by Jason Conley
Destiny cried out, “Stop, please. Just stop. Please, Carissa, please!” The tears rolled down her face; blood poured from her split lip. Carissa stopped. Destiny’s humiliation was sweeter than any of the blows Carissa had delivered.
Carissa got off Destiny wiping her crimson knuckles on Destiny’s shirt. Destiny’s wails echoed in the halls. Carissa looked at Destiny one last time before she walked away. Destiny’s minions were nowhere to be seen.
Carissa motioned at April, “Let’s get to class.” April laughed as they walked through the splitting crowd.
13
Carissa and April sat quiet in health class. The whole school was buzzing with the excitement of the fight. Every aspect was talked about in depth. Although many versions of the story were circulating through the halls and classes, they all ended the same, Carissa had laid into to Destiny. Destiny had it coming seemed to be what everyone thought and no one said till that day.
Carissa listened as her teacher muttered about hygiene and cleaning well. She was wondering why this class was a requirement but most important she was waiting for the principal to call her and April to the office. She knew that it was coming. Even if Destiny did not tell, the teachers already either caught wind of the fight or heard the screaming of the audience. A high school fight was not something that kids usually broke up. They would rout for the one they wanted to win, but this was, unwittingly alerting the powers-that-be of the brawl.
April sat next to Carissa rubbing at her knee, trying it was definitely swelling. After thirty minutes, Carissa began thinking she would not have to see the principal. Maybe he knew about all of the comments and gestures that Destiny had given Carissa over the past three years and understood. Yes, maybe he would understand. In Carissa’s mind, the principal was sitting in the office laughing because Destiny was an absolute terror.
The big hand of the clock moved slow as the teacher spoke, the littlest hand seemed even slower. Carissa drifted to a place in her mind that she had been to many times in the past few days. She went to a place were only her and David occupied. David looking into her eyes with his untainted innocence, Carissa gazing back into his with a small something clinging to her but fading in its grieving madness. The nights were cool in this imaginary place. The rain would be sweet, the air always fresh. Although the thoughts were just conjuring, the feeling that it invoked was absolutely real. The dream took Carissa to paradise, but paradise was broken with the sound of the poorly lubricated hinges guiding the door open. “Carissa, April I need to see you outside please,” the principal, Mr. Greeneville, said.
Carissa looked down at her desk and rubbed her face. She took a deep breath and gathered her books. Mr. Greeneville motioned for her to put them down. Carissa looked at April seeing the unmistakable look of “busted” in her face. Carissa turned to the door catching only a glance of the policeman standing behind Mr. Greeneville. Carissa’s knees weakened suddenly, her legs heavy. She forced every step. This must be what an inmate’s last walk must feel like just before they’re executed. A pain shot through her head, the leather hood was on.
“Could you put your hands against wall and spread your legs?” the policeman said politely. Carissa and April turned. The cop pushed them closer to the wall, their faces pressing against the cold cement. “You have the right to remain silent.” The switch had been thrown.
The principal stood back quietly as another cop seemed too appear from nowhere. Carissa looked at April. One cop frisked April while the other watched from the sideline. He patted her arms to the shoulder then felt under her breast. “Umm, that’s nice,” April said. The cop smiled.
“Be quiet,” sideliner cop said. Carissa could not help but laugh. “Something funny, young lady?”
“No, sir,” Carissa said turning red. April looked at Carissa. April smiled and winked letting Carissa know she wasn’t too worried.
“This ones clean,” the cop said as he finished patting her ankles.
“Check her pockets,” sideliner ordered.
The cop complied. He stuck his fingers into her right pocket. Nothing. Then her left. He felt something. He pulled it out slow (for effect Carissa later decided) exposing a small bag to the light. The cop smelled the contents. “It’s pot,” he said tossing it to sideliner.
“Well, looks like some good stuff too, honey,” sideliner cop said with a cocky smirk. “You got anything?” he said looking at Carissa.
“No, sir.” Carissa didn’t want to look up, she certainly didn’t want to look at April.
The cop searched Carissa as sideliner marveled at the discovery. He was going to get something out of this, maybe.
The cop finished searching Carissa. “She’s clean,” he said. Sideliner nodded. “Okay girls, turn around please.” They turned around just in time to see sideliner put the bag of grass in his back pocket.
“Carissa, what happened?” Mr. Greeneville said, hoping Destiny threw the first.
“Wel-”
“Hold on,” the cop pulled a card out of his wallet and read them their rights.
“I already did it,” the first cop said.
“Well, I am going to do it again.”
A sinking feeling came over Carissa. This was really happening. She knew she was going to jail. She might as well tell them what happened.
Carissa told them how Destiny started it and Carissa told them how she ended it, too bad in the eyes of the law the legal start was Carissa’s fist. “Put your hands behind your back,” sideliner cop said as if he were arresting Al Capone. The cold steel pressed into Carissa’s wrists. She was going to jail.
The police walked April and Carissa to the car and helped them in. Carissa could see Destiny sitting on the back of an ambulance, blood covering her shirt. Carissa looked at April and smiled as sideliner put the car in drive.
Carissa and April sat in an office that had a perfect view of the booking desk. They were both seventeen so they could not be put in a holding cell. Besides, they were about to be released to their parents anyway, so having them in the office was more convenient.
“My dad is going think this is some funny shit,” April said, the sound echoing of the Plexiglas wall.
“Oh, yeah. My dad is going to be pissed. Then I am going to have to listen to Casey’s shit. This really sucks. You have absolutely no idea what kind of shit this stirred.”
“Hey, don’t get the fucking attitude with me. You started it. I just kept them other little bitches off of you.”
“She did deserve it,” Carissa said laughing.
“Fuck yeah. The only bad thing is I lost my grass. Well, and I am at the cop shop in hand cuffs.” For some reason, they both laughed. Maybe, they were trying to make light of the situation or they just did not want to acknowledge they were in major fucking trouble but both were trying to be strong for the other.
The conversation bled dry and they sat quietly waiting for the police to release them. Carissa had time to prepare for what Casey was sure to say. She also knew her dad was going to be hurt. Hurting her father was something Carissa has never been willing to do.
Randy was at the booking desk before Carissa noticed. He looked into the office, his eyes wide and face red. Randy’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. He stood talking to the cop at the counter glancing back every so often to Carissa for what seemed like an hour. He signed several papers, shaking his head with every pen stroke.
As his pen left the last of the stack of forms, he turned to the office. Now in full broad view, Carissa was struck by his pointed steps and rigid, tense frame. He reached for the door not losing eye contact with Carissa. She pushed herself from her chaired slouch. “Hi, daddy,” she said soft and sweat, trying to make the situation seem less serious.
“Don’t ‘Hi Daddy’ me,” his voice stern but no yelling. “Do you know what you have done?”
“Ye-,” Randy cut her off.
“I don’t think you do. That girl is in the hospital having surgery. You broke her nose so bad the
y have to open her up and fix it. And guess who’s getting the fucking bill. Not you. Me! Because you are a minor. You…fucked…up. You’re lucky they’re not going to press charges,” Randy said it all in one breath.
“There not,” Carissa said a little confused but her voice expressed far more relief than she would have liked.
“Now, I don’t know about you,” Randy said looking at April.
The desk clerk knocked to let them know she was opening the door. “April, I talked to your father and he said to go ahead and send you home,” the she said.
“Okay,” Randy replied. “Let’s get home. You need a ride?”
“No, sir.” April replied, sir seeming to be the appropriate response for the situation.
“Suit yourself. Come on Carissa.”
Carissa stood and gave April a hug. “I’ll see ya later.” Carissa put her lips close to April’s ear. “Thank you,” she whisper soft.
April squeezed her a little tighter. “Later.”
Carissa sat quiet in the front passenger seat of the Ford Escape. She flipped through the stations, stopping only long enough to hear what song was playing. “You know you’re screwed, right,” Randy said as he hit the stereo’s power button. “Casey is going to go nuts. What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Daddy,” Carissa said as if the word was in her defense. She ran her fingers through her hair trying to come up with some rational thought as to why she had just beaten the shit of Destiny. Well, she had a fantastic reason but that would not be enough for Randy and it sure as hell would not be enough for Casey. Carissa’s hand trembled as it racked through tangles. She did not want to go home. She knew Casey was waiting for her, imagining the second Carissa would walk through the door. Casey was ready.
Randy pulled the car slow, almost ominously, into the drive. Maybe to give the butterflies in Carissa’s stomach time to start jumping. He put the car in park and shut off the ignition. “You let me handle her.” Carissa nodded in agreement, a tear rolling down her cheek. She would try to completely bypass Casey and head for her room. She decided waiting on the porch for the screaming to quiet to a slow rumble would be her best bet. Yes, Carissa thought waiting would be a good plan.
Randy opened the door to give Carissa her only shot at dodging a massive bullet. The bullet was too fast. Casey erupted into a shotgun blast of whores, bitches, and how-many-boyfriends-did-you-fucks. Casey flailed her hands, she screamed inches from Carissa’s face, and without warning Carissa felt the sting across the right side of her face. “What the fuck you gonna do to me?” Casey yelled.
Carissa, silent, walked to her room amongst a barrage of not fighting real women and even more little whore comments. She closed her door still hearing Casey’s drunk rantings. Carissa locked the door knowing Casey would try to come in and hoping she would not try to kick her way through.
Carissa heard Casey stamping down the hall. “She’s just a kid,” Carissa heard Randy scream.
“Do you know how much that little bitch is going to cost us?” Casey fired back.
“Don’t call her a bitch,” Randy said calmly.
“Always defending that little whore,” Casey said. Randy’s open hand popped loudly as it met Casey’s face. Casey was stunned. He had never hit her before this moment. Through years of Casey’s drunken rants, she had said, screamed, taunted, and bullied Carissa in far worse ways. Casey had depended on the fact that she was a woman, Randy’s child’s mother and his wife to protect her from physical resistance but tonight was different. In Casey’s mind, Carissa had now stolen her husband. He was gone.
Casey stepped soft through the hall, calm. She stopped at Carissa’s door. Casey wanted to go in. She wanted to drag Carissa from the room to the front yard. She wanted to beat the living shit out of that dirty little whore. She imagined the joy of the blood running from Carissa’s face as her fists beat against the fleshy portion of the girl’s cheek. She wanted to show her how women take care of little bitches that fuck their men. But she didn’t. She walked on into her and Randy’s room. Not because she was afraid of Randy, but because Lea was asleep.
14
Carissa lay in bed waiting. She was naked, starring at the fading stars above. She looked at the alarm clock on her desk. 11:14 with a dot in the corner letting her know that it was in the p.m. as if the absence of sun was not a defining indication of post meridiem. He should be in here by now. Carissa turned onto her side. She pulled one of her pillows from under head and hugged it. She had hurt her father today. He could not trust her anymore. Of all of the nights she had been in fear of him coming to her room, tonight she was ashamed he did not want to come to her. In some strange and very irrational way, she wanted him to show he forgave her.
Carissa climbed from her bed being careful not to wake Lea. She slid on a shirt, some panties, and opened the door. She poked her head into the hall. She could see the shine from the T.V. glaring off the walls. She stepped out of her room and pulled the door until she heard the quiet click of the latch bolt. She crept down the hall so as to not draw any attention if someone, Casey, was awake. She peeked around the corner. Randy was sleeping on the couch. David Letterman played quiet.
They fought. He should have come in. She was abashed… embarrassed of the problems that she had caused. She felt responsible for Casey’s drinking. Most of all she was humiliated because her father did not want to touch her. He didn’t want to love his baby girl. A tear rolled down Carissa’s face as she turned back down the hall.
The doorknob’s click seemed to be louder than usual. The hinges creaked. Closing the door vibrated the wall. Carissa tip-toed down the hall. She looked at the couch were Randy still lay, still in the same position he was ten minutes earlier. She reached for the front door. Randy snorted and rolled over. Carissa turned the handle. A cold wind rushed in. She stepped out. She walked down the steps and out to the sidewalk.
Carissa walked through the cooling September breeze. She rehashed everything about the day. She thought of every possible scenario that would have kept her out of the fight. They seemed so easy now, but in the heat of the moment, impossible. The breeze pick up. I should have brought a coat. The wind soon shifted directions with slight relief.
David lay handcuffed, incapable of escape. Fresh wounds dripped warm blood down his back. Carissa was at the window. She could not believe what she was seeing. She did not know what she was seeing. Carissa raised her hand to peck the window. Mrs. Shelton’s figure eclipsed over the threshold. She had “the rod” in her hand, keys in the other. Carissa stopped. She watched as Mrs. Shelton lay the knife next to David’s face. What the fuck, Carissa thought just before she let out what little food she had in her stomach.
David looked at the knife and the keys that lay in front of him. He heard Mrs. Shelton walk back into the room. He saw the towel drop to the floor. He could hear water being rung from a wash cloth. Mrs. Shelton placed a bowl of sloshing suds near his cuffed hands.
David felt the sting as the cold soapy water touched the open gashes. Mrs. Shelton wiped the blood from each cut. After two or three, David’s back was merely a mess of stinging and burning that had grown to consume the entire expanse of his torso. Every spot she touched as tender as the last. She coated the wounds with petroleum jelly to stop the bleeding. She applied bandages and left the room. David reached for the keys just beyond his fingertips. He pushed his arm hard into the cuff to squeeze out even another quarter-inch of stretch. The tip of his finger made contact with the key ring. He flicked his finger twice before the keys were within total grasp. He unlocked the cuffs.
David was free again. He picked up the brilliant white towel and wiped the sweat from his face. He picked up the bowl of water Mrs. Shelton had left and began to wipe his sides and chest clean. He then wiped the bench and “the rod”. He took the knife into the kitchen and placed it in the drawer.
As he walked back to his room, he glanced down the hall seeing Mrs. Shelton grading papers. Classical music played. He hated it. M
ozart. She always listened to Mozart after punishment. She would sit in the chair, grading papers, and smiling about the evil she had just saved David from or the pain she was inflicting. David was not sure which was true anymore but was sure she reveled in the experience. The elegant note lifting crescendo then falling in decrescendos were ugly. They meant control. Control that David was sure did not exist in the bible.
15
As David walked back into his room, he saw Carissa looking through the window, her eye beautifully reflecting the hallway light. She forced a smile. David did not have too. David turned back and closed the door. He pulled a shirt from the closet, slipping it on as he approached the window. He was embarrassed but wanted to see Carissa. He was not stuck in a punishment and pleasure scenario, at least not in his mind. He was suffering for what he wanted. As he unlocked the window, he heard his mother turn up her music. He lifted. The window rose with ease. “Hey,” David said as he leaned on the window seal, trying to be as calm as the pain would allow.
“Hey,” Carissa said trying to hide her trepidation. It did not work.
“What are you doing here?”