by A. A. Vacco
“Finally," added Alex, “we’ve decided to keep this between all of us.”
Everyone, including Cara, looked surprised.
Alex nodded, “Yea, I know, I know, why would I do that? Well, you’re all almost adults...no, not you, Cassie, you’re grounded until further notice. But, the rest of you have the choice to come clean to your folks without me tattling on you. You pulled a stupid stunt and made it out alive. What you choose to do after this is up to you.”
Cara started to protest, but Alex held up his hand. “They’re fine. They’re not our kids to punish, and from a legal standpoint, no one would care enough to press charges, so to me, it isn’t worth the paperwork.”
Cara glared at him. “This is horrible parenting. You are friends with Kat! She needs to know what her daughter is up to!”
Alex nodded. “I’m not disagreeing with you, Carr, but I also have a trust to maintain with Genie, and if she knows I’ll tell her mom on her every time she gets into trouble, she may not come to me if or when she truly needs help.”
Genie glanced at him and murmured, “Thanks, Uncle Alex. I’ll probably tell her anyways.”
“You better!” screeched Cara, “Y-you almost got Cassie killed!”
Genie rolled her eyes. “Hardly. She was too afraid to go past the front door.”
Alex waved his hands. “Enough, enough, enough! We all agree Kat should know what happened, and that information isn’t coming from me. Cara, I strongly encourage you to take the same approach. As for everyone else, who you choose to inform is entirely up to you, but as young adults, and injured ones at that, I’d at least mention tonight’s events.”
“Terrible parenting, just terrible," muttered Cara, moving toward the sink to rinse off the crimson dishrag.
Genie gathered her damp hair into a messy bun and secured it with a hair tie. She excused herself to use the bathroom to finish washing up. Cassie stood and headed to her bedroom. Aubrey turned to Billy. “Coach, can we go? I’m so tired, and our game’s early in the morning.”
Billy sighed and said yes. Once Genie returned, the worn trio gathered their things together, piled back into the squad car and Alex drove them back to Uptown.
16
Their season did not end in a championship. The spectators suspected at least one of the players to be hungover based on her tired appearance, and one of the coach looked like he’d lost a day’s worth of sleep. The team left Millerton later that day, welcoming the end of their season.
As the team parted in the school parking lot, heading toward their cars or parents’ vehicles, Billy and Genie hung back.
“So," said Billy.
“Mhm.”
“You gonna tell your mom what happened?”
“God no. She thinks we went on a hike in the woods nearby and I fell.”
“Ah. Alright then.” Billy turned to face her, “Guess it will all be just one, horrific memory.”
Genie smirked. “Well, it isn’t entirely over.”
Billy raised an eyebrow. “What?”
As she bent forward to pick up her duffle bag, Genie whispered, “I left one of the dolls in Cassie’s room. I’d pay big money to see her and her mother crap themselves when they find it.”
He shook his head, but laughed anyways. “That’s so cruel, Geenz.”
“Yea, well, it’s more to freak out her mom. Cassie’s fine and all, but she needs to loosen up, and it’ll never happen until Cara does.”
Before Billy had a chance to interject, Genie said, “Besides, I left the other one with Aubrey. She ditched us, too. Plus, she needs a reminder of our adventure.”
Genie was already on her way to his car. Billy called after her, “Not one she’d likely forget anytime soon.”
With a giggle, Genie answered back, “No, no I guess not. Hurry up.”
Billy trotted toward her, unlocked the car, and soon he was on his way to drop her off at home.
17
He'd always had a bad temper. This was not a secret. It'd been this way long before he'd met Kat. He tried everything: meditation, exercise, medications, counseling. None of it, however, rid him of the spiteful remarks and boiling frustrations that surfaced throughout the day. The thoughts were easier to manage. He could scream as loud as he pleased in his head, and no one got hurt. The intensity of his rage, however, took its toll on him physically. He sometimes felt pressure in his chest, flushing in his face, or tingling under his skin. At times he believed his blood truly boiled. When it became physically uncomfortable to tolerate, he'd lash out. Not intentionally to hurt anyone, of course, but sometimes the thoughts in his head flew out of his mouth. When they did, the pressure in his chest or the throbbing behind his eyes released, and he felt better.
Unfortunately, no one else around him shared in this relief. In fact, he noticed they appeared worse, as if he shared the load and took them down a notch to bring himself a touch of relief. Selfish, he concluded. They're just being selfish...not helping me when I need it most.
But he noticed it worsening recently. He wasn't sure what changed, but now, when he let some of the thoughts free, he felt almost trance-like. He had no control over what he said, and when it was finished, he had to question whoever was around to help piece together a replay of what took place. His thoughts were cut short by the sound of a crash. Huey, the cat, managed to knock over a plant from the windowsill and the dirt and broken ceramic pieces now accompanied it on the floor. The pressure in his chest started to swell. Not wanting to deal with the discomfort, he broke into a rant, scaring the cat into the other room and out of sight. His verbal obscenities were so loud that he didn't hear the faint sound of the front door opening and closing as Genie slipped out.
***
Sometime after four o'clock, Calvin heard a soft knock on his front door. He just returned from work and was about to heat up some pizza rolls. "It's open," he called out, sliding the metal tray into the preheated oven.
The front door creaked and Genie walked in. "Uncle Cal?"
"In here, Kiddo. Making a snack if you're hungry."
Genie walked into the kitchen. Cal turned to face her and saw her eyes were outlined in red. "Hey, there, you doing alright?"
"Yea, yea, just some allergies."
"Ah. Uh, well here, here, have a seat." Cal pulled a chair from the table and Genie sat down, placing her bag on the chair next to her.
“Because it’s a Friday," Genie informed Cal, “Aunt Elle and Mom are out shopping.”
She told him that she’d been home briefly from school, but needed a change of scenery. When Cal asked if Walt was home, Genie dropped her eyes and gave him a quick nod. When she finally looked back up, Cal noted the increased redness in her eyes. "I see. Well, does he know where you are?"
Genie shook her head no, and made no indication that she planned to tell him. "He'll figure it out," she managed to mutter.
Not quite sure what to make of it, Cal gave her a glass of lemonade and told her they had a few more minutes to go on the pizza rolls.
When the timer dinged, Cal transferred the rolls to a plate, warning Genie to be careful because they were hot. He tried to keep more of a conversation going with her, but she was uncharacteristically quiet. Finally giving up, Cal joined her in a silent staring contest with the steaming pizza rolls, waiting for them to cool.
After Cal inhaled several pizza rolls and Genie nibbled at part of one, several thuds echoed through the living room. Genie jumped up and backed toward the corner of the kitchen. Cal raised his eyebrows and mumbled, "What the...?"
Yelling started from the other side of the front door, along with persistent banging. Calvin walked into the living room and saw Walt through the peep-hole. Calvin shook his head and started to unlock the door. He barely clicked open the deadbolt when Walt shoved the door and pushed his way inside. Calvin stumbled back several steps without falling over. Walt stood in front of him, both fists clenched and face beet-red.
"Where is she?" he sputtered.
&nb
sp; Calvin saw spit fly from his mouth when he spoke. Blinking, Calvin asked, "Who?"
"Who the hell ya think? My kid! She been here? And if my wife's here too, you better say something!"
Calvin scratched his head. "Uh, Walt? Man, what's going on?"
Calvin searched Walt's face. The round, flushed cheeks puffed in and out with each breath. His green eyes blazed with a wild, dark glare. The peppered hair on Walt’s head stuck out in all directions, as if he'd raked his fingers through the strands starting at the back of his head. Sweat beaded over his maroon countenance. To Calvin, it was Walt, but at the same time, it wasn't.
"Look," growled Walt, more spit flying forward, "I'm only going to ask you once more. Where is she?"
He usually stayed neutral, and he was almost always the peacemaker, but Calvin couldn't let Walt near anyone in this state. He crossed his arms over his chest and mutely stared at Walt.
Walt snarled and lunged at Calvin. He attempted to wrestle him to the ground, but Cal tucked and rolled to the side. Despite Cal's increasing waistline and not-so-toned upper body, he remembered how to fight. His boxing record in college still held, and some things he felt he'd never unlearn. When Walt lumbered toward him to strike again, Cal jumped into his fighting stance. He raised his left fist to guard his face and shot two quick jabs into Walt's chest. The blows sent the flushed hulk crashing to the floor. Walt sat and blinked a few times. He looked up at Calvin and asked, "Cal?"
Not dropping his fists, Calvin replied, "Yes, Walt?"
Walt wiped his face with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back down. He shook his head, drew in a few labored breaths, and asked, "What the hell just happened?"
"Well, I was hoping you'd be able to fill me in on some of that."
Another deep breath. God, he's out of shape, thought Cal.
Walt glanced at his chest, then back at Cal. "Did...did you punch my chest?"
"Twice, I'm afraid."
Nodding, Walt said, "Well, that worked. Thanks."
With a sigh, Cal lowered his fists and reached down to help him up. Walt waved him off. "No, no...let me...just...catch my breath."
Cal found the closest chair and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his lap. Walt slumped against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and continued his loud breathing. From the kitchen, Calvin heard soft footsteps moving toward the living room. Genie appeared moments later and stood next to Calvin. "He's getting scarier and scarier," she whispered.
Walt opened his eyes and focused on Genie. "Hey, Sweet Pea," he said.
Genie didn’t reply.
"I--I didn't mean to frighten you, Honey. I think I just needed to get out of the house."
Walt started to stand. Cal jumped forward and helped him to his feet. "Fresh air and a couple of blows to the chest," muttered Calvin. "Man, what the hell was that?"
"I don't know," Walt shook his head. "Honest to god, I don't. Something sets me off and I see red until it's over."
"Well you better get on top of whatever it is, before you hurt someone."
"Never have. Docs say I'm fine. I've seen plenty of em since this is getting worse."
"How long?"
"Few weeks now. I've always had a temper. But, but the blinding rage is a new offset."
Walt shook his head. Calvin knew he was calm enough to go home and hoped nothing else set him off that night. Genie went back into the kitchen, grabbed her bag and returned. "C'mon, let's go before Mom comes home," she said. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. "Thanks, Uncle Cal," she called as Cal closed the door behind them.
"Seriously," said Cal to himself, "what the hell was that?" and made his way toward the fridge for a beer to accompany his pizza rolls.
18
"God help me," smiled Kat, "I know the pumpkin spice craze is getting ridiculous, but I cannot get enough of this stuff. It's like legal suburbanite crack."
Elle smirked and sipped her latte. She went with vanilla because as much as she loved pumpkin stuff, the lattes seem to overdo it with the syrup.
"Speaking of addictions," Elle nodded toward the shoe department. The two headed in with the intent of shopping for others, but knew full well they would leave with at least two new pairs for their own collections.
As Kat examined a pair of classic black pumps, presumably for Genie, Elle inquired about Genie's recent attitude and overall demeanor.
"Not quite sure what ya mean," replied Kat, half listening. "And these are on sale too...hm, if they come in another color...?"
"She just seems a little less, you know, herself. The spunk isn't there," Elle said.
"Well, who could blame her? Junior year is when all hell breaks loose. The SATs, ACTs, LMNOPs, whatever it is, you name it. They take it. And she's applying early to schools, she is in some advanced courses...you try staying perky and positive all the time with all that."
"Does she talk to you guys? Like, if she were really stressed, does she come to you or Walt with personal stuff?"
"Of course she does, Elle, I'm her mother. Walt, not so much. That temper of his sets its own boundaries with her, and I think she judges her timing daily with stuff to bring his way."
Kat started saying Walt's name as if she were sucking on something sour. She damn near spits the name when she says it, Elle noted.
"I'm guessing you two are in the cold phase."
"Hey, we go through seasons of love and hate just like everyone else."
"Right, but you seem to embrace more volatile transitions."
Kat rolled her eyes. "Well we can't all be in the perfect relationship, Ellbea."
Elle saw the frustration, but she wasn't feeling the frustration, at least not directed at her. "Kat, hey, are you--are you crying?"
"God no. Damn dust from the shelf," said Kat, as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and kept rummaging for a pair of heels. She picked up a pair of clunky brown clogs with faux leather and buttons on the sides. Something Elle thought were too ugly to even consider.
"Besides," she went on, "he's just so, I don't know, unpredictable. Well, he always has been, but lately, I don’t know. It’s getting worse. It'd be easier if I had at least five minutes of mental preparation when he goes and blows a gasket."
"Sort of comes at ya from left field at any given moment, huh?"
"Don't pretend like you even have a clue about baseball. And yes, despite your ignorance, that's exactly what it is."
"You hit a ball and run the bases. Yea, that was tough." Elle set down the red pumps she had been examining for the past minute. The logical, financially savvy part of her brain won the argument with her ever-so-pleading fashionable side. The two never seemed to get along.
Kat remained silent for a few moments. She still had the hideous clogs in hand, but was not looking at them. Well, she pretended to be eyeing every aspect of them, but Elle could tell she was miles away from assessing crappy merchandise.
At last, Kat glanced at Elle, who realized she'd been staring at Kat for the duration of the silence. "Let's go. I'm not finding anything worth a dime in this place," said Kat.
Elle nodded and grabbed her coffee cup, which now contained what she could only imagine was mostly vanilla syrup. The two split to their own cars and headed home to finish out the evening.
19
Cara stepped into the kitchen and clicked on the overhead light. She followed the fluorescent glow toward the laundry room, and flipped the light switch there as well. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt uneasy the last few weeks. Dark rooms seemed occupied, shadows crept across the walls, and she kept seeing something out of the corner of her eye. Cara started to load the washer. Reds tonight, she thought. Cold water only. Maybe I can add some very dark colors, too. A faint yell broke her train of thought.
Stepping out of the laundry room and looking back into the kitchen, she couldn't see much beyond the fluorescent glow. The hallway leading to the kids' rooms remained unlit. To the left of the kitchen, the living
room stayed dark and silent as well. "Cass? That you?” called Cara.
No answer. Justin was at a friend’s house and Alex was on patrol. Cassie could be home, she thought.
She closed the washer and started the cold cycle. Another whimper from the hallway sent a shiver up Cara's spine. "Cassie? Everything ok?"
No response. Cara passed through the kitchen and clicked on the light to the hallway. Darkness. She clicked the switch several more times, but the dead bulb refused to illuminate. Now the hair stood on the back of Cara's neck. She used her hand to guide her down the narrow hallway until she reached Cassie's door. With a soft press, the door opened and Cara stood to face a vacant bedroom. Flicking on the purple lamp at the edge of Cassie's desk, she glanced around the bedroom. No radio, no forgotten cell phone, no iPad left playing a movie, no source of the sound. Maybe just the wind, Cara thought. It's an old house. Wind and old structures create quite unsettling symphonies.
She turned to click the lamp off, but again, something moved out of the corner of her eye. Cara spun around, but didn't see anything in motion. Sitting on the nightstand next to Cassie's bed was a doll Cara hadn't seen before. The doll had mocha-colored skin, dark hair gathered into a bun, and quite eccentric fabric that formed a dress. The dark eyes stared back into Cara's hazel ones. Another chill electrocuted her fragile frame. She had no explanation to why this doll instilled such an eerie sensation, but she backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. She planned to ask Cassie about it once she returned home.
"I don't know, I told you!” Cassie sat on the corner of the bed later that night with her mother standing cross-armed in front of her.