so she could have a companion—I mean, Jesus, I don’t want to hear any more details. I just want to live in a world where happiness isn’t hard to come by, but Mom makes it clear that a world like that doesn’t exist. “My breasts don’t stick up like that anymore and God knows you can’t see any muscle definition on my stomach. Thanks to you. Do you know what a baby does to your body? You should know the truth. It’ll happen to you some day, God willing.” She looks down, lifting her shirt to show me stretch marks and loose skin. “Who can blame him?” I’m staring through her, blurring out her words, and regretting I ever came home for Spring Break.
“Why are you two even still together?” I finally ask. “How can the two of you be so dumb?”
She looks shocked to hear me say this, like she’s never considered how stupid she’s been—they’ve both been. “It’s because of you,” she says, blaming me as she always has. I’ve been their scapegoat for everything in life since the day I was born. I’m the reason they can’t pay bills, the reason they get fired from their jobs, the reason they fight, the reason they hurt each other and cheat on each other. I’m still the reason they’re miserable, even though I haven’t lived here in the past three years other than a school vacation week. I’ve even gone to summer school just to avoid being around them.
“No, it’s not. It’s because you can’t live without him. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.”
“Daphne!” she squawks.
“No, Mom. We both know it’s true, and I’m not going to sit here and continue being blamed for your unhappiness. The same goes for the figure skating career I refused. You can’t blame me for your life’s downfalls.” She looks baffled, almost shocked that I said all of that to her. Her left eye twitches as it does when she gets angry and she stares me down for a second before she reaches up and slaps me across the face. I flinch, trying my hardest to look unscathed. Regardless of the searing burn, I want to tell her the surface pain doesn’t compare to the internal damage she and Dad have caused me.
“A mistake doesn’t describe what you are sometimes, Daphne.” Now, swallowing the hurt from the words I’ve heard dozens of times before, I turn back to the computer, needing to forget the look on her face, the truth in her eyes and coldness of her voice. I finish fixing the computer and leave the room without another word. There are no words suitable for what I should say to her.
Halfway down the hall, I hear her yell, “Be home by midnight.” The only reason she wants me home by midnight is so the creaking, old door won’t wake them up. It certainly isn’t because they’d be worried about me.
Page after page in my journal fills up with pain stricken words and tears while I watch the clock slowly turn from five to eight. I’ve learned over the years that there aren’t enough words in the dictionary to dull down what I feel inside, but I still try. It helps to get the feelings down on paper, and it’s all I have.
It’s eight on the dot and I can hear Kia’s little blue Neon huffing obnoxious fumes from the driveway. I quietly slip out of the house in order to avoid more questions, and jump into the passenger seat. Greeted by blasting angry girl rock, Kia loops her arm around my neck for a hug. “Chica!” she shrieks. “I missed your crazy butt.”
“Missed you too,” I say, rolling the window down to air out some of the sound and pungent fumes of her perfume. “What kind of party is this we’re going to tonight?”
“So, as you know, the number of kegs determines a party’s greatness in this town, and according to what I’ve heard,” Kia drawls, “there are supposed to be four tonight!” She whoops and punches the ceiling of her car with excitement. “It’s going to be a sick night, Daphne Belle.”
“Sounds like a good time,” I say, meaning, sounds like your kind of a good time. I’m not a huge party person, but I’m home in the boondocks and there is nothing else to do out here.
We pull into the dirt-covered driveway of a quaint farmhouse, parking behind a long row of cars. “The party is in the barn out back,” Kia says, pulling down her visor to check her face in the mirror. She puckers her lips and turns toward me. “Do I look fuckable?”
“The red lipstick does the trick,” I tell her.
“You’re so lame. Lighten up a bit, and why don’t you go and get yourself laid tonight for a change. Pop that cherry, girl!” She gives me a quick smile and blows me a kiss.
Yeah. I’m on it…
As we walk in with our arms linked, I look around, seeing at least fifty people here already, and I can’t spot an empty SOLO cup fast enough. This party will be way more endurable when I’ve had a couple beers. “Hey girl!” Kia yells to someone I don’t know. It hasn’t been five minutes, and she’s already left me.
Beer. Beer. Beer, where are you? I find a keg, grab a cup and fill it to the rim before dropping myself down on a bail of hay, settling in to watch the crowd of growing drunkenness sway to the blast of country music. I chug the first beer quickly, feeling my nerves ease a bit, so the thought of sitting here alone isn’t bugging me nearly as much now. I don’t even see where Kia went.
“Why is a pretty little thing like you sitting here all by herself?” I look up, finding two dark eyes staring down at me. His smile is kind and sort of welcoming, but starting a conversation by calling me a “pretty little thing” loses him points right off the bat. I’m not that kind of girl.
“The name’s Trent. And you?” His eyes undress me, and it’s a bit unnerving for my virginal self. Most of the people here went to school in Richlands, but I went to school in Maple Hill, the next town over. Regardless, I’ve heard his name a few times, and I know we have been at common parties over the past few years, so I’ve noticed him before. With the flock of girls always fawning over him, it’s hard to miss his presence.
Me, though, I’ve been unnoticed by most.
“Daphne Belle,” I said, reaching my hand out to his. He takes my hand and looks me up and down once again, even spins me around this time. “Old name for a young girl, huh? It doesn’t suit you.”
“Interesting,” I say. “I never considered my name to be old.” For some reason, he looks intrigued by my response. I don’t know why, but maybe it’s because I haven’t giggled at his every word like the other girls do. “I noticed you ain’t smiling over here. I bet you have a pretty smile, so I wanted to come over to see whether or not I was right.”
I offer him a cautious grin, still leery of his purpose. “I’ve had a long day, I guess,” I say as an excuse for probably looking miserable over here. The truth is, the
re hasn’t been much to smile about since I arrived home.
“Well, now that you’re smiling, I can tell you for sure that I want you to come over to my place tomorrow night. We can order out and watch a movie. What do you say?” I’ve never been asked out so quickly before. This guy is oozing confidence, which surprises me since I’m not the girl who every guy chases. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You look like you need some fun. Say okay.”
I don’t know much about this guy, but maybe I should be flattered. I am a little flattered, I guess. “Okay, yeah,” I say, still feeling slightly unsure. A proud look, like he accomplished the impossible, flashes across his face, telling me maybe I’m not as unnoticeable as I thought. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Well, awesome. What’s your number? I’ll text you my address.” I give him my number and my phone quickly buzzes with his information. “This is great. Well, I’ll see you around the party.” He taps his cup against mine and leaves me with a wink. Okay, this should be interesting. At least Kia would be proud…if she were anywhere to be found right now.
I remain seated—people-watching…Kia watching—for the next hour, sipping my warm beer slowly, studying Trent’s behavior and the way he dances with other girls. Is he trying to prove something?
And there’s Kia. Awesome. She’s completely plastered, and she’s my ride. Thankfully, I’ve only had two beers, since it looks like I’m officially the DD. Waiting patiently as Kia has three more drinks, I finally make my way over and grab her by the back of her shirt. “Time to go, missy.” I have to drag her somewhat forcefully to the car, and just as forcefully make her get into the passenger seat. She’s completely trashed and falls asleep before I even make it to the driver’s side.
What’s more annoying is that I can’t bring her back to my house, so I’ll have to drive her home and walk the half-mile back to mine. Class act.
Mom and Dad don’t hear me sneak in, but I definitely heard them first thing in the morning crowing like annoying roosters. It’s the same thing every morning: “Pick your damn clothes up off the floor!”
“I work, you clean. Those are the rules, shithead!”
“More like…you work, I clean, and you get to fuck anything with tits.”
I close my eyes, again doing my best to block them out. Is this what I have to look forward to someday? Is this what relationships are supposed to be like?
After spending the day camping out in my room, avoiding mom and her sob stories, and dad and his questions of where I was last night as well as where I’m going tonight, I was able to leave the house unnoticed when heading out to Trent’s. They were too busy arguing over the last slice of pizza. No big surprise there.
Trent only lives about five minutes from my house, so finding his place isn’t too difficult. He lives in a nicer section of town, more middle class than lower class, which is obvious by the long, winding driveway that stops at a brick edifice. It’s an old-looking house, but inviting at the same time. He must live with his parents.
I swallow my nerves and knock on the door, waiting a minute for him to answer, but he never comes to the door. I knock again and after a few seconds I hear a muffled, “Come in.” He can’t come to greet me? I open the unlocked door and walk into a smoky pit that at one time must have been a cozy family kitchen, but now the walls are yellow, dishes are piled in the sink, there’s laundry on the floor, crunched beer cans in a pile next to the trash, and newspaper scattered along the floor, each piece with a yellow circular stain. Is that pee? Holy crap, what’s that? There’s a gray boxer barking and galloping toward me, ready to pounce. I try not to panic because I suddenly feel like an intruder and this dog would agree. He jumps on me, almost pushing me down, but I manage to stay upright and back myself up until I hit a wall. Dogs don’t like me, ugh. I nervously give him a quick scratch behind the ear and he calms down, giving me a couple of kisses before turning around and disappearing into another room.
Now I just need my heart to stop racing so I can hear over my own breaths again. Where the heck is this guy? I stop and listen for a minute, debating whether to call out to him, but I think I hear laughter coming from an adjacent room off to the right. With hesitation I follow the sound, unsure of what I’m going to find and maybe a little nervous about what I might see. When the sound stops, I continue following a cloud of smoke into a small corner room.
Two sofas face each other; both are lined with people hovering over a coffee table in the center. One guy is dicing up pills with a razor blade, one is taking a hit from a bong, and another is taking a hit from a bowl. The other three guys are dazed, with their heads dropped backward along the rim of the couch. I don’t know whether to break the silence or run before anyone spots me.
“Who the fuck is that?” one of them asks while blowing circles of smoke from his mouth.
“Well, if it isn’t the pretty girl with the old name,” Trent says, lifting his head up from the couch. He’s one of the three who looked unconscious.
“Uh, is this a bad time?” I ask, trying to take in everything going on right now.
He laughs like I just said something hysterical. “Aw come on, can’t you take a little joke?” He stands up, brushes some debris off of his lap and trudges toward me with an arm outstretched in front of him. I hear the other guys chuckling and whispering under their breath, and I feel so uncomfortable being here right now. I thought we’d be alone.
He escorts me back into the kitchen and continues pushing forward until we end up in what must have been a family room at some point. “Just wait right here, let me freshen up for a sec.”
“Wait,” I think I want to leave.
“Just hold on a second. Just one second. Oneeee second. Please. Just have a seat. I’ll be right back.” He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Really, just one second.” His voice trails off as he jogs into another room, leaving me to look around and take in my surroundings. Taking a seat on the couch, I look from wall to wall, noticing the discolored paint splotches where it looks like portraits used to hang. The walls are battleship gray, lined with white trim and finished with sheer curtains. The plants on the windowsill are dead, likely from all of the smoke wafting through this poor little house. The once white carpets are covered in a thick dust, making the fibers feel tougher than they should, and I just noticed I’m sitting on a sheet covered in dog hair…ew.
“Sorry about all that,” he says, plopping down on the couch beside me. “The guys come over every Saturday night for poker. They more or less just use my house as a place to hang out, so I hope you don’t mind that they’re here. I still want to watch a movie and order dinner and stuff.” I might not be hungry anymore.
“Uh, I don’t know. I mean—” This feels so awkward.
“Hope you like Chinese.” He pulls his cell out of his back pocket and types something in.
“Actually, I—”
“I got this, babe, don’t worry,” he says, holding the phone up to his ear. He orders us a bunch of plates, none of which I’d ever eat. Okay. He hangs up the phone and drops it down onto the couch in between us. “Should be here in thirty minutes. It’ll give us some time to get to know each other a little more.”
I take a breath, trying to relax. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, I already know you’re beautiful, so tell me what you like to do?” This guy is laying it on thick, but I can’t seem to stop the hint of a smile creeping across my lips.
“I skate,” I tell him. “I go every day. It’s my passion.” I turn toward him, sinking into the couch a little more. “So, what about you?”
“Wait, wait. So you skate? Like skateboard? I didn’t peg you as a skater chick, but I dig it,” he says, lighting a cigarette.
“Well, no. Actually, I figure skate.”
He blows the match out with laughter. “You figure skate? There’s somewhere to do that shit here in North Carolina?”
I nod, feeling foolish. “Yeah, I know it’s not the norm down here.”
; “Nah, I think it’s pretty chill. I like it.” He leans back into the couch and places his arm around my neck. “I like you, Daphne Belle. Maybe you could teach me a thing or two. I’ve never been skating before.”
And just like that, I light up a little. No one has ever asked me to take them skating. “I’d love that,” I say, finally feeling a little more than okay about this encounter.
“Great. It’s a date.”
CHAPTER FIVE
CURRENT DAY
KEMPER
THE SUN RISES IN THE EAST, which is the exact direction the truck is facing. I should have turned the damn truck around last night. The North Carolina sun with the reds and oranges sort of looks the way it did in Afghanistan when the sun was coming up. When I was over there, I’d get this knot in my stomach, knowing I survived another night but that I still had a fourteen-hour day in front of me. Life didn’t scare me until Rex bit it. I kind of thought the two of us were invincible until that day. After that, it was like I was constantly walking on eggshells, or pressure-plates, I should say. Each morning I was genuinely surprised that I had made it through another day, until the day they told us we were going home. Even then, I thought the world might be cruel enough to make it so I wouldn’t come home alive.
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