“She’s not home,” Katie said, motioning to the room behind her.
Brian tried smiling. He knew the teen wasn’t happy to see him, especially after she caught him in bed with her mother a week earlier.
“Hi Katie. Looks like I waked you.”
“Yeah, so what? She’s not here.” Katie shrugged.
“It’s her day off. Do you know where she’s at?”
It took a moment for Katie to respond. Running her hand across her forehead, she breathed out a deep sigh. “You spend enough time with my mother. Try doing the same with your wife.”
Stepping to the side, she closed the door.
Amid the putrid smells of the hallway, Brian stood staring at the door, unsure what to do with his afternoon.
4
MARGE
Thursday 12:15 PM
Marge held a pair of lace panties to her hips, unsure if she needed a size six or a size seven. On sale for five dollars a pair, she didn’t want to pass up the deal. She hated that the Wal-Mart in Winsted never let you try them on. For a woman with curves like hers, fit was essential. If she brought the undergarments home and they were too big, she would end up having them fall down inside her pants all day. If they were too small, she could give them to Katie, but her daughter would complain about Marge’s spending habits.
When did she become such a stooge?
Unable to understand why her daughter was constantly riding her about saving money, Marge picked out a few luxuries and placed them in the cart. Nail polish, moisturizer, and new bras and panties were a splurge. Another glance through the clearance wrack and Marge discovered a fun little find: a cheetah print negligee with black spaghetti straps.
Katie always complained that she didn’t leave enough for necessities, but Marge knew better. Money spent on looking nice was an investment.
At forty one, Marge was at an age where she was young enough to land a man of quality, but old enough to know how to choose one worth keeping. Her first husband was a learning experience, her first boyfriend a learning disaster. Had she known just a few years ago that men grew tired of a relaxed woman, Marge might have tried to spice things up sooner. After so many painful mistakes, she vowed never to screw up a good relationship again.
Although she didn’t usually go far from town because her car wasn’t the most reliable vehicle, Marge decided to sneak off alone so she could find a little something sexy to wear. Things were coming along well with her current relationship and she didn’t want to start getting too comfortable.
It was rare to have an entire morning and afternoon free from her job at the florist shop. After rolling out of bed, she mixed a little rum with her instant coffee and made toast. Marge planned exactly which stores she would hit for the day. Williston’s deposit had cleared and she was in the mood to look ravishing. Not bothering to awaken her daughter, she applied some cosmetics and drove straight to Winsted.
Having once lived in the small city, Marge didn’t mind driving through the odd array of hills and crowded streets. Despite the fact that the town’s intersections had lights that didn’t keep in pace with the demanding traffic, she rather liked the familiarity the town gave her. She had spent quite a few nights in the studio apartments that ran above Main Street and the multifamily colonial houses built by the Polacks that settled in the town’s south end. Without even thinking of which direction to take, she could jet around the back streets and make her way up to the Goodwill. Looking for designer jeans on the five dollar boutique rack was a thrill, only better was finding knockoff designer bags for twenty bucks on Water Street. The beauty school would frost her hair and wax her lip for less than what she could pay to have her nails done back home.
Not wanting to live amongst the growing number of Latinos, Marge was thankful the day Williston moved her out of Winsted. After a short courtship, followed by a small marriage ceremony with the justice of the peace and a reception at the Knights of Columbus, Will moved her into his family’s East Canaan home. Living in an actual house that wasn’t an apartment or a trailer was exhilarating and what she considered to be the good life. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.
If she kept on track, Marge knew she would be married again. And this time, she would make sure the good life was hers for the keeping. Using her body was one guarantee. Her lover noticed every little thing she wore and was easily turned on when she stripped for him. With each thong and silk pantyhose Marge purchased, he fell more and more in love. Katie wanted to go out later and find a Halloween costume, but in Marge’s opinion, that was a waste of money in comparison. Halloween was a children’s holiday that came once a year – what Marge had to do was craft a fantasy that would leave Brian smitten for a lifetime.
Beauty was easy for Marge. She had many fond memories of her pageant days. They were nothing like the circuits that ran down south, but in small town New Hampshire, she was recognized as the real thing. Beginning at age five, she had won several ribbons and cash prizes. By twelve, with the onset of puberty giving her height and her mother’s curvy build, she won a two hundred dollar savings bond and a weekend stay at the classy Omni Mount Washington Hotel. It was when Marge was Katie’s age that she reached the pinnacle of local beauty contests in the area. In the fall of her junior year, she was crowned “Miss Apple Dumpling 1988” and wore her sash in the Labor Day parade with pride. Teasing her hair and applying cosmetics made her feel beautiful. Knowing the guest judges in her hometown thought so made it all worth it.
With a sudden bout of inspiration, Marge headed to the skin care aisle. Knowing how lovely the cheetah print teddy would fit, she pored over the self-tanners. Thinking of the scene she would create the next time she was alone with her lover, she didn’t even notice the vibration of her cell phone as it trilled in her bag.
5
KATIE
Thursday 12:15 PM
After shutting the door in Brian Jones’s face, Katie sat on the couch. Listening, she waited for him to pound on it again. Her mother’s assholes tended to get nasty when she locked them out, but the preacher must have been smart enough to know better.
Counting on her fingers, Katie thought back to how long her mom had been seeing him. If memory served, they were just about half way through their third month. Marge’s boyfriends seldom lasted pass the first six weeks. None of them seemed too love struck after witnessing her mother fall down drunk after the first few dates, but that wasn’t the real kicker. Those who didn’t mind the drinking left as soon her mother dropped the “M” bomb. Nothing like marriage to make the boys panic and disappear.
Katie didn’t want that kind of life. If falling in love meant that you would dissolve once the relationship ended, it didn’t seem worth it. A man’s company was nice, but loving them was dangerous. Hopefully, her mother learned this by now.
That or Jones might actually love her back.
Heading into the bathroom, Katie grabbed a clean towel from the linen closet and turned on the shower. She was relieved her mother was happy, but the fact that the woman had fallen for a married man troubled her.
From what she knew of Brian Jones, he had a pretty cushy life on the other side of town; a life in a nice house with his wife and a teenage daughter – Rachel Jones.
Katie and Rachel used to be friends in elementary school, but that all changed when middle school segregated students by achievements. Rachel and her goodie-good church friends were placed in all honors classes while less impressive students, such as Katie, with bullshit going on at home, were lumped together in teacher supported classrooms. The cliques formed at that time carried on into high school and no one ever transcended into a different peer group.
Rachel wasn’t mean, but it bothered Katie that her old friend would not even look at her. Each time the teen entered a class, she smiled at the teacher or at Jason, but couldn’t bother to say hello or even acknowledging her existence. Even though her friend Darla insisted Jones’s daughter was a snob, Katie knew Rachel was just shy. Now that her father wa
s fooling around with Marge, nothing changed.
It doesn’t make us friends.
What did trouble Katie was Rachel’s reaction about the hook up. Although she wanted to embarrass Rachel a little, she didn’t think she would ever forget the look of horror that spilled across the girl’s face, when she, with her friend Darla egging her on, happened to let it drop that her mom was Pastor Jones’s new flavor. For some reason, Katie assumed Rachel would suspect something like that from a douchebag like her dad. But once she commented on all of the ugly little details of the affair, she realized naïve little Rachel lived a sheltered life.
She didn’t have a clue.
Stepping under the spray of water, Katie knew it was just another regret she would learn to live with. It wasn’t the worst of them, but it still sucked like hell.
6
RACHEL
Thursday 5:30 PM
With a deep sigh, Rachel exhaled the breath she had been holding in since Jason rang the doorbell. Although she had sneaked him in before, it was the first time her parent’s requested he join them for dinner. With store bought lasagna fresh from the oven and a loaf of garlic bread ready to be served, the four of them took their seats in the formal dining room.
As the meal was served, her parents made polite conversation. They had never met her boyfriend, but he appeared relaxed. She hoped the night would unfold without incident, but Rachel knew her folks. With their polished clothes and false smiles, she awaited the stomach ache she had come to expect from them.
She studied Jason. With his dark hair and easy smile, he cleaned up well. She warned him that her parents were odd, that they may be a tad bit “preachy.” He laughed off her concerns with a claim that his folks were the same way. But, Rachel had met Shannon and Carl and they were nothing like the Jones’s.
In the hour before his arrival, she had fussed with her curly hair and changed her outfit three times, only to settle on the same pink sweater and blue jeans she had selected days before. She checked her phone at least five times and even offered to help her mother finish assembling the Caesar salad.
A part of her feared he wouldn’t come, another part worried he would.
Last fall, when Jason stopped her at her locker and asked that she accompany him to homecoming, she was flattered. Despite the chatter that he had a reputation of being a hot head at his old school, Rachel found the way he spoke passionately about the world and his interests, intriguing. Her two closest girlfriends from church, Beth and Nicole, cautioned her about getting involved with him. With his preference for taking the seat in the back row of each class, they feared the dark haired guy with a tattoo across his biceps would be Rachel’s undoing.
Yet they stare and preen when he walks past.
It didn’t take long for word to spread that the dirt biker was into the churchy kid, confusing most cliques. Jason didn’t fit the stereotypes the small school felt comfortable lumping each new student in. Hellion or not, his grade point average placed him among the top ten of the class and Rachel’s heart raced whenever he flashed his reserved grin just for her.
After the dance, she was overjoyed when he continued to call and ask her out. Although he wasn’t afraid to get in anyone’s face if they talked down to him or showed Rachel any disrespect, Jason was nothing but tender with her. Once they shared their first kiss, Rachel realized her feelings went beyond a budding attraction. Letting go of her worries about what everyone thought was the best thing she had ever done. The courage to discover him freed her to find herself.
Just once she asked him “why her?” Why out of all of Canaan’s single girls, she was the one he picked? With the sweetest of grins, he told her it was because she didn’t judge him. When he moved to the small Connecticut town, she was the first one to genuinely seem interested in who he was. She looked past the rumors and didn’t care about his image. Once he got to know her, he saw she was more than just a pastor’s kid. Rachel was smart and giving and could make him laugh. The thought was still dizzying.
Having Jason separate from her family was like having a life in another world. With him she could be as funny and carefree as she wanted because she wasn’t confined to being a pastor’s child. On the back of his dirt bike or in his arms, she was no longer bound to the pressure of being Pastor Jones’s only daughter.
Pushing her pasta around on her plate, she couldn’t force herself to eat. The table setting was lovely with its white table cloth and sterling flatware. The silver was polished and the linens were pressed. Even the lasagna was served in a casserole dish instead of the flimsy aluminum pan it came in. It was all for appearances, they never ate together anymore.
Today was her birthday. Tomorrow was Halloween. There were a hundred places she would rather be with Jason. They could share fries and milkshakes with their friends at Lucinda’s Diner, play a round of mini golf at The Cove, or better yet, go to Six Flags.
“Rachel, your father is speaking to you.” Her mother’s tartness brought her back to the room – to her need to please them. “He has your gift.” Angela Jones was wearing a tailored business suit.
She can’t wear jeans and a sweatshirt like most moms.
Her father looked at her. His eyes revealed a distance they both could feel.
When she was younger, she revered him like his Sunday morning worshippers. With a child’s naivety, she believed Brian Jones walked a narrow path, in route to a higher moral plain. Last week, she heard he was spending evenings in Katie Finch’s mother’s bedroom, guiding her in a private Bible Study.
“Well, since dinner is over, we might as well give you your gift,” he said. In his hand was a large manila envelope. With a smirk, the same one he gave parishioners when they needed a reminder to tithe, he slid it across the table to her. “Happy birthday, Darling.”
Rachel glanced at Jason. She wanted to hold his hand while she opened it, wanted the security of his nearness, his promise of a reality outside of these four walls. He was unaware of the fear brewing in the pit of her stomach. Her parents didn’t believe in buying gifts.
Sliding her fingers along the sealed end, she felt the unpleasant sting of a paper cut. Bright crimson stained the glossy brochure as she slid it from the sleeve. Confused, she glanced at her mother. Angela’s face was expressionless.
Rachel looked down at the booklet in her grasp. “Miss Hall’s School…It’s a boarding school?” As the words passed her lips, her head grew dizzy. “It’s in Pittsfield.”
Far from home, far from my life here.
“You’re leaving on Monday. I’ve made all the arrangements,” Brian offered, but he stared at his wife. “It’s a wonderful opportunity.”
Is he waiting for her to disagree?
Rachel glanced beseechingly at her mother, but Angela stared at her plate, her own lasagna untouched.
Rachel’s throat dried up with the pleas she knew they would not acknowledge. Was this why they finally agreed to meet Jason – so they could make it clear there was no room in her life for warmth? Or was this about the growing chasm between them?
Are they sending me away so they can separate?
Setting her news on the table, she didn’t care that her drops of blood dripped on the perfect linen.
The evening passed before Rachel found the courage to test her voice again. She didn’t want the treble in her tone to give satisfaction to her parents. They didn’t deserve the chance to comment on her tears while claiming it was for her own good.
As she walked Jason outside, a breeze wove through the trees. She watched as a leaf skittered across the bottom step. Rachel gripped his hand. He was the only one who could save her.
In their year of dating, he had done just that. There were many days when his smile and laugh cut through the walls of self-doubt her parents built brick by unremitting brick. It was the first time she felt heard, her opinions and dislikes valued. Through his kisses, she believed he found her beautiful and spirited.
If sent away now, to a school as oppressive a
s her parents, she would get sucked back into the darkness he freed her from.
“Are you okay?” Jason’s face bent to meet hers. From the way he met her eyes, he knew she wasn’t.
“What am I going to do?” Her body trembled. Stepping into his embrace, she wanted him to wrap around her and shield her from the wind, the world, her parents. “I can’t go away.”
“It will be alright. I can come and visit you,” he whispered against her forehead.
As she leaned into him, she wanted to believe it would be, but Pittsfield was over an hour away. Without Jason’s presence, she would suffocate. How long would it take before he grew tired of making the trip? How long until the only voice from home was that of her mother or her grandmother with an excuse as to why they couldn’t visit?
Nausea spread through her middle as the thought of another girl on the back of Jason’s bike seeped into her mind. She wanted to rally against it, to fight and stomp the imagery into the walkway. Her tears burned her eyes and the back of her throat ached from holding it all in.
Body of Ash Page 2