by Willow Rose
Soon after the wedding, the bank approves a loan for them and they buy their dream house in Cocoa Beach. As a young lawyer who has just been made partner, Peter is doing well, and even though it is one of the most expensive locations in Cocoa Beach, Penelope doesn’t have to work anymore. She quits her job as a secretary and wants to focus on her family and later charity work. It is the kind of life they have both dreamed of, and no one is more thrilled to see it come true than Penelope.
“I can’t wait to become a family,” she says, when Peter is done fixing up the nursery and shows it to her.
Seeing how beautiful he has decorated it makes her cry, and she holds a hand to her ready-to-burst stomach. Only two more weeks till she will hold her baby. Only two more weeks.
She can hardly wait.
Peter is going to be a wonderful father; she just knows he will. He has such a kind and gentle personality. She has done right in choosing him. She knows she has. This is going to be a perfect little family. Penelope already knows she wants lots of children. At least two, maximum four. She herself comes from a family of four children. Four girls, to be exact. There was a brother, but he died at an early age after a long illness. Being the oldest, Penelope took care of him, and it was devastating for her when he passed away. It is a sorrow she can never get rid of, and often she blames herself for not being able to cure him. Later in life, she played with the idea of becoming a doctor, but she never had the grades for it.
Peter, on the other hand, is an only child. His mother has spoiled his socks off all of his life. She still does every now and then. And she still treats him like a child sometimes. It makes Penelope laugh out loud when she spit-washes him or corrects his tie. But she is nice, Peter’s mom. She has always loved Penelope, and there is nothing bad to be said about her.
It was always the plan that Peter would follow in his father’s footsteps and go to law school, and so he did. He met Penelope right after he passed the bar and started working at the small law firm in Rockledge where she was a secretary. Soon he moved on to a bigger firm and now he had made partner.
Peter’s career exploded within a few years, and now he is talking about going into real estate as well. He has so many plans for their future, and she knows he will always take care of them. She is never going to want for anything.
Two weeks later, her water breaks. Penelope is standing in the kitchen admiring the new tiles they have put in, with a coffee cup in her hand. The water soaks her dress and the floor beneath her. Penelope gasps and reaches for the phone. She calls Peter at the office.
“This is it,” she says, with a mixture of excitement and fright in her voice. “Our baby is coming, Peter. Our baby is coming!”
“I…I’ll be right there.”
Peter stumbles over himself on his way out of the office and the secretary has to yell at him to come back because he has forgotten his car keys.
Peter rushes her to the hospital, where the contractions soon take over and after a tough struggle and fourteen hours of labor, she is finally holding her baby girl in her arms.
“Look at her, Peter,” she says through tears. “I…I simply can’t stop looking at her. I am so happy, Peter. You made me so happy, thank you. Thank you so much.”
7
September 2015
I spend the evening feeling sorry for myself. I cook chicken in green curry, my favorite dish these days, and sulk in front of the TV watching back-to-back episodes of Friends with Snowflake and my son Salter next to me.
“They can’t fire you!” Salter exclaimed, when I told him as soon as he got home from school. He knew something was wrong as soon as he saw that I’d made hot cocoa for the both of us and put marshmallows in it.
That is kind of my thing. Whenever I have bad news, I prepare hot cocoa with marshmallows. I have also baked cookies. That is another diversion of mine. Nothing keeps me as distracted as baking or cooking.
“You’re the best damn reporter they have!”
“I am, but there’s no need to curse,” I say.
I enjoy spending the rest of the evening with the loves of my life, both of them, and decide to not wonder about my future until the next day. Salter is so loving and caring towards me and keeps asking me if there is anything he can do for me, to make me feel better.
“Just stay here in my arms,” I say and pull him closer.
He has reached the age where he still enjoys my affectionate hugs and holding him close, but lately he has begun to find them annoying from time to time, especially when it is in front of his friends.
I named him Salter because I have been a surfer all of my life, growing up in Cocoa Beach, and so is his dad. Salter means derived from salt. We believed he was born of our love for the ocean. How foolish and young we were back then.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
“So, what do we do now?” Salter finally asks when the episode where Phoebe fights with a fire alarm is over.
I take in a deep breath. I know he has to wonder. I do too, but I try not to think about it. Mostly to make sure he isn’t affected by it.
“I mean, now that you don’t have a job?” he continues. “Can we still live in this apartment?”
“I have to be honest with you, kiddo,” I say. “I don’t know. I don’t know what is going to happen. I am not sure any newspaper will have me after this. I pissed off some pretty influential people.”
“That’s stupid,” he says. “They’re all stupid. Your article had more views than anyone’s.”
“I know, but that isn’t always enough, buddy.”
I sigh, hoping I don’t have to go into details, when suddenly my phone rings. I let go of Salter and lean over to pick it up from the coffee table. My heart drops when I see the name on the display.
It’s my dad.
“It’s Mary,” I say, my heart throbbing in my throat. I haven’t spoken to my dad in at least a year. He never calls me.
“Mary.” His voice is heavy. Something is definitely going on.
“What’s wrong, Dad? Are you sick?”
“No. It’s not me. It’s your brother.”
I swallow hard. My brother is the only family member I still have regular contact with. I love the little bastard, even if he is fifteen years younger than me.
“Blake? What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s bad, Mary. He’s been arrested.”
Arrested?!?
“What? Why…for what…what’s going on, Dad?”
My father sighs from the other end of the line. “For murder. He’s been arrested for murder.”
8
September 2015
They take him for a ride. Billy the Kid is crying in the back when the girls take him first to the Super Wal-Mart in Merritt Island that is open 24/7. Placing a knife to his back, they walk through the store and pull bottles of wine, gin, and tequila from the shelves. They even find a fishing pole that they think could be fun to buy. Along with some chips Jamie wants, and sugarcoated donuts. Kim has a craving for cheesecake while Britney wants chocolate. And loads of it. Liz holds the knife in Billy’s back and asks them to throw in some Choco-mint ice cream for her. Then she grabs a bottle of drain cleaner. They tell Billy to take out his wallet and pay for everything.
“If you as much as whimper, I will split you open,” Liz whispers, as they come closer to the cashier. “I’ll make it look like you attacked me. Who do you think they’ll believe, huh? A surfer dude or a decorated war-veteran? A female one on top of it.”
After he pays, they open a bottle of gin and take turns drinking from it while they drive, screaming and cheering, back to Cocoa Beach where they park in front of Ron Jon’s surf-shop, which is also open 24/7. Yelling and visibly intoxicated, they storm inside with Billy and take the elevator to the second floor. They run through the aisles of bikinis and pull down one after another.
“I always wanted yellow one,” Kim yells.
“I’m going red this time,” Britney says. “Wouldn’t this look cut
e on me?”
“Grab me one of the striped ones over there,” Liz says. “Size medium.”
Kim giggles cheerfully then grabs one. They don’t bother to try them on. There is no time for that. Kim also grabs a couple of nice shirts from Billabong, and then some shorts from Roxy for Liz.
“Oh,” Britney says and points at the surfboards on the other side of the store. She looks to the others. “I always wanted a surfboard!”
“Me too,” Jamie exclaims. “Let’s find one!”
“I…I can’t afford that,” Billy whimpers. “Aren’t they like four hundred dollars?”
“This one is five hundred dollars,” Jamie says, and looks at a seven-foot fun-shape. “Doesn’t it look GREAT on me?”
“Adorable,” Liz says and laughs.
“I can’t afford this,” Billy whimpers over and over when they pull the boards out.
“Grab one for me too,” Liz says, ignoring his complaints. She presses the knife into his back, puts her arm around his neck, then kisses his cheek, making it look like they are a couple.
“You’ll have to,” she whispers. “I’ll make a scene. Make it look like you tried to rape me.”
“Okay, okay,” he says with a moan. “Just don’t hurt me, okay? Just let me go after this, alright?”
She doesn’t make any promises. That’s not how Liz rolls.
They charge everything to one of Billy’s credit cards, then run out of the store carrying surfboards and plastic bags with bikinis, hollering and laughing. They throw everything in the car and strap the boards onto the roof before driving to the International Palms Resort a few blocks further down A1A, where they book a suite for all of them, charging it on his credit card again.
“Please don’t make me pay for any more,” he says in the elevator.
They ignore his complaints, and then storm into the room. It is huge and has great views of the ocean. Liz lets go of Billy, then throws him on the white couch. Jamie grabs one of the bottles of Vodka and places it to her lips. She drinks it like it is water. Liz laughs and pulls the bottle from Jamie’s hand. She places it to her lips and closes her eyes while it burns its way down her throat.
“Hey, leave some for the rest of us,” Kim yells, and grabs the bottle out of Liz’s hand.
The vodka spills on Liz’s white shirt. Liz looks angrily at Kim. “What the hell…?”
Kim laughs, then drinks from the bottle. Liz clenches her fist before she slams it into Kim’s face as soon as she lets go of the bottle again. Kim falls backwards, then stares, confused, at Liz.
“What…what happened?” she asks.
Liz grabs the bottle out of her hand forcefully. Jamie and Britney remain quiet. They dare not make a sound. The feeling of power intoxicates Liz. Liz looks at Billy the Kid, who is squirming on the couch while staring at them with terror in his eyes.
Liz approaches him. He squirms again. Liz leans over and kisses him forcefully. He tries to push her away, but two of the other girls grab his arms and hold him down while Liz has her way with him. She pulls off his pants and then she laughs.
“Is that all? Is that the anaconda you wanted me to ride?”
“Please, just let me go,” Billy says, crying in humiliation “I’ve done everything you wanted me to. I’ve paid for everything. Please, just let me go.”
“Now he wants to leave. You finally have the chance to get laid and now you want to leave? No no, Billy, tsk tsk. That’s not what a woman wants to hear, is it, girls?”
The three others shake their heads.
Liz puts her hand on his penis and starts to rub. Soon, his anaconda grows sizably and he starts moaning.
“Please…please…”
She puts her lips on it and makes him hard, then sits on top of him and rides him. The other girls are screaming with joy. Liz rides him forcefully, and soon they both come with deep moans.
Liz smiles when Billy arches in spasms and she feels his semen inside of her, then leans over and kisses his forehead.
“If you tell the police what we did tonight, I’ll tell them you raped me,” she whispers. “That you were holding a gun to my head and you raped me. Boy, I do believe I even have three witnesses. Three VERY reliable witnesses.”
Liz finishes with a laugh, then climbs off Billy. “Come on girls,” she says. “Let’s get really drunk.”
She grabs a bottle and drinks from it. It is strange how it feels like she can’t get drunk anymore. Not like really drunk. Not like in the old days. Liz likes being really drunk. It makes her forget. It is the only thing that can make her forget.
The girls throw themselves at the chips and candy they bought at Wal-Mart. Liz looks at them with contempt. They have no self-control, these girls. Kim buries her hands in the cheesecake and eats it, licking her fingers. Jamie stuffs her face with donuts and has sugar all over her mouth.
Liz sighs.
“You want some ice cream?” Jamie asks.
“I don’t want some stupid ice cream,” Liz says, mocking Jamie. “I’m bored.” She looks at Billy, who doesn’t dare to move on the couch. “He bores me.”
“What do you want to do?” Kim asks.
“Yeah, do you want to have another go?” Jamie asks.
Liz throws the bottle in her hand against the wall. It breaks and leaves a huge mark that Billy is probably going to pay for. Liz growls and kicks the ice cream bucket.
“I’m sick of the prick. He’s no fun to play with.”
Liz grabs the drain cleaner and walks towards Billy with firm steps. The girls all look at her. Serious eyes follow her every step. The atmosphere in the room immediately changes. No one is laughing anymore. No one is eating.
“What are you doing with that, babe?” Jamie asks.
“Don’t do it,” Kim yells.
But Liz doesn’t listen. She opens the lid and grabs Billy’s jaw. She forces it open. Billy is squirming too much and she can’t do it on her own.
“Help me, dammit,” she yells.
The girls hesitate, but don’t dare not to do as they’re told. Who knows what Liz might do next? Who will be next? They have seen too much to be able to say no.
Britney is first to grab Billy’s right arm and hold it down. Jamie then grabs the left one. Kim holds his head still, while Liz pours the liquid drain cleaner into his mouth and down his throat. The three girls stare at her while she empties the bottle completely. They dare not even to speak. Billy’s screams pierce through their bones. No one dares to move.
Liz throws the empty bottle on the ground, then looks at her friends. “Let’s get out of here,” she yells.
Her words are almost drowned out by Billy’s scream.
9
September 2015
I land at Orlando airport around noon the next day. Salter and Snowflake are both with me. We have packed two big suitcases, not knowing how long we are going to stay. My dad tried to convince me there is no need for me to come down, but I didn’t listen. I need to be there. I need to help my brother.
“What about my school?” Salter says, as we walk to the rental car.
“I called them and told them it’s a family emergency,” I say. “They told me you have to be back in ten days or your spot goes to someone else. They mean business, that school.”
It is one of the best schools in New York and one of the most expensive ones too. I haven’t decided if I like it or not. The uniforms I can do without, but that kind of comes with the territory. It is mostly the way they shape them into small soldiers there, always running all these tests, making them stand straight, and never having time to play. It is all Salter knows, so to him, it is fine. But there is something about the school that I don’t like. I find it hard to enjoy that my child is going to a school like this. Joey and I are both surfers and free spirits. This school is not us at all. Yet, we signed Salter up for it as soon as we moved to New York.
We moved because of my job, but unfortunately it turned out to be the end of our little family. Joey had nothing t
o do up there, since no one would hire him, and soon we grew apart. Staying at home and not having anything to do wore on him. He never felt like he accomplished anything or that he was supporting his family, and that is important to him. He started to feel lonely and sought comfort in the arms of a young girl who worked at a small coffee house on our street. He would go there every day to drink his coffee and write. He wants to be an author and has written several books, but no publisher will touch them. I think they are beautiful and inspiring, but I guess I am biased. I love Joey. I still do. But when he told me he had slept with the girl at the coffee house several times a week for at least a year, I threw him out. Well, not right away. First, I gave him a second chance and we tried to make it work for a couple of weeks, for Salter’s sake, but I couldn’t stand thinking about it all day, whether he’d been with her again. It tore me apart. I have never been a jealous person, but this I couldn’t handle. I tried hard to, but realized I wasn’t as forgiving as I thought I could be. I didn’t have it in me and I felt like I could never trust him again. So, I finally asked him to move out.
“Where do you want me to go?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Go live with that coffee house girl. I don’t know.”
He decided to go back to Cocoa Beach where we grew up together. That was four months ago now. I miss him every day. But I can’t forget what he did. What hurts the most is the betrayal, the deceit. I don’t know how to move past it. I don’t know if I ever can.
He calls as often as he can and talks to Salter. It’s been hard on our son. He loves his dad and needs him in his life, needs a male role model. Salter went to visit him during summer break, and it is the plan that he will be going down for Thanksgiving as well.
“You think I can call Dad now?” Salter asks, as soon as we are in the car and hit the beach line.