Fifty-Eight
Joy
The next few hours were like something out of a dream. I won’t bore you with all the details, but I will tell you that Joy Chapel rocked! Yes, she did. Head-banging, boy-kissing, hippie-swaying rock and roll!
I know, I’ve bragged about all my ‘experience’, but the truth is, this was the first time I’d really made out. Not like we were gross in public or anything, but that Julian knew how to kiss! Man, for a sophomore, he had lips.
But all good things must come to an end, and before we knew it, Nugent was finishing
Cat Scratch Fever, with a guitar stroke that had everyone screaming and clapping like crazy. The spotlights dimmed as he exited the stage and for a moment, we were plunged into darkness.
Then the stadium lights were up, casting this harsh glare over everything.
Concert-goers emptied the field as quickly as retreating waves. I kicked at a Styrofoam cup. It bobbed in the garbage sea, where a community unlike any I’d ever experienced had sailed only moments before.
The trash shuffled under my feet. This wasn’t good. My palms grew clammy and a shudder passed over my body. It was near on midnight and I was a long way from home. It was one thing to thumb it during the day starting in my small town, but now?
“Hey, Julian,” I began. “I noticed that we’re in pretty in a poor neighborhood.”
“It’s a little ghetto, yeah.”
“So, I was wondering if maybe you could, you know, hitch me home? I don’t want to chance it alone.” I swallowed hard and crossed my fingers, praying that after all those ‘no’s’ I’d heard these past few weeks I’d finally hear a ‘yes’.
I didn’t dare look him in the face as he readied his answer. Instead, I drew a circle in the grass with my toe. My heart pounded.
“Of course, chica,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe.” He put a protective arm over my shoulder, and we stopped at the snack booth for chocolate milk and donuts before heading for the exit.
“Maybe after this, I could call you?” he asked. “I know we live far away from each other, but maybe my dad could bring me up your way sometime.”
I smiled shyly. “Maybe,” I said, imagining a picnic on a blanket at the park, like in one of those old Gidget movies.
Since we’d waited so long and were walking slowly, enjoying our snack, we were amongst the last to leave. By now, the crowds had thinned until there was just a trickle of kids ahead and behind. We followed these last, scuffling concert-goers down the sidewalk toward the freeway onramp, a couple of streets over.
The two of us chatted about mundane things that I can’t quite remember now, like school and annoying siblings and didn’t notice the battered Dodge until it slowed and pulled up nearby.
An older guy like, maybe, thirty, with slicked back hair and a cigarette in one hand, leaned out the window. “You kids need a ride?” he asked, flicking ash. It hung for a moment then fell to the street like rain.
I bent over but couldn’t make out the face on the bald man next to him because he kept staring straight ahead. He never once turned toward Julian and me.
Why?
Julian started to nod but I shook my head slowly. My entire body tensed and both feet dug into the concrete. I couldn’t move. There was something about these guys I didn’t trust. “I don’t know…” I whispered.
“Well?” The driver blew out a long column of smoke and the burning cigarette flew toward me, landing at my stuck feet. I watched the red end flare and then dim as smoke curled around my legs.
I started to protest again, but Julian must not have heard because the next I knew, he was leading me by the hand toward the strange man sitting shotgun, who went from statue stillness to vaulting out the open door in a flash. Something prickled over my skin when he folded back his seat and upturned a palm for us to get in. Shuddering, I rubbed my arms and tried to search his face, but it stayed averted.
He wouldn’t look my way.
Julian didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy acting the part of a gentleman. With his head held high, he took hold of my chocolate milk carton and gave a half bow. “Ladies first.”
“Don’t bump your head,” the driver said. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
My feet screamed “No”, but then Julian pushed me and said, “Go on.”
I told myself that everything was fine. I was with a guy. He would protect me. With a nod, I ducked down and eased past the two-door’s seat belt to sit in the back.
Julian got in beside me and the front seat snapped into place, locking the two of us behind a vinyl wall. The stony-faced men in front didn’t seem to fit in with this battered Dodge. One bald, the other with a military haircut and both wearing button-down shirts and sport coats, they could have just come from a business meeting. But the torn seats, stained carpet, and faded interior of this two-door told a different story.
One that was making my muscles clench tighter by the second.
Then it hit me. Two doors? Anyone who hitches knows you should never take rides like this. But it was too late to get out now. The engine was revving, and the car was in drive.
“Where you kids live?” the driver said, pulling away from the curb.
“You’ll take us all the way?” I asked incredulously.
His voice was a stone tombstone. “Ya. Sure.”
Julian elbowed me and whispered in my ear, “See? I told you I’d get you home safe.” Then he raised his eyebrows several times and reached for my hand.
“So where?”
“Well, first we need to go north. Get on the 101 as soon as you can. I think it’s… Wait, where am I?”
We were no longer driving along a busy street but were on an empty one, with graffiti-splashed walls. Julian looked a little perplexed but continued talking, while I stared out the back window. “Anyhow, after you drop her off, we could head back south toward my place in—”
Suddenly, the bones in my hand were being crushed.
“What?” I said, turning toward Julian. And gasped.
Inches away from his face was the black barrel of a pistol, its dark cylinder a cavern.
Only now did I see the gunman’s face. It was long and stretched out of proportion, with thin lips in a tight line. His reddish-blond brows were drawn together above eyes so cold and menacing, no one would dare to cross him.
The driver turned a corner onto a deserted street, with caged store fronts and discarded blankets so old and tattered even the desperate homeless wouldn’t use them. I thought about that knife in the bottom of my purse. Could I stab him?
The bald man’s finger rested on the trigger that he would no doubt squeeze before I could strike. The backseat windows? No, they were so tiny that even a toddler couldn’t fit through them. I considered grabbing the driver, but I’d be cut down before my hands were around his throat. If Julian went for the gun, he’d be shot down. There was no escape
The knife stayed in my purse.
The driver pulled over to the curb. Keeping the gun trained on both of us with one hand, the gunman used the other to open the door, pull himself to a stand and slide the front seat forward. “Get out,” he ordered.
Julian did as he was told, but when I started to follow, the driver said, “Oh no. Not you. You’re staying.”
As I watched through the open door, the gunman took Julian’s wallet, pulled the money from inside and tossed it on the stained sidewalk. The fifteen-year-old shook his head slowly and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” with helpless tears in his eyes.
The bald man tucked the money in his jacket pocket and slid back into place. Then he shut the passenger door.
Leaving me alone with the two of them.
As we pulled away from the curb, I stared out the back window at Julian’s shrinking figure. I never gave him my number! I’ll never be able to tell him. If…
Cheap storefronts gave way to X-rated movie houses and slums where whores wouldn’t even dare walk. They passed in a blur as I thought of Mom singing a
t dinner. Kyle putting a puzzle together. Grandma’s crackly laugh when she won a game of Yahtzee. Lisa hugging me when I confessed about Ronny. Carl fixing my broken sandal. Catalina Island with dolphins leaping in and out the sapphire blue.
I clutched at my abalone necklace and started to cry.
The gunman shoved the barrel closer to my face. “Shut up. Now.”
And I did.
As if a switch had been turned off, my tears immediately dried. My mind clicked into action and I remembered the article on rape Mrs. Plante had made me write. For I knew without a word that this was what they had planned for me.
I reached for the chocolate milk on the floor and took a sip. My tongue tasted no sweetness. I swallowed another mouthful. Chalk.
I don’t want to die.
We turned down an alley toward a row of what looked like abandoned shacks and the car slowed. What did I read? One book said that you should get rapists on your side, make yourself more human if you want to survive.
Forcing my trembling jaw to form words, I asked, “Oh, is this your house?”
The driver let out a sniggering laugh. “I wouldn’t take a disgusting thing like you to my house.” He put the car into park and turned around to look me full in the face. Staring at me with eyes full of hatred he said, “You’re going to act like a freak while my buddy watches.”
I took another sip of my chocolate milk. Clung to the carton as if it somehow protected me. A waxy cardboard shield. The other man kept the gun trained on me and got out. He waved it at me.
I shook my head no. I can’t. I pressed my carton shield to my lips. No. Please don’t.
The driver reached in and snatched it from my hands. “Get the fuck out. And you fucking better not say anything.”
Okay, Joy. You’re not here. Go outside yourself. Be strong. You can do this. You have to.
To live.
Fifty-Nine
Joy
No, I’m not going to tell you about the horrors inside that abandoned shack. I never want to repeat what those men made me do. I will tell you that, in a situation like that, the degradation is nothing in comparison to the fear of dying. All you can think about is survival and you are willing to do anything to keep that finger from pulling the trigger.
So, I did.
When they were done, the driver asked, “Should we let you go or not? Are you going to keep your freak mouth shut?”
I spoke quickly. “I won’t tell, I promise.”
“I don’t know. What do you got to give me?” Those cold eyes looked me up and down.
With a shaking hand, I rubbed one arm. Tried to think. I’d spent all my money. Didn’t even have a cheap watch to give him. There was nothing.
Knowing I was about to die, my fingers sought comfort in the abalone pendant at my throat. Grasping the cool shell, I started to close my eyes.
“I asked you a question, bitch.”
I opened my eyes. “This is all I got.” I undid the clasp and lifted the necklace off my throat. “It was a present from a really nice man, the nicest in the world. He lives out on Catalina and made it for me last year at camp. Carl’s awesome. I can talk to him about all kinds of stuff. School. Mom. My stupid brother. I always wear it. It helps me to remember that someone believed in me.”
Staring at the gun that still pointed at me, I rambled on. “He says I shine like the colors in the shell. See?”
The driver reached for the pendant, but the other one stayed his hand and lowered the gun to his side. He stared at his scuffed shoes and said, “No, let her keep it.”
The driver scoffed and gave him a condescending look. Then he said to me, “Okay, whore. You won’t tell?”
I shook my head quickly.
“Because we’ll be watching. And if you do…” He pointed at the gun in his partner’s limp hand.
“Get out of here,” the gunman said flatly.
“But where do I go?”
The driver gave me quick directions to the freeway, and I headed for the doorway and passed over the sagging porch.
I started walking down the deserted alley thinking I’d done it. Maybe my words had made a difference. And they really were letting me go.
A few more steps and I’d be at the corner. Free. Heading home. Open the door and Mom’d smile like she used to when I was little. Before Ronny had turned her face to a mask. Before the blues, blacks, and fading purples. She’d be wearing a dress so bright, you’d think the flowers were blooming right there.
“Mom?” I whispered.
Home. Where Kyle would look up from his puzzle. The mystical castle floating in dream clouds would light up his face. He’d smirk and snap the final piece into place. Little genius.
I saw the streetlight at the corner. A beacon shepherding me forward. Started walking faster.
My feet kicked up some dust. I watched the mini-cloud, thinking how like Kyle’s mystical puzzle it is.
I’d escaped the monsters. My words had been the key to softening their hearts.
I heard a pop like a balloon. Glanced around
I stumbled. Took another step forward. Heard a second pop. Stumbled again. Weren’t my words enough? Hadn’t I got through their masks? I thought the less vicious one had lifted his when I told him the story of my necklace.
A third pop.
Now I was sure my words hadn’t worked. To them, I wasn’t human.
Echoes flashed.
Freak! Slut!
“Mommy…” I called.
And then I thought… she named me Joy.
And I remembered why. Catalina. Dad’s knee. Giving Kyle a piggy-back ride. The fort where girls ruled. Mom showing me how to crack eggs. Laughing in the jacuzzi room. Discoing to The Hustle.
Dog! Echoes tried to smoother smiles. Leering faces cast shadows.
No, my name is Joy. Redwoods in Big Sur. My guitar singing at a campfire. Lisa’s arm draped over my shoulder. The poems I’d shared.
Then I looked to the right. Saw the truck spewing exhaust. Two men leered from the cabin and it backfired again.
Screaming, I started run. No. No. No. Not again. My feet moved faster. Didn’t slow until I’d rounded three corners and could see the freeway onramp straight ahead.
Drawing closer, I noticed that there were still a few stragglers left over from the concert. Or maybe in this part of town there is always someone wandering the trash-littered streets.
A police car was parked nearby. I thought of approaching. Almost did. But then I remembered what they’d said. I glanced over my shoulder, eyes scanning every car, graffiti-sprayed building, and shadow. A homeless man pushing a grocery cart full of stuffed plastic bags looked my way. Was that a pistol bulging beneath that blanket? Then a dark-haired man driving by flipped a U-turn a block away and I halted.
He’s watching me.
I stood there on the sidewalk and turned in a circle as every face distorted like some macabre movie. They all shriveled, then stretched into my monsters’ allies. An abetting lattice wove throughout the block. Careful now. I imagined an enmeshed tangle of predators had suddenly been knit and now multiple barrels were trained on me.
Keep your freak mouth shut.
My thundering chest sent a message to a trapped mind. Don’t tell. Don’t tell. Don’t tell.
Only now feeling the pain, I clutched at my gut. Breath caught in my throat and I rocked back and forth. Struggling to breathe, I stayed that way for how long, I don’t know.
I want to go home.
Clenching my jaw, I forced a foot forward. Another. Stopped again, sure a bullet would find me.
Go outside yourself. Now.
I began to watch myself as if from a distance.
Cold, stiff fingers comb matted hair across her face. With tears hidden, the fractured seventeen-year-old hobbles over to the 110 onramp and, with a hanging head, sticks out her thumb.
Sixty
Joy
I know what you’re thinking and you’re right. I mean, what the fuck? Hitchhikin
g after what you’ve just been through! Are you batshit crazy, or what?
The answer is yes, and no. My thoughts were all twisted at the time, so it’s hard to explain why I decided to thumb it home instead of heading for the first phone booth in sight. I guess my brain wasn’t working right.
I wanted my Mom so much, wishing she’d wrap me up in a tight hug like after I’d gotten lost in that national park when I was little. If only I could feel her hand stroking my cheek, maybe I’d find out that this all was just a bad dream. I’d wake up and there she’d be, standing over me, telling me it was time to go to school. I wanted to hear her voice more than anyone’s just then, but things had been better at home. And I had lied about Janice giving me a ride. If Ronny found out, he would start all that shit again.
That’s the ‘no’ part to the are-you-crazy question. The ‘yes’ part is that reality had twisted, and even though my high had worn off hours before, I was still enmeshed in its distortion. Chlorotic yellow pouring from the streetlights overhead gave every face a death pallor, making me think they were close by. Menacing eyes flashed from the shadows while looming specters hovered.
I heard threatening whispers as my fractured brain told me that my captors were part of a gang. Their members made sure no one reported them by following each girl after an attack. They stood guard everywhere, demanding strict obedience. I heard their words repeated. We will cut you down if you so much as make a move to tell.
I stayed away from phones and police.
A cold breeze picked up a piece of trash in the center of the street, and it swirled like the harbinger of a coming storm. I rubbed one arm and then the other, trying not to breathe in the malodor that hung in the air. Then I closed my eyes, and the gun flashed on the backs of my lids.
I won’t tell. I promise.
Don’t you see, hitching was the only way? But this time, I’d be beyond careful. No ride unless they seemed safe.
At first, I didn’t even notice the cars driving past. I couldn’t stop crying. Between sobs, I told a college couple a few feet up the hill they should never hitchhike again.
Finding Joy Page 21