by Alice Bell
Inka smiled at her. She loved to keep Zadie on edge. It was true, there were times she could be so loving and then the rest of the world fell away. But it wasn’t a bliss you could trust. You just never knew when the other shoe would drop.
“You mean,” Zadie forced a civil tone, so as not to anger Inka. “I’ve been so close to Devon all this time… and—and not known?”
Inka glanced up, frowning slightly. “No, silly. I said he’s been here. But he’s dropped off my radar, for the time being.”
Zadie licked her lips while her mind tried to grasp what Inka was saying. Her heart hammered, her pulse raced.
Devon was here…
And now he’s gone.
Does Inka care about me at all?
Zadie thought not. With a blood curdling scream, she lunged at her sire. But Inka struck faster than lightning.
In the next instant, pain seared Zadie’s scalp. She howled, as Inka dragged her across the floor by her hair. A rusty nail cut into Zadie’s back.
They scuffled.
On her back, Zadie landed a kick to Inka’s knee before Inka wrenched her to her feet. “Stop it.” Red veins stained the whites of Inka’s eyes. She hit Zadie so hard Zadie’s teeth rattled.
Zadie’s own hand shot out. The feel of Inka’s hot flesh beneath her palm gratified her… for a fleeting moment. Then, she gasped and scuttled into the corner. She covered her head with her arms, facing the wall.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
An ominous quiet hovered.
Inka moved behind her. Zadie felt her heat.
But when Inka spoke, she was gentle and maternal. “Zadie… oh, Zadie, my child. I only slapped you because you were hysterical. Never lose control like that. I can’t abide it. Now, turn around and look at me.”
Gazing into Inka’s eyes was like gazing into a lake of darkness.
“I feel your pain, Zadie,” she said. “Our sorrows are one and the same. You lost Devon but not forever. I promise you.”
Zadie sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She nodded eagerly. Inka had brought Devon back to her once before.
“You didn’t let me get to the good news,” Inka said. “Do you even want to hear?”
Zadie took a deep breath. For the love of Yshtan, she thought silently. Help me. She forced herself to smile at Inka. It was hard because the rage she’d felt before had easily boiled up again. No matter how much she loved Inka sometimes Zadie thought she could kill her in a heartbeat. “Yes, oh please tell me,” she said.
Inka clapped her hands. “Devon owns a building in this very city. And you realize what that means?”
Hope surged inside Zadie. “He’s coming back?”
Inka beamed. “I feel this is so,” she said. “In my heart,” and she put a hand to her chest.
Zadie nodded but her mind spun. She didn’t know how she could wait for Devon to come back when eternity stretched before her. She’d waited so long already.
“But come,” Inka took Zadie’s hand and led her to the bed. “Sit down. I need you to pull yourself together.”
Zadie sat but a tear leaked from her eye.
“Don’t cry,” Inka sounded on the verge of snapping again. “Such a display of human weakness is beneath you. Understand?”
Zadie nodded.
“It’s this crazy house,” Inka said. “You’re not feeding properly.”
Shame filled Zadie but Inka was kind when she spoke. “I should have come to you sooner. You needed me and I wasn’t there.”
Yes, oh yes. Don’t be angry.
Inka sighed. “I have something else I must tell you.”
Zadie stared up at her, truly frightened now.
“This will be hard for you to hear,” Inka said.
Zadie’s pulse raced with dread.
“There is one other thing you should know… about Devon.”
Scarlett
My alarm went off at 5:37. After pressing snooze twice, I didn’t have time to eat or even make coffee. I was on my way out the door before I realized I hadn’t rolled my lucky dice. I hesitated, thinking: Why not break this ritual too? I was tired of the dice and their limited outcomes. But my life felt so out of control.
I rolled a six and got déjà vu.
I wanted to fix coffee in the teacher’s lounge but I was afraid of seeing Georgie and Henry. I dreaded facing Autumn most of all. I couldn’t shake the feeling Devon had been the ‘stranger in her bed’. I had wanted the girls to get wild with their diaries and express their most secret desires. Now I wished I’d never given the project.
For lunch I bought cheese and crackers from the vending machine in the cafeteria. I stopped at the soda fountain and filled a large cup with ice and Coke. I sat at my desk, spreading bright orange cheese with the tiny red stick that came in the packet. I kept seeing images of Autumn and Devon and twisted bed sheets and tangled limbs.
I searched for a Dramamine tablet in my desk. I didn’t find one. I closed my eyes and tapped my foot six times.
Autumn didn’t arrive with the other girls, which was typical, but I found myself hoping she wouldn’t show at all. Then I felt bad for wishing such a thing.
She was just a young girl. There was no reason to think Devon was the guy she’d had raunchy sex with all night. Except there was a reason. Autumn’s description fit Devon right down to his big black boots.
She slouched through the door at her usual ten past after the rest of us had made our circle. I smiled at her but she avoided my gaze. I introduced the topic of unreliable narrators and asked the girls to name a few. They brought up Holden Caulfield and Huck Finn. I asked what they thought of Nelly and Lockwood as narrators in Wuthering Heights.
“Stupid,” Charity said.
Autumn finally met my eyes. “Humbert Humbert,” she said.
“Is he unreliable?” I said. “Or horribly honest?”
I assigned them the task of writing a story using an unreliable narrator. We gave back each other’s diaries and agreed to keep writing. We’d exchange again the next week.
As the girls were leaving, I called to Autumn. “Wait a second,” I said.
I packed my suitcase, to seem less officious, hoping to make her more comfortable. Or maybe I did it out of cowardice. “Autumn, you have a strong writing voice. Evocative and authentic.”
She said nothing.
I had to look up at her. She was very tall. Her book bag hung at her hip, the strap crossing her long torso. I almost changed my mind. I heard Dr. Ess say, “Let it go.” But I had to reach out to her, as her elder and her teacher.
“Look, I want you to know… I really enjoyed your diary. I enjoyed the way you wrote it, that is. I’m a bit concerned though. You said you wrote about love. Only you wrote about sex. You do realize there’s a difference?”
Her eyes narrowed. I was confronted with her beauty. Her bones were strong, like her writing. I imagined a man would not be able to resist her. And I remembered Zadie had been tall too.
I saw her jaw tighten but her cheeks turned red.
“You told us we wouldn’t get in trouble,” her tone was low and biting.
“Oh, no, Autumn. You’re not in trouble. I just—I’m your teacher. And I care. Autumn, you wrote about having sex with a stranger, a grown man. You’re a minor.”
“How do you know he’s a grown man?”
“Well, I—I got that impression. Are you saying he wasn’t? Was he your age?” my heart pounded.
“Miss Rain, I’m eighteen. Fully legal. And—” she ran her violet eyes down the length of me, making me feel miniscule and plebian. “I doubt I’m much younger than you. Who do you think you are?”
I swallowed. “Autumn, listen. That man? He took advantage of you. Even if you’re an adult in the eyes of the law, you’re still in high school. He’s....” I clenched my hands. Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades. I thought about how Devon had made me feel, how he’d touched me. I couldn’t imagine he was the stranger in Autumn’s
bed and yet another part of me wondered what he was capable of.
She stared. Color drained from her face. “You said no rules. You told us we could write whatever we wanted,” now her voice trembled.
“You can. This isn’t about what you wrote. It’s about what happened to you.”
She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I cannot believe this.” Her hands fell to her sides. “I don’t want you to be my teacher anymore. You’re a liar.” She turned and walked away. The door clicked softly shut behind her.
* * *
I paced back and forth. My limbs tingled. I counted the tiles on the floor until my breath got even again. I sat at my desk and tried to focus on grading papers. Finally, I checked my watch. I waited for the second hand to turn the time to 6:36.
Then I zipped my suitcase and pulled it down the quiet hallway.
Outside the office door, I waited. There was a light inside but it was low. I listened. Far off I heard voices and the sound of a door clanging shut. I debated with myself. Finally I turned the knob and went in.
No one was there and the office was clearly shut down with screen savers glowing on the computers. An alarm blinked above the door to Stroop’s office. I searched carefully for surveillance cameras but saw none. My pulse beat in my throat.
There was a short wall surrounding the outer office, separating it from our mailboxes. The gate was locked. I found a locked gate on an easily surmountable wall pretty silly, though I supposed it served as a warning.
I gazed at the rows of filing cabinets behind the wall. Each cabinet had a little lock but it was likely the same key opened every one. Something told me the key was in the secretary’s desk.
I asked myself: Why don’t you turn around and go home before you ruin your life?
I could probably find the information I wanted online. Names and ages were data that was easy to track down and, if not readily available, easy to purchase; another reason to avoid technology, in my opinion. But if there was one thing I knew, it was how the simplest ideas could get the most complicated. I didn’t own a computer so I’d have to go to the library. Naturally, Wong would be there because she was the librarian. And she was prying. Going to the library was definitely the hard way.
I would do it quickly, I decided. No big deal. I had to see Autumn’s file and I had to see it now. I hoisted myself over the wall, landing clumsily in my high heels. The cabinets were locked, as I’d suspected.
I jerked open the middle drawer of the desk. What a mess. Under a pile of candy wrappers, I found a plastic key ring full of keys, including one that looked just the right size. The drawer I needed slid open.
I had no intention of reading the whole file. I’d be in and out in seconds. My fingers flew. When I found ‘Jones’ I pulled up the folder. My eyes zoomed in on Autumn’s birthdate. I knew it. She wouldn’t be eighteen for… let’s see, eleven more days. Who was the liar? I couldn’t help noticing her address in the line below. 21698 Stargazer Lane.
I put the folder back and was about to close the cabinet when my eyes fell on Rain, R. That’s me. My stomach dropped. I gripped the edge of the drawer. Of course I had a file too. Everyone had to be accounted for. Yet I felt violated.
There were copies of letters of recommendation from my professors. I smiled. My smile disappeared when I saw my medical history. I stared, disbelieving. There was a long list of medications I’d used, plus the ones I was supposed to be on now, the dates I’d been institutionalized. I blinked. Who had the right to know?
I didn’t hear the door opening.
“Scarlett?”
I jumped. The folder fell. I dropped to my knees. With shaking hands, I gathered the papers. My throat was closing. I heard him cross the floor, felt his eyes on me, though I didn’t look up.
“Scarlett, what are you doing?” he said.
I was aware of him coming over the wall, though I didn’t look up. He squatted down next to me. When he reached for the last page, I snatched it quickly. “Please don’t.”
We stood up at the same time. I should have been grateful it was only Henry and not Stroop, but I felt dizzy, unreal.
With shaking hands, I put the file away, locked the cabinet and returned the key to the desk. Henry watched me without saying anything. At last I met his gaze. “I needed to see something,” I said. “No one was here so I—”
He was frowning.
“I—I have the right to know what’s in my own file.” I didn’t like how combative I sounded but I was too nervous to control myself.
“I’m surprised at you, Scarlett,” he said, after a long agonizing beat. “I thought you were a good girl.”
I licked my lips. Gazing up at him, I wondered why I’d had such a crush on him. He’d barely flirted and I’d lapped it up like a starving kitten offered a bowl of cream. Though he did finally call me, long after I should have given up, now I wondered why. It seemed so obvious, especially in this moment, that we had nothing in common.
Or had that been the attraction in the first place?
My temples throbbed, my mind spun. Georgie had managed to get me fired from a volunteer class for not using a dumb curriculum. What if Henry told Stroop he caught me breaking into private records?
Oh, God, I’m going to be sick. The thought of being sick on Henry’s shoes caused an inappropriate smile to quiver on my lips.
“I like bad girls, Scarlett,” Henry said, in a low sexy voice.
There was a glint in his eye as he pressed close. Like he’d done before, he backed me up against the wall, only this time he took more liberty, his hand coming to rest just below my breast. When he reached up with his thumb to stroke my nipple, I sucked in my breath.
After being with Devon, I couldn’t stand for Henry to touch me but Henry thought I wanted him. Or he didn’t care whether I did or not. His lips covered mine and he moaned into my mouth.
It was instinct. My knee came up and rammed him in the groin. He cursed, reeling away.
I clambered over the wall, leaving him grunting and gasping. Down the long hall I fled with my suitcase careening behind me.
* * *
I drove home into a volatile sunset. Huge pink clouds mushroomed like an apocalypse. It was gorgeous and ominous.
Inside, standing at the kitchen sink, I tried to breathe deeply through my nose but I was only capable of taking tiny shaky breaths. I read the directions on my Lexapro bottle. I was so upset, I wondered if I ought to take extra.
I thought of Devon and how he was the only person who knew me the tiniest bit. And I thought maybe he wasn’t even a person, he was a spirit or… I closed my eyes and pressed my fingertips to my lids, trying to stop the headache that was coming on.
And then I thought of my grandmother and how much I missed her.
When I thought of my mother, a sharp pain stabbed at my heart. I bent over, remembering my mother’s lover, Javier, crumpled on the floor. I’d been the one to find him… shot to death. I knelt next to him to lay my head on his broad chest. He’d been so kind to me, the closest thing to a father I’d ever known. A policeman had to carry me away. I was smeared with Javier’s blood.
But that hadn’t happened. I hadn’t been there. I didn’t know Javier was gone. I didn’t feel him leave and that’s what I should be teaching my students, preaching to anyone who would listen. You never get to say good-bye. You will never know which moment is your last with anyone who has ever mattered.
My body went cold. My lips trembled. I was on the verge of a panic attack, the kind that felt like falling through darkness.
Devon
I walked down Scarlett’s street. The air was heavy.
Now that I finally had the memories I’d pined for, they were too bright, like an old black and white film painted with color. They didn’t feel real.
In real life, the moon was hidden behind dark clouds. Skinny street lamps cast a sickly light. When I leaped over the fence into Scarlett’s yard, I saw nothing but weeds and dead flowers.
H
er front door hadn’t closed far enough to latch. I was surprised by the darkness inside. I’d expected the usual flicker of candlelight and a warming fire. When I found Scarlett on the floor, I rushed to her. She was near the sofa, curled on her side with her knees drawn up. Her pulse leaped into my veins.
I put my hand on her head. Her long eyelashes fluttered. I stroked her hair and tasted her pain, so aching and sweet. “Scarlett, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you on the floor?”
“It hurts so much.”
“What hurts?” her hair was soft under my hand.
“I hurt.”
I lifted her up easily. She weighed nothing but she was listless, like a rag doll. “Hold on to me tighter,” I said.
We went up the stairs and down the hallway past the paintings of her mother, India Glaw, the ‘murderess’.
She kicked. “Stop,” she said. “I want to go to my room…”
I ignored her. As we began to ascend the attic stairway, she twisted harder in my arms. “No, Devon. Why?”
Maybe I liked the mosquito net that reminded me of Nicaragua. Or maybe the attic was symbolic, the place where I’d cut myself for her and exposed my monstrous soul.
You know what I am. Don’t fight it.
I laid her on the bed and kicked off my boots and stripped, then got in beside her. I slipped my hands under her dress. Her skin was cold.
I ripped off her clothes and cast them on the floor. Her sadness filled me with unreal strength. I’d never felt more alive.
I turned her over so she was on her stomach. When I entered her, she grabbed the bed frame, lost hold, and then we were sideways, sliding on the sheets. When she started to fall off the edge of the mattress, I pulled her back and turned her over again.
I held down her wrists and looked into her eyes.
She moaned, and cried, not cried out, but really cried. Mascara made black tracks down her face.
I paused. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Me, naked, a woman crying. I thought I was hurting her. I’d just taken her virginity, and now I was ravaging her.