“Michael. I’m sorry,” I voiced meekly, and saw my handprint limning his cheek.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Bambi. I deserved it.” He padded heavily from the room.
I gathered my wet clothes and ran down the staircase after him. When he turned the corner into the kitchen, Michael froze.
CHAPTER 25
Ray sat leisurely at the kitchen table.
“So, you bring your sluts home for a little hanky-panky when Auntie and Uncle are out?” Ray said crassly. A depraved expression marred his face—more than likely attributed to the half-bottle of bourbon stationed on the table. He poured a jigger into an icy glass.
“Isn’t this the little vixen that was at the house the other night?” A thick tongue lapped the outside of his lips. He leered, and it wasn’t pleasant.
“Get. Out.” Michael quaked as he clamped his arm around me.
“Oh-h-h… You’re scaring me, Mike.” He swallowed the contents in the glass and set it on the chrome tabletop with a definitive clunk. Pancaking his palms on the table surface, he pushed himself up. “C’mon, girly, stop hiding behind him. Lemme see what you got that has Mike so hot and bothered.” He advanced but stopped when Michael snarled.
Michael shoved me behind him, away from Ray’s lewd eye contact. “If you’re not leaving, then let us go.”
“I have to tell Auntie Loretta about your rendezvous with your whore.”
Michael shook, heat branching out from him.
“You sicken me, you scummy bastard. If it wasn’t for my mother—”
“Oh, boo-hoo,” he provoked. “Betty Lou and I have an agreement. We take care of each other just fine, and what she don’t know, won’t hurt her, right?” Ray cracked his knuckles like a nutcracker. “I miss our little tussles, don’t you?”
Michael took a solid step forward, and I grabbed his wrist. He peered over his shoulder to look at me. I shook my head, not wanting a confrontation.
“Not here, not now,” Michael said seriously, compressing his jaw. “I have to get Mary home.”
“Fine, who’s stopping you?” Ray sidestepped and pompously waved an arm toward the door.
Michael inched us toward the exit. A foot more, and I planned to run. My plan backfired.
“How dare you call me a scummy bastard?” Ray ambushed Michael with a blow to his gut.
Michael’s body hit me with force, sending me across the living room archway. I fell, hitting my head on the floor. I opened my eyes to witness Michael’s mask of strife. He’d made a move in my direction, but halted when I gasped. Ray was charging, a maniacal expression whittled his face.
Garroting an arm around Michael’s neck, Ray put him in a headlock and commenced to mallet the hell out of him.
Why isn’t Michael fighting back?
It appeared hopeless as repugnant grunts of agony and the irrepressible beating continued. I rolled out of their way, and a lump swelled in my throat, crushing cries of terror.
“You always were a kiss-ass lightweight, probably couldn’t get it up for your girl.” Grating the words between his teeth, Ray was heartless.
Michael shuddered, coming to life again. He took command of the bleak situation by spinning out of the headlock. He clobbered Ray with an elbow to his spinal cord. Ray staggered, and when he turned, Michael’s knuckles connected with his jaw. Spooling backwards, Ray gaped in stupefied amazement. Quick on the upswing, Michael clocked him with another sledgehammer fist to the nose, crumpling him to the kitchen floor.
“Michael—” I wheezed, clambering to my feet. Seeing Ray, I grimaced at the spraying blood. I scampered and hung off Michael’s bicep. “Stop, Michael, you’re killing him!” Blood puddled on the linoleum.
“I don’t ever want to see your fucking face again,” Michael panted, his voice unrecognizable. He walked to the sink and ran cold water over his bloodied knuckles.
“We’re out of here,” he said and grasped my hand.
Michael hosed off the bike before hightailing it to the park. We arrived around three-thirty and perceived the multitude of seniors had thinned tremendously. Our friends were still hanging on until the bitter end. An apparently, Jesse had passed out, spread-eagled on a picnic table. Michael assisted me off the motorcycle, and I swerved to meet dumbfounded expressions. Since I resembled a bedraggled hobo in Michael’s clothes, I was positive the girls were freaking, wanting to know the low down.
As was Michael’s way, he didn’t lie and detailed our flight over the lake. I was grateful he left out the personal parts and Ray.
Gwen, Tom, Candy, Pete, Dee and Greg looked fairly done-in, parked on wooden benches in the midst of a laid-back card game. My brother and Monty weren’t in sight, and I wondered how I was getting home.
“I’m wiped,” Gwen said. “Tommy, will you take us home?”
She smiled lazily at him. The two of them came nose to nose in a silly display of affection.
Michael intruded on Gwen and Tom’s moment. “We’d better get Jesse into the car before I leave.” They peeled an unconscious Jesse from the picnic table, each carting him under the arms. Jesse’s head jiggled from side to side with drool dribbling along his chin. They threw him lengthwise on Tom’s back seat.
“I’m supposed to be at practice,” Michael said to me. “Want me to take you home?”
But Tom intervened, saying, “Hey, Michael. I can give Mary a ride home.”
Oh, crap. Jesse will be using my lap as a pillow.
“You’d better get to practice. Isn’t there only a couple of games left?”
“Yup.”
“Lancaster’s going to win the big one this year.” Tom gave Michael a double-thumbs up. “I can feel it. We’ll be at Orchard Park tomorrow night, cheering you on.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Gwen, do you think I could borrow some clothes?” I said to my friend as she vacated the bench and stretched. “My parents won’t appreciate me walking in the house like this.”
“Sure,” she said.
The girls observed me with that dying-to-hear-the-real-explanation look on their faces.
Michael sauntered to the park bench and hooked his leather jacket, which he’d cast-off hours before. He flipped the jacket over his shoulder and strode over to me. “Mary, I know this is going to sound off-the-wall, but, I had a good time with you.”
“Ray’s the reason why your mother moved you up here, isn’t he?”
A blizzard of emotions slashed over his face. He granted me a courtesy smile and finger tweaked the tip of my nose.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be seeing you.”
CHAPTER 26
While washing my hair in the shower, eradicating any signs of dirt, the plastic shower curtain fluttered, filling me with terrified shock. My feet surfed on the porcelain tub until my spine made contact with the tiled wall.
Ray’s head rounded the curtain, eyes black and insidious. My heart stopped, and I suffocated on a strangled scream. He stepped into the shower, his mouth parted in a vulgar smile with blood soaked teeth. He reached for me.
Michael trounced through the curtain and bashed Ray against the wall. His head exploded, peppering me with blood and brain chunks.
The dream altered. I don’t know why, but I was petrified and standing by the side of a coffin. My vision clouded and blurred before refocusing on his lifeless body.
Michael was dead.
Hyperventilating and slurping in harried breaths, I woke, depleted of life supporting oxygen. My jackhammering heart slowed to its natural rhythm. Sitting erect, I slid my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. My bedroom was pure gloom.
Afraid to close my eyes and begin the nightmare anew, I inclined on my pillow and watched the darkened corners evolve into shades of gray.
The day consisted of purplish-silver clouds competing with the sun un
til late afternoon when they obstructed the light altogether. The prior remarkable weather had completely transformed.
That evening at the Orchard Park versus Lancaster play-off game, people huddled under umbrellas, newspapers, or whatever was handy. Cold, sleeting rain kept us company and diminished spirited spectators. The Redskins seemed to be eking out a win. If Lancaster won, they’d play the championship game the following week at War Memorial Stadium.
The grandstand announcer publicized that number twelve was off his game, but I knew better. Michael had been broken and sore after the fight club, and Ray had enhanced his misery. Through sheets of raindrops, I observed Jimmy’s mouth ragging in Michael’s face. Michael nodded and looked the other way. Coach Sidney patted Michael on the shoulder while giving him a pep talk. I wished they’d just leave him alone.
During half time, people gravitated under the grandstand. As the bulk of them were parents and elders, Tom, and Monty were on their best behavior. No weed—only cans of beer stashed in their coat pockets.
“Where’s Jesse been?” I asked Tom while swabbing my face with my mittens.
“He’s turning into a recluse,” Tom replied as his glasses skied down his nose.
“Yeah. He’s a basement dweller,” Monty said. “Watches the tube and gets stoned every night.” Yanking on his ponytail, he twisted it and rung out the water. “I’m out of here. What about you guys?”
For once, I didn’t have an appetite for cocoa, but I felt gipped when the girls neared—toting hot chocolates.
Tom peered at a doused Gwen and asked, “Do you want to leave?”
“I dunno. What does everybody else want to do?” She stooped over her Styrofoam cup, hands jittering.
“I’m not going out looking like this.” Dee skimmed a knuckled finger at a drop of rain dripping off her nose. “I’ll stay to the end and then just go home.”
She was bundled up in a winter coat, hat, and gloves, and we all had our long hair tucked into our coats.
“I’ll do whatever. It doesn’t matter,” said Candy and blew steam off her cocoa.
Monty waved and trudged toward the exit. “See you later, man.”
Tom and Gwen disappeared, perhaps to smoke weed somewhere in private. Dee, Candy, and I made our own little niche. A word had yet to be spoken about senior skip day, and I decided on full steam ahead.
“So I noticed Pete was hitting on you yesterday.” I watched Candy’s reaction.
“He’s nice. Not like your brother though.”
“In what way?”
“Well…” Candy glanced up to the rafters, thinking. “Steve is cuter, but I know he’s a cheating jerk. Sorry, Mary.”
“I understand.”
“But your brother was fun and risky rolled into one. I kind of like that. I thought Steve might make another move on me yesterday, but we just talked. And, ooh, his poor, handsome face.” The corners of her mouth bent downward.
“Was Steve telling the truth,” Dee inquired, “about his broken nose?”
I shrugged with an inconclusive nod.
“Didn’t you just die when Michael rode his motorcycle into the lake? You must’ve looked hideous afterwards,” Dee said, tactlessly.
“Yeah, real hideous.”
She must have liked my answer because her cunning eyes crinkled when she smiled.
I countered with, “So what’s up with you and Putnam?” Her mouth crumpled, rumpling her nose.
“He’s okay. Completely full of himself.” Peeling a wet length of hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear, she remarked. “I don’t know if I’ll go out with him, though.”
We were being pressed into the underside of the stands by funneling hordes attempting to seek sanctuary from the precipitation. A mild woman’s voice invaded our space.
“Hello, Mary.”
We alternated towards the accent. Aunt Loretta, Uncle Leo, and Michael’s mom were there, and I said a shy hello. Mrs. Covington pursed her lips, and in doing so, produced a burst of wrinkles around her mouth.
Uncle Leo bowed to my ear and spoke in a hushed whisper. “Michael told us about yesterday.” He gifted me an appreciative smile and a modest nod.
I wasn’t sure what it meant.
My friends leaned, in hopes of catching a word or two.
“We’re so sorry, Mary.” Aunt Loretta said with repentant eyes. “You’re welcome in our home. You come and see us again, all right?” She pressed my arm consolingly.
“Thank you.” My voice cracked like shattering glass.
“C’mon, let’s git back to the game,” Betty Lou badgered them. “I wanna watch Mr. Harrington and Mr. Owen. They keep shaking their heads. My Michael’s not with it tonight.” She appeared upset and peeved as she threw me a definitive scowl.
I presumed the men were the college scouts Michael had talked about.
In an frosty voice, Uncle Leo said, “That’s Ray’s fault.”
The mention of his name caused a tremor to sock me in the bowel region. The monster in and out of my dreams.
Betty Lou huffed a breezy noise and hiked away. Before trailing in her wake, Uncle Leo gave me a two-eyed wink.
“What’s that all about?” Dee quickly inquired.
I was fed-up with the lies. Fed-up with placating Dee. Fed-up with myself for being such a wuss, and for not revealing my true feelings. However, what had transpired between Ray and Michael was personal. I’d be an insensitive bitch to air his dirty laundry or anything I’d learned from Bloome.
“Michael said he was too old for me. I’m not the one he’s interested in.” I gave them the truth, as I knew it.
“That’s ridiculous. He’s into you.”
Floored by what Dee had to say I responded with, “Michael doesn’t want me as a girlfriend.”
“He said that?” Candy squawked.
“Kind of.”
“Michael doesn’t know what he wants,” Dee said vaguely, “but I thought for sure…” She paused and brushed her bangs over her forehead and spared me a hasty glance. “It was you.”
CHAPTER 27
Re-energized on Monday, I headed to the girl’s lavatory on the second floor to meet the girls. If I moved fast enough, I’d catch a glimpse of Michael. Taking the stairs two at a time—as was my habit—I bobbed and weaved among the kids, and then tripped.
I face planted in the middle of the hallway. Not Cool.
Folders, books, and papers sailed from my arms. Kids chuckled, gawked, and helped by shoveling my things toward me with the sides of their shoes.
Thanks a lot.
I dusted my knees, stacked my things over my arm, and gimped to the lavatory. Interiorly, I derided myself for being a dope, not simply for tripping, but also for my ludicrous pursuit of a boy not interested in me.
Candy had a wad of tissues squeezed to her nose, eyes watery and red-rimmed. “Oh, God.” She sounded congested. “I got a stupid cold from sitting in the rain during the game.” Even her auburn hair looked sick, crinkled, and spindly.
“Suck it up, Candy,” Dee said. “At least we won.”
“I’d be real miserable if they’d lost.”
Dee offered me a pack of cigarettes. “Smoke?”
“No, thanks. I’m thinking of quitting.”
“You just started.” She rolled the cigarette in her fingers and stuck the filtered end between her lips.
“I never really liked the taste,” I said, confessing. “Gives me a stomach ache, and my mom’s wondering why she has to buy me so much gum.” Smoking wasn’t as cool or neat as I’d suspected. I balanced my books on the sink and rinsed my hands.
Dee’s shrewd eyes narrowed. Striking a match and touching the flame to the cigarette, she inhaled. Tipping her head, she blew gray smoke from her mouth and puffed out the match.
“Did I hear correctly, Mary
Monroe?” She knocked cigarette ashes into the sink. “Have you joined the badminton team?” Her mouth and nose crested upward as if badminton was distasteful.
“I need to get in shape. Winter is boring enough without something to do. I might even take up skiing.” My parents had been easing up on my babysitting chores, and I believe it was when Stevie said I was a freakazoid compared to other girls my age.
After sneezing twice, Candy grumbled, “My head hurts just thinking about hopping around.”
From out of the blue, Dee said, “Isn’t anyone going to ask me about my road test?”
“You never said you were taking your road test.” Candy’s rheumy eyes were beginning to water more.
“I told you a month ago it was coming up.” She opened her bucket-sized purse and pulled out a piece of paper. “I passed!” She wagged it in front of us.
“My dad insists I need more road experience before taking mine,” I said and gathered my books. “I can’t be late for class and get detention again. We have less than a minute before the bell rings.”
That day, when I entered the cafeteria, I did the unthinkable. I sought out my old friends.
Ellen, Debbie, and Andrea were babbling away and hadn’t noticed me until I slipped my tray next to Ellen’s and pulled up a chair.
“Hey, guys. Mind I if join you?”
They gawped at me, and I thought of touching my face to feel if I had a zit the size of Chicago.
“It’s been a while,” said Debbie. She eyed the girls, then looked back at me. After an uncomfortable pause, she alleviated the awkwardness by saying, “Mary, do you remember when Billy Casillo peed his pants in kindergarten and blamed the puddle on you?”
We giggled, sharing stories of the past and reminiscing. It felt right, and it was great talking with them. Fifteen minutes later, I said we’d rehash more the next day and ventured towards the window and my popular clique. The bucketing rain hadn’t let up, flooding the windowpanes with any semblance of the outside world.
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