Salvation

by Sarah Sorana

  “The dress is knit,” Alex called from the other room. “More likely to fit comfortably than jeans. I’d go with that.”

  Merle nodded.

  “The dress is very pretty,” he said.

  I picked up the dress, and slid it over my head.

  Did I pass the test? Did it count if I got help? Had I just cheated?

  Calm down, I told myself. It’s just an outfit.

  The dress did look nice. Plain brown knit, but with an elastic waist and lace neckline that were very flattering.

  I checked myself out in the mirror, smoothing my hair down.

  I looked… nice.

  I looked like any other teenage girl in the spring.

  Was I ready to face my parents?

  Merle appeared in the doorway.

  I think I had to be.

  --------------------------------------------------

  I headed to the door and stepped out. I was still barefoot on the gravel, but the sun felt amazing on my skin.

  I stood there for a minute, basking quietly.

  Merle and Alex followed me out.

  "You ready?" Merle asked, jerking his head at a shiny car parked nearby.

  "Nice car," I said. I didn't exactly know much, but that car looked pretty even to me. I could tell it was well taken care of, too, without the dust of some of the other cars parked nearby.

  "It's lovely," Alex agreed.

  We walked over and all got in, me sitting in the backseat behind the two men.

  The seats were leather, not vinyl, and were so impeccable that I was glad I'd taken a shower. Just my dusty feet defiling the perfect carpet made me wince.

  "I know my friends and associates prefer to risk their necks on those ridiculous deathtraps," Alex said, starting the engine. It purred like his voice, rich and cultured. "However, I prefer not to die young and messily. Merle sees the benefit of someone having a more practical vehicle."

  "Your car isn't exactly practical," Merle complained. "It's hard as hell to get parts for, and the last time someone got mud on it you about had a conniption."

  "There is nothing wrong with having respect for one's property," Alex said. "Just because you hooligans are content to..."

  He was off on a rant. Peering into the front seat, I saw Merle sit back, grinning, letting Alex's grumpy, dramatic speech flow over him.

  I tried not to giggle.

  ----------------------------------------------------

  By the time we got to my house, I felt more like vomiting than giggling. How would I ever explain this?

  "What do I tell them?" I asked quietly.

  Alex cut his rant off in mid-sentence.

  "You tell them the truth," Merle said, quietly. "Tell them that the messages they got weren't sent by you, they were sent by someone else."

  I nodded.

  "Anything I shouldn't say about you?" I asked.

  "Well, Merle tells me that he cleverly mentioned to you that he sells heroin," Alex drawled. "I would, personally, recommend not mentioning that. Just a thought."

  "Alex, don't be a dick," Merle said. "He's right, though," he said to me. "It would be good if you didn't exactly mention that sort of thing."

  I nodded.

  "How do I tell them I got away?" I asked.

  They exchanged looks.

  "The cops know that something big went down. Tell them that you heard shouting and fighting and you used the confusion to sneak away. We saw you in the parking lot and asked if you wanted a ride, you said yes."

  I nodded.

  "Do I tell them I spent the night with you?" I asked.

  Merle sighed.

  "If you want," he said. "That's up to you. The cop's'll know that the fight happened last night, so if you don't, there are eight or twelve hours to account for, but I understand if you don't want to tell your parents you stayed over with me..."

  I hesitated.

  "I don't even know, at this point," I admitted. "It's all too complicated."

  "Well, you've gotta figure it out at some point, because we seem to have arrived," Alex said.

  I nodded.

  Time to face the music.

  ----------------------------------------------------

  For the second time in as many weeks, my mother ran across the lawn, yelling my name, crying, looking terrified and relieved.

  This time, after sweeping me up into a fierce hug, she flung herself at Merle, delivering a hard slap before Alex grabbed her and gently held her still.

  He seemed a hell of a lot more cultured than Merle, and I think some people assumed that he was weak, but he held her easily. The muscles under his fancy clothing had to be hard as iron.

  "Listen to me, madame," he said, calmly. "I'm going to let you go, but I'd like you to promise that you won't try to hit anyone again. Your daughter is here."

  He turned her, treating her carefully, but firmly, towards me.

  "I highly recommend that you concentrate on Megan."

  My mother glared at him, but took a deep breath, and when Alex let her go, she grabbed me again and held me in a tight hug.

  "I'm so angry," she said into my hair. "I'm so glad you're safe. I love you."

  "I love you too, Mom," I said.

  I started to cry, too, in her arms.

  I had been so afraid that I'd never see her again.

  I looked up to see my father across the yard, smiling at us, waiting.

  When he saw me looking for him, he crossed the yard and wrapped both me and my mother in his arms, saying nothing.

  Finally, we all separated.

  "I'm just so glad you're safe," he said. "I love you, Megan."

  "I love you too, Dad," I said. I got choked up again, but managed to mostly stop crying.

  I looked at Merle, then. He was staring at me, at us, with that sad half-smile on his face.

  "I'll see you around," he said.

  "Okay," I said. I stared awkwardly at him. I didn't want him to go, but I didn't want my parents to freak out, either.

  Alex was smiling politely, looking bland and inoffensive, but I saw his eyes darting around, searching for something. Someone?

  Cops, I realized.

  Both men were afraid that they were going to be arrested, but they'd come to drop me off.

  "Thank you," I said to them. "Thank you so much."

  I gently disentangled myself from my mother's hold and went to Alex, standing on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

  He looked surprised, but when I hugged him, he hugged me back, carefully placing his hands on my back, nowhere that could be considered inappropriate. It was a hug I could have gotten from a teacher at school.

  "Call us if you need us," he said, too quietly for my parents to hear.

  I nodded.

  I went to Merle, next.

  I couldn't help but blush a little, thinking about what we'd done, what I'd offered him, the night before.

  I found myself smiling a little crooked half-smile, like the ones he gave me.

  "Thank you for everything," I said.

  "Not a problem," he said, gruffly. His scruffy five o'clock shadow and his untidy black hair made him look older, I thought, but he still sounded young half the time.

  "Megan, let's go inside," my mother said.

  I nodded.

  "One sec," I called over my shoulder.

  I didn't kiss Merle, not in front of my parents, but I did hug him.

  The smell of him was intoxicating. Grease and leather and something uniquely him. I wanted to hold him tightly and never let him go, but I had to.

  Didn't I?

  I followed my parents into the house, looking over my shoulder to watch the two men head back to the car.

  "They thought you'd have called the cops on them," I said when I got inside.

  "I wanted to!" my mother said. "Your father talked me out of it."

  My father grimaced. "I just wanted Megan home safely. Nothing else mattered. Why make things more dangerous and complic
ated?"

  "They still dropped me off, and got out of the car," I said. "They could have just left me at a fast food or something, so you couldn't call the police on them at all. They're not bad guys."

  My mother snorted.

  "Like hell," she said.

  The tears burned my eyes again.

  "I know who bad men are!" I snapped. "I've met bad men! Bad men had me for eight days and you didn't call the cops then, why should I want you to call the cops on the guys who rescued me?"

  My mother whirled on me.

  "What happened?" she asked. "I did call the cops, but you're eighteen, you're not a minor any more, Megan. They said that with the text messages and the note, there was nothing they could do. There was no proof that you hadn't just willingly gone away with your boyfriend."

  She bit the last word out, angry and bitter.

  "His name is Merle, Mom," I snapped. "He didn't do anything wrong. I went on a date with him, and then, totally unrelated" - I crossed my fingers, mentally - "these assholes kidnapped me because a waitress told them that I could identify their boss."

  Before she could say anything else, I added "and do you know why I could identify their boss? Because you fucking made me go with Nate to prom even when I didn't want to, and your precious suburban white boy with the nice parents was hanging out with a fucking cartel boss. How is that my fault?!"

  "Megan! Apologize to your mother," my father rumbled.

  "Like hell," I said, a mockery of my mother's own words.

  I fled up the stairs to my bedroom and slammed the door.

  ---------------------------------

  Once I was in my room, I fell back and slid down the door, ending up in a crumpled heap on the floor.

  I was torn between hiding under my bed and flinging the door open so that I wouldn't be trapped in here.

  I heard my parents talking to each other downstairs, so they weren't following me.

  Someone was, though.

  I heard the padding up the stairs, and the click of over-long nails on the wood floors.

  I slid away from my door and opened it just enough for my old dog to heave his way into the room, before shutting it behind him and locking it.

  I mean, sure, they could unlock it if they really wanted to, but it would at least take them a minute.

  My poor old Lab leaned on me and huffed his gross dog breath into my face.

  "Good boy," I said, absentmindedly.

  He wagged his tail.

  I stroked his ears, and started to cry again. It would be really nice if I could go like a whole half hour without leaking, but apparently I was a fountain of tears right now.

  Ugh.

  I stroked his soft ears.

  "I'm so sorry they hurt you, buddy," I said. "It's all my fault."

  I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, letting him drool into my lap.

  He was a good dog.

  "I'm glad you made it all the way up here," I whispered into his fur. He almost never heaved his way up the stairs any more, but he always seemed to know when I was crying and needed him. He was always there for me.

  I couldn't imagine leaving him behind when I went off to college.

  Before I sorted out college, though, I had to sort out things with my parents.

  I sighed and brushed the tears off my cheeks.

  "Come on, buddy," I said, rising to my feet. "Let's go back downstairs."

  -----------------------------------------------

  Dinner was only slightly horribly strained. They asked me what happened, a lot, but every time, I just shrugged.

  Once or twice, I got as far as opening my mouth before stopping.

  I couldn't manage to say out loud "I was locked in a tiny room and beaten."

  Or, "I was afraid that they'd rape me."

  Or even, "I was hungry."

  I'd never been really hungry like that before, hungry and not sure when or if my next meal was coming. It was a terrifying, gnawing feeling in my belly and my mind.

  I knew my parents and wanted me to be happy, always, and I couldn't tell them how bad it had been.

  I couldn't really protect them, but I wanted to try.

  My father looked more understanding than my mother, and finally asked her to stop pestering me about it.

  "Sometimes it's hard to talk about things," he said, calmly. He was always calm, always a rock, next to my mother.

  Mom snorted.

  "Don't sound like some wise old soldier, you're a plumber," she said, but she let it go.

  "What do I tell school?" I asked in a small voice.

  "We called them when you were missing," she said. "They'll let you back and let you catch up. You can still make decent grades and get to college in the fall."

  "Colleges don't really look at your grades from the last half of senior year anyways," my father said. "Applications are already in, they'll already be making their decisions. Your Hogwarts letters will already be in the Owl Post."

  "Daad, come on," I said.

  "Oh, forgive me, of course. You go to Hogwarts when you're eleven. You're way too old. Where do wizards go to college, anyways?" he asked.

  I shrugged.

  We were all silent for a few bites.

  "Why did you call Merle?" I asked them.

  "He called us," my father said. "Yesterday morning. To ask you on a date."

  "We told him we thought you were already on a date with him," my mother said acidly. "A week-long, parent-terrifying date."

  "What did he tell you?" I asked in a small voice.

  "That he didn't know where you were, and if you weren't at home, you were in trouble," she said. "A few hours later, he called and said he'd found you, but he couldn't get you right away."

  She reached across the table and took my hand.

  "Megan, honey. Where were you?"

  I swallowed.

  "So, the night I disappeared..." I began.

  I told them almost everything.

  I told them about waking up with a knife to my throat, about sneaking out of their house. I told them about being locked in a room, about being hungry and frightened and spending a week in disgusting pajamas.

  I told them about Merle rescuing me, about fleeing my cell when the cartel was distracted.

  I didn't tell them about the things el Jefe said.

  I didn't tell the how afraid I was that I'd get raped.

  Finally, when there were no more tears for them to cry, I looked up at them.

  "I thought the cops would come find me," I said. "I thought you'd save me."

  My father winced, and my mother looked totally, completely stricken. It was as though I'd punched her in the gut. I didn't mean to hurt her like that, but I couldn't help but feel so angry.

  "I'm so sorry, baby," my mother said. Tears started to run down her cheeks again, and she didn't even brush them away. "We thought you'd run away. I called the cops, but they said they couldn't do anything if you went willingly. You're eighteen now, honey, the law says you're an adult."

  "Why didn't you yell?" my father asked.

  I shrugged, awkwardly.

  "They'd have hurt you. They'd have hurt this guy," I said, stroking my dog's ears.

  "That wouldn't have mattered," my father said. "We're your parents. It's our job to take care of you, but we can't if we don't know what you need."

  I tried not to roll my eyes.

  I got fucking kidnapped and he was trying to blame me. Excellent.

  "I'll remember that if I ever get kidnapped again," I snapped. I only sort of regretted it when I saw the pain on his face.

  I picked up a little decorative china salt shaker from the table and tossed it from one hand to the other, staring down at it.

  Merle found me in twelve hours. He took care of me.

  "I'm glad that Merle found you, but you need not to see him again," my father said, pompously. "He's obviously a bad influence."