Defiled

by Margaret Buffano

  “Can I help you?” the woman asks.

  “I’m looking for Mrs. Victor Russell…Teresa Russell?”

  “You found her.”

  Helen steps forward so each of the two women can get a better look at each other. The dog is still barking loudly.

  “My name is…my name is…” Helen can’t make herself heard over the dog’s barking.

  The woman pushes open the screen door and steps out. “Poncho…Poncho…shut up, boy. It’s all right. …Shut up, Poncho!”

  The dog whines for a moment and then lies down under a tree.

  “I’m sorry; he’s just thinks he’s a big dog with big responsibilities. Like I said, I’m Teresa Russell.”

  Helen starts again, “My name is Helen Haywood. I use to be Helen Russell before I married. I’m Victor’s cousin.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but Victor doesn’t live here anymore.”

  “I know that. I was hoping you could tell me where he is.”

  “Why don’t you ask his mother? I could tell you where she lives.”

  “I’ve already been there. She doesn’t even know about your separation.”

  “I suppose not,” says Teresa. “Poor woman…doesn’t know much about anything lately. I guess I could write down his address for you.”

  “I was hoping you and I could talk,” Helen moves in closer to Teresa.

  “What about?”

  “About Victor?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” says Teresa.

  “Please, I’ve come such a long way to get some answers. It’s so important to me. Please?”

  Teresa senses the urgency in Helen’s voice.

  “Okay, come on in.” She holds the door open for Helen and then looks toward her two sons. “You two boys go outside and play. I’m going to have a talk with this nice lady.”

  Inside, Teresa pours two cups of coffee and places them on the kitchen table. As she sits down, she motions for Helen to do the same. This is all done one-handed and with great finesse while never taking the baby from off her hip.

  Up close, Helen is able to get a better view of Teresa. She is perhaps a couple of years older than she – slender and pale. It is clear to see she is attractive, despite her mussed hair, her old torn housecoat, and an unmade-up face. Understandably, being a single mother to three young children is slowly taking its toll and aging her.

  “So what is it about Victor you want to know? I haven’t seen him in three months, but he phones now and then. He’s working at the cement plant. Most of the time he’s good about sending child support. He’s got himself an apartment on Cloister Avenue. I’ll give you the address.”

  “To be honest,” Helen says, “I have some questions about my Uncle Jerry…Victor’s dad.”

  “What can I tell you? The man’s been dead since I was a little girl.”

  There is a noticeable strain in Teresa’s voice.

  “Anything you can think of,” Helen asks. “Did Victor ever mention what his relationship with his father was like?”

  A look of deep sorrow sweeps across Teresa’s face. She stands up and places the baby down gently into a playpen. She walks over to the sink. She stares out the window – her back to Helen. She knows she can’t look into her eyes and say what needs saying.

  “Victor always feared someday you’d come looking for an answer. He told me what they done to you that day in the woods. He told me how his father molested him and his brother, as well as one or two of the local boys around town.

  “Those memories haunt and torture Victor every day of his life. It tormented his brother, Nicholas. …The boy was always drunk or high on something. He died in a car crash in his senior year. Victor was wild, too, in those days. But when his brother died, he straightened up. …That’s when we started dating.

  “Like I said, those memories are Victor’s cross to bear. I tried to help him. …I tried to understand. Till one day…” Teresa’s voice trails off. There is a knot in her throat, but she continues. “Till one day…I caught him with Travis…our oldest boy. I kicked him out. I told him not to come back or I’d press charges.”

  “Why didn’t you press charges, or at least try to get him some help?” Helen interrupts. “I mean…the man is out there…free to do whatever he wants!”

  “I know you’re not going to understand this,” says Teresa. “But my children must come first. He sends money every week…not much…but lots more than I would be getting if they locked him away.”

  “You’re right,” says Helen, “I don’t understand.”

  Teresa takes up a pen and pad; she begins writing.

  “This is Victor’s address. Be careful. …I’m pretty sure he’s started drinking again.”

  Helen stands to meet Teresa and takes the slip of paper.

  “Thank you,” says Helen.

  As she looks into Teresa’s troubled and sorrowful eyes, she feels pity for the woman. She reaches out and puts her arms around her.

  “Thank you very much,” whispers Helen.

  Teresa begins to cry. “I do love him, you know. …I still do.”

  ***

  Kathleen’s Copper Kettle is everything Helen imagined – simple country décor with a no-frills menu of stick-to-your-ribs breakfasts and hearty down-home lunches and dinners. Helen looks about the restaurant. Kyle stands and waves from a table in the back of the room.

  Kyle holds her chair for her.

  “I hope I haven’t made you wait too long.”

  “If you did, the sight of you made it all worthwhile,” he says, taking his seat across from her.

  “You know, Kyle, there is a fine line between being friendly and flirting. I am married, you know.”

  “Well, let’s just say it’s friendly flirting. …Don’t take it wrong. …I find you attractive, but I know my place. I just thought it would be great if we had lunch and got to know each other. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t.” Helen smiles now that she has lain down the ground rules. “So…I think I’ll try one of those world-famous Kathleen burgers you told me about.”

  Their lunchtime passes with the usual polite chitchat. Helen answers questions about her job, her home, her family, her likes and dislikes – all very sedate – without a mention of her true motive for coming to Tannersville.

  Kyle turns out to be an interesting character. After high school, he signed up with the Army on their college benefits program. In those short four years, he finds himself stationed in the Far East, the Mediterranean, as well as six months’ duty in South America. For a small-town boy, he is well traveled, and it shows. He has an air of sophistication not obvious in any of his fellow townspeople. After the military, he came back home to attend the state university, taking a variety of courses before selecting his major. The degree he earned qualifies him to be a sports coach at any reputable college, but with a sick father at home, he applied for a simple gym teacher/coaching job at the local Tannersville High School.

  “You know the old saying: ‘those who can’t do, teach. And those who can’t teach, teach gym,’” he laughs.

  “And your sick father…?” Helen asks.

  “He died over a year ago. …Left me the house…nice little place…I’m comfortable there.”

  “And, there’s no woman in your life…handsome guy like yourself?” Helen kids.

  “Like I said, it’s a small town. All the good ones are taken. I guess I’m going to have to import one. You wouldn’t consider the position, would you?”

  “I thought all flirting was going to be kept friendly.”

  “Sorry, I guess I forgot myself.”

  Over coffee, Helen questions Kyle about her family members in Tannersville.

  “Earlier, you said you remembered my Uncle Jerry?”

  “Mr. Russell…I remember seeing him at the gym. …Seemed like a nice enough guy. It was all such a long time ago; I hardly remember what the man looked like.”

  “And you knew my cousins, Nicholas and Vic
tor?”

  “I used to see them at school, if that’s what you mean. When we were little, we never spoke at all, but then again, Nicholas and Victor never spoke to anyone. They were always quiet and kept to themselves. But when their father died…about the time we were all becoming teenagers…all hell broke loose. Boy, did they break out of their shells with a vengeance. I guess, without their strong-handed father to keep them in line, they just ran wild.

  “All through high school, they had a bad reputation. If you wanted drugs, and who knows what else…just ask the Russell brothers. They drove their cars like they didn’t care if they lived or died. The sheriff warned your aunt more than once about her boys. But what’s a sweet, country-town woman supposed to do with two wild animals?

  “Finally, one Saturday night your cousin Nicholas took it too far. He was high as a kite…in no shape to walk, let alone drive a car. He ran into a pole on Main Street, just a few blocks from here. Paper said he must have been doing ninety.

  “I guess Nicholas’ death scared Victor straight. He settled down, got a job, and married. I thought they were going to live ‘happily ever after,’ but I hear now they’ve been separated for a long time. I see Victor around town now and then, but we never talk. He’s usually drunk, from what I can tell.”

  Kyle looks at his watch. “Gee, where does the time go? I better get back to the gym before those kids burn it down or kill one another.” He stands and picks up the check. “Say, am I going to see you again before you leave?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Helen says. “I’ve got an appointment this afternoon, and I promised my aunt I would spend the evening with her. I’ll be leaving early in the morning if I’m to get back to the city in time for work on Monday.”

  “Well, it was sure nice meeting you. If you ever come back to town, look me up. You know where to find me.”

  “Same here,” Helen says.

  “Well, arrivederci, Signora Haywood.”

  The sound of the foreign language takes Helen off guard; it is too reminiscent of what she heard from her attacker. It scares her. Then she catches herself. Why is she torturing herself with such thoughts? Many people say things like that everyday just for the fun of it. She remembers Kyle told her he spent time in the Mediterranean. He is just showing off, trying to be cute. She realizes she is being foolish and resolves to ignore it.

  Kyle turns away, takes two steps toward the cash register, and then turns around again.

  “If I keep it friendly, do you think you could handle one more small piece of flirting?”

  “I suppose so,” smiles Helen.

  “If I ever find myself up your way, would it be all right if I call on you?”

  The question takes Helen aback, but something inside her tells her to answer him quickly and truthfully.

  “Of course. In fact…I’d feel disappointed if you didn’t.”

  A boyish smile appears on Kyle’s face.

  ***

  Helen knocks on Victor’s apartment door as hard as she can. The sound of a blaring TV blots out her efforts. She tries to look in the window, but the blinds are closed tightly. She can see a light is on, and there is movement. She decides to try one more time. Clenching her fist, she slams it as hard as she can. Inside, the volume on the TV lowers. She hammers again on the door. It opens. A vague likeness of the young Victor she once knew a long time ago stands in the doorway.

  His hair is mussed. His face is unshaven, his clothes wrinkled and soiled, and his hands dirty and rough. He has a pungent body odor, and his breath has the distinct stench of alcohol.

  “Well, well, well…who says God doesn’t answer prayers? Hey beautiful, come on in. Let’s take a flying shot at a rolling doughnut together.”

  “Victor, it’s me, Helen – your cousin, Helen. Listen to me!”

  He stands there for a moment. Recognition shows in his eyes, and the drunken smile leaves his face.

  “Go away. …Isn’t there enough misery in the world? Don’t you have enough turmoil in your life?”

  He tries to shut the door, but Helen forces herself inside. He staggers about the room, trying not to look at her. An overhead light bulb dangles from the ceiling, the only light in the one-room apartment. There is a small black and white TV resting on a wood box, a torn up old couch with missing legs, newspapers and magazines covering the floor, and scores of empty wine and whiskey bottles strewn about the room.

  “Victor, I need to talk to you.”

  He staggers to the couch.

  “Go away! What did you do…forget to pay your back dues into the club? Ah…yes…the club.”

  “Victor, I need to speak with you. I remember what happened that day at the beach. I remember everything!”

  Victor sits up straight and throws his arms out wide.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I throw myself on the mercy of the court! I plead the fifth! I was young and foolish! Forgive me Father, for I know not what I do.” Victor begins to laugh loudly. “You remember one day in your life…one horrifying moment. Well…Cuz…I remember a thousand days and a thousand nights! I’d be glad to change places with you any day.”

  “Victor, I know what you’ve been through. There’s help for you. It’s not your fault, what your father did to you. Victor, tell me, what did you do with the box of photos you took from the basement last night?”

  Victor just smiles.

  “Victor, I need your help. I don’t think your father is really dead. I think he faked his death for the insurance money. And for some reason, he’s resurfaced, and he’s been attacking me.”

  “Oh, he’s dead all right. Momma showed Nicholas and me the ashes.”

  “They could have been anyone’s ashes,” Helen pleads.

  “No, he’s dead all right. His ghost comes to me at night.”

  “You don’t believe in ghosts…you can’t…it’s not a ghost, Victor. Your father never died.”

  Victor speaks out loud, as if talking to no one in particular, as if Helen isn’t there.

  “His ghost comes to me at night; it tells me what to do. He told me to be with Travis! He comes into my bed at night and…”

  “Stop it…Victor…stop it!”

  It is useless. He slowly falls into a stupor and into unconsciousness. Helen searches the apartment, but there is no sign of the photo box or anything else that might appear of any use to her investigation.

  She finds an old blanket behind the couch, covers Victor with it, and walks out of the apartment.

  ***

  Following morning, Helen is up early. Carrying her packed bags, she goes downstairs. Joyce is in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

  “Good morning,” says Helen, placing her bags down.

  “Good morning,” Joyce turns around from the stove, “What can I get you…coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I need to get going. I’ve a long drive and I have to be in the office today early.”

  “Well, at least say goodbye to your aunt before you go. She’s still in bed. She’s not feeling well this morning, so I was going to serve her breakfast in bed. Go ahead, she’s awake. …It would disappoint her if you didn’t see her before you left.”

  Helen slowly makes her way into Aunt Eleanor’s bedroom. The old woman is sitting up in bed. Her eyes open, and a smile comes on her face when she sees Helen.

  “Helen, sweet girl, you’re not leaving, are you?”

  “I have to, Aunt Eleanor. I have to be back at work this morning.”

  “Business is business, my husband used to say.” Her aunt points to a portrait on the wall. It is a photo of Uncle Jerry. Helen has since forgotten exactly what he looked like, but now, looking at the portrait, even more harsh memories flood her mind. She is beginning to feel queasy.

  “You’ll come back and visit us soon?” the old woman asks.

  “Of course, I will, Aunt Eleanor. …You stay well until I do.”

  Helen bends down and kisses the old woman’s cheek before leaving the bedroom.

 
“You sure I couldn’t make you a thermos of coffee to go, at least?” Joyce asks.

  “No, thank you. You’ve been more than kind, but I must be going.” Helen picks up her bags and heads out the front door. “It was nice meeting you. Thank you again for everything.”

  “Nice meeting you, too,” Joyce calls out from the kitchen. “Don’t be such a stranger. Come back real soon!”

  Helen tosses her bags in the backseat and drives off. She drives past Kathleen’s Copper Kettle, past city hall in the town square, and past the high school gym, all the while hoping she sees Kyle one more time. But it is early, and the streets are empty.

  Once she is on the highway and a dozen miles from Tannersville, she reaches over to her glove compartment and pulls out her mobile phone. She hasn’t checked her phone the entire weekend. The screen shows she has one message.

  “Helen…it’s your mother. …Call me as soon as you get this. And whatever you do, don’t go to Angela’s house! Something bad happened; she’s in the hospital. So don’t go to her house! Call me as soon as you get this. …Love you!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A Serious Crime

  Helen reaches over and takes Angela’s hand; Angela opens her eyes as much as possible. Her face is bruised and swollen and bandaged. Cuts surround her eyes. She lost two teeth in the back of her mouth, and the ones on her right side are loose. Her body is battered harshly, but all bones are intact.

  “What happened?” Helen asks.

  Angela speaks slowly and softly. It is painful to move her mouth, and she cannot open it more than an inch or so.

  “Two nights ago at home, I looked out my window. I saw the figure of a man standing across the street looking at the house. When he saw me at the window, he walked on. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But the following night, I looked out and there he was again, just staring at the house. It was dark; I couldn’t make him out. I felt tempted to call the police. …I should have. …It was foolish not to, but I didn’t. When I looked out the window again, he was gone. Just then, the phone rang. It was the hospital telling me about an emergency. I told them I’d be there as soon as I could.