by Lowe, T. I.
I catch myself holding my breath as we walk through the front door. It took nearly an hour to make it through the mourners on just the porch. Using my bag as a protective shield to keep the condoling guests at arm length, I’ve been able to control my anxiety of their nearness. It’s all so overwhelming. I step over the threshold and the first thing I notice is that the interior has been updated with paint and the wood floors have a freshly polished gleam. My eyes take all this in before I spot my mother in the den. She is surrounded by a group of ladies doting over her. As soon as her eyes make contact with my own, a steady stream of tears rushes down her face. She is heartbroken, and all at once, I’m heartbroken for her. I want to run over and throw my arms around her and make our relationship right and be the daughter she needs me to be.
The moment is lost with the first slash of her sharp tongue. Who was I kidding? Some things never, and I mean NEVER change.
“What took you so long? I’ve needed you here!” Jean snaps out so bitterly that I can almost taste bile. A room full of disappointing eyes finds me embarrassed.
“I… I um, got here as fast as I could. Sorry,” I mumble while I study my shoes.
“Humph.”
My defenses kick in, forcing my head back up, and I smart off in true Savannah fashion. “Well, where’s your famous Julia Rose? Why isn’t she here to hold your hand?”
Jean turns a violent shade of red. Good. I want her embarrassed too. Might as well not have to be alone in this, right? I feel the warmth of embarrassment not only in my cheeks but all over.
“You know as well as I do, her busy career is not easy to get away from. Maybe you don’t understand since you do nothing for a living.” She crosses her arms as we square off. I stand there clutching my overnight bag as though it’s my security blanket. “She’s trying her best to get here. You have no excuse.”
I don’t waste anyone’s time with a reply. I turn and walk through the crowd and head upstairs to my abandoned room. As I open the door and glance around at a room that looks exactly as I had left it, I am overwhelmed and then pushed to my knees with times past.
Still clinging onto my bag for dear life, I feel the tingling begin in my fingertips and then sneak up my arms in piercing stings. Before I can focus on an escape, I am paralyzed. This one has hit me hard. My eyes lose focus, blurring the room, and my heart rate is skipping around. Breathing is labored as though my lungs have rebelled against me. I have lost this battle, and the demons push me way under. As I tilt forward, the wood floor rushes towards me before all goes black.
Chapter Seven
The summer was brutally hot, and I felt sweat trickling down my back. It’s the kind of humid heat that pushes against you—thick and uncomfortably. Wiping my damp forehead, I watched my dad pack suitcases in the car. Jean was on her way to another vacation—a week in Hawaii, and this time she so graciously invited our dad. This was a first, and surprisingly, my dad agreed to go.
“Can I please stay with my friend Chrissy? Please Daddy. Her mom said it was okay.” My whiny pitch begged out to him to agree.
“Sweetheart, you know your mother already said no. She wants you here with Julia Rose,” Dad said as he closed the trunk with a good thud. He patted me on the shoulder as to say sorry, but that made me even madder. I turned my attention to Jean as she sauntered down the steps in a new sundress that looked all fresh and tropical.
“You always get a break and I’m sick of never getting one!” I kicked at a nearby bush for good measure and shot daggers in her direction with my scornful glare.
“You are just a child,” Jean hissed. “You haven’t earned a break yet!” With that, my dad loaded her up in the car and set out to the airport.
A week stuck with Evan made me nauseous. Something bad was going to happen. I just knew it. My eleventh birthday was a few months back and Julia had turned fifteen just before school let out for summer break. My dad finally agreed to let us start staying alone in the afternoons. We hadn’t seen Evan for nearly two months and it was wonderful. However, Dad drew the line about us staying overnight alone, so Jean talked him into letting Evan stay with us.
The week passed with John Paul and Bradley coming and going as they pleased, with us girls having to stay put and do chores. I began viewing Evan as a chore too. The wandering hands and kisses were tiring to dodge. I set out to not wash the entire week, but Evan always called me out on it in front of the boys and would embarrass me into washing. I refused deodorant, though. My hope was to repel him, but he seemed to take it as an inviting challenge instead.
I got fed up pretty quickly and headed out to work at the market or restaurant each day without permission. I knew Dad would find out when he returned, but I would gladly take the consequences. I wasn’t sitting around that house, like some open target for whatever that sick man decided he wanted to do to me next. I remember sitting in the kitchen with Miss May while she worked that first afternoon. I had already washed up some dishes for her and was waiting for another task to be ordered.
“Child, why you rather work here all day instead of enjoying yo’ summer break like the rest of them young’uns?” She looked up at me and waited for an answer.
I fidgeted while deciding how to answer her. She tapped the table in front of me with her knobby knuckles to summon an answer I really wasn’t too keen on giving. I let out a huff. “I hate him, and I don’t want to be around him.”
“Who?” she asked.
I met her gaze. “Evan! I hate him!”
“That’s a strong word, girl. I don’t take too kindly to lettin’ it be said so easily.”
“Well, it’s the truth,” I said, screeching out each word.
“Why you hate him?” she nearly whispered, trying to get me to calm down.
“I ain’t telling you, so don’t ask!” I snapped at her.
She stood there eyeing me quietly for a spell, and I could see her resolving some things. I just weren’t so sure on what she was resolving. She eventually nodded her head once as though her decision on the matter was made.
“Get me a box of pudding from the pantry and a small bunch of bananas,” Miss May ordered. I did as she asked but wasn’t too thrilled with it. She knew that each one of us young’uns hated a banana. It was the one thing I think we all agreed to never eat. I personally couldn’t get over the mushy texture and always ended up gagging.
I handed her the pudding and watched as she combined it together with a white powder and milk. “What are you doing, Miss May?” I asked confused. I had never seen her make this particular dessert.
“I’m making Evan a treat,” she answered as she began slicing the gross bananas into the pudding mixture.
“Why?” I gagged at the gross, sickly sweet scent of the fruit. I took a few steps away from the table and covered my nose.
“Cause you done ‘n acted rude and I ain’t standin’ for it.” She cut me a look. It was as though she was trying to get me riled up with her for some reason—and she knew it didn’t take much to rile me up. “You gonna give it to him with no lip.”
I crossed my arms and huffed out, “Well, I ain’t giving that devil a treat. You can forget it!”
“If you don’t give it to him and apologize for your mean self, then I’m gonna take to beatin’ you like yo’ daddy never has.” She crushed some vanilla wafers on top and placed a lid on the plastic container. As she handed it over to me, Miss May instructed, “Now get yo’ white butt out my kitchen and don’t come back ‘til you deliver this.”
I snatched it out of her hand and stomped out the door. I eventually made it home with the vile dessert. I may have stopped along the way to spit in it… I stormed into the house, slung it on a shelf in the fridge, and slammed the door shut with a satisfying bang. Evan and the boys were at the kitchen table, looking at some surf magazine. My beating and a banging drew their attention. I whipped around to leave and found them all eyeing me curiously.
“What’s that in the container, Savannah?” John Paul aske
d.
“Nasty banana pudding,” I grumbled. The boys grumbled their own disapproval for the gross treat as well.
“Why the crap you bring junk like that home?” John Paul complained.
“I can’t believe you would even bring that mess in this house,” Bradley commented with a wrinkled up nose. We Thortons are something serious over our distaste for bananas.
“Miss May made me,” I muttered.
Evan hopped up from the table in excitement. “I love banana pudding.” He beamed in delight. With that declaration, he grabbed a large spoon from the drawer and retrieved the dessert from the fridge. He sat back down and tore into the pudding like he hadn’t eaten in days. Me and the boys started gagging from the awful odor and made quick exits—them slamming the back door with their hasty getaway and me running upstairs. I was still mad at Miss May, so I decided to hide out in the attic for the rest of the afternoon instead of going back to her. It was stifling hot up there, but it was a sure guarantee no one would look for me there—one person in particular. A sweat-drenched afternoon sounded heavenly compared to the alternative.
Later that night, I heard a very sick Evan in the bathroom across the hall from my room moaning in pain. He whined about it being the worst stomach pains he had ever had. His stomach virus lasted only until the next day, but he was too weak to bother me or Julia for another day after that. I was thankful it allowed me a brief reprieve from him—thanks to Miss May and her mystery ingredients. Needless to say, the leftover banana pudding made its way into the trashcan without Evan indulging in it anymore. I think he knew what she did. There was no love lost between the two of them.
When Thursday rolled around, the boys boomed with excitement. They had been invited on a three-day camping trip with the Cox family down the street. The Coxes acted like they enjoyed spending time together and doing the whole vacation thing as a family. The boys always got invited. I never did. I think it’s because they only had boys, but I still would have liked to have gone.
Panicked with being left alone, I begged the boys fruitlessly not to go up until the very minute they left me.
“Please don’t go.”
“No way! This is going to be a blast!” John Paul replied when I begged.
I crossed my arms over my bowed out chest and glared at him as he gathered camping supplies from the garage. “Then I’m going to tell Daddy and Jean on you. They said no leaving the house overnight!”
“Don’t be a brat about it, Savannah,” he said as he threw a flashlight into his duffle bag. Bradley was cramming one in his too, but he gave no commentary.
“It’s fine. I gave them permission.” Evan’s voice came from behind me and made me jump. I spun around and gave him the stink eye, but it only made him chuckle. He wandered back into the house as the boys kept packing all kinds of junk. I watched him until the door closed. I would have brought him another Miss May dessert, but I don’t think I could have gotten him to eat it.
I eventually stormed over to the sidewalk’s edge and slung myself down on the curb. Every so often, I would huff as loudly as I could to let them know I was still there and still not happy. Bradley would give pause to eye me, but John Paul just ignored me completely. They passed me as they began their trek to the neighbor’s house with their camping gear in tow. They were too excited to wait to be picked up and decided to head over and help with loading up. They looked like twins almost, in cutoff camouflage pants with all sorts of pockets, black T-shirts, and tattered Chuck Taylors. Both boys had a head full of long, wavy hair, just in different hues. They did everything together. You never saw one without the other. It made me even more jealous that they were so close. I wanted that with Julia, but our relationship had shifted away from each other over the last year. I felt lonely all the time.
Bradley hesitated beside me. “You okay?” he asked with concern in his green eyes.
“Please don’t go.” I begged. “Please don’t leave us alone with him.”
“Stop being a brat,” John Paul said again over his shoulder.
“I’m not being a brat, you jerk!” I hollered back.
Bradley slightly nudged me with his shoe. “Sorry, Savannah. It’s just… Well, we really want to go camping so bad is all.”
“Stop messin’ it up for us,” John Paul said as he continued walking.
“It’s just three days. I promise to take you fishing when we get back, okay?”
Bradley waited for my reply, but I didn’t give him one. I just sat there, staring down at my scuffed-up Converse sneakers. They used to be John Paul’s until he outgrew them, and I took them as my own. Boys’ clothes seemed so much more practical and comfortable than girls’ clothing, so I mostly wore his outgrown clothes. Jean hated this.
“Savannah?” Bradley tried again, but I continued to ignore him. So with a shrug of his shoulders, he followed behind John Paul.
I sat out there willing the boys to return with all my might. By the time the sky darkened completely, I gave up the hope. I had stayed firmly planted to that sidewalk for hours and needed to pee something fierce, so I reluctantly went inside.
I sensed that it was bad before witnessing anything as I crept into the dark house. Tiffany was singing about her thinking we’re alone now from the living room’s stereo, and Evan was laughing in the kitchen. I rounded the corner and spotted Julia sitting at the table in just her panties and bra, causing the hairs to rise on my neck. Bad…This is bad…
I oddly remember her bra was the same baby pink bra I had just gotten for my birthday. I was wearing mine, coincidentally. I remember it being itchy and damp from sweat. Bra wearing was new to me, and I already hated it with a vengeance.
“Now the party can begin,” Evan said as he walked around the counter towards me, startling me again. He was only wearing a pair of shorts. His bronze chest was striking, and my focus was glued there on its own accord. “You enjoying the view, little miss?” He laughed with too much self-assuredness. Punching the cocky son of a gun in the gut is what I really wanted to do in that moment. I was trembling in anger. I felt caught in his snare, and I knew he had won. And boy did that tick me off something fierce. Yet, I stood there froze in fear.
I looked over to give Julia a questioning look, but she wouldn’t meet my gaze. Something was wrong, besides the fact she was nearly naked. I looked back to Evan as he eased closer to me like an animal stalking his prey. He had a half-emptied liquor bottle in one hand and was rubbing his chest with the other hand.
“It’s time for a toast, my beauties.” His words came out in a slur. “Pick up your glass, my sweet Rose.” He nodded his head towards the glass that I had not noticed sitting on the table before her. It was filled with the amber liquid. She hesitantly picked it up, but paused. He made a tilting motion towards his mouth with his empty hand, and she mimicked him with taking a sip. Her eyes seemed to tear up and she shuttered a bit as she swallowed.
“That’s my girl,” he crooned. He eased uncomfortably close to me and draped his arm around my waist. “Oh ladies. We are going to have such fun tonight,” he whispered against my neck. He then moved to stand in front of me, and held my cheek as his glassy eyes studied me. “Now it’s Miss Firecracker’s turn.” The words came out like an order as he held the bottle to my mouth.
I jerked away and shook my head in protest.
“No? That’s not the way a party works,” he said lazily with a crooked grin. He offered the bottle again. I still didn’t take it.
“Just drink it, Savannah,” Julia gently urged. I looked over at her, but she still wouldn’t look at me.
Before I could refuse again, Evan grasped ahold of my jaw tightly in his hand. While holding my mouth open, he tilted the bottle up and began pouring the harsh liquor too quickly. I started gagging and ended up spraying the vile stuff all over his bare chest. He slid his grip to my neck to hold me in place as he drained the remnants in the bottle before setting it down.
“Now, now…we don’t waste, little miss. You’ve
made quite a mess on me.” He ran his free hand over his wet chest. “Now you are going to just have to lick it off.”
I stood in shock at his words. Was he serious? How could this be happening? I felt like I was stuck in some bizarre dream I couldn’t escape. My stomach turned with having to take in anymore of the harsh mess, much less having to place my tongue on him. He dragged me closer, urging my mouth on his chest and held my head firmly there. He was nearly smothering me into his chest. I had no other choice but to do as he said. A combination of liquor and sweat caused me to gag constantly, but he held me there mercilessly until he was satisfied with my cleanup efforts. This man is the dirtiest chore.
He pulled me back to my feet and looked me over through hooded eyes. After an uncomfortable kiss, Evan released me and headed over to Julia. He held his hand out and gestured for her to join him. “Come on, my sweet Rose. Come dance with me.”
She stood stiffly, and that was when I noticed the bruises blooming along her thighs and back. Confusion cinched my gut as I tried to comprehend why she was riddled with bruises. Had he beaten her? Why? Evan and Rose circled the room in a slow dance. My heart raced as I watched my sister quietly cry while dancing with that devil. Their dance eventually led them upstairs, and I was left in the middle of the kitchen alone, in shock and standing in a large puddle of urine.
I gradually unglued my feet and shuffled upstairs to my room. I could hear noises that I didn’t want to identify coming from my sister’s room. I gathered a clean outfit and dashed to the bathroom across the hall. I locked the door and then propped a step stool under the knob in hopes of barricading myself in.
After peeling my soiled clothes off, I showered numbly. I drew a bath after the shower to prolong the bathroom visit as long as I could. As I sat in the tub trembling, I watched the doorknob come to life. Evan knocked once he realized I would not be willingly opening the door for him.