Circle the Soul Softly

by Davida Wills Hurwin

  “So do you guys want to come up to San Francisco with me and Casey over break?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m meeting Steve and his girlfriend in the city.You and David could come too, if you want to.”

  “Right. Like Mom will let me.”

  “She will if she thinks it’s just you and me, going to see our old friends.”

  “I don’t have any old friends.”

  “Okay, this is too hard. You don’t want to go, just say it.”

  “I want to go.”

  “Then stop arguing so much.”

  “Fine. What do I do?”

  “Let me handle it. I’m gonna make it so Mom suggests you go, to keep an eye on me.”

  “And you think that’ll work?”

  “You have way too much to learn about parents.”

  SIXTEEN

  Closing night we prove the theory that the brains of fifteen-to-eighteen- year-olds exercise no judgment at all. Props materialize in the wrong scenes. Doorknobs disappear. The sound of the first act gunshot goes two beats after the actor “fires” the gun. David’s “dinner” onstage has been laced with peanut butter, so he plays the entire scene with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. The girl who unzips Stacey’s costume for her speed change doesn’t show. And pasted into the book the two romantic leads ponder at the end of the first act is a full frontal of a hot guy from Playgirl.

  It sucks. You should never sabotage a show and Tess will no doubt maim whoever’s behind it. But—I have never laughed so hard in my entire life.

  After curtain call and flowers, the migration begins. The cast party is in the “Pope-head Room” at Buca di Beppo’s, and Stacey’s parents are footing the bill. This appeals to me about as much as dental surgery—but I can’t think of any excuse that doesn’t carry Extreme Negative Social Ramification. A brief reprieve occurs when Tess blocks the theater door.

  “Closing night cleanup, babies. When it’s all done, you can all go,” she announces.

  “My part’s clean,” says Gabe.

  “Then strike the chairs.” Tess holds up her hand to the next protest. “What part of ‘all done’ do I need to explain?”

  “The restaurant won’t hold the tables past eleven fifteen,” Stacey protests.

  “Work faster.”

  “We’ll clean up,” David interrupts, indicating himself and me. My brilliant boy—why didn’t I think of that? We get to be heroes; they get to leave. Tess heads for her office to finish up, and David and I begin by stacking the chairs.

  “You know there’s a ghost in here,” he stage-whispers.

  “There is not.”

  “Yeah, there is. This girl saw him a few years ago. Right there, behind you. Scared the shit out of her.”

  “You’re carrying this other world thing a bit too far, my friend,” I warn him, glancing over my shoulder.

  “He was a cop. He murdered a migrant worker back when this was a police garage. That’s why he has to stay around.” His voice is getting creepy.

  “Stop it.” Chairs done, I start picking up props and the other random junk around the set.

  “It’s true. There’s certain places a video camera won’t work. That’s one way you know for sure. Oh, and the security guy told me that when he hears music playing in here, like in the early early morning, there’s never anyone inside. Even Tess says that—”

  “Stop! You’re freaking me out.” I grab the last thing I see—a backpack someone’s shoved under the platform upstage left. He doesn’t answer. I look around and I don’t see him.

  “David?”

  Suddenly the fluorescents go out. I take a huge, fast, deep breath. “David. Quit playing around.” Still no answer. “I mean it—this isn’t funny.” I start trying to find my way to the wall where the fluorescent switch is, and bump my shin on a platform. Hard.

  “Shit!” I lose my balance and topple forward to my knees, onto the platform. The backpack I’m carrying goes flying; I can hear books sliding out. The fluorescent lights turn on.

  “Are you okay?” David suppresses a chuckle.

  “Perfect, thanks. I’m just bleeding here.” I sit down to examine my scratch.

  “Poor baby.” He barely manages not to laugh as he sits down beside me.

  “Asshole.”

  “Oooh, ow. I was just playing.”

  “You turned out the frickin’ lights.”

  “And you made a frickin’ mess.”

  I look at the junk that spilled over the platform. The sequined makeup bag is way too familiar. “Oh fine, it’s Stacey’s stuff.”

  David clutches his hands and peers nervously around the theater. “Oh God. Not Stacey! We better run!” I am totally in lovewith this guy. One by one he tosses her books, like basketballs, into the backpack.“Uh-oh.” He holds up a small, elegant journal, raises his eyebrows, and asks, “We can’t, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Because she would never read something that didn’t belong to her. ”With a wink, he drops it into the pocket of his jacket and we finish in silence, conspirators.

  “Are you okay here alone?” David asks Tess when we’re ready to go. He’s doing his Nice Guy act.

  “Yes, I am, thank you,” Tess says, no trace of teacher or director—just another person.

  SEVENTEEN

  We decide we’ll only read the pages where we see our names. Then we’ll tell Tess we forgot something and I’ll pretend to look for it while David slips the journal into the backpack. Stacey’ll find it Monday. No one gets hurt and it’s no big deal, so why is my heart pounding?

  “Jump to the middle?” David asks.“Or do you think we’ll be on the very first page?”

  “We will definitely not be on the first page.”

  We settle in to the backseat of his car, cuddling, and scan the book for our names.

  “God, she’s got terrible handwriting,” I say. We run our eyes down each page and David flips to the next one every five seconds or so. She uses initials mostly, but no K’s or D’s show up.

  “Wait a minute, hold on,”David says, and takes the book away from me. He reads by himself as I poke him with my finger.

  “No fair, man,” I protest.

  “No, no …shhh. Just a sec.”

  “Come on, we’re supposed to—”

  “Katie, just a sec, okay?” His tone is just this side of Not Very Nice. He sighs and hands me the journal. It’s all way too dramatic and I make a face at him before I start to read.

  October 17—sometime around midnight Yeah, well, that was fun—especially the part where I got my stomach pumped—what a rush. I lost three pounds and my mother is furious. I should do this more often.

  “That was the party?” I ask.

  “Yep. Keep reading.”

  October 18

  He says he’s going to sue the school. Typical. If it’s not about him, it’s not about anything. L says I need to say something. I say she needs to realize I can handle it. Besides, I’m outa here in three more months and he has to pay for my college. All of it.

  October 27

  Oh my God. My mother wants to get me a shrink—so I can WORK ON LETTING GO OF MY FANTASIES ABOUT MY STEPFATHER! How funny is that? I can’t wait to tell L.

  Halloween

  Grounded. Shit.

  November 3

  Opening night was amazing except for the scene after where my mother told me that I’d better concentrate on my acting and stop messing up her life. If I do anything else stupid, I’m going to boarding school and pay for my own damn college. Fuck her. Oh sorry. Everyone already has.

  “Okay,well, call me blond, but what are you seeing besides your basic dysfunctional family?” He takes the book, flips pages, and hands it back.

  Christmas to New Years

  Little benefits—he got me the coat I wanted. Told me not to show Mom. Maybe he should tell her to stop snooping in my stuff. God bless L and J for getting me out of the house most of break. And for the hot guy I met
in Aspen.

  January 7

  One month, three weeks, one day, and seven hours but who’s counting. Maybe he thinks Mom knows something. Maybe she does.

  January 29

  Shit shit shit shit. He caught me. I forgot it was Mom’s conference in San Diego. When did I get this stupid? By the time I realized she was gone, he was already drinking and it was too late to get out of the house. I hate him more than is humanly possible.

  I close the book and we stare at each other. David speaks first. “You think…?”

  “I don’t know. It could be.”

  “Check this out.” He flips to a new page.

  March 4

  In my dreams, I saw off his dick, slowly, with a dull, rusty blade. Then I stick it in his mouth, shove it down, and he dies. I laugh.

  “That was a few days ago.” He sighs.“What do we do?”

  “There’s nothing we can do,” I say. “Right? Is there?”

  “Well, we sure as hell can’t put it back and pretend we never saw it. She’s obviously in trouble.”

  “Then she should tell someone.”

  “I think we should give it to Tess.”

  “David, if Stacey finds out—”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “She already hates me.”

  “This isn’t about you. I think we have to tell.”

  Tess reads the page we show her and doesn’t ask how we got the book. She thanks us and tells us to go on home and that she’ll take care of things. She also tells us she’s going to say she found it herself. She asks us not to discuss it anymore, because that could make it harder on Stacey.

  As we close the door, she begins to dial the phone.

  EIGHTEEN

  What’s your soul supposed to learn when you come back and molest a kid? I can’t sleep because I can’t get Stacey out of my mind. Everything about her takes on a different meaning—a subtext I didn’t even consider. Of course she’s arrogant and aloof. Of course she drinks and takes drugs and doesn’t care who she sleeps with—it all makes sense.

  I think back to that Saturday rehearsal day when she was late and try to remember what her stepdad looks like. I can’t. He’s too ordinary; he blends in with all the other dads. Absolutely nothing about him would make you look twice.

  Monday I keep an eye out for Stacey, but don’t see her or her car parked in the alley. Tuesday’s the same. Wednesday I get behind Layla at snack, in line for the food truck. “So where’s your other half?” I inquire, with definite Mack Truck subtlety.

  “College trip.” It seems she freezes up a bit after that, but I can’t tell for sure.

  David sees Stacey drive up on Friday, a few minutes after snack ends. He text-messages me in class. At lunch we watch her and Layla drive away, just like always.

  “Maybe we were wrong,” David says.

  “Maybe.”

  After school, on my way to a meeting with Tess, I hear someone stomp in through the other entrance.

  “Hi, Stace. ”Tess’s voice.

  I freeze, then slowly crack open the greenroom door so I can hear.

  “You found my backpack.”

  “There. On the couch.”

  No voices for a second. I imagine Stacey opening and rummaging through it.

  “Where’s my journal?”

  “You know where it is.”

  Another silence.

  “I thought we were friends, Tess.”

  “This has nothing to do with our relationship.”

  “You called the police. They came to my house.”

  “I called the Children’s Protective Agency, Stacey. They called the police.”

  “Why couldn’t you just call me?”

  “I’m required by law to report any suspected abuse.”

  “Yeah, well, are you required by law to snoop through my stuff?”

  I realize I’m holding my breath.

  “You left it in the theater. I had to find out who it belonged to. Your wallet isn’t in there and you don’t have your name on any of your textbooks. So I looked in your journal.”

  “I don’t believe you.” This time, a short silence. “Anyway, you totally overreacted. That was all character work.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Yep. So you screwed up my week for nothing.”

  “I read the whole journal, Stacey. It’s pretty clear what’s been going on, and—”

  “Nothing’s been going on, so fuck it, okay? Let it go. Nothing happened. Except I’m on restriction—thanks to you. And stay out of my stuff, or my mom will call her lawyer.”

  Meanwhile, my mom’s going for Mother of the Year. I get to stay out an hour later on school nights and until two on the weekend—if homework’s done and I’m with “Davy.” She loves the boy. She tells Michael he should act more like him. Then she asks me if I’ll go with Michael to Santa Rosa on spring break; she doesn’t want him driving by himself. She even offers to call Ginny’s mom to see about a visit, but I manage to say we had a little fight and I’d rather stay with Michael at Steve’s.

  “Set it up however you like, honey. You’ve earned it. And thank you.” That almost gets me. And when I realize how completely both David and Michael are playing her, I have a brief moment of guilt. It passes. What people don’t know can’t hurt them.

  I watch Stacey the entire next week, but nothing’s different. She’s still Arrogant Asshole Girl, though I have to admit she’s not as rude to me as usual. Probably because I am Girl with Boy now, a generally Status-Raising Condition.

  I go online and find out more about child abuse than I ever wanted to know.

  “This could affect her entire life,” I tell David as we’re driving to school one day. “She is never going to be the same.”

  “Katie,” David replies, patient as ever,“does the word obsession mean anything?”

  “I’m not obsessed—I just don’t get it. Why didn’t she say something? Tess would help her. She could get the asshole arrested.”

  “Maybe she didn’t want to.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “You’re going off again.”

  “Sorry. But she’s not the kind of girl who would let this happen.”

  “What kind of girl would?”

  NINETEEN

  “It’s our week now, okay?”

  I’m down with that. I’m down with switching cars with David’s sister so she can ride with Michael and I can be with David. And with my mom not knowing what I’m doing.

  “No school, no show stuff, and definitely no Stacey,” David instructs as I slide in his car. I nod, but I don’t think I’m really all here. Because we’re on our way to San Francisco.

  We get in around two. I have the keys, since Michael and Casey are going pick up his friends. We have to park a few blocks away and lug our suitcases over. David keeps checking over his shoulder.

  “What are you looking for?” I want to know.

  “Nothing. Just …looking.” Two burly bald guys saunter past, and he tenses.

  “David, are you scared?” I ask and get his don’t-be-ridiculous expression—but he is, I can tell. He thinks we’re going to get mugged. When we finally get inside, he relaxes. So do I—the house is perfect, a funky old Victorian, the essence of San Francisco.

  “Is this where you and Michael grew up?” he asks, perching on the window seat to peer outside.

  “No, it belongs to a friend who’s in Mexico. She goes to SF State.” He finishes checking, and I can tell he’s relieved. “Okay, where to for lunch?” He shakes his car keys and I work to keep from laughing; he’s so brave now. “Someplace good—I’m starving.”

  “Fisherman’s Wharf. And we’re taking the streetcar.” I grab his hand on the way out.“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  “See him?” I point to the beefy, sweaty, hairy guy in a wife-beater, cooking up the lobsters in an outdoor pot. We’re at the best outdoor fish place in town. I know San Francisco. David loved the streetcar and the
cable car. Now he’s slurping up chowder in a bread bowl and loving that, too. “Right before they bake that bread, he takes the loaf and swipes it under each arm. That’s what gives it the tang.”

  David stops mid-bite and I bust out laughing. After,we check out Pier 39 and watch the seals push each other off the rocks. We visit tourist shops, have a blue-screen video shot of us “flying” a magic carpet over the Bay, and make reservations to tour Alcatraz Prison the next day. We eat a late dinner at a seafood bar called Swann’s on Polk Street, and David proceeds to share the secret of sourdough with the guy behind the counter. I call Michael and we coordinate the nightly check-in. He has me do it since Mom’s less likely to worry if I tell her he’s out with Steve.

  Then we go “home” and it doesn’t take me but ten minutes to turn schizo. I plunge into my strange alternate reality—and marvel as Stupid Kate heads up to a bedroom with a boy! Fog seeps into my head. I wanted to be with him, I really did—right up to now, when it’s actually going to happen. Now I don’t know what the hell I want.

  The bed’s a queen mattress on the floor, by a bay window. Clean sheets are folded on top, and we put them on together. David rambles about the day; I manage to slow the flow of the fog-turned-mush as it oozes relentlessly in search of my brain.

  “I’ll change first, all right?” he says, pointing to the bathroom. I stare blankly in his direction, no doubt giving Subtle Clues that I’m a bit flustered. He smiles, takes my hands and kisses each one.“We’re just going to sleep, Katie. Okay? Wearing clothes.” I nod. At least I think I do.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor if you want me to, but I’d actually rather hold you. All right?”

  Stupid Kate blinks but doesn’t speak.

  “Not because I don’t want to be with you. I just don’t think it’s time yet.” He smiles.“I mean, I’m perfectly willing to change my mind if you want me to. Do you?” He kisses me on the forehead. Fog has cleared completely.