by Lila Veen
“What parts do you remember?” Devin asks me finally. “Anything? Nothing?” I know he’s moved past last night. He’s asking about way back when.
I sigh and sit back down. He sits next to me. “I remember chunks but nothing to make a full picture,” I explain. “It’s like every now and then I am in a moment that I’m pretty sure happened. What I don’t remember are faces. Oh, and Jack. I always remember where Jack was when something happened. He’s the brightest spot in the picture. Usually he’s next to me, talking to me or telling me what to do.” I look over at him. “What do you remember?”
“Sounds,” he murmurs. “Fear.”
I tend to forget that everything I went through was Devin’s life too. “Is this what you talked about in therapy?” I ask him.
“After rehab, yes,” Devin tells me. “And on and off I’ve seen therapists. They can’t prescribe me enough to really get me through it. I can’t go through that again.” I remember it all. That part of my life is crystal clear. Devin on pills, heroin, crack, speed, meth, coke, anything he could get his hands on. I won’t let him slip again, and I nod in agreement.
It’s almost noon. We have a lot of unpacking to do, and get some light clothing on since it’s another hot day. We need to empty the truck, and I feel like shit, but I ignore the feeling and we get started.
We decide to set up the stereo first and Devin attaches his phone to it so we can listen to his music as we work. Within an hour I hear a combination of Talking Heads, David Bowie, Pixies, Butthole Surfers, Morphine, and even Velvet Underground.
“This reminds me of Dad…Jack,” I say, faltering.
“Me too,” Devin admits, “but it’s still a favorite,” and I have to agree. The song is “Pale Blue Eyes” and reminds me of something. Not an event “something”, but a feeling. Like when things were good. I know Devin is feeling the same way, but we just give each other a smile and go back to lifting, sorting and emptying boxes.
At around 5:00 we have to stop. The truck has been emptied into the garage and we are exhausted. Devin has to return the truck. Since I can’t drive, he calls Justin to follow him in his car and drive him back to the house. When they leave, I set to unpacking some more boxes. The boys are planning to return with some dinner, mostly because when I checked the fridge, all that’s left of Louisa’s leftovers are two meatballs and a roll, which means Kate must have been hungry last night when she came home. Devin only bought breakfast stuff from the market that’s within walking distance so we definitely need to do some serious grocery shopping soon. I need graham crackers or cookies or something to snack on when I’m sitting around.
As I open boxes in an attempt to organize them by room, I come across canvases of Devin’s that have been painted and stuffed into a box. This strikes me as strange since Devin so carefully packed all of the projects he was currently working on and covered them so as not to damage them. I can tell these works are older. His technique had been honed over the years and these paintings are rough and almost primal. As Devin matures and calms down, so does his painting, but as a teenager, his artwork is angry and uncontrolled. They are brilliant, though there is a definite difference. His colors are darker in these paintings I am pulling out of the box. The subjects are much more obscene than I’ve ever seen from Devin. A woman with her legs spreading and flies pouring out from between her legs. A man eating the face off of another man under a bridge. A boy crouched in the corner of a room looking dirty and shamed, eating his own hand. Everything makes me sick, yet I can’t look away. I feel horribly strong emotions with each painting I see. Shame. Guilt. Anger. Rage. Nothing I see leaves me feeling warm and fuzzy. Then I see something I know I should not.
It’s me, I know it. I recognize the pitiful look in the girl’s hollow eyes. The small scrawny body still belongs to me, only it’s softened up a bit, though not very much. The girl in the painting is nude, draped on her back across a bed, in a position so awkward and uncomfortable that it tells me the girl is broken. There is a shadow cast across the girl’s body. I can tell it’s a man, with horns on his head. Maybe the devil, but I know it’s Jack.
“Quite a vision you were back then,” I hear Kate whisper in my ear. “Like a rag doll. Torn up and discarded. Used when needed and tossed away.”
Tears spring to my eyes. I see “To Store” written on the side of the box I have open. The secret contents splayed out in front of me make me wish I’d seen what was written on the side before I decided to check what was inside. “Fuck you!” I whisper, whirling around to hit her. She ducks my hand and laughs. “Get away from me, Kate. What the fuck did you do last night?”
She smiles and sits down next to me and traces the portrait girl’s face and then spits on it. “Why not call Drake and find out?” With horror, I scream and leap at her, but she runs out of the room and away and I know she will be gone for now. She is starting to show up less and less with me and more as me, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.
I stand up and walk to my room and find my phone. With shaky fingers I dial Drake and hear it ring once. “Hello Jenna,” he says. “Or should I say Kate?”
I am shaking all over, but I keep my voice calm. “Excuse me?”
Drake pauses on the other end. “That was quite a surprise you gave me last night,” he tells me. “I will say black lingerie isn’t really my thing, but you seemed to make it work.”
I take a breath and decide to play along. Better he think I was roleplaying than bat shit crazy, right? “Well you’ll have to let me know what your thing is and maybe I’ll deliver.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” he says. “Come by tonight. Leave the lingerie at home, though. I much preferred that little yellow thing you left in the back of my car with no bra.”
“Perhaps I can,” I say. I want to know more about what happened last night but I don’t want to blow it. “It will be much later, though. I’m having dinner with my brother and a friend.”
“As long as it’s not a good friend,” Drake replies, stressing the word “friend”. “Take a cab if you want. I know you don’t drive. I’ll pay for it if you call me when you get here.”
“Okay,” I say, not really sure how I got roped into seeing him, but I have to see him. My fingers trail down between my legs and feel that his voice is making me wet already. I want to see him tonight. I realize I will have to sneak out. Devin is going to be watching me closely after what he witnessed this morning.
“Goodbye Jenna,” he says, and we hang up. My hand reaches down inside the waistband of my shorts, and my fingers send a volt of electricity through my body, and then I hear the door open.
“Jenna!” Devin calls out. My hand snaps up and then I realize that the paintings are all sitting out on the floor around me. Fuck! I scramble and begin to put them away. “Jenna, where are you?” Devin walks in to the front room where I am standing over the forbidden box. “What the hell are you doing?” His face turns red and he storms over and snatches the canvas out of my hand. It’s the one of me. It rips as he pulls it away. We both stand and look between us at the destroyed painting. “Why did you open this?” he shouts.
I see Justin in the doorway, watching this scene. He doesn’t say anything and looks awkward, knowing he walked in on something he shouldn’t see. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I just started opening it. I didn’t know it wasn’t meant for me to see.” The last words come out sounding a bit threatening. Devin thinks I can’t have secrets from him but he’s been keeping these from me for a reason. It’s obvious he didn’t want me to know this side of him.
“Just let me put them away,” he says calmly. If Justin weren’t in the room, I know this would be a screaming match. I stand aside and watch Devin put the ripped canvas and all of the others I took out back in the box. He walks them over to his bedroom and puts the box inside and comes back out, closing the door behind him.
“Hi Jenna,” Justin says. “We brought ribs, chicken and beer.” I follow him to the kitchen and we begin to unpack t
he bags. I find some paper plates and napkins and knives and begin to set the table in silence. Devin comes in and he and Justin and I sit at the round table and eat silently for a bit. Justin breaks the ice by asking “Did you guys eat all of those leftovers already? I swear Ma cooks enough for twenty people even when I tell her it’s just us.”
Devin smirks after a long swig of beer. “Jenna got the munchies late last night and demolished them.”
I glare at him. “I had a little help,” I say.
Justin grins. “Boy, you two are going to be awesome roommates, I can tell already.”
I sort of hate him for lightening up that particular topic, but we can’t continue to argue while we have company. I wolf down an entire rack of ribs and a wing and thigh of Greek chicken, which Devin knows is one of my favorites. I forget how hungry I am. Justin stares in shock as we inhale everything on the table and sit back contentedly. “I think now would be an excellent time to engage Justin’s help in setting up the TV,” I tell Devin.
He shrugs. “I’ve been putting it off because I feel like once it’s hooked up we’re going to end up like mindless drones and not make any progress on the unpacking.”
I stick out my lower lip like a small child and play the drama queen. “De-vin! I haven’t had a TV in years. How could you possibly deny me this?”
Justin steps in, as usual. “How about you guys have some rule about not having the TV on between the hours of 9-5?”
“Yeah,” I pipe in. “Devin, you know you want to sit on the couch tonight and veg out with a beer in one hand and a bowl of popcorn on your lap and perhaps a viewing of Fiddler on the Roof or something.”
Devin’s eyes light up. “You still have all of your musicals?” I nod, slyly. I have an ulterior motive. I happen to know that three of Devin’s weaknesses happen to be musical theater, my stove popped popcorn and passing out in front of the TV.
After we clean up dinner, Devin and Justin get to hooking everything up for our entertainment and I get to finding my popcorn pan. It’s the one kitchen tool I took with me from my apartment. In my room I find two boxes labeled “movies” and figure out which box is packed with my appropriate movies. I stash the other one away in my closet. I also take the time to find the lingerie that Kate was apparently able to locate for her little outing last night. Sure enough, in a box on the floor of my closet is the black lingerie Kate must have ditched before putting on a t-shirt and passing out. The box is full of everything I would rather Devin not find and know about his little sister, along with my second box of DVDs with less appropriate movies. I’ve never shared that box with anyone except Kate. I’d probably die if someone else knew what was in there.
I recall what Drake said on the phone and rifle through the box and find a pair of red lacy panties and a matching bra. The only reason I happen to keep this pair in my box of shame is because the panties are crotchless. I figure they are a nice middle ground between Jenna and Kate. Kate wears black bondage gear, Jenna wears no bra…red crotchless panties might just serve as a happy medium. I undress and put them on and put the same clothes back on over them. Devin and Justin will be none the wiser of my intention to get laid and actually remember it.
Justin runs to the store to get me popcorn and oil and when he gets back I show him how I make it. “You heat the oil up and put one kernel in. Set it around medium high heat. When the kernel pops you pour the rest in, turn the heat down, cover the pan and start shaking it around until the popping is done.”
“How do you know how much to pour in?” Justin asks me.
I shrug. “I just eyeball it. Enough to cover the bottom of the pan just barely is good for three people.”
He grins. “You’re a homemade popcorn genius.”
I laugh. “Just wait until you taste it.”
Once we have a huge bowl of fresh popcorn and more beer I bring out my musical DVD collection. We go through the process of pulling each one out and giving opinions on them.
“Sound of Music?”
“Too cheesy.”
“Brigadoon?”
“Fuck no. We’re not that drunk.”
“Annie?”
“Keep going.”
“How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying?”
“That’s just dumb.”
“Into the Woods?”
“I thought you had Fiddler on the Roof?” Justin interrupts. He doesn’t realize that Devin and I are basically playing a game.
“Oh, here it is!” I dramatically produce my copy of Fiddler and hold it up for the boys to see. I dim the lights and we settle in. Devin takes the armchair and Justin and I on the sofa. As planned, Devin passes out within thirty minutes, which is perfect. Justin, however, is still conscious and I weigh my options and consider drugging him. I’m also highly amused because he’s never seen the movie, and I have a great time watching him react to everything. He seems to really enjoy it. “You’re going to tell me you’re my long lost brother, right?” I say. “You seem to fit in with the Parkers really well.”
Justin laughs. “This is great,” he says. “Popcorn, a movie, good company.” He takes a long swig of his beer. “Jenna, I’m glad you and Devin are back in the neighborhood. I know I keep saying it, but I like being with you guys.”
“Thanks,” I say. “We, er, like you too.”
Justin rests his head against the back of the sofa and looks at me. His eyelashes are so long, I think. Then he leans in to kiss me. My eyes pop open for a second but his lips relax me and I fall into the kiss. It lasts a few seconds and Justin pulls away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve kind of wanted to do that since the funeral.” He looks sheepish for a second. “I didn’t think it was a good time.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Justin, I…I have to go.” I stand up and grab a few bottles to recycle, needing busy hands. I need a cigarette.
“Go where?” he asks me. “Did I just freak you out? Look, I’m really sorry.”
“No, you didn’t,” I say honestly. “I kissed you back, didn’t I? If I didn’t want it, you’d know by now. Right now I’m going through some shit and I need to figure out what’s going on.”
He stands up and grabs the rest of the beer bottles, including the one Devin’s hand is still clutching. “Can I help you with any of it? Where are you going off to?”
I sigh and push my hand through my hair. “I know you’ve been playing chauffeur for Devin and I a lot so I hate to ask, but I will anyway. Do you feel like driving me someplace and hearing a long story?”
*
We are in Justin’s car heading downtown, back down Cicero. I have the windows open and my hair is blowing around me. It’s cooler out tonight now that the sun went down. “So I’m not sure how I can say all of this without freaking you out,” I begin. “So can you listen and not say anything for a bit and then you can decide if you want to be a part of this craziness?”
Justin nods, looking at the road. “I can do that for you,” he replies.
I take a deep breath. “First I have to ask you something. How much do you know about what happened when Devin and I lived with Jack?” I swallow, hard. “Your mom indicated that she knows something about it.”
“It was hard not to know something was wrong when we were kids,” Justin tells me. “I know what I’ve observed and a few things Devin has told me.” A quick glance at me tells Justin I’m uncomfortable, which I am. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Devin hasn’t told me much, but I know enough to know that you weren’t in the best living situation.”
I nod and decide to fill in the gaps. There’s no gentle way to put it, so I just blurt it out. “Jack used to take money from men who wanted to have sex with me,” I say, hearing the words coming out of my mouth but not really feeling them. “I was probably six or seven the first time. Some of it’s a blur. Jack did what he could for money, but I was probably his biggest source of income.” I feel like Kate is trying to push her way out of me as I say this, but I am holding her back. I don’t want her ar
ound at all tonight. I need to do some things on my own. “You can say something if you need to.”
“I’m sorry,” is all he can say. There’s really nothing else he can say. “I really am. If I had known I would have helped you. It makes me mad as hell to hear it, and if your dad were alive, I’d probably turn this car around and kill him.”
“You couldn’t have helped,” I say. “And we’re all glad Jack is dead, believe me. I know Devin blames himself, but he couldn’t have helped either.” I take another deep breath and lean my head against the window of the car and look at the lights flashing by. “What I’m about to tell you is actually harder for me to say than what I just told you.”
“Jesus,” Justin says. “What could be worse?”
“Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder? Or D.I.D?” I ask.
Justin nods. “The one where you have alternate personalities in order to cope with painful things that happened in your past?”
“You must read a lot,” I say. “You’re dead on.”
“Or watch a lot of TV,” Justin admits. “It’s not unheard of.”
“True,” I agree. “So when bad things would happen to me when I was a kid, ‘Kate’ would take over and endure them.”
“Kate?” Justin says. He glances at me. “You don’t look like a Kate.”
“Ha ha,” I say. “My first doll was named Kate. She was one of those fancy dolls that looked like a little girl dressed like the Queen of England, complete with a fake fur muff and plaid coat and red pleather purse. It was one of the few things my mother actually bought me as a kid, and she got it because it sort of reminded her of me. I used to tell her all of the bad things that Jack did. It took years of therapy to remember that doll, actually, because Child Services didn’t let me take her with when Jack went to jail. One day she appeared in the way that I know her now. We grew up together. Sometimes she’s there when I’m not. Sometimes she’s with me at the same time and I can see her and hear her and talk to her. I’ve had long periods of time where I haven’t seen her, and there have been entire weeks where I was her.”