PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Dad mulled it over before he said, “If I knew where she put it, I’d give it back to you. I’m sure your mama would approve.”

  It was the use of “approve” that narrowed my eyes at my father. His need for her permission and endorsement in his parenting rights was frustrating at a minimum on a normal day and downright enraging at a time like this. The knowledge she wasn’t my real mother only increased my resentment of his pussification.

  The words I wanted to say were inappropriate, so I shrugged his gesture off. I gave him a half-assed wave before I turned to leave.

  “Have a good day, kiddo,” he called out when I opened the front door.

  I almost laughed at how ridiculous the idea was. “I’ll try.”

  ***

  I hate it when I’m right about people. I wish I could be pleasantly surprised every day at the actions of others. I wish I was a terrible judge of character or more cynical than my experience supported.

  My first day back at school proved my experience not only supported my reasonable level of cynicism, but confirmed the surprises I could expect from people would rarely be pleasant. I knew when I entered the building my day would suck, but I had no idea how much.

  Each face I saw on the way in was directed at me. The kids in the hallways watched me walk past them. Some of them seemed ashamed when I caught them staring. Others would turn away and whisper to another kid who stood nearby.

  Erin popped from the girl’s bathroom like a moray eel and dragged me by the elbow back into it. Sarah waited in there as well, and when two other girls at the sinks saw me, they scuttled out as if I had leprosy.

  “Haven’t you gotten any of my messages?” Erin demanded with a shake of her head and crossed arms. “You should’ve stayed home. The whole school is buzzing since Ryan got arrested yesterday.”

  I was defensive in an instant. “Why should I stay home? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  When Erin and Sarah heard my new and unimproved voice, they glanced at each other.

  “Kids are saying you made it up,” Sarah said. “You know, since you and Ryan hate each other so much.”

  “I made it up?” I knew kids would have trouble comprehending Ryan Dixon: Sexual Predator, but I hadn’t expected them to go into full denial he was involved. I pulled my scarf from my neck to display my purple and yellow skin. “Does this look like I made it up?”

  “Well, of course we don’t think that,” Erin said. “You know the kids in this school are sheeptastic. It’s just . . . Ryan’s never been that way before. A lot of girls are defending him. They say he’s always been good to them and would never hurt a fly. Guys are saying he didn’t do it because if he was looking for action, why would he, you know, not pick a hot girl.”

  I snorted. It hurt. “Seriously? I’m too ugly for sexual assault? That’s fantastic. I guess it didn’t happen then. I guess I dreamed it all because I’ve secretly wanted him so bad all this time, and I beat the shit out of myself in a violent rant of despair.”

  “Look, we know it’s stupid,” Sarah said. “And we’re trying to help. I spent half the night on the phone with people. But it’s not like we’re the pillars of the school, you know? We’re your friends, so they think we’re helping you spread lies about Ryan.”

  “But Josh,” I said with more desperation than I expected. “He was there. He saw. He knows I’m not making it up.” It crossed my mind to bring up Aka, but he was my best friend. No one would listen to him, either. Besides, I didn’t need to convince Erin and Sarah. They believed me.

  “Josh left yesterday and he’s not talked to anyone. Ryan, either,” Erin said. “Ryan can rot in hell for all I care, but until Josh fesses up and corroborates what we’ve been saying, I don’t know if you should be here.”

  “I have every right to be here,” I said. I had no idea why staying at school was so important to me. I didn’t like it there most of the time. But I refused to be bullied out of there by ignorant kids when I hadn’t done anything wrong. “Thanks you guys, but I’m staying.”

  First bell rang, and I tossed my scarf back around my neck.

  “Come on. We’ll be late,” I said. I knew my friends weren’t happy I was ignoring their advice, but I was determined to not let other people’s opinions keep me from doing anything, whether it was something I really wanted to do or not. My stubborn streak is one of my many curses.

  By third period, I had cursed my stubborn streak numerous times. I hid in the bathroom, feet tucked up so no one could see my red plaid flats. My second period was Biology and was in the same room as my seventh period Chemistry class. The teacher asked me to leave. Probably because the room was filled with lit Bunsen burners and hostile teenagers. More specifically, I was a hostile teenager, and I used a Bunsen burner to melt a girl’s gel pen.

  Before the bell rang to dismiss third period, I slinked over to the newspaper office. On impulse, it seemed the most natural thing to do. It was where I always went to get away from people. Few people had a key, and I trusted those that did. I had not been exactly hiding from Aka. I just made no real effort to be in his presence. I figured he knew where to find me if he felt the impulse to track me down.

  I closed the door and turned around. The place seemed tainted now. Someone had picked up the mess on the floor from when Aka tackled Ryan over the desk. My blood remained on the wall like a smeared crimson spider web which was turning brown in spots. The window was closed. I double-checked the door was locked behind me and closed the panel over its tiny window.

  A knock on the door within seconds made me jump. I ignored it. They knocked again, and I heard my name spoken quietly and muffled through the metal. I slid the panel aside. Josh stood there peering in at me.

  “What do you want?” I said. I made no move to open the door. My day would have sucked a lot less if Josh had bothered to stick up for me and tell people what happened. Ever since I started talking to him, he brought me nothing but grief. And I was sick of grief.

  He pursed his lips before wetting them, then said, “Let me in.” He kept his voice down. To know he wanted a secret discussion with me did not encourage me to do as he asked.

  “I don’t think so.” I stepped back and shook my head. “Go away.”

  “Please, Kathy? Just for a minute.” He put his fingertips to the glass. I suppose it was an attempt to seem more pathetic and vulnerable, but his words angered me.

  “I’m not Kathy.” My teeth clenched together as I tried to keep from losing my cool in a way that would get me admitted to the psych ward for a few days. “I’ve never been called that, and any friend of mine would know that. We’re not friends; have never been. I don’t trust you, and I damn sure don’t trust your friends.”

  I snapped the panel shut. I heard footsteps disappear down the hall and sighed with relief. I was in no mood for an angry, whispered conversation with a stubborn boy.

  The computer called to me, so I headed over to boot it up and finally email my sister. I had a whole lot more to ask her about and tell her than I did the day before. I planned to hide in the office until school let out and all the kids went home, so I had plenty of time to compose a very lengthy message.

  There was a tap at the window behind me. I spun around and saw Josh.

  “Jesus Christ!” I threw a pen at the window. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I didn’t mean to. Please, can we talk?”

  He seemed more than usually determined to do something, and I admitted to myself that he helped me the day before so he might not be dangerous. But he was Ryan’s friend, so one can never be too sure.

  I didn’t remove the anti-burglar bar and opened the window the mere three inches the device allowed. Josh frowned at the window frame before lifting his eyes to me.

  “Seriously?” he said. “I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to check on you.”

  “You can see I’m fine.”

  “I mean . . . I just . . . he didn’t . . .” Josh was not a stellar example of ar
ticulation. He hunkered down closer to the open part of the window and said in a near whisper, “He didn’t do the thing, did he? Not all the way?”

  “Do the thing?” I said. “Is that some kind of dance or some new hazing ritual?”

  “You know what I mean,” Josh said.

  I did. It amused me he put it in such a fifth-grader way, and I couldn’t pass an opportunity to mock him. I’m not perfect.

  “No, he did not ‘do the thing,’ Josh,” I said. “My flower remains intact.” Referring to a vagina as a flower is antiquated and ridiculous, but I’ve always liked the sentiment. It’s illogical, of course. I’m sure a vagina smells nothing like a rose or gardenia unless a girl uses far too much body spray.

  He gave me a very strange look. “So . . . you’ve never?”

  “Never what?” I arched my brows, both amused by his seeming surprise as well as insulted by it. “Let a guy get all sweaty on me and never call? Decide my dignity wasn’t important? Been curious enough about the mysterious power of the penis to risk pregnancy or disease?”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “I meant cared about someone like that.”

  That was one of the most naÏve things I’d ever heard. Save for anything that ever came out of the mouth of Sarah’s current significant idiot.

  “Josh, that’s not caring. That’s called ‘fucking.’ Do you care about all the girls you’ve ever been with?”

  He looked at me like I was stupid. “No.”

  “There you go. To you, they’re forgettable. I’d never settle for being forgettable. I’d never decide I just had to know what it’s like to have some guy wriggling between my legs and making his ‘O’ face, consequences be damned. I don’t know a single girl who’s happy she let some asshole into her pants.” Myself especially included, if fingers counted. Well, counted as something other than literally used for counting.

  “I figured you and that Floyd freak—”

  “He’s not a freak!” I stood up and slammed the window shut. I said through the glass, “We’re done. If you can’t be considerate enough to avoid insulting my friends for the first few minutes of speaking, I’d probably want to stab you in the face after fifteen.”

  Josh stepped back and glared at me briefly, then walked away with a shake of his head.

  I didn’t need his sympathy. I didn’t need his understanding. I needed him to tell people Ryan was a jackass.

  15: Police, Parents, Parks, and Pests

  For the second day in a row, I was interviewed by police. My father reported my mother missing, and they needed to determine how long she had been gone. I began to worry for the first time. I carried so much resentment for the woman, it was hard to care when Dad first mentioned she was missing. All I could think of was how much I hated her.

  New revelations aside, she was my mother. Or at least, the only mother I had ever known. I spent years trying to please her, trying to be good enough for her to love. Her determination to treat me as something to be endured instead of one of her own children had jabbed my heart my entire life.

  The knowledge I was not hers freed me in a small way. I had not severed a bond between us through my behavior or personality as a child. There had never been a bond to break, only the illusion of a bond I spent my life trying to mend. The failed attempts blossomed into resentment, but under that was pain. I’d wondered why I was never good enough for her, and it crippled me with self-doubt in almost every other thing I tried to do. Writing was my only reprieve, the one thing I knew I could do well because of the praise I received from others.

  I think that’s why she hated it so much. When I was about thirteen, I had written some love stories, based on what I knew of love through television and movies. She rummaged through my room and threw them all away. She called them porn. She made me throw my diary in the fire because I had entries about how she used to hit me and bully me. She had the gall to say it was my imagination run wild and she couldn’t bear it if my dad accidentally found my diary and read the lies I wrote about her.

  To my mind, she had been far too paranoid. Dad didn’t listen to me when I spoke. I didn’t see why he would believe me more if I wrote it down.

  My mom’s crazy. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that at least once. When she was a member of that religious group, I was punished many strange ways. I was grounded from food for three days, allowed only water and chewing gum. I was made to wear my clothes backwards. I was made to watch others eat while I was denied meals.

  Punishment was often because I was inquisitive. I wanted to know where people came from if there was only Cain and Abel. I wanted to know why there were so many stars, but God liked only our planet. I wanted to know why the dinosaurs weren’t in the Bible. I wanted to know how Jonah held his breath in the whale. If we became spirits and went to Hell, then why would we care how hot it was if we had no bodies? No one could tell me anything, except that I was destined for Hell for my lack of faith.

  When Mom had a falling out with Reverend, she seemed regretful for a short time. I remember her being a little nicer for a while. It had been a few years, and she deluded herself into thinking she was all better. I knew different. I knew she was a horrible mother before she ever met Reverend, she was downright diabolical when she was in his flock, and she simmered down to being only spiteful, negligent, and cruel afterwards.

  But she was the only mother I’d ever known. For all her faults, she was mine. She was part of my family. Though I prayed daily for Dad to divorce her and take me with him, I didn’t actually want anything bad to happen to her.

  I hoped she would run off with a coworker or something, but Dad said Karen also hadn’t heard from her and would catch a flight home the next day. Between my email and Dad’s phone call, my sister knew she was needed at home.

  Dad found my phone and gave it back. I spent the rest of the night going through my messages and lingering in cyberspace. Dad wouldn’t enforce my grounding. He even went the extra mile and had pizza delivered.

  Rigel did not show up until I climbed into bed.

  “Where’ve you been?” I said. I didn’t really care, but I was a little curious.

  “Out and about,” Rigel said.

  “Doing what?”

  “Nothing that concerns you.” He went straight to my closet and nestled into my dirty clothes. “Goodnight, Kathleen.”

  “’Night, Jeeves.”

  ***

  I couldn’t remember ever being more grateful for a Saturday. They were always a double-edged sword of no classes but more Mom. Now, there was a lot less Mom and it was an act of mercy to not be in school another day.

  My friends and I met up at the park. We weren’t mall kids, and none of us liked being in our own homes. The park was pretty much our only option if we all wanted to get together with no parents around. We had a favorite gazebo we stretched out in because we were not big fans of sunlight and skin cancer. We were pale, and we liked it that way.

  No one mentioned Ryan. They were probably avoiding the topic so I could relax and feel normal. Dylan had tagged along with Sarah. It didn’t take long for me to get sick of him and wander off alone to the small manmade pond.

  I didn’t tell them about my mom’s vanishing act. They were worried about me enough already. Gestures of concern or sympathy made me uncomfortable. It was awkward, and I felt like an attention whore. My problems were mine to deal with. Aka was the only one I let in, but I wasn’t ready yet.

  A smooth rock at my feet grabbed my attention. I picked it up and tossed it in the water.

  “Do you know how long it took that rock to get out of the water?” Aka said behind me. “Now it has to start its journey all over again.”

  “How thoughtless of me.”

  He stepped closer to stand beside me. The ducks slid along the surface of the water. A small fish jumped. Little bugs danced on the still water near the reeds.

  “I’m standing on a wharf at the ocean of knowledge, and I can’t reach to get my feet wet,” I said, my eyes fixed on a
boy playing with his dog on the other side of the pond. “Karen is coming home today.”

  “So soon?” Aka said.

  I glanced back at our friends in the gazebo. “My mom is missing.”

  Aka’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Since when?”

  “Thursday. Maybe Wednesday. I haven’t seen her since I went to bed Wednesday night.”

  There were no more questions beyond that. Aka knew if I wanted to say anything more, I would. It lessened my burden to share it with him, but there was nothing more to tell. I didn’t know anything.

  The police weren’t even that interested yet. They said she had scheduled the rest of the week off from work, which was news to me. They would open a file, but had nothing to go on, and it was possible she might have just needed a brief getaway. It happened a lot, they said.

  “Did Ryan rape you?” Aka said. The question was a sucker punch to my gut.

  “Did it look like it?” I said. I really wanted to know. Both he and Josh had asked the same thing, and they had both been there. They saw Ryan and I had clothes on. Did they even know what “rape” meant?

  Our friends laughed loudly in the background. I turned around, craning my head toward them. I could use a good laugh.

  “It looked like a possible scenario,” Aka said. His jaw visibly tightened, and he kept his eyes focused on the pond.

  “Do you really want to know everything he did?” As a friend he might, but as a boy, he probably didn’t want all the details.

  His fingers formed tight fists and relaxed, then repeated. He turned towards me and looked down into my face, his dark green eyes losing a battle with anger to appear calm.

  “I have to know.”

  He thought he had to know, but I didn’t have to tell him because it wasn’t fatal to withhold the truth. I opted for a halfway point. There was no way I would tell Aka that Ryan put his hand down my pants. And I doubted I would ever tell anyone how my body reacted. Part of me liked it, and it disgusted me. I disgusted myself.

  “He hit me and pushed me around,” I said. “I think he touched my boobs. That’s about it.”