by Jason Conley
Carissa held back a few tears and breathed deep to try to soften the lump in her throat. Maybe she could handle this. Maybe there was a way. Maybe she could… “Hey, Baby,” Randy said as he passed through the hall into the kitchen. The dam broke. The tears came. Then her legs ran. “What’s wrong Carissa?” Randy was able to bellow before the front door slammed shut.
Carissa hurdled the front steps. Her shoes slapped at the pavement as the cadence of her strides lengthened, faster. She passed two stopped cars and was almost hit by a left hand turning third, its horn blast fading as quick as it began. She pushed through yards and jumped over fences. She found herself running through trees, feeling the branches digging into her flesh. Then an opening. The clearing appeared before her. Her sanctuary? There is nothing for me.
Carissa dropped to her knees. What the fuck can I do? I can’t afford a baby. I can’t afford an abortion. Is it going to be retarded? I am going to be alone. I can’t stay here everyone will know. What am I going to do? I am only seventeen. I am having my father’s baby. I am having my father’s baby. I am having my father’s baby. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” she screamed until she was out of breathe.
Carissa rolled herself onto her back. In the midmorning sun, she cried, not for herself, but for David and her first child.
Carissa stayed in the same spot for most of the day. She watched the clouds twist and turn, merge and dissipate, and picked shapes out of the cast shadows on the billowing borders. The cartoonish forms reminded her of when she was young, innocent. A stick and a rock were enough to save a unicorn from the evil wizard. The sky danced with an ever-changing backdrop of sun and shadow playing perfect into any story she had created. Carissa used to play games with any kid on the block that was willing to play, but most importantly, follow her fluid rules. “Eleven,” she whispered aloud.
Carissa watched as two clouds merged. The white fluff swelled then settled to a familiar figure, a person. As the form moved across the sky, the person appeared to grow arms then a face shaped. The features were distinct, almost real. The armed stretched out and the mouth curled into a smile. Seven years ago, the image would have been magic, but at seventeen and pregnant, just a random shape, in a random cloud. To Carissa, there was nothing.
Carissa stood outside of David’s window for only a moment before Mrs. Shelton walked through the door. Mrs. Shelton motioned to the bed and left the room. David took his shirt off then threw it into a hamper near the door. David’s scars permeated through the edges of crusted wounds. The scars were lifted and purple surrounded by small darkened dots in nearly perfect lines. He stood looking over his shoulders at the healing wounds. He then grabbed a book from his desk and sat on the end of his bed. Carissa turned and walked away. She could not do what she had too, not now. She was already numb. If she had to end things with David, she wanted to feel it.
Carissa stepped from the grass and onto the sidewalk. She stopped for a moment, looked back, and could only see the light from his window. She breathed deep, then the light went out. She walked the road back to what was going to be another chapter of her distraught youth.
19
With the help of her bourbon-soaked mettle, Casey, near hyperventilating, shoved clothes into a second half-full green suitcase. Casey was careful to leave the blue striped stick on the nightstand in-between her unfinished drink and the alarm clock. She had found the test during her early morning still-drunk-starting-hangover stumble to the bathroom. Her ass shaped to the cold seat. With her elbows on her knees, she rolled her head back letting out a slight moan of pleasure as the first trickle’s tone played through her legs. It was the kind of pleasure one can get only after the walls of their bladder have stretched slightly from the build-up of urinary pressure and then waiting until the absolute last minute before allowing the pelvic muscle to relax so a free flow can begin. She buried her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. She held herself there for a moment, maybe for self-reflection or just to keep from throwing up. She opened her eyes, peeked between her fingers, and saw the stick. She did not even have to look to know what it was for. Within five minutes, an overstuffed black suitcase was propped against the wall next to the front door.
Lea sat cross-legged in the floor staring at the black bag, crying. She did not want to leave. “That little fucking cunt,” Lea heard the slurred voice emanating from the back bedroom. Lea was not quite sure what was happening but she was sure Carissa was not coming with her. She imagined being in a dark room, by herself, with only stuffed animals to protect her. Stuffed animals were not real. Lea knew the only reason she was not scared of the dark was because Carissa slept in the bed across the room. Lea could not help the sound but tried to muffle her soft whimpers.
Casey heaved to get the bag onto its rollers and moving across the carpet. “Lea quit crying and get in the car,” Casey said hitting the end table by the couch. “And grab that fucking suit case.”
Lea’s whimper turned a wale as she followed Casey to the car. The suitcase clacked as it dropped down the first step. Lea was leaving her sister. The wheels jolted on the second step. Lea loved her Daddy. The bag bounced on the third. Lea already wants to go home. The rollers rhythm sang across the concrete. No. More. Now.
“Here,” Casey said reaching for the bag. Lea climbed into the back seat. The car shook. Lea did not care why. She felt a drip run from her nose. She wiped it away as she slid into the center seat. She pulled the seatbelt across her chest and clicked it into place. She was leaving.
“Stop that bawlin’,” Casey said as she climbed into the driver’s seat. She started the engine and reached for the gearshift but hesitated. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”
Casey pushed through the front door, her bedroom door, and grabbed the test-stick from the nightstand. She looked at it one last time before leaving her room for Carissa’s. She opened the door and looked at the bed Randy and Carissa had “shared”. Seduced your own father and make him knock you up. Disgusting little whore. Casey looked up at the fluorescent stars in their dingy daytime state. She looked to Carissa’s desk. She stared at the cluttered mess for only a moment before she picked up the picture of Jen. She could see Jen every time she looked at Carissa and now she could see Carissa in Jen. She placed the picture back on the desk, laying the test down in front of it. “Here’s what your little bitch has become,” she said walking back to the door. Casey stopped. She stepped back to the desk, grabbed the picture, and gave the glass one firm tap on the table’s corner. The pane cracked but held in place. Casey set the frame back to its display so Jen could look down on what Carissa had become.
The creak of the first step forced Carissa back into somewhat of a present existence. It occurred to her that she was going to have to tell her father. Carissa had something growing inside and that would soon turn to a bump, then belly, then a hump, and in the end it would be a shitting, puking, possibly even a morbidly fucked up human being. In simpler terms, he was going to know no matter if she told him or not.
Daddy, I’m pregnant. It’s yours. Daddy, you’re going to be a daddy. Daddy, you fucked me and now I’m pregnant. She would have to work on her approach.
Carissa touched the cold doorknob, her hand shook as she gave it a quick turn. “Hey, baby,” Randy said. Randy was sitting on the couch. Carissa, not sure why, was surprised to see him sitting. He was leaned against the back of the couch, his arm draped over the armrest. The remote rested in between his middle finger and thumb, teetered against his hand as if it could fall at any second.
“Hi, daddy,” Carissa said.
Randy looked up at Carissa revealing his red eyes, face puffy, and hair a mess. “I need you come sit down,” his voice somber with a slight hint of defeat and shame. Carissa’s first thoughts went to the test. She had thrown the second test and could not remember if she had picked it up. Did he find it? I think I picked it up. Oh, fuck!
Carissa prayed, hoped, incanted, and just generally begged whatever creator, cosmos, or karma that controlled
everything with every step that he had not found the test. Now, Carissa wanted nothing more than to be the person to have to tell her father she was with…child. She sat down beside him and it was only then that she noticed the photo album that sat beside him. The album was opened to a picture of Carissa and Jen. They were both smiling the same smile. Jen gripped a rope tight with her legs slid through a weather beaten tire. In Jen’s lap, a three year old Carissa grabbed the inside of the tire so she could still hang on while she lay back onto Jen. Jen’s hair flowed behind them. The sun, orange and low, peaked through the tree tops. Carissa could not tell if it was sunrise or sunset but she could see they were happy.
Randy reached over and turned the page. “Look,” he said tilting the album, smiling. The girl in the photo looked just like Carissa only the picture was much older than her. The shape of the white haired girl’s mouth, the gaze in her eye, the shape of the ears--it was Carissa but not Carissa. “She was beautiful like you.”
Carissa smiled.
“Casey’s gone,” Randy said. “She took Lea.” Carissa closed her eyes half relieved and half sad. “She was gone when I got here.”
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” Carissa said but she really was not.
“It’s not your fault, Baby,” Randy said. “We’ve been having problems for a while. Hell, you already knew that. She is not the same woman anymore. I’m not the same man. I only stayed for you and Lea. I thought you needed a mother no matter how fucked up that mother was, and Lea needs a father.”
Carissa and Randy sat silent for a long time. Carissa knew that even though Casey hated her, she loved Lea. Casey had no reason to resent Lea, not yet. In the recent, Carissa had come to realize exactly what her father was and wanted Lea to be safe. If that safety only came with a drunk like Casey, it was better than with the man Randy had become. Lea did not need or deserve the burden that was Carissa’s nights. Carissa was actually happy for Lea even though she would miss her sister. She would still know that Lea would not have to see what she had seen a few nights before or experience was Carissa had to endure. It was Carissa’s punishment for existence. It was Carissa’s burden to bear. It was Carissa’s normal, not Lea’s future.
Carissa looked back at the album. The pictures were gone. Only the cover with its faded white pleating and gold lettered “Family Memories” glowered back. Fucking family memories. She used her hand to cover the words. She did not want to see them. They were not her memories. They were from some other little girl in some other time in some other world. That little girl had a mother, a grandmother, and love. That little girl would have turned seventeen with the biggest worry being whether she was going to pass math, not wondering if her and her father’s rape child was going to be retarded.
Randy pulled the book from under Carissa’s hand, setting it aside. He turned Carissa. He could see she was completely consumed. He scooted closer to her. He put an arm around her pulling her in close. She accepted his consoling embrace. She breathed in his scent which did calm her some but she did not know why. Then he softened his squeeze. He kissed her cheek then began to stroke her shoulder. He ran his fingertips down her arm then caressed Carissa’s thigh. “I’m really tired,” she said bolting to her feet. “I’m going to bed. Good night, daddy.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and walked out of the room. She hurried down the hall hoping he would not follow. At least when he came in her room, he was sneaking-up on her. She felt that it wasn’t her choice, but on the couch -- that would have changed her.
20
Carissa opened her bedroom door slow assuming that it would be different then every other time she had passed the threshold. However, the room did not look any different from when she had left it earlier that morning, save a few less toys and the sheets stripped from Lea’s bed. All-in-all, the bedroom was almost exactly the same as she had left it that morning.
After a few moments of looking at the empty bed, it occurred to Carissa that she would probably not see Lea very often, if ever. Carissa highly doubted that Casey would ever let her visit Lea even if Casey was there. In that moment, staring at the empty bed across the room, it occurred to Carissa that for every gain there would be loss. For every loss, there would be pain. The world had its share of fucked up shit that happened to people but Carissa realized that she was one the few the world just completely and utterly distained. There was no fair share for her. No balance. Carissa closed her eyes for a moment and said goodbye to her sister.
Carissa pulled her shirt over her head then let it fall to the floor. She grabbed another, slightly larger but more comfortable to sleep in. She pulled it over her body. The extra X in size let the hem fall almost to her knees. She unbuttoned her pants, walked out of them leaving a crumpled mess of denim behind.
Carissa tried to suppress the thought of having a child just long enough to fall asleep. She could not. She lay down and pulled her shirt above her stomach. There was no pudge. She touched her belly where she thought the baby was growing. She understood why she was worried. She knew that she was going to be seen as a tramp or an in-breeder, but what she could not figure out was why she had a total love for a life that she had never seen. Even though the situation was vile, she smiled for the repulsive product. She could have only been feeling this way because of television and books telling her she was supposed to love her child but it was love no matter how much or how little outside provocation induced the sensation.
Carissa lay in her bed for a while before she was able to think about anything else. David was far from the forefront but he was still there pecking at her. She had already decided that he was not going to accept that she was pregnant. David would not want to be with the girl who fucked her father and was now having the hideous spawn. She felt David’s rejection strong even though he did not know, let alone had a chance to react to her new revelation. Carissa needed to stop. She needed to stop. She needed to stop.
It was then that Carissa felt a pull. She let her feet touch the floor; they walked to her desk. She opened her notebook, connected the pen to the paper, a complete circuit. She swirled her first few letters but no ink would flow. Then she noticed it was not a pen at all. The baby blue positive indication looked at her, daring her to let out the slightest whimper.
Carissa laid the stick back on the desk. She lay back down in her bed and wondered, only momentarily, how it had gotten in her room in the first place. The answer was clear. Casey wanted Carissa to know. Casey wanted the upper hand. Casey won.
The night led Carissa into a relentless ring of frustration, perspiration, and realization. The thought of Casey knowing was enough to let Carissa fall asleep, only to wake moments later, heart racing. The sweat ran cold down her forehead and past her ears. The dreams stayed thick and stale in her mind. Tonight, escape was futile.
21
As the night gave way to morning, Carissa wrapped herself in a blanket before stepping onto the front porch to watch the sun rise. The morning was a little too crisp but almost perfect. Just above the horizon, a small group of sporadic clouds with the orange light of the morning sun bouncing through allowed a red haze to shine beyond the still visible moon. In that moment, Carissa wished she could paint. She closed her eyes to save the serene illustration or perhaps to hide herself from the beauty of the early morning. The dawn did not need to see her to be beautiful but she needed to see the dawn before it could be admired. It did not seem fair to her. She walked back inside to shield herself from the beauty she did not deserve.
The door clicked softly behind her. She had not noticed when she walked out, but Randy was sleeping on the couch, the photo album draped over his chest. He missed Jen and Carissa knew he loved her mother, was still in love with her mother. She still wondered why she had to pay for her mother’s death.
Carissa watched her father sleeping. She admired him, in some strange way, for all he had done for Lea and her. He put up with Casey’s shit longer than anyone else would have. She loved her father for enduring Casey. She loved him for al
ways being there when she needed him. She needed him now, but he was the reason…the reason…the reason she was so fucked! Carissa knew that he probably did not want to know and if he did he would probably…well, she honestly did not know what he would do. With everything that was going on, Carissa decided to keep the secret, at least for now, maybe forever, but “for now” was the plan, for now.
Carissa stood above her father. She looked at his day old shave, the wrinkled button-up shirt, and the slacks that bunched almost to his knees. Randy’s arm was draped over the arm of the couch, hand resting on the end table, his feet up on the opposite armrest. He was not comfortable. She picked the photo album off his chest, closed it, and laid it on the coffee table. She kissed him on the cheek and went to get dressed.
The sizzle of bacon coerced Randy from a dead but unsatisfying sleep. Randy’s shoulder clicked as he lifted it from the table. Once dropped, the dead weight gave way and a painful tingling sensation exploded into his finger tips. He rubbed his arm as he rose to sit. He looked around the room, maybe for luggage or any indication that yesterday may have been a dream, but saw nothing that said his situation had changed. He had lost his second little girl. Lea had only been gone for a day but Randy already felt the emptiness. She was gone and he probably would not get to see her until the courts said he could. Even then, Casey still might not let him.
Randy stood unsteady, almost falling. He scratched is head as he stumbled into the kitchen. He rounded the corner and stopped. He saw her cooking, Jen. It had all been a dream. Randy’s angel was standing before him. There had been no funeral…it was all a dream. “Jen,” Randy said, more as a question.
