by Marni Mann
“You think you’ll stay a while this time?” I asked her.
So far, my conversations with Christy were usually pointed at me—the topics and the questions, the slow release of information that I was hesitant to give. I didn’t like it. My scar looked even worse when the spotlight was on me. It was time to change that. It also helped keep my mind off Hart.
She turned toward me with a grin spread over her heavily glossed lips. They twinkled under the moon. It didn’t sound like a nervous laugh. Christy was all confidence. “Doubt it. Rosie—pink streaks—wants out of Maine. Love…it’s such a fucker, isn’t it?”
“Love? Yes, it definitely is.” It had been a while since I’d felt something that resembled anything even close to love. I still remembered it, though: the way it made me ache and quiver and feel so much comfort in the same breath; the way it felt even stronger when the sun was shining on my skin. Mostly, I remembered the hole it had created in its wake when it was torn away from me without warning.
It hadn’t been filled since.
If I were going to that place again, I’d have to be honest with whoever it was—not just about my feelings, but about my past, too. There were things I’d have to admit out loud that I wasn’t ready to say. I’d spoken those words once, to Brady and Shane. I didn’t know if I could do it again.
“Sounds like you know exactly what I mean,” she said.
I glanced at my feet, the heavy, clunky buckles much more my style than the spikes I’d worn earlier. “I do.”
“And it was with Hart, wasn’t it? That’s why you got so upset when I pushed you.”
I glanced up, noticing the way she stared at me. She already knew the answer; nothing I said would change that. My silence would only tell her more. Rather than give her the word she already knew was coming, I just nodded.
Her hand found its way into the palm of my mitten. She gave it a squeeze. “It’s okay. I get it.” It was the first time she had touched me for more than a few seconds. Even though I couldn’t feel her skin through the thick fabric, the contact still made me jump.
She was a girl, I reminded myself.
Her hands weren’t the same as his.
“See you tomorrow,” she said, veering off to the right since we had reached her car. I watched her open the driver’s door and climb in.
I couldn’t muster a smile, but the hand she had touched went into the air and waved. I saw her wave back through the windshield as I continued walking down the lot.
I finally got into my car, waiting for the engine to warm and for the air to heat up before I pulled out of the spot. My phone sat in my lap along with the piece of paper Hart had given me. His area code was 617…Boston. I pulled off my mittens, typed the nine digits into my phone and hit save. Then I set my cell on the passenger seat and shifted into drive.
I didn’t know if I’d ever actually call him.
If I did, it wouldn’t be tonight.
CHAPTER TEN
I SENT THE GUYS a text once I got into town like they’d asked me to do. Jeremy replied instantly, telling me to knock on the front door so he could let me in. When I pulled into the driveway, I found an unfamiliar car parked beside Caleb’s. I knew what all their friends drove…this wasn’t someone they hung out with.
I slipped my purse and messenger bag over my shoulder and headed for the door. Jeremy opened it before I’d even had a chance to tap my fingers against the wood.
“Saw your headlights,” he said, moving inside, letting me close the door. “Wanna smoke?”
I really needed something. “Of course.”
I followed him into the living room and sat on the opposite side of the couch, dropping my bags beside me. The house looked even worse in the early hours of the morning. The flickering lamp next to me turned everything straw yellow. There was a thick haze that coated the walls, the coffee table…even the TV. A rotten scent filled the air. Jeremy made a snorting sound, then coughed up whatever was in his throat, spitting it somewhere on the other side of him. My boots had stuck to the floor as I’d walked to the couch. Now I knew why.
“Getting good tips up in Bangor?” he asked. He pulled the bowl out of his lips and handed it to me.
I wiped the end of the glass before sticking it in my mouth. It was so tightly packed, I had to take several puffs before I got a decent hit. “More than I did at the Trap House.”
“Saint, that fucker. Glad you’re not dating him anymore.”
None of Brady’s boys liked Saint; they all thought he’d ratted them out to the cops. But Saint told me he hadn’t, and he’d never lied to me before. Still, I wasn’t sure who to believe…not that it mattered anymore.
“Saw his girl in town the other day. What’s her name…Drew? Wasn’t she over here one of those nights when Brady got into it with Gabe?”
I nodded and blew a stream of smoke through my lips. That party had been the first time I’d hung out with Drew. I’d liked her then. I’d even thought she was someone I could become really good friends with.
Damn. Things had really changed.
“She’s pretty hot,” he continued, “but not as hot as her friend Gianna. That red hair of hers…shit. I’d be all over that.”
“So why aren’t you?”
I handed him back the bowl, and he gave me a look that I understood. Both of those girls thought they were too good for our crowd—Saint, too, now that he’d become this straightedge. After seeing Jeremy launch his snot rocket on the floor, I knew they didn’t fit here. But Gianna…she was the worst one. “Fancy” was how I usually referred to her. The rumor now was that Saint had hired her to do all his marketing, or some bullshit like that, probably just so she could stick around Bar Harbor and be Drew’s shadow. He’d never offered me a job like that.
I was only good enough to serve his fucking food and work in his fucking warehouse shipping packages during the winter.
“She’s really…” My voice trailed off as I heard something behind me. It was giggling. Squealing, even. With the TV turned down and the back of my head leaning against the wall, I could hear the sounds even clearer. Caleb’s bedroom was on the other side…and apparently his bed was as well. That explained the other car parked in the driveway, and the mystery guest I hadn’t seen yet.
“Anyone I know?” I asked. I knew he’d heard her. It was impossible not to.
He shook his head. “She’s ain’t from around here.”
The girl’s laughter switched to moaning. I tried not to make eye contact with Jeremy when he passed me the bowl. Things were awkward enough; I didn’t need to see his expression, too. But I wasn’t going to my room until the bowl was cashed, even if that meant listening to Caleb hook up.
I’d heard worse sounds in the past.
Sounds that made me scream in my nightmares.
“Caleb…Caleb!” she yelled. “Fuck me. Harder. Haaaaarder!”
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees as I exhaled another hit. My eyes were on the TV; it was on, but I had no idea what was playing. It didn’t matter. Rays of heat had entered my chest and slowly crawled toward my throat. That was what weed did for me. It was gentle and filled me with wispy clouds and a soft blue sky. It calmed the storm, if only temporarily.
Jeremy’s phone beeped and a few seconds later there was a knock at the door. He got up to answer it while I nursed the bowl. The wall shook behind me…which then rattled the couch. I felt like I was in a rocking chair.
Back and forth.
I’d never imagined Caleb on top of me, and I didn’t find him attractive at all, but some guys gave off a vibe that hinted at how rhythmic they’d be in bed. Being that he was a stoner and on a constant delay, I figured he’d be a slow fuck. But he wasn’t. His pace was fast.
Surprisingly fast, actually.
“We’re having a party tomorrow night,” Jeremy said as he walked back into the living room.
The girl’s yelling started to get louder. The wall shook even more. The couch was moving so much, it
began to squeak.
It was time for me to get out of there.
I kept my eyes on the weed, blowing out my final hit. “I have to work, but I’ll be back around the same time as tonight.”
His hand appeared at my side, reaching for the bowl. His nails were chewed and filthy. Simple fingers that I didn’t fear. “It won’t be a huge party…just the usual crew. Might want to padlock your door, unless you don’t mind if your bed gets used.”
The thought of that grossed me out. “I’ll pick one up in the morning.”
“You might—”
A crunching sound cut off his words, and we both turned around. We could see over the low back of the couch where the wall was beginning to cave. Not all of it…just a round section, level with my neck. Seconds later, there was another scream.
Her scream this time.
A cry so loud I could almost feel the pain that had caused it.
“Fuck!” Caleb screeched.
Whatever had hit that wall hadn’t come all the way through; it had broken the drywall, and I’d heard it split open, but it had only dented the living room side.
“You’re fucking bleeding!” Caleb shouted.
I glanced at Jeremy; he stared at me, the bowl still between the tips of his fingers, his mouth around the end. “What the hell?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Your goddamn blood is everywhere!” Caleb yelled. “Jeremy, get the hell in here right now!”
Jeremy walked toward me, his fingers clamping my wrist as he lifted me to my feet and dragged me behind him. “You’re coming with me.”
I didn’t resist. I just followed, hoping whatever was on the other side wouldn’t ruin my high. I was too tired for this shit. I didn’t even know if I’d bother to bleach anything before crashing.
“What’s up?” Jeremy said, cracking the door a little. It was too dark to see anything.
“Turn the fucking light on, you idiot!” Caleb shouted.
Jeremy opened the door a bit more and moved inside. He flipped the switch and filled the room with light. The glow from the bulb was so mustard-yellow, it made the blood look almost green…and it was everywhere: All over Caleb’s neck, stuck to the hair on his chest, the tips of his dreadlocks and splattered on the mismatched pillowcases. It was coming from the girl’s head, dripping down her brows and into her face. Her eyes were as wide open as her legs; the top of her head was still inside the drywall. She said nothing. She didn’t even cry out from the pain, which must have been incredible.
“Dude, you fucked her through the wall,” Jeremy said.
Caleb stood from the bed, completely naked except for a pair of wool socks. His dick was no longer hard enough to fill the condom. It hung from him like a dead balloon. He yanked it off, threw it in the corner, and reached for his jeans. “No shit,” he snapped. He pulled a shirt on over his head and moved closer to me. “You’ve got to take her to the hospital, Rae.”
My neck tilted back like he’d slapped me. “Me?”
“That blood ain’t stopping,” Jeremy said. He had taken Caleb’s place right next to the bed, looking at the wall and inside the hole. “Yup, she definitely needs stitches.”
I turned toward Caleb, who now stood a few feet from me, and leaned against his dresser. “So why the hell would I take her?”
“I can’t,” Caleb said. “They’ll think I fucking beat her. And Jeremy’s too high to drive.”
“I ain’t high,” Jeremy yelled back.
“Then why are you inspecting her like she’s a piece of bud?” Caleb asked.
Jeremy stumbled back and held onto the window, but he kept his eyes on the girl. “Cause she’s got nice tits. Shit, at least I didn’t crack her head open with my dick.”
Caleb was right: Jeremy was too messed up to go anywhere. With so much blood coming from her head, she definitely shouldn’t drive herself to the hospital. I wasn’t sure I was the best person to take her, either; even though this had shaken me out of my high, I was still tired from the weed.
But Caleb was letting me stay at his house—for free. It was probably the least I could do.
The girl wobbled and swayed as she sat up. Blood dripped down her nose and into her mouth. She wiped it like it was a tear. “Stop staring at my tits, you flamer.” Her voice didn’t match her words. She sounded like a cartoon. “And you—Scarface? I don’t want you taking me anywhere.” She tucked her knees against her chest. “Caleb, you fucking asshole, I’m not going to be seen with some meth head that slashed her face open while she was tweaking.”
Something dark began to fill my chest, like the gathering of a storm. My back stiffened; my eyelids narrowed. There was rage swirling inside me, ready to burst from my mouth. “What the hell did you just call me?”
“Caleb,” she whined, “that thing is looking at me like she wants to eat me. Tell her to stop.”
My nails dug into my palm. My pulse quickened, my heart pounding as if it was trying to break through my skin.
I wasn’t a fighter. I’d slapped Drew once because I resented her. I couldn’t stand the way she looked at me, like she pitied me, like she was sad for me. And aside from a few situations in high school, I didn’t normally react with my hands. This girl wasn’t going to get my open palm. She was getting my fist.
I took a step forward and was ready to take another when Caleb moved in front of me. His chest pressed against mine, his outstretched arms preventing me from going any farther. “Rae, she’s already in rough shape.” His voice was smooth like he was trying to calm me down. “What you’ll do to her will only make it worse. It’s not worth it.”
An obnoxious and extremely fake giggle came from her lips. “Rough shape…pleeease. At least my face doesn’t look like hers.”
“Shut up, Becky,” Caleb yelled over his shoulder. “Sit on that bed and stop fucking talking.”
Whatever he was doing to kill my anger was overpowered by her irritating smirk. I leaned back and placed my hands on his chest. “Get out of my way,” I shouted, shoving him as hard as I could.
He came forward again. “Jeremy,” Caleb said, his voice still calm, “come take Rae to her room before she kills Becky.”
“She’s not going to kill me, baby.” Becky giggled. “Scare me, maybe.”
I lurched forward again; Caleb stopped me. He turned around and pressed his back against me, holding my arms down with his. “Shut the hell up!” he screamed at her. “Do not say another fucking word, do you hear me? You’re lucky I don’t come over there and knock your ass out.”
I sucked in a breath as I felt Jeremy’s hands on me. I waited for his fingers to lift and graze my hair or the side of my head. If that happened, the three of them would really see me flip out, but for a completely different reason.
He gripped my waist and my arm and gently pulled me out of Caleb’s room and into mine. Then he stationed himself in the doorway to keep me from running back out. I leaned against the far wall and tried to catch my breath.
“She’s a whore,” he said. “It don’t matter what she says.”
He was right; it didn’t matter. But I could still feel her words and her expression. It felt like they’d slashed my skin, like the pain in my scar was fresh all over again.
“If she knew what happened to you, she’d feel like a fucking fool,” he said. He wiggled out the joint that had been tucked between his head and ear and handed it to me, with a lighter.
It seemed as if he had an endless supply of drugs on him at all times. I suddenly appreciated that.
I stuck one end in my mouth and lit the other. The weed wasn’t going to soften her words, or make me forget them. But it would help stop my brain from wandering and help me fall asleep. And I was going to need it. On my way back from work, I’d heard on the radio that a rainstorm was headed our way. The thought of that made me suck down even more of the joint.
“You want some of this?” I asked him, nodding toward the weed.
He shook his head. “Nah, you keep it.�
�� He was lighting his own joint. I didn’t know where that one had come from. This time I didn’t care. He had given me my own, and that was all that mattered.
I finished it and crashed, without even bothering to clean the room like I’d wanted to.
***
My body still wasn’t used to this new schedule, and as a result, I only slept for about five hours. When I woke up, I downed half a bowl of cereal and drove to work.
I sat in the back lot behind the casino, my hands circling the top of the steering wheel, even though the car was in park. I could feel what the lack of sleep and food were starting to do to me. My collarbone stuck out more than usual; my belt was on the tightest notch. I didn’t like being this skinny, but there was nothing I could do. My body was completely in control until December seventeenth. Weed should have made me hungry; it didn’t. I could feel the hollow of my stomach gurgling, trying to reject whatever it held but finding nothing of substance.
I just had to wait this out and continue eating tiny amounts for the next twenty-seven days. After that, my appetite would return. My hair would thicken, and my body would fill out again.
When this first happened five years ago, I tried to stop it from repeating the following year. To keep my mind straight. To forget the significance of that date.
To forgive what had happened, and the one who’d caused it.
I couldn’t.
So I stopped fighting and I let it take over. My stomach. My dreams. And though things didn’t completely return to normal after mid-December, they did improve. They became a little more tolerable. I could at least keep down the food I ate.
Without looking at the time on my phone, I knew I had to get inside for my shift. I wasn’t ready. The mid-day sky had turned black, with a storm that hadn’t yet released its rain.
Tears.
He had once told me that’s what the rain was.
I hoped I wouldn’t hear the storm over the clanking chips or the clinking glasses or the chatter. If the noises of the storm seeped through, I didn’t know how I’d finish my shift.