by Schiller, MK
Oh Crap! Stevie had told him. I cut a glare at Stevie who was busy cutting a glare at Adam. Rick gave me an amused, but curious smirk. “Do I have a new nickname, Marley?”
“I have no idea why Adam said that,” I replied, crossing my arms.
Rick looked at Adam for an answer, but he just shook his head, “We all have nicknames, Rick. You’re in my posse now, so you get one too.”
I glared at Adam. “You have a posse? You guys look more like a dance crew. By the way, I don’t think anyone’s used the term ‘posse’ since the mid-eighties.”
Adam faked a hurt expression. Rick was amused though. “What’s your nickname, Adam?”
Adam grinned. “Pussy lover.” We all groaned. “What? It’s because I love Van Morrison so much. What the hell were you perverts thinking?” Adam plied his voice with a mock innocence that fooled no one.
“Eww, stop it! My innocent mind can’t take this!” Billie screamed.
“It’s not that innocent,” Stevie muttered.
We all busted out in laughter. It was just a typical morning with my nutty, lovable family.
After the laughter though, I noticed Stevie and Billie gawking at me because I’m sure they wanted to know if I’d had a night terror. My mom came out and regarded me with similar curiosity.
“We slept well,” I answered their unspoken question and they all seem relieved. I couldn’t exactly come out and say it because Adam had never witnessed a terror and Stevie had never told him. The poor guy thought Stevie was crazy, and wanted to spend eternity living with her mom. A sure sign he truly loved her.
“I don’t understand what happened to you all last night? Why did you leave the club?” my mom asked, dishing out what I recognised as her Tofu scramble.
I turned to Billie, wondering what story she’d told my mom. My mom’s sudden interrogation led me to conclude that she hadn’t completely bought whatever falsehood Billie had sold to her.
“Mom, I told you Marley threw up.” Great, she’d used me as the excuse.
My mom regarded me sternly. “Marley, it’s pretty irresponsible that you drank that much. It had to be bad if three people needed to help you.”
I shifted in my seat awkwardly. My mother’s reprimand in front of Rick was very uncomfortable, even if I didn’t deserve it.
“When did you throw up, Marley? Was it before or after you punched Mr Clean’s nephew?” Adam asked to my horror. Stevie shot him her famous shut the hell up look, but it was too late. The pussy was out of the bag.
My mom stared at me with her sharp blue eyes. “You got into a fight?”
“Don’t worry, Emmie. Marley handled the first guy with help from Rick and me. The second guy, Rick took on by himself.” Adam’s explanation did nothing to calm my mother down. My mom had seen many things in her life. She’d ridden cross-country on a motorcycle, she’d volunteered at a shelter for abused women, she’d smoked weed with Mickey Hart, but the thought of me getting into a fight really freaked her out.
“Marley Reba Mason, you answer me, right now!”
Adam spoke for me, trying to fumble through the story, avoiding Stevie’s reproachful glares.
Rick moved closer to me, whispering in my ear, “Reba?”
I looked up at him. “My mom went through a country phase.”
His confused look turned into a brimming, dimple-revealing, smile. “Reba, huh?”
“Shut up, Ulysses. You don’t have room to talk.”
My mom was still gaping at me, so I provided the most comforting response I could. “Mom, its fine. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. We’re all safe. We all had a good night, just not the way it was originally planned. Can we just leave it at that?”
“All right, but I want to hear your version later.”
I agreed and we moved on to other topics. We all chatted amicably. Billie suddenly interrupted the merriment. “I want to dish.”
“We’re not eating dessert,” I said, staring at Rick’s almost empty plate. I couldn’t believe this man was eating tofu. Surely, he must really care about me to suffer such fates.
“I don’t care, I have dish and I want to share. Mom got a phone number last night. A few actually, but one guy was really hot and young and he had a tongue piercing.”
We all stared wide-eyed at my mother. This was good dish.
“Billie, that boy was probably drunk and he was at least half my age.”
“I don’t know, Emmie, I think a cougar like you could keep a young guy on his toes,” Rick interjected, smirking at my mother.
My mom made a growling sound at Rick, which I assumed was her imitation of a cougar. Rick winked at her. “Don’t tempt me, young man,” she said, shaking her fork at him.
“Mom, quit flirting with my boyfriend,” I replied teasingly. Rick’s posture changed, his arm was no longer resting on my chair, but around my shoulder shifting me towards him. It was the first time I’d actually defined our relationship as something more than sexual.
He grinned widely, revealing his dimple and said more to me than my mom, “Yeah, quit flirting with her boyfriend.”
In fact, everyone at the table seemed stunned by my revelation, except for Adam who was just playing with his food. I grabbed Rick’s shirt and brought him close to me for a kiss, ignoring where I was. I wasn’t into PDA like Stevie and Adam, but this was a special moment and I needed to kiss my man.
I knew Stevie was about to get her revenge by telling us to get a room as I’d told her so many times, but I didn’t even care. I kissed him softly and only for a few seconds, but it felt special because Rick and I were now a ‘we’.
That’s when I noticed it. I pulled Rick’s shirt farther down, exposing more of his chest. The ugly, jagged beginnings of a very deep scratch revealed itself.
My mother saw it too, because she stood up right away and approached Rick to get a closer look. “Rick, take off your shirt.”
“Eww, Mom!” Billie whined.
“Hush, Billie,” Mom stared at Rick with motherly eyes, full of calm, concern and command. “Rick, please take off your shirt.”
He sighed, but complied with her. It was difficult not to obey my mom. Underneath his shirt was the ugliest, longest scratch mark I’d ever seen, running down the middle of his chest to his stomach. He’d washed it off, but I could tell it had bled in some spots.
I stared at it, realising what I’d done. Everything happy and good that had just happened washed away like waves moving off the shoreline.
“I’m okay, Marley,” Rick said, clasping my hand.
“Dude, what kind of freaky sex do you guys have?” Adam asked, suddenly interested in the conversation, darting his widened eyes between Rick and I. Stevie elbowed him and he shut his mouth.
“I’ll get some antiseptic for it so it doesn’t get an infection,” my mother said, disappearing into the kitchen.
“Marley, look at me. I’m fine.”
I didn’t look at him. I just stared at the scratch, wondering how long it would take to heal. I knew it had to be painful. He took my face in his hands and forced it up to his. “Stop it,” he said, trying to snap me out of my deep thoughts.
My mom returned with the first-aid kit. I walked over to the couch and slumped onto it. My mom, Billie and Stevie all worked over Rick, while Adam joked how jealous he was that Rick was receiving so much attention from the ladies. I studied my fingers. My nails were clean. There was no blood on them. Had he wiped them after? I thought he must have. He was definitely trying to hide this from me.
When all the worried hens were done fixing him up, Rick came over and sat down. He put his arm around me and stroked my hair. Everyone couldn’t wait to leave now. Stevie and Adam headed out of the door first. “Mom, we’re going to Adam’s and then we’re going to meet Dad at the tux shop.”
“Okay, sweetie,” my mom called, clearing the table and heading to the kitchen with Billie to finish off the dishes.
Stevie turned to me. “Bye, Marley, I’ll text you later.” I n
odded, not meeting her gaze.
Rick and I sat in silence on the couch, alone. He didn’t speak for a while, but kept stroking my hair gently, occasionally twisting a strand around his finger. He’d put his shirt on even though my mom had told him not to, so the antiseptic cream wouldn’t stick. He did it for me so I wouldn’t have to see what I’d done to him. “Marley, you have to talk to me sometime, sweetheart.”
I looked at him, not sure what to say. He kept talking, coaxing me in that comforting way of his. “It looks a lot worse than it is and it’s in a place where I can hide it easily. Even if you did hurt me on the face, I’m really good at making stuff up. I can always say I bumped into a wall or fell down the stairs. I’m so clumsy, you know.” I knew he was trying to put a humorous slant on what I’d done to make me feel better.
“Do you think this is funny, Rick?” I asked, surprised how quiet and raspy my voice was. It sounded like I was crying then I realised that I was.
He pulled me close to him so my head could rest against his chest. “No, Marley, I don’t think it’s funny at all. My point is that it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. We can figure this out just like everything else. You know what’s sexy? Those separate beds they had on the fifties sitcoms. I can come over to your bed or you can come over to mine. Doesn’t that sound hot? Although I have to admit, it will be difficult for me because I just want to hold you all night.” I laughed because I knew he was trying so hard to make me feel better.
“Before and after you had…your terror…I slept really well with you in my arms. It felt natural to me.”
It felt natural to me too, that was the problem. I couldn’t remember the trauma, but he could. It was like being a drug addict and being so high you couldn’t remember your actions. It was more difficult for the people who had to deal with it most of the time than the actual addict.
“Rick, I know you’re trying to make me feel better about this, but I don’t want you to. What I did was horrible, but the truth is, I could have hurt you much worst. You were sleeping so you wouldn’t be ready. I’m afraid of what I’m capable of. I once gave my mother a black eye and I snatched the hair right out of Billie’s head, and they were awake. I don’t even remember any of it.”
“Marley, stop it. I saw what happened last night. I saw you had no idea where you were and most of all I saw your fear. I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. What are you so scared of, sweetheart?”
I leaned next to him, not sure if I could clearly answer the question, so I just asked one of my own. I’m not sure which was harder, answering his question or the waiting for him to answer mine. “Did I say anything to you, Rick?” I looked up at him to assess his expression. Visible pain flickered through his face and I knew my answer. “Rick, please tell me because I know I say things, but I never remember that either.”
He took my arms and held me apart from him so he could look at my face. “I’ll be honest with you, Marley, the scratch is nothing compared to what you said to me. It’s okay though because I know you weren’t talking to me. What I want to know is…who you were talking to?”
I decided to tell him everything at this point. Rick had pierced right through all my troubling craziness and he deserved to know. “My father molested me.”
He nodded as if he wasn’t surprised, but his head turned towards the doorway and I already knew what he was thinking. He was thinking about Stevie meeting up with her dad.
I placed my hands on his face and turned it back to me. “We all have different dads. Stevie and Billie have a very good relationship with their fathers. My mom was married to Billie’s dad for a long time. They’re both good guys.”
“I want you to tell me about your father, Marley, but only if you want to.”
I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to purge myself of the deceit I carried in my heart every time I kissed him. “My mother only went out with him for a short time. She was very young. When she got pregnant with me, he didn’t want me. He wanted her to abort so he wouldn’t have to pay child support. She told him not to worry about it. She said she’d take care of me on her own and she did for a while. That’s why I have her last name. When I was six, he suddenly wanted to be a part of my life. I think it had more to do with his new wife, Linda, than him. She was very nice to me, but he mostly ignored me. They divorced when I was eight and then it was just him and me during my visitations. He didn’t ignore me anymore, but I wish he had.”
I wrapped my arms around Rick, burying my face into his chest. He shifted me onto his lap. “Why did your mom let you go see him?”
“She had no choice. He paid the back child support and the state approved the visitation. Besides that, she had no reason not to. She wanted me to have a relationship with him and as far as she knew, he was sincere in his request to spend time with me.”
“How long did it go on?” Rick asked, tensing his arms. Although I wasn’t looking at him, I had no doubt the vein in his neck was throbbing.
“It started when I was eight. It happened every other weekend and one week in the summer until I was twelve.” I felt a shudder course through his body. He wasn’t crying, but his emotion was visceral nonetheless.
“Your mother…surely, she suspected?”
“No, Rick, you have no idea. She was a single mom, working two jobs and was raising three girls. Besides that, I never told. I was very good at hiding it. He helped me to hide it. He was very…careful.” Rick swallowed hard and it felt like his body temperature had risen by ten degrees since I’d started talking. “He told me I was lucky because I had a very special relationship with him that my sisters didn’t have with their fathers. I was his weekend girlfriend. I don’t have many clear memories, but I know that he came to me at night and I never fought him, which is why I think I have the night terrors now. I just accepted it.”
“Marley, you were a little girl. He was a grown man and very…sick.”
“I know, but I still wish I had fought him because I knew it was wrong. He would set up dates for us and pretend that we had a relationship and I accepted that as normal.”
“So that’s why you don’t do relationships? He fucked that up for you, didn’t he?”
“I guess so. I wasn’t even interested in sex for a long time. Then one day I was. I thought I could keep the two separated because it was easier to deal with it that way. If I didn’t care about the person I was with then I could handle it.”
“What happened to him, Marley?”
His question surprised me. “Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know if you got your justice and if you didn’t, I want to be the one to give it to you.” Rick had said it calmly, but the words sent shivers down my spine.
“He’s at Greenville cemetery, he committed suicide. I think because of what he did to me. His suicide note was addressed to me and it was only one word—sorry. That’s when my mom knew and I finally admitted to everything. The night terrors started a few months later.”
“So you never really got your justice because the bastard took the easy way out.”
“I hadn’t really thought of it that way. Maybe the reasons I have the terrors is that I never got closure. I’m a lucky girl though, because my family totally helped me through it.”
They did help me, but they also felt crazy guilty and did really stupid things like move their new husbands into their family home or refuse to go to the college of their dreams. An epiphany occurred that made me cry harder. Rick held me close, but I didn’t voice it. My mother didn’t date anymore. How could she when she has a messed up daughter to look after every night?
My mom came out then with Billie next to her. I shifted away from Rick because our bodies were completely locked together, but he didn’t let me go. My mom didn’t seem bothered by it either.
“Billie and I are going to the farmer’s market. We’ll be back in a few hours.” I knew she wanted to give us time alone, but there was nothing else to say at this point. Before she left, s
he turned on the stereo and No Woman No Cry by Bob Marley came on. She nodded to us then they left.
“You think your mom is trying to send us a message?” Rick asked, relaxing his posture for the first time since my admission.
I looked up at him and managed a weak smile. “Yes, especially me”—I pointed to the stereo and back at myself—“from Marley to Marley.”
* * * *
Rick spent the whole week with me, with my mother’s permission. He was very patient and we talked every night. He brought up how he was leaving soon, but I changed the subject every time. I wasn’t ready to talk about the future until we could get past the present. In many ways, it was the best and worst week of my life. I loved sleeping next to him and that there were no secrets between us anymore, but I hated what would be in store for me when I woke up. I never hurt him physically that week and I knew that because I insisted on doing a physical inspection on his body every morning. Well, I also had other motives for that. On the surface, it seemed like things were going well.
There were other signs though that had me doubting everything. Rick was always a ball of energy, but this week he was lethargic. I saw the dark circles under his eyes and the way he rubbed his temples. He started requesting coffee again and this time he drank it. I was used to the disruptive sleep patterns, but it was all new for him.
He never told me any of it bothered him, but I saw it in his face. We didn’t make love very much, and when we did, he was more delicate with me, and hesitant. Some of the passion that radiated in his eyes was replaced with pity. It disheartened me to see it, because the last thing I wanted was his pity. I couldn’t blame him though. I never remembered what I said, but my mom had told me before. What kind of man, especially one as good and kind as Rick, would want to touch a woman after she called him a paedophile and rapist all night?