Suddenly, she was back on her feet, lifted bodily by her pack straps. Jostled on, she searched the night for any way out, her mind fighting in broken reason and frantic patterns. The woods were a wall all around her, the white glow of the flashlight darting about like a menacing crowd. She tripped, finding a set of steps. It was a building of some kind. The doorway was black as oil inside, but he seemed to know exactly where they were going.
Like a clap of thunder, the words returned. Sense spiked through her entire frame like a shock. Life came back to her muscles.
He took hold of her again, and lifted her bodily. El knew that if she went inside, she might never come back out again. With a shriek, she kicked her legs out, bracing her feet against the doorjamb. The wood was soft beneath her boots, and her leg, bloody from knee to ankle, could not hold them in stasis for long.
With a ferocious snarl, he tugged her backward and threw her into the darkness. El hit the ground and skidded into a pile of garbage. She gasped for air, then lay still. His boots came closer across the planking, thumping in a self-congratulatory swagger.
“You sure look pretty,” he crooned.
El closed her eyes. For some reason, she could see Riley leaning against the wall of the maintenance shed, her face upward in sunlight, her fists like steel clamps, her teeth grinding whatever grist the stupid boys had given her. What had she been doing? Why had she wandered off alone so many times a day? Riley was pulling the machinery back from chaos, assembling plans to undo magic. To her, anger was just fuel. Fear was raw energy that had to be channeled.
When he laughed, it was like a goad. Her perfect rendering of Riley opened dark eyes and stared right at her in command.
The nausea intensified, but her muscles coiled.
He thrust out a foot and kicked El onto her side. A bright light flashed and flashed, picking at her retinas. Blinded again, her other senses came to the fore. As he knelt down beside her and fumbled lustily with the clips at her chest, El could smell his stink, judge his distance by the eager warmth coming off him.
El’s fingers were roaming too, and as it had been in the bright glow of high noon, Tizóna was hot to the touch.
When Mama Glasse answered the phone, she sounded as if she’d already had a few cocktails. Riley had a bit of difficulty wading through the accent turned to molasses by a thick tongue.
“Consider this your progress call.”
“Well?”
Well? That was all she had to say? Not Is my daughter dead? Not Please say you’ve found her! Just Well? Riley’s temper was itching at her eyelids as she sat breathing, her chin tucked to her chest.
“I have leads and I’m working on them, but I need a photo of El.”
“Her name is El-ear-uh. Say it right, you twit.”
Riley narrowed her eyes at the pavement. This was going to be complicated—playing Mama’s assumptions out while still doing what she needed to do. “I don’t have time or energy to pronounce that stupid fucking name. I’m R. She’s L. Now are you gonna listen to me, or do I need to just ride home?”
The silence was a heavy one. At last, the woman seemed to sober up a bit. “I have a few school pictures. I’ll email them to you.”
“Send a few of Rose too.”
Mama let out an undignified snort. “I beg your pardon?”
“Something tells me you don’t know what that phrase actually means.”
“I don’t know what kind of trashy—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
Why was it, that once people found out she was a lesbian, her entire existence spun in the orbit of deviant sex addiction? The idea that lesbians, or gays, or bi people, or trans people thought about sex any more often than a cis-het person was ridiculous. And if they did, it was because the rest of the world made it such a big deal that they had to constantly think about it. Their entire existence and character were suddenly distilled down into their sexuality, and they were denied any identity outside of that. It was the worst thing to do to a person, but folks did it without a moment’s thought and insisted that members of the community play along.
That was some fucked-up magical thinking.
“Look, lady—” Riley squeezed the grip and torqued her wrist “—can we not address your obsession with gay sex? I don’t have time to reeducate you on what queer actually means, you ignorant hillbilly twit.”
“What did you just say to me?”
Oh no . . . the dreaded H of perdition. Riley rolled her eyes, but knew it was time to dial it back a bit.
“I told you I’d find your daughter. I didn’t say I’d take your bullshit. You want the job done, you call the person who can do it. You don’t call someone to roll on their back while you kick them. So either you behave like a professional, or the contract terminates. I may not be as rich as you, but I’m not so poor that I need your money.”
She could practically hear Mama grinding her teeth. “Tell me why you want the pictures of Rose.”
This could be dangerous, but Riley had to give if she expected to take. Chances were, if those men had tracked El to the train, they knew she had changed her hair. They might have gotten the tip from the station attendant or CCTV footage. “I think El might have changed her appearance. I need one with makeup and blonde hair.”
To her surprise, Mama let out a chuckle that she drowned in a glass of ice cubes. “Well, they were right then. I wondered why she all of a sudden wanted Rose to teach her about cosmetics. God, people are going to think she’s a street walker.”
Riley’s mouth fell open. This woman had coached Rose through every one of her beauty pageants. If El had decided to look like her sister . . . was Mama suggesting Rose looked like a prostitute, or that El did for trying? Either way, it was fucked up. It seemed unbelievable a mother would say such things out loud.
She checked her phone. All her apps were running.
“Rethinking the objectification of your daughter for the sake of a cash prize, eh Mama?”
“Watch it! Without those scholarship programs, Rose wouldn’t be able to go to college.”
“You guys are rich enough to afford college, but yeah, keep telling yourself that you’re totally not backing a culture that teaches women their only ticket to the good life is their tits.”
“Rose is a communications major. She’s not curing cancer.”
For the first time, it occurred to Riley that perhaps Rose had given El the idea to impersonate her. If she had, maybe she was in on the plan. If that was true, then Riley might worry even less, because she would be assured that El had a safety net.
The glass clinked as Mama mulled her wine with muddled thoughts. “I’ll email you the pictures.”
“Good.”
“So what lead are you chasing, then?”
Riley couldn’t contain her sarcasm as she dismounted the bike and switched to the handset. “Sure, I’m gonna tell you, and you’re gonna pass it to the other guy, because you’d rather they win, right? Because fuck that dyke, right?”
Mama took the high road in a long-suffering tone so lofty it sent Riley’s eyes skyward. “I’m sorry you have that opinion. I don’t hate gays. You’re living in sin. It’s my spiritual duty to tell you that.”
“How benevolent of you.” Riley ran her tongue over the inside of her teeth. That any person could apply a negative judgment to someone else’s life and then say it wasn’t being used to discriminate was completely batshit. Doing that was the opposite of coexistence, and coexistence was what had made laws and rules about morality necessary in the first place. It was irrational! She was five minutes from ending this entire thing in one string of swear words.
Mama was oblivious. “Elyrra believes she’s a lesbian. The more I think about it, the more I agree that you might be just the . . . uh . . . dyke to do the job. Not to mention, that if you bring her back, she might rethink trusting you people.”
Skin crawling, Riley stowed the helmet on the chain and locked her bike in place. “So it’s fine th
at I’m living in sin as long as it gets you what you want, huh?”
“I’m praying for you too.”
“I’m good, thanks. Your god can pretty much kiss my ass if you people are the welcoming committee.”
Mama began to speak, but Riley was finally at the end of her tether. There hadn’t been any clause in their contract that told her she would be dismissed for being a jerk, so why not live by the letter of the arrangement?
“Send me those pictures, because I need to use them before this place closes. I’ll email you in a couple hours with more news.”
She hung up. It took a few minutes to calm her nerves. People always commented on how absolutely stoic and severe she looked in a fight. They didn’t see the aftermath, when her knees went weak. They didn’t see the turmoil inside or the rage that just kept getting in the way of all logical thought. To everyone else, she was a badass, but really, that stillness just came from the PTSD of learning to recede inward when someone was trying to hurt her.
Her phone let out a bing, and she jumped nearly five inches. The pictures went directly into her photos file.
Beckley’s Greyhound station belied the town’s smallness—modern glass and a lofted ceiling. Riley heckled the agent only for a moment. The man said he’d never seen the girl, nor checked in anyone going by the name Rose Glasse. When he asked to see her ID, she walked away.
The whole way into town, Riley had scanned the roadside for signs of El. At a few steep inclines, she’d even stopped and looked down, just to be certain. Either El had not taken this route, or she’d already gotten on a bus.
Riley sat on a retainer wall and thought for a moment. She could wait here and see if El showed up, or she could drive back to the last place she knew the girl had been, via the other route. If El had already made it to Beckley and was waiting somewhere in town to board a later bus, they’d miss each other, but if she was still en route, their paths would cross.
It came down to El’s safety. She was in less danger on the bus than on the street. So if they missed each other now, at least Riley could follow in her wake, assured she was with people who would call the cops if something happened.
As she drove back to Alderson, however, and found no trace of El, Riley began to question her thought process. By the time she made it back to the gas station, the sun was nearing the horizon. The idea of El having to spend one more night alone drove Riley to distraction. She parked the bike and didn’t even bother to lock it up.
To her astonishment, a different clerk sat behind the counter. Flustered, Riley took a few moments to get over her confusion.
“Wasn’t . . . wasn’t Sonny supposed to be working right now?”
The man shook his head. “Took off early for her daughter’s graduation. She’ll probably sleep through it though, knowing her.”
Graduation. Her own graduation was in a week. One more normal thing in which Riley had no interest. It seemed such a silly tradition. She had to stop herself from being annoyed that anyone would halt her progress to attend a bunch of boring speeches and watch someone get a meaningless piece of paper. She couldn’t blame anyone for sleeping through that.
“Do you know if she’ll be back on tomorrow?”
“Yup. We switched. She’s on at eight.”
Riley left the station and stood staring out at the river. She felt adrift. Usually, plans just sort of sprang out at her, but nothing presented itself. She was missing something, pacing in the parking lot, uselessly churning up gravel.
Walking across the bridge, Riley went to the gazebo and put her elbows on the railing. Reading through the several articles written about the train fiasco, she tried to piece together what she knew. The train had been stopped, and El must have been terrified. She somehow escaped, disabled the SUV, and then made her way to the gas station. She’d asked about buses, but if those men had found her on the train, surely they’d also be looking on the buses.
Well . . . once they got out of jail.
If Riley were on the run, she’d have asked the clerk all the wrong questions, just to divert anyone who followed behind, interrogating the people she’d met.
Maybe El hadn’t gone to the bus station at all. But if not the station, then what was her plan?
Riley watched the sky shift through the rainbow and felt her spirits sinking with the sun. There was no way she’d locate El before sundown. Defeat pressed her to the concrete. She put her face in her hands.
Her phone beeped. It was a text message from her father asking why she hadn’t called. Riley tapped the Call button and put it on speaker.
“Hi, Dad.”
“You don’t sound too good, Rye-baby. Haven’t found her, huh?”
“No. I have some ideas, but . . . I have to wait for someone to come back on shift. This is killing me, Dad. It’s getting dark.”
“I hear you. You can only do what you can do. So go do that like a boss. Eat some dinner. Get some rest. Try to get your head on straight so you can do right by her.”
Tears welled in Riley’s eyes. She fought them back. She’d been alone before, but this was different. Someone might be depending on her, and she was failing. If anyone understood that feeling, it was her father, and she could hear it so easily in his deep voice.
“What if something happens to her, Dad?”
“Then you deal with that. Come on, Rye. Calm down. Prepare. Ducks in a row so you can shoot ’em all down.”
She nodded to herself. One good sigh helped compress the emotion. “You’re right. I’m just . . . really tired.”
“And you know you’re really close, but you still can’t reach her.”
“That too.” Riley rubbed her temples where the new helmet pressed in. “I also have this terrible feeling like I need to find her now. You know? Like something bad has happened.”
He let out a noise. “It did. She’s probably camped out in the bushes by the side of the road wishing she’d thought this through a little better. Go get a hotel room. Take a shower. You can’t ride safely if you’re sore, Tizóna. You know that.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Talk to me about how you’re feeling.”
She sniffled. “About what?”
He made a sardonic noise. “I’ve been reading that website same as you. I agree with everything she’s said, but that’s because to me, you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. But how do you feel about it?”
Riley tipped back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t mean anything, dad. It’s just . . . it’s just a girl daydreaming about a life bigger than the one she has. Once her life grows, you know . . . she’ll forget all about it.”
“You really don’t have a good gauge of how you seem to others, do you?”
“What’s that mean? I’m a bitch. I come off like a bitch.”
“Rye . . . mija . . . you don’t have resting bitch face. You have resting warrior face. The only people who would call you a bitch are the boys too stupid to know they’re about to swallow some teeth.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, but it wasn’t true. None of it was true. “Dad . . . That’s not the real me.”
“Yes, it is. You just haven’t figured out who the enemy is and why you’re so angry with them. You’ll get there. Warriors have fear too. They just keep going in spite of it. I think—”
“Dad—”
“Listen to me. I think that you should give this girl some credit, because she may think the armor is . . . uh . . . sexy, but I think she can see exactly what you’re protecting and why you’re hurting. You need someone who can get into those places with you, someone you’ll let in.”
Tears were freshly wandering down her face, but she was smiling. Anyone who ever looked at her father and saw an ignorant hillbilly was scum, because to her, there was no wiser philosopher in the world.
“You don’t think it’s unfair to dump my shit at her door?”
He chuckled. “Is it any more unfair than scaring the shit outta you by running away?”
>
“That’s square. I’ll think about it.”
“Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I never imagined you becoming an adult like this, but yeah . . . I guess I should have. I love you.”
Most of the night, she tossed and turned on her cheap hotel mattress, staring into a popcorn ceiling, looking for patterns. She sought insight in reading El’s website, but that only made the anxiety worse, because more and more she saw the beauty in El’s mind and how tragic it would be to lose that. Riley could not escape the sense that some danger would befall El, and that it would all be her fault, for not being fast enough, or smart enough, or strong enough.
At six in the morning, she awoke from a horrible nightmare, her pillow wet with tears and perspiration. She’d been in the hospital room again, sitting on that maroon chair that was so uncomfortable, watching her mother slip away, not fully understanding why she could not be fixed.
Some things cannot be fixed, they would say to her. Some things cannot be prevented. Some things just have to happen, and because they “have to happen,” they must be fated. Meant to be.
Riley got out of bed and stood in the humid breeze of the ancient air conditioner, staring down at the railroad tracks—a reliable path carved out of the ground, static and unchanging for a century and a half. El had taken this route because it was tried and true, and one of the few courses open to her. One mishap threw her off that track, and now, she truly was gone.
As much as Riley hated the idea of fate, she had to admit, it made things a hell of a lot easier.
At eight o’clock, she was back at the gas station, occupying the space between the door and the padlocked ice cooler. When Sonny spotted her, she looked as if she’d been startled awake and hated the idea.
“Not in Beckley, huh?”
Riley shook her head. She hadn’t put on makeup this morning. She wanted the woman to see the dark circles. “I’ve been up all night trying to find her.”
Sonny shifted on her feet and searched the horizon line, clutching a huge energy drink in one hand. “I hope she’s okay.”
Love Under Glasse Page 18