The Girl Next Door

by Selene Castrovilla

  “I don’t understand,” Jesse said, leaning his chin on my head. He pulled me tight against him, trying to make me feel better. But the satisfaction was in the rubble I crunched through, still.

  “What good are objects?” I spat the words out through my dry mouth, leaning forward and swiping my hand into the fragments. “What good are keepsakes when you can’t keep the people?”

  Jesse pulled me away from the wreckage and inched me backward across the carpet a few feet. I didn’t fight him; I didn’t have the strength. But I didn’t help him, either.

  He huffed, slowly dragging both our bodies, one arm around me and his other on the floor. He stopped at the beanbag chair.

  “Sam, what is it?” he asked, squeezing my gritty, bloody hand. “What’s going on?”

  I giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  I stared at the devastation I’d spawned, laughter bubbling from me.

  “Jesus Christ, I’ve driven you insane,” Jesse said.

  I uncurled my hand and traced the powder mixed with blood in my palm and just kept laughing… .

  Chapter Thirteen

  My chest ached when I finally snapped out of my trance, still propped in Jesse’s arms. He had his legs wrapped over mine, pressed hard on my knees, and he held my palms against his thighs. I guessed he was stopping the bleeding.

  “Jess?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What are you doin’?”

  “Just waiting. Waiting for you to come back. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  I turned around. There was so much I wanted to say. And yet there was nothing to say.

  He checked one of my hands, touched the bloodied scratches on my palm, and kissed it. “Sam. I—I—” He paused, gulped. “I’m killing you, too. Aren’t I? I’m taking you down with me.”

  “No, yes—I don’t know,” I said. “It’s just—seeing you like that last night. It made everything even clearer. There’s nothing I can do to stop what’s happening to you. But why? Why can’t I help you? Save you?”

  “You help me more than anyone,” he said quietly.

  “But it’s not enough,” I snapped.

  The door opened and Mom came in. “Sam, what happened?” Her voice had a panicked edge.

  “I … went nuts, kind of, I guess,” I said.

  “Let me look at you. Are you bleeding?”

  Jess released my legs. There were dark sticky patches over both knees; I pulled up the sweat legs gingerly and we checked my knees. They looked pretty gruesome, but the bleeding had stopped from Jesse’s pressure. Mom looked at the cuts on my palms, too.

  “All right, we’ll get you cleaned and bandaged, and that should be good enough. I don’t think you need any stitches.”

  “Is Ted okay?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. I guess we’ll find out in a few years.”

  I looked at my feet. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “Aw, baby, I didn’t mean that.” She sat next to us and gave me a hug. “Everything’s getting to me, too.”

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Believe it or not, he’s in the other room—with Gwen.”

  “Jeez, we’d better get him out of there before he really needs therapy,” Jess said.

  “What’s she doing here?” I asked.

  “She wants to talk to Jesse.” Mom turned to him and said, “Your mother was here last night. She was very worried about you. I thought you’d like to know that.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything.

  “Jesse, she seems different, somehow.” Mom frowned, like she was thinking of the right way to put it, but couldn’t. “I don’t know. You can see for yourself.”

  He shifted a little, shuffled his feet back and forth. He had an edgy look.

  “One more thing,” Mom said, eying me. “Sam, I made an appointment for you to see a psychologist—this afternoon at four.”

  “Mom!”

  “Don’t you ‘mom’ me. You’re lucky I don’t have you under observation at Bellevue after what you just did. You’re going! It’s not up for debate.”

  “I want Jesse to come with me.”

  “He can go with you to the appointment, but he has to wait outside.”

  “No. I want him inside with me.”

  “I think he’s been inside you enough. Dear God, I can’t believe I just said that.” Mom turned pink, I felt red, and Jesse looked kind of purple. “Okay, you know what I mean. You’re having your session alone.”

  She looked at Jesse, who was trying to avoid looking back at her. “Jesse … oh, don’t look so embarrassed. I made a Freudian slip, that’s all. Anyway, you can understand it, can’t you? Therapy is something that needs to be done solo.”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you. You can sit with her for a few minutes when she first goes in, but then I want you to leave the room, even if she asks you to stay. Will you do that for me?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay! Sam, clean yourself up, and come have breakfast. We’ll bandage you afterward. Jesse, go speak with your mother in the living room so we don’t have to explain this latest fiasco, and then you can join us.”

  Something strange had happened to Mom’s voice. Her pitch had risen, and her words sped up; she sounded like a frantic mouse. “Does that sound like a plan?” She was trying so hard to hold it together. And to her, that meant everyone getting a good meal.

  “Yeah, Mom,” I said softly. “That’s a great plan. I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

  “Yup!” The word popped out and Mom left almost as quickly. I hoped she’d chill out on her own; I didn’t want to bring her to the therapist, too.

  “Mom’s buggin’,” I said when she left.

  “You told her we were having sex?” Jess was buggin’, too. “Is that a lesser offense than dressing in front of me?”

  “I wouldn’t have sex with you here.” It was all about respect. “She figured it out and asked me. I don’t lie to my mom.”

  “Terrific.”

  “It’s okay. She didn’t yell at you or anything, did she? She’s cool with it.”

  “I doubt that,” he grumbled. “I feel funny as hell now. I don’t know how I can face her again.”

  “Jess.” I rubbed my hand on his leg. “She understands. She’s on our side.”

  Jesse took a deep breath in and let it out; he grabbed a pillow and squeezed it. “Well, she’s your mom. I guess if you want to talk to her about stuff, I can’t blame you.”

  “It’s not like I asked her how to have sex, for God’s sake.” Although I had used her books for guidelines.

  “I know, I’m not mad. It’s just a shock, that’s all. And I’m always amazed—”

  “By what?”

  “By how nice your mom is. You’re so lucky.” He stared at my rubble.

  “Maybe your mom’ll be different now.”

  “Yeah. And maybe there’s really a Santa Claus after all.”

  “You mean there isn’t?” I made a mock pout. “What about ‘Miracle on Thirty-fourth Street?’ ”

  Jess bopped me with the pillow.

  ***

  Jesse went to talk to “mommy dearest,” and I sat down for some pancakes. Hot—thanks to the microwave. I poured pure maple syrup on the side of the plate and dug my fork into the steaming stack. Mom sat across from me, watching.

  Teddy was there, too, feeding his favorite doll. Her face was covered in mashed pancake and syrup oozed down the side of her face, but Mom didn’t even notice. She was fidgeting with a napkin, twisting it tighter and tighter.

  “Mom,” I said in between mouthfuls. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, baby, I’m okay. I just didn’t get enough coffee yet, that’s all.” She took a slug from her favorite mug. It had flowers blooming all over it. You’d figure she’d be sick of flowers, but no.

  Then she started pinging on the mug with what was left of her chewed-up nails. She had to use the fronts of her fingers, the nails went so low. Ping, ping, ping,
ping.

  “Seems like maybe you had too much,” I commented.

  “No, darling; what I’ve had too much of is life. Worry when I start pouring vodka in my cup, okay?” She smiled at me sweetly and held her cup up in a mock toast.

  “Gee, you don’t have to get all cynical,” I said, feeling wounded.

  “Mommy, what’s vodka?” Teddy asked. His doll now had red fruit juice all over her dress; apparently she hadn’t been thirsty.

  “It’s a grown-up drink, honey. But you’re not supposed to have it until after lunch.”

  Teddy shrugged, seeming satisfied. He put his baby doll over his shoulder and burped it. When he took it off, he had sticky syrup globbed all over his shoulder, dripping down Mom’s purple beaded vest that he’d “borrowed.” But Mom still paid no attention.

  “You upset Jesse a little,” I said. And me.

  “Did I?” Mom looked like she had a lot more to say than that, but she glanced at Ted and kept her mouth shut.

  “Mommy, I’m gonna give my baby a bath, okay?”

  “Okay, sweetie.”

  Teddy stowed his gooey doll in Mom’s favorite handbag—he liked to use it as a baby carrier—and sprang out of the room with his bundle of joy. He really was in a bouncy mood.

  “Uh, Mom? Do you realize you just gave Teddy permission to run the bathtub by himself?”

  “What? Oh my God!” She shoved her chair back and rushed out.

  I continued to eat; I was incredibly hungry. Mom came back a few minutes later. “What’s Ted up to now?” I asked, chewing like a cow.

  “He’s reading his baby a book. Thanks. I zoned out there.” She pulled a chair by me and sat. “Sam, I’m sorry. I’m really tired. Between Jesse’s attack, and then Gwen being here last night, I barely slept, and then you—doing what you did… . I guess I did get a little angry about you and Jesse. You are my daughter.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry you have to go through so much because of me.”

  “It’s not because of you, baby. You and Jesse got a raw deal, that’s all. I just—I just want everything to turn out all right for you.” She started to cry.

  I hugged her tight. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  “This is quite the Hallmark moment, isn’t it?” We let go and turned to face Gwen. Jesse was right behind her; I tried to gauge what’d happened in the living room by his face, but I couldn’t read it. He just looked kind of dazed.

  “Yes, Gwen. We like Hallmark moments around here. And I enjoy baking apple pies, too. Do you have a problem with that?” asked Mom.

  “Not at all,” Gwen said. “I think that’s nice.”

  No one responded to that. It was impossible.

  “Well, Jesse, I’ll leave you to eat. I’ll see you later, yes?”

  “Yeah, you’ll see us later,” he corrected. But his voice didn’t carry its usual bite.

  “Of course.” She gave me and Mom a smile I would’ve assumed was fake just the day before; but now I couldn’t be sure. And then she pecked Jess on the cheek. When she moved away, I saw he was holding a scroungy blue pillow in the shape of a cat.

  Jesse pulled back a chair and dropped into it, also dropping a sandwich bag full of pills on the table. His mom had brought his meds. Awww … He poured a glass of juice and started popping the pills. The sorry lump of a pillow was on his lap, pressed between him and the table. He kept his eyes focused on the pills.

  “Hungry, Jesse?” Mom asked.

  He nodded, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

  “Jesse, don’t build a wall between us, okay?”

  He shrugged.

  Mom reached across the table and put her hand on his. Now he kind of had to look at her if he wanted his hand back. “Normally I wouldn’t approve of your relationship with my daughter. I can’t lie about it. But circumstances are such that … well, let’s just say that you kids are reacting to a world gone mad.” She squeezed his hand. “Don’t be uncomfortable around me, Jesse. I don’t want any ill will floating around in the air. I can accept that you two are—together. I hope you can accept me accepting it.”

  He stared at her numbly, then nodded.

  “Just curious then,” she added. “Are you ever going to speak to me again?”

  He gave her a slight smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Mrs.—uh, Ellen. You’re the best, really. I’m just kind of—my mom, um—”

  “What happened?” asked Mom.

  “And what’s that nasty cat thing on your lap?” I asked, more to the point.

  Jess gave me a hurt look. “I made ‘that nasty cat thing.’ In art class, in third grade.”

  Oops.

  “I gave it to my mom for Mother’s Day. It’s a ‘feel better’ pillow. It was supposed to make her happy when she was sad. She was always crying after my dad left.”

  “Your mom cried?” I was shocked. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Yeah, she never did it during the day. In the middle of the night, I’d come into her room and find her like that—” He stopped, pulled the pillow from his lap, and examined it. It was real raggy, but actually not bad for a third grader. There was a decent cat face drawn on it with markers, and a tail glued to its back. It was the stitching that needed help; there were big gaps, and white fluff stuck out between them.

  “I guess it worked, kind of. She stopped crying … but she didn’t get happy. She got—mean.” He stared at the cat, mesmerized.

  “Jess … ,” I said softly. I got up, rounded the table, and hugged him. I’d actually never noticed Gwen’s relationship with him before his dad left. Maria was always taking care of him when I was around; I didn’t know they’d ever shared a tender moment.

  I pulled a chair close to him. “So what brought about the second coming of Kitty?” I asked in my usual delicate way.

  He laughed a little at that. “She gave him back to me so I’d feel better. She saved him all this time. I never knew … ” Jesse rested the kitty on the table, folded his arms next to it, and sunk his head into them. I knew he was crying, even though he was trying to be quiet about it.

  I rubbed my palm across his back. “That’s great, Jess. Your mom has a heart after all. Who’d a-thunk it?”

  “Sam!” Mom was appalled at my lack of tact.

  But I knew what I was doing. Humor’s the best medicine, after all.

  It worked. Jesse laughed again, sat up, and swabbed at his eyes.

  “Ready to eat?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  I got up and took his plate of coldcakes to the microwave, returning a minute and twenty seconds later with a steaming breakfast for him.

  “Thanks,” he said, giving me his killer smile. It always sent a pang straight to my heart. I picked up Kitty from the table and had close look.

  “You’ll never make it as a seamstress, kid,” I told Jess.

  He smiled again. “Darn.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The psychologist’s office was also on Central Park West, only a few blocks away. But we left an hour early so Jess wouldn’t have to feel rushed. We were under orders from Maria to combine the doctor visit with another nice walk for Jesse.

  Mom kissed me goodbye. “Sam, don’t be nervous. This is good for you.”

  “Yeah, better go before I take a scissor to my clothes or something, right?”

  “Baby, I made the appointment before—today. I just hadn’t told you yet. I didn’t want you to spend a couple of days being nervous.” She looked me up and down. “It seems like only yesterday when you really were my baby.”

  “I’m still your baby,” I said. “Thanks for taking such good care of me.” I hugged her big-time.

  Jess and I headed down in the elevator. He leaned on the back rail, and I leaned on him.

  ***

  Dr. Chadwick was a puny-looking old guy with a thin frame, thin grey hair, a thick grey mustache, and thick, square glasses. Thick and thin … that was him. He wore a bow tie and a smile. That made m
e feel better, for like one millisecond. Jess and I held hands across from him in his tan office that contained almost no furniture, other than two brown leather swivel chairs (he’d had to bring in a folding chair for Jess). There was also a midsized bookcase filled mostly with magazines and papers, and a tall, lit floor lamp next to him.

  He seemed friendly enough, but I could tell it was going to take a lot of effort relating my life to him. I needed my energy for other things, like actually getting through said life.

  He already knew the basics. So now came the tough part, right off the bat: How did I feel?

  About? I asked.

  You tell me, he said.

  How much is it costing to play these head games? I feel like shit, I told him.

  Why? He had the nerve to ask.

  I told him that if he couldn’t figure that one out, maybe he should yank all his fancy degrees and certificates off his wall and chuck them in the trash.

  Jess told me to can the attitude. Funny guy, that one… . Then he got up, just like he’d promised my mom.

  If Dr. Chadwick was alarmed at the prospect of being left alone with his hostile patient, he didn’t show it.

  “Play nice,” Jess told me. He bent to kiss me and I saw the strain in his eyes. He’d been trying so hard to kid with me and keep things light, but those eyes couldn’t hide the heaviness inside him. Those eyes told the truth, always. He hobbled out; the door sounded so very loud closing behind him.

  “Okay, Sam,” said Dr. Chadwick. “Since you insist upon me being direct, tell me how you feel about Jesse’s cancer. Beyond ‘like shit,’ please.” He sat tall in his chair—as tall as a puny guy could—and blinked behind the glasses, waiting.

  “I feel sad and worried, and scared for Jesse—”

  “Yes, but what about for you?”

  “For me?”

  “Of course you’re scared for him, and you want to take care of him. But how do you feel about Sam?”

  How do I feel about myself? I squirmed in my seat, made a squeak on the leather with my butt. I’d kind of forgotten how to feel at all…. I was numb.

  How do I feel … How do I feel? I swiveled left, swiveled right. Left, right, left, right. I had to come up with something for this guy.