by Leanne Davis
My stomach cramps and tears fill my eyes before falling down my cheeks. I know Mom’s story. She was gang–raped when she was twenty. Dad met her through my grandfather, the man who raised Mom and abused her, even offering her to his friends for sex. The same man was a general in the Army when he recruited my dad to find Mom and rescue her after she was kidnapped. And Dad did. In every way, he rescued her: physically, emotionally, and mentally. They share a tragic history.
I didn’t know that until I was eighteen. They told me a watered–down version of how they first met. I knew there was another daughter because Natalie showed up at our house when I was fifteen. I thought Natalie was just a one–night stand that left Mom pregnant until I learned the true story.
I never meant to suggest that I believed my pathetic life was the root of my behavior, but not for the reason Mom had. I heard some of it. It came between my parents more than once, and it also manages to keep them together.
Dad stares at Mom for a moment longer before he walks out the back door and disappears into the night.
Mom’s shoulders slump before she turns towards me. Tears rim her eyelids as well.
“I don’t mean to do that, Mom. I know I’m not like you. I know the difference.”
She studies me. “Were you ever raped? Is there something I don’t know? Something you never told me?”
My tears dry up from embarrassment. “No. No, Mom. I was never raped.”
“Anything else then? Is there anything I don’t know? That would explain…” Her head shakes as tears slip off her cheeks. I know what she is about to say: that would explain what is wrong with me.
“What’s wrong with me?” I finish her question, my voice suddenly stronger than it has been until now. My mom flinches.
“Yeah, Missy, that’s what I’m asking you.”
“No. There’s nothing to explain.”
“Why did you lose the last job?”
“I—”
“No. I mean really. Why did you just skip out as if it doesn’t matter?”
“I just didn’t think it out beforehand.” I’ve said that often enough before. I know it’s only a stupid excuse. And that’s all it is, an excuse.
She shakes her head, and something in my stomach clenches. She always takes my side. She’s always there for me. Always defending me. What will I do if my mom turns on me too? I know my sisters are totally exasperated with me and have been for a long time. And now my dad is too. But Mom? Her love was unconditional until now. And just look at the fight I created between Dad and her. They fight, sure, like all couples, but I’ve never witnessed anything like this. Or seen Dad walk out.
“Where were you the last four days? Having sex with a guy we don’t know?”
“Yes.” I answer truthfully, compressing my lips. I sniff, trying to suck in my snot and tears. I know there is no more room in this conversation for my future or living with my parents. I think it’s about to come to an abrupt ending. To change forever. To… I don’t know.
“I know you drink alcohol. Are you doing drugs too?”
“Sometimes.”
She nods. Her face remains passive, but I can see the turmoil in her eyes. On the edge of outright panic. “What should I do, Melissa? My husband is tired, so tired of the same pattern and excuses that he hears and sees from you, because he’s right: you are blackmailing me. I worry so often about you that it’s hard for me to expect common courtesy and decency from you. I worry about you all the time, and I love you, but this relationship isn’t working. He’s been growling at me for a year, even longer, to stop enabling you. I don’t know how to do that. We fight all the time now, always about you. About what to do. So I’m failing you as a mother. Half the time, I can’t even work because I’m so worried about you. I fight with my husband. What do you want from me, Melissa? What do you want? If I thought it would help you, I’d give it to you at once. But all my actions, all that I fight with your dad about, none of it is helping you in any way.”
I can’t answer that. I have no idea what to say or do. Tears blind me as I try to keep my sniffling to a minimum. I know crying will only make everything worse.
“Christina is working. Emily is enrolled at Eastern. And you? Nothing. More of the same. No job. No school. You forget all the basic chores and responsibilities of daily life. I swear you don’t mean to, but all your space cadet programming doesn’t change what you’re not doing.”
“What are you saying?”
She shakes her head. I wait for the words. She stares at me. On and on. We stare at each other. Then her face crumples. Her shoulders fall. “I can’t do it. I should kick you out of here, demand you get your shit together and do something, in some way. But I don’t know where you’ll go. Or how you’ll manage to feed yourself. I can’t kick you out, because I fear for your life. So you win again, Missy. You get to live here free and meanwhile, your dad and I are falling apart because I can’t appease him any longer. Not when it comes to you. We’ve never been so at odds with each other like this before. So when you and I are living here together, alone, maybe then I’ll be able to find the damn wherewithal to do what I should be doing right now, in this instant. What I should have done a year ago. But I can’t. So go ahead, Missy, and fuck all the losers you like and do all the drugs until you end up an addict and alcoholic. Or whatever it is you’re hell–bent on becoming. I don’t know what to do. If I did, I’d do it. I swear to God, if I could figure it out, I’d do anything to advance your life into something positive. But I don’t know what to do. So you win.”
Fat tears, real ones, fall out of my eyes and loud sobs escape my throat. My mom passes around me and I hear her bedroom door slam. Mom locks herself in her bedroom, and Dad is… gone. I’m alone so I cry harder. But no one cares. Shame fills me. A deep, sickening shame. I cry for close to half an hour right there on the floor of our entryway. I half crawl, half scooch my way towards the kitchen. The knives… God, wouldn’t all of them be better off without me? I mean, I’m not suicidal. At least, I don’t think I am. But this unnecessary pain I create for the ones I love. This sense of overbearing worthlessness and cutting shame are becoming too much to bear.
And it’s all because I can’t figure out what is wrong with me.
I cry some more. But it finally abates. My energy is drained. Shifting to my knees, I get back on my feet and walk to the sliding door and stare out into the night. No one else’s lights mar our view. I see the yard light over the barn and look to the left of that, where the porch light on Seth’s apartment is on. But it’s far enough away that his windows aren’t intrusive to ours. I open the door, and the cold air cuts right through me. I welcome the stinging on my face and rub my arms. Snow still drifts down softly. It’s eerily quiet. I open the barn doors and slip inside without putting the light on. The horses shuffle around and the goats bleat at me. I rub their heads through their stall doors. It’s a big barn, with numerous additions and remodels to make room for the ever-growing population of animals. Then I come to the dogs. All five of them. They range in sizes and breeds. They were rescues from Mom’s vet office.
Mom became a doctor after she had all of us girls. I am nothing like her.
Except I love animals too.
I enter the stall and the dogs attack me out of sheer joy. Their tails wag and they climb and frolic all around me. I block out what happened tonight. Dad. Mom. Even Seth and Anand. I forget the sex and drugs as I fall to my knees and bury my face in Tucker’s soft fur, then Lucy’s. I laugh as the little half–Pomeranian, half–something–else–undistinguishable tries to wiggle away from the huge body of the Akita. I curl up with them, petting, talking, and eventually laughing. The coldness leaves me and the ache of disappointment and shame fade. For now.
I stay down in the barn for hours, curling up like I’m one of the animals. They are the only ones who really understand me, accept me, and love me. But they aren’t my job and they can’t offer me a future or all the other things everyone needs from me. Like I co
uld ever provide them.
I’m fucking up my family as much as I am myself. How can this improve anything?
~Seth~
Jessie again knocks the next morning. “Have you seen her?”
“Uh. No, not since last night.” They lost her already? I have no idea how Melissa could get lost again so quickly. Maybe she should wear a GPS locator.
“You brought her home?”
“Yes? She didn’t tell you?”
Jessie’s voice is dead. Her eyes are swollen and red, and her face is pale. “We didn’t exactly talk. Will’s gone for the night. We fought about what to do with Melissa. She heard it all. Now she’s missing too. I suspect she slept out in the barn. I found a bracelet that wasn’t there yesterday.”
“Uh, does she do that often?”
A small smile lights up Jessie’s face. “More often than one would think. Whenever she was upset as a little girl, she’d always go out to the animals. Her favorites are the dogs. They comfort her more than any person could, even me. And yes, she was always like that.”
“That’s odd to picture, from what I know of her,” I mutter without explaining the way I know her most clearly.
“I imagine whatever asshole she’s sleeping with doesn’t realize that either. The goodness in her. The affinity she has for anything alive. Any creature. She would do anything to protect and nurture them. She could never do my job simply because she can’t even handle seeing a pet or any animal in pain. It’s one of her best qualities, and few people possess that level of compassion for other living things.”
“Or find sleeping with them the answer to their comfort. It’s rather… odd.”
A maternal spark flashes through Jessie’s eyes. “Yes, it is. Melissa is odd. But not in a negative way. In an endearing way. In a ‘that makes her Missy’ kind of way. Not like what you’re seeing right now. The way she was…”
“When you guys weren’t expecting anything from her?” I almost bite my tongue. Jessie’s face falls as she nods, and closes her eyes, her pain obvious. I hate to bring her back to reality but the fantasy of her bleeding heart, animal–loving Melissa only masks her more serious problems. And not to mention the way I know her. Which is anything but compassionate or sweet.
Jessie turns to leave, but I call after her quietly. “Do you want me to bring her home if I find her again?”
A weird, maybe ironic smile twists her lips. “No. But please do so anyway.”
I have two hours before my next class so I head back towards the Black Warlocks’ meeting place. No one is around that early. Okay, not the place. I drive towards places in town where her friends sometimes hang out. I don’t spot her. I go to my classes and meet up with a friend. Later, while going home, I check in with Jessie.
“Anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Will?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“Staying at my sister’s. We don’t fight like this often, but every once in a while…”
“Everyone does, I think. I can remember a few big ones between my parents.”
She smiles, appreciative of the bone I threw out. “Where was she? Where did you find her?”
“It won’t help you to know.”
“Hiding and avoiding reality doesn’t help. And the facts are the facts. Perhaps a short explanation?”
“Some biker named Anand. He’s a member of the Black Warlocks. She was in there, looking pretty comfortable. She begged me to leave for my own safety and only came with me because I threatened to tell Will. The prospect that he would come there and get her alarmed her and she worried about his safety and the trouble he’d cause to all the people there.”
She winced. “He would too. Okay. Thanks, Seth. Sorry you’re witnessing all of this and being dragged into our domestic conflict.”
“I know you, Jessie. It’s not like I’m a stranger who considers this normal for you guys. If you need anything, I’m right here. Just call me or text.”
She smiles softly. “Thank you, Seth. It’s a comfort at least to know you’re here. It’s been a lot of years since I’ve been here all alone. From a houseful of three girls and a full–time job, crazy schedules and now… having next to no one. It’s hard to face.”
Nothing happens for the next several days. Will’s truck returns. I don’t know what goes on or if they are good again. It’s none of my business and I have studying to do so I stick to it. I go to a party over the weekend at Renee’s. She’s getting her master’s in microbiology and several of our classes overlap.
After five days, a cop car pulls into their driveway. I see it drive in with the lights off, just as it quietly creeps into the overhang. I come out, knowing Jessie and Will are both at work. I quickly walk up toward the car and meet the cop as he’s getting out of it. Melissa’s in the back, her head hanging, but no handcuffs on. Interesting. “You family?” the officer asks.
“Family friend. I stay here. Is she in trouble?”
“Some. But not under arrest. She was with two guys we busted for drugs. Caught them in a sting, trying to sell ecstasy to two undercover officers in a motel room.”
“And she was…?”
“Out in the car and she seemed pretty shocked. She’s clean. Thought I’d escort her home and make sure she’s safe tonight. Not the best crowd I found her with.”
“No surprise there,” I mutter.
Melissa slides off the back seat after the officer opens the door as he explains everything to me. She keeps her face away from me. Her hair, however, is all natty, tangled, and looks dirty. Not typical of her. She keeps that mane of thick hair usually styled and curled to perfection before being held in place with gels and sprays or whatever keeps one’s hair in place.
I shake the officer’s hand and exchange reassurances as he leaves, obviously sorry he can’t do more to change Melissa’s ways. She stands there, huddled in the driveway. Her hands are shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket.
“Anand in prison now, then?”
She shakes her head. “No. It wasn’t him.”
Oh, great. More losers in her crowd. “Then what? Who?”
“His cousin and a friend. I didn’t know what they were doing. They told me they had quick stop to make.”
“And got caught in a sting. Smart guys.” She glares at me, squinting her eyes.
I sigh. This isn’t helping. “Where have you been this time? We deduced you spent the first night you were gone here with the dogs, but where the heck did you go from there?”
“Do you ever swear? Or drink? Or just act like you’re still young? Ever?” she grumbles.
What does my forbearance have anything to do with what she just did? “No to the first two; and I feel young every time I scale a mountain that old, out–of–shape people can’t climb.”
“Why the hell don’t you drop a curse word or two now and then? Who can restrain themselves all the time? Sometimes, that’s all that defines a situation.”
“I just don’t like to swear, so drop it.”
“It’s lame. It makes you so lame.”
“You just got dropped off by a cop car. I’ll happily agree that if you think I’m lame, I must be doing something right in life.”
She purses her lips. “You’re too good. I don’t know how you can do it. It’s so unnatural.”
“We’re not going to stand here trading insults because honestly, you’ll be the one losing. Where were you all week? Did you even wonder how it affects your parents? After your dad was gone for two nights? I have no idea what went down. But your mom looks like hell, her eyes are all swollen, and she’s pale and seems ready to pass out. Will’s keeping busy by doing a superhuman amount of physical work. Do you care about them, Melissa? What you do to them? If they end up divorced all because of you? Neither one seems willing to compromise in their position over you, but neither one has a clue of what to do about you.”
“I care.” Her voice cracks. Her tone is finally showing some emotion
.
“Where were you? With that biker?”
She nods finally. She’s on a bad streak. Her clothes are rumpled. Her hair is ratty and unwashed. She is pale with purple smudges under her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask because it’s hard to ignore my sense of compassion.
“I… yes. Don’t tell them. About the police. The bust. Or Anand.”
She passes me and heads not into the house but towards the barn and fields. I turn, and much to my own chagrin, allow my curiosity to win over my logic as I follow her out there. She’s still shivering. I sigh as I take the parka off. “Here, put this on. You look like you haven’t worn a proper winter coat in your lifetime.” My tone isn’t chivalrous or even nice. My coat, however, is designed for below freezing temperatures.
She stops dead for a moment. “You’re giving me your coat?”
“For a few minutes. I guess. I need it back.”
“Why?” She wrinkles her brows as if concentrating on me to express my deep–seated reasons.
“Uh, polite thing to do when someone looks as miserable as you do.”
“But you’re not wearing much more.”
“But I was warm to start,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “Do you want it? Otherwise, I’ll take it back.”
“I’ll take it. Thank you, Seth.” Her tone is unusually solemn for her. Despite the puzzlement with myself and my actions, I keep in stride with her as she enters the barns. It’s frigid in there too, but without the cold, sharp breeze. The horses can wander inside and outside, towards the fields, as well as the goats on their end and the dogs. She makes the rounds and checks in on their menagerie of animals before entering the dogs’ pen. They go insane for her, and strangely enough, she goes insane for them. I don’t expect it from the girl who got out of the cop car looking as if she just spent a week high and having sex. Something I don’t want to recall.
