by Kata Čuić
“Same time next week. And don’t be late neither, or I’ll dock your pay again. I can’t afford to miss my favorite tight fuck of the week, Shelby, and I ain’t got time for your games.”
He turns to face the open doorway, and my heart stops in my chest.
I know him. I know this bad man. It’s our principal, Mr. Clancy. He’s married with a whole family at home. Lord only knows what he’s doing fucking a woman who ain’t his wife.
“That boy of yours is smart as a whip. I reckon he’s got a chance to make something of himself if he’d just keep his nose clean and stay outta trouble. Mind that I can help him or hurt him in that regard. Ya better think twice before ya consider cuttin’ our ties again, ya hear me?”
I hold my breath while Mr. Clancy peers into Jesse’s bedroom, praying it’s too dark for him to see me in here.
“I won’t,” Mrs. Yates answers, her voice suddenly stronger. “I’ll see ya next week at our regular time, Jim.”
He turns his back to me, facing Jesse’s ma again. “Now that’s what I like to hear. Ya know the wife ain’t into anything too extravagant in our bed. I gotta take it where I can get it. And ya just so happen to be the slut for the job.”
I jump with the slam of the front door, but Jesse’s still a lead weight in my arms. Worry creeps into my mind the longer that Mrs. Yates lies motionless in the same spot. With a soft kiss to Jesse’s hot forehead, I disentangle him from around me and slip out of his bed.
She’s mumbling to herself. It ain’t until I’m crouched beside the couch that her words make any sense to my burning ears.
“I’m sorry, Mike. I’m so sorry,” she cries over and over.
My stomach bottoms out, and I fall in a heap on the floor at her side. Mike was Jesse’s daddy. Michael Yates. Her sobbed apologies to a dead man are the stuff of nightmares. She might as well have ripped my heart out of my chest to break with her own. It’s as if all the joy and happiness in the world is sucked down with her grief. There ain’t no angel alive nor in heaven that could make this any better for her.
Still, I gotta try.
“Mrs. Yates?” I reach out a shaky hand to her. “Are ya hurt?”
She turns her head to look me over with glazed, teary eyes. “Why, if it ain’t Princess Lenore. What’re ya doin’ here, sugar?”
She don’t even mention what I just saw nor seem to care she’s half naked, draped over her couch in front of me.
“Jesse’s sick, ma’am. I was takin’ care of him for ya.”
“You’re sweet on my boy, ain’t ya?”
“I’m just bein’ a good friend, ma’am.”
She pats my cheek. Her touch is heavy and rough, uncoordinated. “That’s real good. Don’t ya never get sweet on no man, Lenore. Ya wanna know why?”
She don’t wait for me to answer.
“’Cause they’ll only break your heart. Don’t matter if he’s a good man or not. My Jesse’s a real good man like his daddy before him. Be that as it may, he ain’t no man for ya. Stay away. He’ll break your heart, and you’ll break his. Love’s a game ain’t no one can win.”
“That ain’t true, Mrs. Yates. Ya love Jesse. I know ya do. That’s a game you’re winnin’. And if Mr. Yates were still around, I know ya’d love each other as much as my mama and daddy do.” She wouldn’t go through all this for Jesse if she didn’t love him. And she wouldn’t be crying for Mr. Yates if she still didn’t love him, too. The pain in her body’s just spilling over into her mind and heart, that’s all. She ain’t telling the truth. Love is what makes the world go around.
“The only true love in this world is between a mother and her child, Lenore. Love between a man and a woman ain’t real. It ain’t worth it.”
“Well, Mrs. Yates, with all due respect…If it weren’t for love between a man and a woman, no woman would ever get to experience the love she feels for her child. If I never fall in love with a man, I’ll never get to know how much ya love Jesse ‘cause I won’t never have no child of my own.”
“It don’t take love to make a baby, Lenore. Ya mind my words well. Now go on, girl. Git.”
Jumping from the Frying Pan into the Fire
A sweaty mountain of muscle and a grimy girl with a torn sundress pack up their tools for the day. She calls him “Daddy” on whispered giggles then looks over her shoulder to where I’m sitting on the porch, either knowing full well I can hear her or assuming she’s getting away with something.
I wish there was a punchline to this joke, but instead a four-year-old punches me in the gut every time she looks at that man like he hung the moon.
“But why do we have to clean up and go inside?” she whines as she trails him toward the house. At least she’s not outright refusing to do as he says by throwing herself down on the ground. Apparently, she only does that for me.
“’Cause we’re runnin’ outta daylight, and ya need a bath to wash all the dirt off ya.”
“I don’t want to go in! I don’t want a bath! I want to build my new house!”
Okay. Maybe she does throw tantrums for him, too. Not as explosive as the ones she reserves for me, but still.
Jesse sets down his toolbox in the grass then crouches down low in front of her, meeting her pout with a stern expression. His voice remains gentle. “I done told ya buildin’ your new house would take time, little darlin’. I know it’s all ya wanna do ‘til it’s done, but I got other responsibilities to mind, too. And if we go too fast and make a mistake on our build, then we’ll only be jumpin’ from the fryin’ pan into the fire.”
She glares at him. “Why do you talk funny?”
“Anne…” I reprimand, rising from my seat on the porch swing.
Jesse holds up a hand to stay my approach. He focuses on the little girl who’s currently got her arms crossed over her chest, the dimple in her chin plain as day with her deepening anger. “Did ya not understand what I said to ya?”
She shakes her head.
“All right.” He heaves a deep breath. “We’ll start there. What did ya not understand?”
“What’s…responsibilities to mind?” She scrunches her nose as she fumbles the big word, but her memory of exactly what he said rings clear. “Do you have other friends to play with?”
“You’re real close,” he responds, pride shining in his voice. “Responsibilities are things we have to do. We might not always want to do ‘em, but it’s our job to do ‘em and do ‘em right. Your responsibilities,” he taps her cast for emphasis, “are to be a good girl and to listen to your mama, grammaw, and pappy. My responsibilities are to go to work every day, then come home to play with ya. That’s why we can’t build the house durin’ the day. And that’s part of why it’s gonna take us a little longer to build it than ya’d like. ‘Cause I gotta go to work just like your mama and your pappy. It ain’t that I don’t wanna spend all day every day bein’ your best friend, but if I don’t go to work, then I won’t have money to buy ya all the stuff we need to build your house. Ya understand?”
The pout on her little mouth doesn’t lessen, but she nods. “What’s frying pan and fire?”
His mouth spreads in a slow smile. “That means you’re just gonna trade one kind of trouble for another. If I rush through my work durin’ the day to get home to ya sooner, then I won’t do a good job. And I could lose my job. If I lose my job, then I won’t have the money to build your house or to buy ya a new dress since ya done ripped this one.” He tugs on the pink gingham, which makes her giggle.
Honestly, it’s probably the idea of him buying her a new dress that clears the storm clouds from her face. Can’t blame her. There’s no girl alive who doesn’t enjoy being spoiled with pretty things. His golden promises of time and attention are a solid foundation for heartbreak, but she’s too young to understand that.
Jesse continues, “Ya fell outta the old treehouse ‘cause it was breakin’ down. I don’t want ya to get hurt in the new playhouse ‘cause we done rushed to get it built instead of takin’ our time. I
f ya get hurt again, ya ain’t never gonna get over your fear enough to want a new, bigger house up in the tree.” He raises his eyebrows and looks her dead in the eye. “Are ya really sure ya never wanna climb a tree again?”
With a surprising amount of maturity for her four years, she slowly shakes her head. “I like climbing trees. I don’t want to get hurt.”
“I know ya don’t, little darlin’.” He leans forward and kisses her forehead. “So, we’re gonna go slow and steady. No more jumpin’ from the fryin’ pan into the fire. Okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees.
“I think maybe ya should go inside and pay your pappy some attention. He’s feelin’ a might left out that we been buildin’ this house without his help. I reckon it would make him feel right happy if ya asked him to read ya a bedtime story and share some ice cream. Whaddya think?”
They climb the porch stairs hand in hand, their best friend status not only intact but stronger than ever as she nods excitedly and scurries through the screen door to do exactly as Jesse suggested.
He sighs as he sets down his toolbox and settles onto the porch swing beside me. “She keeps me on my toes.”
“You’re real good with her, Jess,” I admit begrudgingly.
He smiles at me and folds his hand around mine. “I’ve had some experience with willful women.”
I snatch my hand away, the memory of Bobbi Sue leaving him a rumpled mess still fresh in my mind. “Oh, I know you have. Very recently in fact.”
He shakes his head and glances down as he begins to rock us back and forth on the swing, the muscles in his thighs shifting with the movement. “Might be I haven’t spoken plainly enough for ya to understand me neither.” He grabs my hand again. “Nothin’ happened with Bobbi Sue. I asked for her help, and she offered more than I wanted. I accepted what I need. I turned down what I don’t.”
“What is it, exactly, you need, Principal Yates?” My voice comes out in a whisper. Partly because I don’t want to hear his answer. Mostly because his calloused thumb caressing my skin makes me plain stupid.
He gazes at me evenly. “You.” He tips his head toward the house. “Her. You girls are all I need.”
My breathing stops on a dime then races ahead like my lungs can make up for five years without air. My brain, somehow, still seems to work. “Needs and wants are two very different things.”
“I know both,” he says, his voice gravelly. He increases the pressure of his thumb against my skin and my heartbeat responds wildly, the blood rushing in my ears nearly drowning out his next words. “It’s been five long years since I last felt your touch. I’m losin’ my mind a little more every day, but I meant what I said to Anne. I ain’t gonna rush ya.”
The old treehouse blurs in my teary vision as I stare at it. I’ve been so worried about losing my convictions, I’ve been a bad mother after all. I haven’t been putting my daughter’s needs ahead of my wants. “We need to tear it down before she gets hurt again. She’ll forget her fear all right. And she’ll absolutely jump right back into the fire.”
He leans into me, his gaze boring a hole in the side of my head. “I’ll tear it down if that’s what ya want, but I don’t think it is. I might be an unwed man from the mountains with a high-falutin’ master’s degree, but I’m not stupid. Ya ain’t never been attracted to the hillbilly men from around here, so if a tailored suit is what it takes to catch your eye, then that’s what I’ll wear. I ain’t never been worried about what anyone around here thinks of me save you. Ya ain’t givin’ me much incentive to fit in with these folks when ya confess to wantin’ to sin with me. So. Are ya really gonna look me in the eyes and tell me ya don’t wanna climb up there one last time?”
When I meet his eyes he’s so close, his warm breath dusts my lips. I can’t deny the words he’s thrown back at me. I give it one last all to save myself. To save Anne. “One more time might kill us. It’s too far gone. It won’t support our weight.”
His free hand slides along my jaw, spreading electricity down my spine. “It don’t have to only be one time if you’ll let me build a new, better one, Nora.”
His biceps stretch his dirty white t-shirt. The weight of his full body on mine reminds me of sweaty nights spent in that old house. The past blurs with the present as his mossy eyes stare into mine. For a few heartbeats, everything’s the same in spite of how much has changed.
“What are you going to tell her when she breaks her other arm falling from the new treehouse?”
“I’m gonna tell her life ain’t always fair, but we can’t stop livin’ waitin’ for the rain to come. I’m gonna show her how hard I’ve worked to be able to support any extra weight we might bear even if it’s a full-body cast. I’ll build as many houses as it takes. And I’m gonna prove to her I’ll always be here to kiss all the hurt away.”
I haven’t tasted so much promise in five long years. My stubborn will is as strong as it ever was, but my human bones are weak and world-weary. My parched lips are desperate for quenching.
A plea rattles lose from my chest the moment his mouth meets mine. He doesn’t erase the long drought with a violent flood. Instead, his deep kiss spreads through all my cracked places, slowly softening hardness into something rich that has the potential to bear life—and all the hardship that comes with it—again.
We tear apart at a squeal shrill enough to sound like a rabbit caught in a trap.
Anne launches herself into Jesse’s lap and wraps her arms—cast and all—around his neck, only pausing to glare at me over her shoulder. “He’s my daddy, and you can’t have him!”
“I know I can’t, baby girl,” I mutter, my cheeks hotter than a tin roof in the noonday sun. I made a grave mistake again. “I know I can’t.”
Jesse laughs through an obvious expression of pain as he holds Anne’s weight above his lap, his knees squeezed together tightly. “Ow, I deserved that.”
Nine Years Ago
The trap door creaks open, and Jesse’s head pops into view. He startles and nearly falls back down the way he came when he sees me in the corner. “Girl, are ya tryin’ to scare me to death?”
“No.” I sniffle.
He climbs the rest of the way up, closing the door behind him before crawling over to the pile of blankets and pillows that I’m burrowed under. His face gets angry, the likes I haven’t seen in a good while. “What did he do to ya?”
“Nothin’!” I yell right in his stupid face. “Go on now, boy. Git!”
It don’t feel as good as I reckoned to be as mean to him as he used to be to me.
Jesse tears the blankets off me and pulls at my clothes in a frenzy. This ain’t no practicing. His chest heaves when I’m naked beneath him, but he don’t make a move to touch me. “If ya don’t tell me right now what he did to ya, I’m gonna go get my shotgun.”
No matter how many times Mama drilled into my head that a woman should keep herself covered, I don’t cower from Jesse’s gaze. My voice comes out cold even though I’m sweating in the late Indian summer air. “Did ya think ya’d be able to see if he forced me?”
Jesse raises his eyebrows and mutters, “Guess ya done learned somethin’ without my help after all.”
“I done learned it from your ma.”
Mighty rage passes across Jesse’s face. He swipes a dirty hand down his greasy face. “That what he did to ya? He forced ya to please him?”
Kenny’s been a surprising good friend to me, and I ain’t about to get him in any hot water for his trouble.
“No. He let me go like a perfect gentleman.” I pull on my underwear and cotton nightgown in a full-on snit.
He gestures at the worn fabric, his expression as confused as I feel. “Then why aren’t ya in the fine dress your mama bought ya? Why aren’t ya at the dance?”
“Why aren’t ya at work?” I fire back at him.
He blinks a few times, the pupils in his eyes swallowing green like a deer eating anything in sight. “Water main broke and flooded the place. We had to close ear
ly.”
“Then why are ya here?” I want to scream it, but instead my voice comes out all eerie-like.
Jesse sits back on his haunches, a look I ain’t never seen before flattening his sharp features. He points to the pile of books beside the make-shift bed. “I was fixin’ to do some readin’.”
The sound that comes out of my throat is like the strangest animal I never heard. The past few months of feeling like I been stuck in a whirlpool, gasping for air and clawing for purchase, bubbles out of my guts. Within seconds, I’m soaking wet and shaking from the effort.
Jesse’s touch is careful when he wraps an arm around my trembling shoulders. “Darlin’, I don’t understand what’s goin’ on with ya, but you’re sore scarin’ me. If he didn’t hurt ya, then what’s wrong? Did ya not like all his extravagant presents? Wouldn’t he let ya pick the movies ya done saw together? Didn’t he know how to kiss ya the way ya like?”
In a flash, I’m on him faster and harder than Clarence Duke on our first day of school. Mama says we shouldn’t pick on little things, but Jesse’s been bigger than me for a good while now. He don’t even try to fend off my blows.
“Ya done ruined me, Jesse Yates! Ya hear?”
His eyes grow wider than the harvest moon while I slap at his cheek and punch his shoulder and knee him in the stomach.
“I don’t want no cute teddy bears! I want ugly red shoes that are too big!” Another slap.
“And I don’t wanna go to the newest movie when I could be watchin’ the sunset in the back of a rusty ole pick-up truck!” Punch.
“And I don’t never…” Gasp. Kick. “Wanna…” Shove. Wail. “Be kissed…” Collapse. Hit. “By a man that ain’t you.”
He bolts upright, grabbing my shoulders in his rough hands, shaking me until my crying stops enough for his satisfaction. “What are ya sayin’?”
“I love ya, ya dumb hillbilly!” I yell into the night air, silencing all the crickets with my shout. “And you’re gonna get outta these mountains and make somethin’ of yourself and never look back! You’re gonna go off to the big city and find a beautiful woman who’s smarter than I’ll ever be and mate with her all the night long, and she’s gonna give ya a house full of babies and make ya happier than ya ever been, and I’m gonna be stuck here in these mountains without my best friend!”