by Морган Райс
“Caitlin?”
She jumped.
Standing there, a foot away, stood Jonah.
He wore large sunglasses. She could see that the skin beneath them was swollen.
She was shocked to see him standing there. And thrilled. In fact, she was surprised at how thrilled she was. A warm, nervous feeling centered in her stomach. She felt her throat go dry.
There was so much she wanted to ask him: if he got home OK, if he saw those bullies again, if he saw her there…. But somehow, the words couldn’t get themselves from her brain to her mouth.
“Hey,” was all she managed to say.
He stood there, staring. He looked unsure how to begin.
“I missed you in class today,” she said, and immediately regretted her choice of words.
Stupid. You should have said, “I didn’t see you in class.” “Miss” sounds desperate.
“I came in late,” he said.
“Me, too,” she said.
He shifted, looking uncomfortable. She noticed his viola was not at his side. So it was real. It wasn’t all just a bad dream.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
She gestured at his glasses.
He reached up and slowly took them off.
His face was purple and swollen. There were cuts and bandages on his forehead and beside his eye.
“I’ve been better,” he said. He seemed embarrassed.
“Oh my god,” she said, feeling terrible at the sight. She knew she should at least feel good about having helped him, about sparing him more damage. But instead she felt bad for not being there sooner, for not coming back for him. But after…it had happened, it had all been a blur. She couldn’t really remember how she’d even gotten home. “I’m so sorry.”
“Did you hear how it happened?” he asked.
He looked at her intently, with his bright green eyes, and she felt he was testing her. As if he was trying to get her to admit that she was there.
Had he seen her? He couldn’t have. He was out cold. Or was he? Did he maybe see what happened afterwards? Should she admit that she had been there?
On the one hand, she was dying to tell him how she had helped him, to win his approval, and his gratitude. On the other, there was no way she could explain what she did without seeming like either a liar or some kind of freak.
No, she concluded internally. You can’t tell him. You can’t.
“No,” she lied. “I don’t really know anyone here, remember?”
He paused.
“I got jumped,” he said. “Walking home from school.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. She sounded like an idiot, repeating the same stupid phrase, but she didn’t want to say anything that would give too much away.
“Yeah, my Dad’s pretty pissed,” he continued. “They got my viola.”
“That sucks,” she said. “Will he get you a new one?”
Jonah shook his head slowly. “He said no. He can’t afford it. And that I should have been more careful with it.”
Concern crossed Caitlin’s face. “But I thought you said that was your ticket out?”
He shrugged.
“What will you do?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe the cops will find it,” she said. She remembered, of course, that it was broken, but she thought that by saying this, it would help prove to him that she didn’t know.
He looked her over carefully, as if trying to judge if she were lying.
Finally, he said, “They smashed it.” He paused. “Some people just feel the need to destroy other peoples’ stuff, I guess.”
“Oh my god,” she said, trying her best not to reveal anything, “that’s horrible.”
“My Dad’s pissed at me that I didn’t fight back….But that’s not who I am.”
“What jerks. Maybe the cops will catch them,” she said.
A small grin passed Jonah’s face. “That’s the weird thing. They already got theirs.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to sound convincing.
“I found these guys down the alley, right after. They were beat down worse than me. Not even moving.” His grin widened. “Someone got to them. I guess there is a God.”
“That’s so strange,” she said.
“Maybe I have a guardian angel,” he said, looking her over closely.
“Maybe,” she answered.
He stared at her for a long time, as if waiting for her to volunteer something, to hint at something. But she didn’t.
“And there was something even stranger than all that,” he said, finally.
He reached down and pulled something out of his backpack, and held it out.
“I found this.”
She stared down in shock. It was her journal.
She felt her cheeks redden as she took it, both delighted to have it back and horrified that he had this piece of evidence that she was there. He must know for sure now that she was lying.
“It has your name in it. It is yours, right?”
She nodded, surveying it. It was all there. She had forgotten about it.
“There were some loose pages. I gathered them all up and put them back in. I hope I got them all,” he said.
“You did,” she said softly, touched, embarrassed.
“I followed the trail of pages, and the funny thing is….they lead me down the alley.”
She continued to look down at the book, refusing to make eye contact.
“How do you suppose your journal got there?” he asked.
She looked him in the eye, doing her best to keep a straight face.
“I was walking home last night, and I lost it somewhere. Maybe they found it.”
He studied her.
Finally, he said, “Maybe.”
They stood there, in silence.
“The weirdest thing of all,” he continued, “is that, before I went completely unconscious, I could have sworn I saw you there, standing over me, yelling at those guys to leave me alone….Isn’t that crazy?”
He studied her, and she looked him back, straight in the eye.
“I’d have to be pretty crazy to do a thing like that,” she said. Despite herself, a small smile started at the corner of her mouth.
He paused, then broke into a wide grin.
“Yes,” he answered, “you would.”
Chapter Four
Caitlin was on cloud nine as she walked home from school, clutching her journal. She hadn’t been this happy in she didn’t know when. Jonah’s words replayed in her head.
“There’s this concert tonight. At Carnegie Hall. I’ve got two free tickets. They’re the worst seats in the house, but the vocalist is supposed to be amazing.”
“Are you asking me out?” she’d said, smiling.
He’d smiled back.
“If you don’t mind going with this lump of bruises,” he’d said, smiling back. “After all, it is Friday night.”
She practically skipped home, unable to contain her excitement. She didn’t know anything about classical music—she’d never even really listened to it before—but she didn’t care. She’d go anywhere with him.
Carnegie Hall. He said the dress was fancy. What would she wear? She checked her watch. She wouldn’t have much time to change if she was going to meet him at that café before the concert. She doubled her pace.
Before she knew it, she was home, and even the dreariness of her building didn’t bring her down. She bounded up the five flights of stairs and hardly even felt it as she walked into her new apartment.
Her Mom’s scream came right away: “You fucking bitch!”
Caitlin ducked just in time, as her Mom threw a book right at her face. It went flying past her, and smashed into the wall.
Before Caitlin could speak, her Mom charged—fingernails out, aiming right for her face.
Caitlin reached up and caught her wrists just in time. She tangled with her, going back and forth.
Caitlin cou
ld feel her newfound power surging through her veins, and she felt that she could throw her Mom across the room without even trying. But she willed herself to control it, and she shoved her off, but only hard enough to send her onto the couch.
Her Mom, on the couch, suddenly broke into tears. She sat there, sobbing.
“It’s your fault!” she screamed between her sobs.
“What’s wrong with you?” Caitlin screamed back, completely off guard, having no idea what was going on. Even for her Mom, this was crazy behavior.
“Sam.”
Her Mom held out a piece of notebook paper.
Caitlin’s heart pounded as she took it, a feeling of dread washing over her. Whatever it was, she knew it couldn’t be good.
“He’s gone!”
Caitlin scanned the handwritten note. She couldn’t really concentrate as she read, only picking out fragments—running away…don’t want to be here…back with my friends…don’t try to find me.
Her hands were shaking. Sam had done it. He’d really left. And he didn’t even wait for her. Didn’t even wait to say goodbye.
“It’s because of you!” her Mom spat.
A part of Caitlin couldn’t believe it. She ran through the apartment, opened Sam’s door, half expecting to find him there.
But the room was empty. Immaculate. Not a single thing left. Sam had never kept his room that clean. It was true. He was really gone.
Caitlin felt the bile rise up in her throat. She couldn’t help feeling that this time her Mom was right, that it was her fault. Sam had asked her. And she had said, “Just go.”
Just go. Why did she have to say that? She planned on apologizing, on taking it back, the next morning, but he was already gone when she woke up. She was going to talk to him when she got home today. But now it was too late.
She knew where he must have gone. There’s only one place he would go: their last town. He’d be OK. Better, probably, than he was here. He had friends there. The more it sank in, the less she worried. In fact, she was happy for him. He’d finally made it out. And she knew how to track him down.
But she’d have to deal with this later. She glanced at her watch and realized she was late. She ran into her room, quickly grabbed the nicest clothes and shoes she’d had, and threw them all in a gym bag. She’d have to go without makeup. There just wasn’t time.
“Why do you have to destroy everything you touch!?” her Mom screamed, now right behind her. “I never should have taken you in!”
Caitlin stared back, shocked.
“What are you talking about!?”
“That’s right,” her Mom continued. “I took you in. You’re not mine. You never were. You were his. You’re not my real daughter. Do you hear me!? I’d be ashamed to have you as a daughter!”
Caitlin could see the venom in her black eyes. She’d never seen her Mom in this deep of a rage. Her eyes held murder.
“Why did you have to chase away the one thing that was good in my life!?” her Mom yelled.
This time her Mom charged her with two hands held out in front, and went right for her throat. Before Caitlin could react, she was being choked. Hard.
Caitlin fought for breath. But her Mom ‘s grip was iron. It was truly meant to kill.
The rage flooded Caitlin, and this time she couldn’t stop it. She could feel the familiar, prickly heat, starting at her toes, and working its way up through her arms and shoulders. She let it envelop her. As it did, the muscles in her neck bulged. Without doing a thing, her Mom’s grip loosened.
Her Mom must have seen the transformation begin, because she suddenly looked afraid. Caitlin threw her head back and roared. She had transformed into a thing of fear.
Her Mom dropped her grip, and took a step back and stared, mouth open.
Caitlin reached up with one hand and shoved her, and she went flying backwards with such force that she went through the wall, shattering it with a crash, and into the other room. She kept going, smashing into yet another wall, and collapsing, unconscious.
Caitlin breathed hard, trying to focus. She surveyed the apartment, asking herself if there was anything she wanted to take with her. She knew there was, but she couldn’t think clearly. She grabbed her gym bag of clothes, and walked out of her room, through the rubble, past her mother.
Her Mom lay there, groaning, already starting to sit up.
Caitlin kept walking, right out of the apartment.
It was the last time, she vowed, she would see it again.
Chapter Five
Caitlin walked quickly in the cold, March night down the side street, her heart still pounding from her episode with her mother. The cold air stung her face, and it felt good. Calming. She breathed deeply, and felt free. She would never have to go back to that apartment again, never have to retrace those grimy steps. Never have to see this neighborhood. And never have to step foot in that school. She had no idea where she was going, but at least it would be far from here.
Caitlin reached the avenue and looked up, scanning for a free cab. After a minute or so of waiting, she realized she wouldn’t get one. The subway was her only option.
Caitlin marched towards the 135th Street station. She’d never taken a New York City subway before. She wasn’t really sure which line to take, or where to get off, and this was the worst time to experiment. She dreaded what she might encounter down in the station on a cold, March night—especially in this neighborhood.
She descended the graffiti-lined steps and approached the booth. Luckily, it was manned.
“I need to get to Columbus Circle,” Caitlin said.
The overweight agent behind the plexiglass ignored her.
“Excuse me,” Caitlin said, “but I need to –”
“I said down the platform!” snapped the woman.
“No you didn’t,” Caitlin answered. “You didn’t say anything!”
The agent just ignored her again.
“How much is it?”
“Two fifty,” snapped the agent.
Caitlin dug into her pocket and extracted three crumpled dollar bills. She slid them under the glass.
The agent, still ignoring her, slid back a Metrocard.
Caitlin just swiped the card and entered the system.
The platform was poorly lit, and nearly deserted. Two homeless people occupied the bench, draped in blankets. One slept, but the other looked up at her as she walked by. He started mumbling. Caitlin walked faster.
She went to the edge of the platform and leaned over, looking for the train. Nothing.
Come on. Come on.
She glanced at her watch yet again. Already five minutes late. She wondered how much longer it would take. She wondered if Jonah would leave. She couldn’t blame him.
She noticed something moving quickly out of the corner of her eye. She turned. Nothing.
As she looked closely, she thought she saw a shadow creep along the white tiled, linoleum wall, then slink down into the railway track. She felt like she was being watched.
But she looked again and saw nothing.
I must be seeing things.
Caitlin walked over to the large subway map. It was scratched and torn and covered in graffiti, but she could still make out the subway line. At least she was at the right place. It should take her right to Columbus Circle. She started to feel a bit better.
“You lost, baby?”
Caitlin turned and saw a large, black man standing over her. He was unshaven, and when he grinned, she noticed that he was missing teeth. He leaned in too close, and she could smell his terrible breath. Drunk.
She sidestepped him and walked several feet away.
“Hey bitch, I’m talking to you!”
Caitlin kept walking.
The man seemed high, and he staggered and swayed as he slowly headed her way. But Caitlin walked much faster, and it was a long platform, so there was still room between them. She really wanted to avoid another confrontation. Not here. Not now.
He got closer. Sh
e wondered how long it would be until she’d have no choice but to confront him. Please God, get me out of here.
Just then, a deafening noise filled the station, and the train suddenly arrived. Thank God.
She boarded, and watched with satisfaction as the doors closed on the man. Drunk, he cursed and banged on the metal casing.
The train took off, and in moments he was no more than a blur. She was on her way out of this neighborhood. On her way to a new life.
Caitlin exited at Columbus Circle and walked at a brisk pace. She checked her watch again. She was 20 minutes late. She swallowed.
Please be there. Please don’t go. Please.
As she walked, just a few blocks away, she suddenly felt a pang in her stomach. She stopped, taken aback by the intense pain.
She bent over, clutching her stomach, unable to move. She wondered if people were staring at her, but she was in too much pain to care. She’d never experienced anything like this before. She struggled to catch her breath.
People passed quickly by on either side, but no one stopped to check if she was OK.
After about a minute, she finally, slowly, stood back up. The pain began to subside.
She breathed deeply, wondering what it could possibly have been.
She began walking again, heading in the direction of the café. But she now felt completely disoriented. And something else….Hunger. It wasn’t a normal hunger, but a deep, unquenchable thirst. As a woman walked past her, walking her dog, Caitlin noticed herself turning and staring at the animal. She found herself craning her neck and watching the animal as it walked past, and staring at its neck.
To her surprise, she could see the details of the veins on the dog’s skin, the blood coursing through it. She watched the heartbeat through the blood, and she felt a dull, numbing sensation in her own teeth. She wanted that dog’s blood.
As if sensing itself being watched, the dog turned as it walked, and stared with fear up at Caitlin. It growled, and hurried away. The owner of the dog turned and looked at Caitlin, not understanding.
Caitlin walked on. She couldn’t understand what was happening to her. She loved dogs. She would never want to harm an animal, much less a fly. What was happening to her?
The hunger pains disappeared as quickly as they had come, and Caitlin felt herself returning to normal. As she rounded the corner, the café came into sight, and she doubled her pace, breathed deep, and almost felt herself again. She checked her watch. 30 minutes late. She prayed he’d be there.
