Body of Ash

by Bonnie Wheeler

  Standing abruptly, her father began pacing the room. “Is that what she tells you? Because I send more than that each week. Is she drinking again?”

  Embarrassed, Katie just sat there, vainly trying to recover. Her mother must have been using the extra money for her afternoons at the motel with Brian. She assumed the preacher was footing the bill, but now it made sense.

  He would have had to keep it from his wife.

  “What does she do with all her money, Katie?” Williston glanced her way, challenge lighting his eyes. “Spend it on clothes? Booze?”

  “I don’t know,” she blinked. “Maybe on her boyfriend.”

  All of the times I’ve gone without? Why?

  “Who is she seeing?”

  Disliking the abrupt change in his mood, Katie paused. “Brian Jones for a few months now.”

  “The reverend?” he clarified, his tone incredulous.

  “Who are you? The moral police now?” Katie demanded, irritated with his question. Her mother wasn’t perfect, but Williston had no right to judge her either. “If I recall, you were married when you began your affair. Mom was blindsided.”

  Her father just looked at her, his face softening. “I made mistakes I regret. Hurting you and your mother was never my intention. I’ve tried to make up for it by offering as much support as I can.”

  Katie ignored his answer. He was being the nice guy again and it bothered her.

  “She didn’t get out of bed for six months after you left. Nanna had to come and stay with us because all Mom would eat was applesauce and she cried all day. Meanwhile, you got to have the life you wanted.” Her words were clipped, but she was thankful to say them. He needed to feel responsible.

  “I’m sorry,” Williston said. Reaching for her hand, he tugged until she relented and allowed him to take her fingers in his. “If I could go back in time, I would have done things different. I don’t regret marrying your mother because we had you, but she wasn’t easy to live with either and I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I had hoped that by marrying your mom, that I could be the kind of man my father was and deny my attraction to other men. But, I was naive to think that.”

  Though her father’s touch seemed to calm her, the pain of his words hurt. It was easier blaming him for how her life changed. As he spoke it became clear to her that Williston had paid a price too for his actions. By keeping the pain alive, her mother refused to encourage closeness between Katie and her father.

  None of us came out unscathed.

  “I understand why you had to leave. I just wish you had done it differently.” Katie looked at the floor, feeling as if her body was growing smaller.

  “You said you wanted a new beginning. You can move in with me and Thomas and get back on track with school. You can get your grades up and we’ll start hunting for colleges together. I know your mother is going through a transition of some sort right now and needs to focus on herself. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for you to do the same.”

  Could she move in with him? The thought had only crossed her mind in the early months of the separation, back when Nanna was staying with them and caring for her mom. But before returning to her trailer in New Hampshire, her grandmother told Katie it was her responsibility to watch over Marge and make sure she was okay.

  At that point, Katie had dismissed the possibility of ever living with her father. Revisiting it now felt dangerous and thrilling all at once.

  What about Mom? If Brian dumps her, she might end up back in bed for another six months.

  Katie didn’t answer her father and he seemed to not need her to at that moment. Instead, he placed the cash on the table next to the box of dye. Standing up to leave, he kissed her on her head.

  “Think about it Katie. There is no harm in giving me a chance.” With his simple request, her father moved out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

  Katie sat looking at the dollar bills. She could pocket it and her mother would never even know she had it. While the woman was out at night with Brian Jones, Katie could use it to buy herself a little makeup or go to the movies with a friend. Better yet, she could squirrel it away for when she needed lunch money at school or a meal at Lucinda’s.

  Can I leave her? Or will she fall apart?

  Picking up the box of Clairol, Katie prepared herself for change, starting with her hair.

  31

  RACHEL

  Friday 2:30 PM

  Leaning against the window, Rachel sat in silence. Unable to eat, her chicken nuggets had grown cold and the ice in her Coke melted. She stole a quick glance at the time, before turning back to the parking lot. Two hours had passed since she walked into McDonalds. Ernie told her they would grab a quick lunch after he settled some business with his friend, Mars, in the parking lot. Thinking he would be right in to join her, she panicked when Ernie climbed into an old Monte Carlo and exited onto the street.

  Where is he?

  The bills in her pocket weren’t a comfort. After paying for her meal, she only had ten bucks. In the truck, Ernie had asked her how much cash she had. Thinking he would feel relieved that she could help with expenses, she handed over all but a five and a ten. His eyes lit up when he counted out two hundred dollars. Stuffing it in his denim jacket, he mumbled it would help with room and board.

  What if he doesn’t come back?

  Each time her mind began drifting to the possibility of him not returning, she reminded herself that his truck was outside. As odd as Ernie was, it seemed unlikely that he would leave her or his vehicle at a rundown McDonalds in Torrington. She assumed that was where she was anyway. Other than taking Route 8 and merging with 84 to exit for the mall, she never traveled there.

  None of the rundown buildings adjacent to the restaurant looked inviting. From her small view through the window, she observed the area was different than the quiet streets of home. In place of manicured lawns and specialty shops, there were graffiti stained store fronts, vacant and dark. Rather than walking with a sense of purpose, pedestrians leaned against buildings, eyeing cars as they passed.

  The inside of the restaurant was clean, but the tile flooring was worn and the vinyl booths had strips of masking tape covering old cracks. There had been a steady flow of patrons keeping the crew behind the counter busy. Every now and again, one or two would come out to wipe down the seating area, but they avoided attempts at eye contact.

  Sighing with relief, she spotted the mahogany colored steel of the Monte Carlo as it pulled back into the parking lot. Her eyes locked on Ernie as he climbed out with two paper bags, tucked under each arm.

  Did he go to the grocery store?

  Stopping at his truck, he deposited his purchases in the back of the cab before making his way in through the front entrance. The driver, a smaller guy in baggy jeans and a Coors Light baseball cap was chatting amicably at his side. Rachel assumed he must be Mars. Sitting up in her seat, she tried smiling despite her hurt feelings.

  Plopping down in the booth, Ernie sat beside her while Mars took the seat across from them. The strong scent of beer clung to their clothing. Another scent surrounded them, too. They reeked of weed.

  He left me here to go get stoned?

  “Hey bro, you’re right. She is a hot little thing,” Mars grinned.

  Ignoring the friend, Rachel met Ernie’s gaze. “I didn’t realize you were going to leave me.”

  “I wasn’t gone that long. I had to get stuff.” Ernie grabbed a cold piece of chicken and popped it in his mouth.

  Rachel stiffened, “I thought I was going to help you get the groceries.”

  Ernie reached into his pocket and pulled out two crumpled twenties. “This is all I have left.”

  “Yah, he spent the rest on dope and beer,” Mars snorted.

  Ernie creased his forehead. “Shut up Mars.” Stuffing another piece of her stale lunch into his mouth, he mumbled. “Besides, it looks like you were holding out on me. How did you pay for these?”

  “I had a five in my w
allet I forgot about.” Glancing down at her hands, Rachel bit her lower lip. Feeling stupid for handing over her money earlier, she wasn’t about to let him make her feel guilty now.

  “Do you have any left? We can’t buy much food with forty bucks.” he asked.

  “No,” she lied. After giving him a years-worth of babysitting money for him to blow before she even got to his apartment, she would rather starve than hand over the last of it.

  “Well,” Mars chimed in. “There is another way she can earn her keep if she wants to stay with us.”

  Rachel froze in her seat. Mars’s voice was playful, but there was something about his expression that signaled alarm. Although she didn’t have a lot of experience, she remembered the way some of the guys at school would come-on to Katie and her friends. They would make sexual comments in a joking manner, but it was always clear they expected their turns in the back of the band room. Feeling her heart pound in her chest, Rachel waited to hear Ernie’s reply.

  “Maybe,” he answered. “Depends how nice she is.”

  “I thought you were helping me because Jason is your friend.” She spoke slowly, hoping her choice of words would lighten the situation. Her boyfriend never would have sent her off with him if he knew Ernie would put her in such an awkward circumstance. They were definitely buzzed, maybe they didn’t mean it.

  “That pussy? I owed him a favor. As far as I’m concerned, driving up there and back to pick up your ass makes us straight.” Sitting back in the booth, Ernie’s pale eyes scanned her body. Resting his hand on her knee, he leaned forward. “You gave me some cash so you’re good for now, but if you want to crash with me and Mars, we will have to come up with ways you can keep us both happy. You understand?”

  Ernie’s breath was hot against the side of her face and his smell was putrid. Tugging Jason’s coat around her, her fingers felt where her phone was snug in her pocket. Wanting desperately to hear his voice, she inched to the edge of the seat. Ernie was blocking her in the booth.

  “Okay, I just need to use the girl’s room before we leave.” Her voice sounded small and far away, but she kept it level.

  With a menacing look, Ernie leaned back, “Say please.”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Finally standing, he gestured for her to go. A crude smile played at his lips.

  “Go make yourself pretty for us,” Mars grunted.

  As she hustled towards the back of the restaurant, Rachel hoped she would have a head start before they noticed she was gone.

  32

  ANGELA

  Friday 3:00 PM

  When her mother didn’t answer the phone, Angela left a brief message. It weighed on her whether she should say outright Rachel ran away, but she was glad she did. Saying it on a machine made it less real than saying it in person. Shuttering at the thought of her mother playing back the recording, Angela closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Sylvia would throw a fit. Still, it beat witnessing the disdain on her mother’s face if she had to admit what was happening in person. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the woman’s eyes narrow while placing blame.

  Believing she had run out of places to search for Rachel, Angela headed home. There was a break in the cloud coverage, but the sunshine did little to improve the situation.

  I hope she is warm enough.

  As she drove through the back streets, her eyes scanned the sidewalks for her daughter’s petite form. Rachel had inherited her height from Sylvia. Angela had always wanted to be built like that. Instead she looked like her father, tall with broad shoulders and sturdy size nine feet.

  Perry used to tease her relentlessly. With a few effortless remarks, her brother could hone in on her insecurities. Her shoe size was an easy target. Just when she would become really upset, he would give her his easy smile and say at least she had a “strong foundation to stand on.” Perry knew Angela wanted to look like their mother; she longed for the praise Sylvia received for being delicate and graceful. But, as much as he thought he understood his little sister, Perry failed to comprehend how deep the layers of hurt were buried.

  I wanted to belong.

  Rachel failed to show the same need. From the time she was a child, she strived for independence. Whether it was on the playground, or her first day of school – her beautiful daughter didn’t need her hand held or whispers of encouragement. Without glancing back, Rachel would sprint towards other children, ready to take on the world.

  Maybe she does have Perry’s spirit.

  Angela wished her daughter did need her. Perhaps then, she would not have taken off to God knows where, just to put distance between them.

  As she pulled onto Oak Street, Angela questioned if she could blame Rachel for running away. It was an easy answer.

  After all she must have heard…

  Then there was the way Angela’s own self-pity drove her to put Rachel’s needs on hold, she couldn’t blame her daughter for leaving. Perry left for the Gulf. Brian was around physically, but he checked out of their marriage years ago. The teen was doing what they all had to – find an escape.

  Stopping in front of her house, Angela was surprised to spot Brian’s Cadillac in their driveway. Confused, she glanced at her watch. The time was just after three; much too soon for husband to be home from work.

  He must have heard from Rachel.

  Hope sprang up in Angela’s chest as she scurried from the car to the front of the white Victorian. Fumbling for her keys, she hoped to find Brian and Rachel sitting together at the table, making reparations for last night. She would not yell at her daughter, she knew that. In fact, she would apologize for being so impatient and tell her the boarding school idea was stupid and nothing had to change. They could keep things the way they were. Rachel would be allowed more freedom as long as she didn’t leave again.

  Not like that again.… I couldn’t take it.

  Opening the door, groaning noises from the flat screen’s surround sound speakers was all she could hear. Angela’s legs suddenly felt heavy as she forced herself to move through the foyer. The smell of Jack Daniels was assaulting. Its familiar scent permeated the air. A discouraging whimper passed her lips as she peered into the living room.

  With one quick scan, her eyes gravitated to where her husband had sprawled out across the leather Lay-z-boy. With his shirt unbuttoned and his pants down around his knees, Brian had one hand on a bottle of whiskey and the other tending to his erection. Without even acknowledging her presence, the preacher stared above the mantle where in high definition, their thirty-six inch TV stood blasting pornography.

 

  33

  BRIAN

  Friday 3:05 PM

  “What the hell,” Angela blurted.

  “God damn it,” Brian lurched forward, grabbing at his pants. “I didn’t hear you come in.” Dropping the bottle of Jack Daniels, he fumbled to straighten his clothing. Even with the slight swirl of booze coloring his system, his cheeks reddened at being caught.

  Stepping in the living room, his wife avoided his glare. Swatting at the cable box, she silenced the actors.

  Great timing, as always…

  “You’re a pig,” she spit. “What ever happened to Ephesians, Chapter 5, verse 3?”

  “What ever happened to privacy?” he countered. “Don’t throw Bible lingo at me.”

  Angela turned, her eyes pierced like daggers. “Privacy? What about our daughter? You should be out looking for her, not…doing this filth.” Her arms flailed, pointing at the TV and back at him, disgusted.

  “Oh yeah, well maybe if you weren’t so damn frigid, I would not need too.” He bit on his lower lip, wanting to shame her. She was quick to accuse – quick to be perfect.

  “And I suppose it’s my fault you’ve been sleeping with that whore?” Angela’s voice cracked. “Don’t blame me for what you do.”

  “I do plenty. Plenty for you and for Rachel. I work my ass off for this family.”

  “Right, you go to church on Sundays
and stand up in front of everyone, instructing them not to do the things you do every damn day. You call that work?” Marching towards the kitchen, Angela shook her head. “You do nothing. You give us nothing.”

  “How can you say that?” Brian stayed on her heels, refusing to back down. His voice was slurred, but arguing with her aroused him. After years of barely getting a rise out of her, it thrilled him to see her unsettled.

  “Why aren’t you looking for her? You’re pretending she’s at a damn sleepover.” Angela’s face crumpled. “I’m calling George Barry. I want her found tonight.”

  So everyone in the Northwest Corner can talk more? I don’t think so.