Romeo is Homeless

by Julie Frayn

  She trembled, her knees about to buckle. A cold wave coursed through her. A knot grew in the pit of her stomach and threatened to explode from her mouth all over his face. Then he slid her jeans off and touched her in the place her parents always told her was private. She jerked away, but he held her arm. Her body shook and a bitter tang stung the back of her mouth. A sob closed her throat .

  “Jesus Christ, girlie, I ain’t paying for no tears.” He leered at her, the breath emanating from behind his yellowed teeth gagging her. Then he guided her to the bed and pushed her down.

  She scurried backwards until her head hit the headboard. He removed his clothes in a hurry and left them in a pile on the floor where they fell.

  Her skin crawled at the sight of his body. Sweat dripped from his armpits, stink wafted from the folds of his fat. His watermelon belly was pasty white, his arms tanned only below the elbow, chest flabby, grey hair everywhere. She had never seen a man naked before, not counting the diagrams and cartoon characters in health class. He was already hard and looked huge – way too big to go inside of her. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head.

  The bed shifted and groaned. Her heart jumped and she opened her eyes. He kneeled on the bed beside her knees, the mattress bowed under his weight. She stiffened and clenched her jaw, her breath coming fast and shallow.

  He loomed over her and rolled on a condom, then pushed her legs apart with his knees. He braced her shoulders with both hands, eased his large mass onto her and forced himself inside.

  Sharp pain ripped through her belly. She gasped and cried out, tried to escape his grip. She pushed on his chest, her hands sticking to his cold, doughy skin.

  But he held her down, she couldn’t break free.

  “You got a little fight in you,” he said through a smirk. “I like that.”

  August sobbed silently. The stench of his body odor stung her nostrils. She imagined Reese’s face, tried to feel the comfort of his hand in hers. But the man’s grunts in her ear and the slime of his sweat on her skin let nothing else in but visions of hogs on the farm.

  She became numb. She stared at the ceiling without blinking, detached her brain from her body, and lost contact with her arms and legs. Time did not pass but just hung in the air. She pictured her sister’s playing hide and seek in the barn. Remembered all the times she’d told them she was too old to play with them, too mature. An adult. Tears streamed down her temples.

  She had no idea how long he was on top of her. A faint sensation of cold pulled her back and she turned her head to find him sitting on the edge of the bed looking at her. She grasped the bed sheet with both hands, pulled it over herself, hugged it into her chest and closed her eyes.

  The bed creaked, clothing rustled. At the sound of a zipper, she slivered her eyes open.

  He pulled some bills out of his pants pocket and tossed them onto the bed near her crotch. “You were real sweet.” He grabbed her foot through the sheet and shook it.

  The gesture turned her stomach. Her father did that to wake her on weekends when she didn’t have to set her alarm. How was she ever going to look him in the eye again? A sob caught in her throat and fresh tears welled up.

  “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart, was it that bad?” His stained grin looked evil. “I’d do you again for another fifty, even though you’re no virgin now. You’re nice and tight.”

  She stared at him, her eyes cold. Death would be preferable to having him on top of her again. This is not how her first time was supposed to be, not the fantasy of her daydreams. It was a nightmare that would stay with her forever.

  He picked up the room key from the side table. “There’s ten bucks for Ricki in there too. Tell her thanks.” He slammed the door shut.

  She jumped up, the mattress like a bed of nails. Blood stained the sheets and was drying onto her thighs. She ran to the bathroom and turned on the shower full blast. Sitting in the grimy tub, she shivered while near-scalding water cascaded over her. Blood and tears mixed into pink swirls and spiraled down the drain. She grabbed an unwrapped bar of soap and scrubbed every inch of her body and hair, washed that man’s stink and touch from her. She ran the bar over her skin again and again until it slid from her fingers and landed on the floor. She tucked her knees under her chin and hugged her legs, then cried and rocked until the water ran cold.

  The towels she rubbed dry with were stiff with age and rough as sandpaper. Every nerve ending was raw, every touch another assault. She raced to put on her clothes. She pulled up her old jeans and winced. Their soft comfort had disappeared. She caught sight of herself in a large mirror hanging askew on the grimy wall and inched toward it. She stared at her reflection, her swollen eyes and red splotchy skin. It was a stranger in the mirror.

  She gagged on the smell of sweat and sex that overwhelmed the air, the walls closed in. She snatched the dirty money that littered the sheets and shoved it into her back pocket, slipped on her sneakers and ran out the door.

  At the corner, Amber waited for her as promised. August barely let the light change. She sprinted across the street and fell, sobbing, into Amber’s arms.

  Amber hugged her and patted her dripping hair, “It’s all right. You’re all right. Where the hell have you been?” she snapped.

  August yanked away, but Amber was looking across the street.

  Ricki ambled toward them, a brown paper bag in each hand, her face contorted by a sneer.

  “I figured she’d need help recovering. I got provisions!” She tossed one bag to August, packs of Twinkies peeking out the top, then pulled the other bag down a bit to reveal two green, screw-top bottles. “Not bad, huh?” Her eyebrows flashed up and down. “September, give me my ten bucks.”

  Amber took the wine from Ricki and leaned in close to her face. “She’s keeping every penny.”

  *****

  The moon shone brightly in the clear night sky, its glow guiding her way. August stumbled over a curb.

  Amber grabbed her arm before she hit the asphalt.

  Ricki snorted. “God, what a lightweight.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have kept shoving the bottle in her face. Why are you such a bitch to her?” Amber put her arm around August’s waist and guided her toward the bridge.

  “Because she’s a lame-ass hick who’s never even had a fucking drink.”

  “I had champagne once.” August’s voice sounded strange in her ears. “At my cousin’s wedding.”

  They rounded a clump of trees. Reese paced by the rock.

  He caught sight of them and threw his hands in the air. “It’s about fucking time! Shit, you’ve been gone all day – what the hell!” He ran toward them. “Oh man, you got her drunk?”

  “I offered to get her high,” Ricki said. “But she wouldn’t go for it. What a wuss.”

  He pushed Amber away and picked up August.

  She smiled up at him, then laid her head on his shoulder. Everything would be fine now. She was home with Reese.

  Acid burned in her throat and her mouth filled with saliva.

  “Put me down, put me down!” She squirmed free, dropped to her knees and retched wine and Twinkies. Fingers grazed her cheeks, her hair was pulled back and held out of the way. A gentle hand rubbed and patted between her shoulder blades. Reese.

  When the heaving stopped she sat back hard on the ground. Her head throbbed, she couldn’t focus. She closed her eyes, vaguely aware the others were still there, voices disconnected from faces but loud in her head.

  “Why didn’t you bring her back after? I’ve been freaking out.”

  “She was pretty unhinged,” Amber said “I wanted to calm her down.”

  “Yeah, great job of that.”

  “You’re bloody welcome. I’m outta here.”

  “Take Ricki with you.”

  August opened her eyes and squinted to clear the blur.

  “She can do whatever the hell she wants.” Amber stormed away and threw one hand in the air, her middle finger extended.

  “Get
lost, Ricki.” Reese stood with his hands on his hips looking toward the river.

  “I want to stay with you.”

  He spun around. “What? Why?”

  “I miss you. I brought us something.” Ricki dug in her pocket and held out her hand, palm up.

  “What the fuck? You know I don’t do that shit anymore, it’s suicide city. Do you want to end up like Tanya?” He took a step back and pulled one arm away. “Hey, don’t touch me.”

  “Can’t we be how we used to be?” She moved closer to him. “Before Princess Bony Ass came along?”

  “Leave her alone. And what the hell are you talking about? All we did was tweak.”

  “It was more than that.” Ricki stood just inches from Reese. She reached up and touched his face.

  He batted her hand away. “Once, Ricki. Once. Like six months ago. Just strung out fucking. What – did you think I was into you or something? You were all over me and I was high on crank.”

  His head snapped back at the impact of Ricki’s fist.

  “Fuck you.”

  He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything at all. Just stood there.

  Ricki threw something at him. It bounced off his cheek and landed at his feet. Then she turned and ran away.

  He stooped and picked it up, stared at it, rolled it around in his fingers, brought it up to his nose. Then he tucked it in the front pocket of his jeans.

  “Reese?” August’s voice was just a squeak. The bridge and rock and trees swirled around her and then tipped sideways. Everything after that came in spurts of clarity wrapped in fuzzy uncertainty. He had laid her down flat but she couldn’t open her eyes. Footsteps leaving, bushes rustling, a zipper, silence, footsteps nearing. Her face and hands were wiped with something cold and damp. Then she was sitting up and a cool breeze caressed her torso. Smooth softness brushed against her face and her arms, then she was in the air, then back on the ground. There was warmth and comfort and a kiss to her forehead, like when she was young and her mother tucked her in. Then nothing.

  Chapter 27

  My darling August,

  The police in the city put your picture on television and posters. The newspaper even ran a story about you. But no Amber alert. You chose to leave, no one took you away. All we can do is hope and pray the kindness of strangers will bring you home. They said it was good you weren’t abducted. Better chance you’d come home they said. Better chance you’re alive they said.

  They said a lot of things.

  We wanted to come and look for you. They said stay home. The city’s so big, so many people, so many places you could be. We wouldn’t know where to start. How can we know, if they barely know themselves?

  Dad gave them your eleventh grade school picture. I would have sent a different one. I know how you hate that blouse. But it was all we had when we went to the sheriff the morning after you left. I’m sorry, August.

  April slopped the pigs by herself this morning. I watched, just in case. Remember the first time you did it? You were only eight. That old sow almost knocked you on your butt. She was just being playful, but you were terrified. Wasn’t long before you just did it on your own, no fear. I know you think they stink, but they can’t help it. They’re just pigs.

  Your sisters want to know why you left. They worry you don’t love them anymore. I told them it’s my fault. That you’d come home to us soon and we’d make up and everything would be normal again. Maybe better than what normal has been these days. I promise to work on that with you. If you’d just come home.

  I miss your face.

  Love always,

  Mom

  Caraleen put the letter under August’s pillow with the other one, then sat on August’s bed and wept.

  Chapter 28

  Reese lay beside August, wrapped her in his arms and placed a gentle and lingering kiss on her forehead. He stared at her while she slept. The rhythm of her breath stirred warmth deep in his belly. Even the sounds of her drunken snores and sweet wine and sour vomit on her breath were wonderful.

  Stupid bitches. They took a perfectly good, perfectly clean, perfectly perfect girl and turned her into one of them. She was so innocent yesterday. But not now. Another life, fucked over. Why would she go so willingly, give up something so precious? Just to contribute to this group of losers? They weren’t even her real family. He wasn’t her real family.

  She rolled in her sleep and pressed her face to his shoulder, then tossed one leg across his.

  The truth punched him in the face. His body stiffened.

  It was him. She did it for him. It was his fault. He was the one ruining her, not Amber, not Ricki. Him. He shouldn’t have let her go with them. He should have just picked her up and carried her away, never let anyone touch her like that, soil her like that. Ruin her like that.

  His mind raced, familiar self-loathing bubbled to the surface.

  He tried to conjure the faces of all the girls he’d been with, but could only recall one. Shona. His first.

  He was thirteen, wandering the streets, jonesing for a fix. He’d met her in an abandoned building. She was shooting heroin on the top floor, far from the horde of junkies that never ventured past the second. She was a fourteen-year-old hooker pimped out by her father to feed his drug habit. She shared her smack with Reese that day. When the warmth of heroin-love streamed through their veins, she straddled his legs and tossed a condom on his stomach. In five minutes he learned the joy of being on the giving end of sex. The intense release, the softness of girl skin, the sweet smell of girl sweat. Overcome with a rush of wonderful sensations he was unaccustomed to, he leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head and said, “No. No lips.” He went numb with her words. She was as cold-hearted as his mother. He’d felt nothing for a girl since. Rarely bothered to kiss any of them. Just used them for sex.

  Until August.

  He slid his arm out from under August’s head and sat up, then lifted her leg off of him, careful not to wake her. He ran his hands through his hair and then slapped his temples with open palms.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid asshole. She needed to go home, she needed to be safe. He didn’t matter, what he wanted wasn’t important. He was screwed anyway, she didn’t need to plunge into the abyss with him.

  He stood and paced between August’s feet and the rock, her feet and the abutment, her feet and the river. He sat on the rock with his head in his hands and sobbed. He hadn’t cried like that since he was a kid and wasn’t sure why he was doing it now. But he couldn’t make it stop.

  He found no peace. He paced, he cried, and he stared at this beautiful girl who was twisting his reality, stirring confusion in his heart, breaking down his walls. Making him care. What was he supposed to do with that?

  He dug into both of his pockets at once, pulling out the ring with one hand and the small bag of smack Ricki had thrown in his face with the other. He stared at the ring, running his thumb over the glass stone, then glanced at August. Here was the life he dreamed of, a real life with real family. A future. Happiness. A life he didn’t deserve. Would never have.

  The small bag felt heavy in his fingers. He rolled it into his palm and brought it up to his nose. The nothing smell of plastic, with the faintest hint of vinegar. Ricki must have done somebody up right. She usually didn’t get paid with the good stuff.

  This was his reality. The constant craving to get high and disappear. He’d found strength enough to avoid it for months, but every day was a struggle. Every day was a choice. When would he make the wrong one? It was just a matter of time.

  The sun cracked the horizon and the faint light of dawn cut across his face. He shoved the ring and the heroin in his pockets, then kneeled beside her and pressed delicate kisses to August’s cheeks, her forehead, her sleeping eyelids. He touched his lips imperceptibly to hers, then took off and abandoned her to the morning light.

  Chapter 29

  Daggers of sunlight jabbed into August’s eyes. She rolled onto her side and tried to push herself up but an axe came
down and split her head open from her forehead to the base of her skull. A wave of nausea started deep at her knees and rolled over her, breaking on her chest. She lay back down until the wave quelled. At least she wasn’t puking. She sucked her tongue trying to moisten it, but it was like squeezing humidity out of a cotton ball. She sat up through the piercing pain. Blood rushed to her head. She closed her eyes and thought of nothing but breathing.

  Her eyes sprung open. Suddenly aware she was alone, she looked in all directions but saw no one, heard nothing but the traffic humming overhead.

  “Reese?” Her voice sounded foreign, a deep-throated croak. She looked down at herself. When had she put on her old t-shirt? Pieces of the night before flashed through her head, her heart racing. She’d thrown up in front of him. And he had changed her shirt. Oh, God, he would have seen her in just her bra.

  Clamoring behind the bush she found the shirt she got from the shelter hanging on a branch near her back pack, stiff like the laundry that air-dried on the clothesline at home. He must have washed it out. Washed her disgusting vomit out of her shirt. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks, but was overlapped by a sense of comfort. Of belonging. He cared enough about her to do that.

  She pulled out her toothbrush and headed for the river. The taste of regurgitated wine was sour in her mouth. Saliva pooled under her tongue, what little there was in her stomach threatened to spew all over the path. She swallowed repeatedly and pushed the bile back down.

  Maybe he was at the river brushing his teeth too. But he wasn’t at their usual spot, so she continued down the path. There was no sign of anyone.

  She walked as fast as her pounding head would allow and rushed to the park. Memories flitted back, disjointed images running together like some crudely drawn flip-book. Amber leaving. Reese angry. Ricki punching him. It took a minute for the truth to break through the fog. Reese and Ricki. No wonder Ricki hated her so much. Where the hell did he go?

  She crisscrossed the grounds, eyes darted in all directions, her whole body vibrated. A loneliness she hadn’t felt since before she had met him ached in her bones.