The River's Edge

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The River's Edge Page 11

by Tina Sears


  I shook my head in defeat.

  “Well, sweetie, it’s when your body starts to change into a woman’s . . . and that means you are able to have babies.” She patted my knee. “Soon, you’ll get boobs and you’ll start to fill out and get some curves on that boney body of yours.” She patted my knee like I was a little girl. I cringed.

  “Why can’t my mom come get me Aunt Lori?” I had the mother of all secrets squeezing my heart and sneaking up my throat, twisting around my vocal cords. I couldn’t talk so I cried instead.

  She sighed. “Honey, I’m sorry. I know that I shouldn’t be the one to give you this talk; it should be your mom sitting here next to you. I know you’re frustrated. But things will get better soon. I promise. I’m sure she can explain all of this to you better than I can. Your mom will be here in no time. Meanwhile, let’s just make the best of things, okay?” She put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed me to her.

  I nodded.

  “We need to do something about your bloody underwear, though, sweetie. You can’t go around bleeding all day. You stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

  She left the bedroom and when she returned, she had something in her hands. She held up her right one first. “This is a pad. You put it in your underwear when you are on your period and it will catch the blood. It’s pretty simple. You just peel off the backing, put it in your underwear, and wa-la, you’re done.”

  Then she held up her left hand and produced a white cardboard tube with a string hanging from its end. “This is a bit trickier.” She pointed to the end with the cotton protruding from it. “You put this end inside yourself, and then push the bottom half up and it releases the tampon inside, see?” She demonstrated by pushing the bottom half of the cardboard up and a tube of pressed cotton sprang lose from the thing. It rocketed in an arch across my knee with the string attached and landed on the bed next to me.

  I examined the tampon and then the pad. “I’ll use the pads,” I said in order to make my aunt happy and to shut her up about the whole menstrual cycle thing.

  Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  I know she kept talking, but I disappeared into my mind.

  She finally finished and hugged me. Her touch felt empty, but I still didn’t want her to let me go.

  “It’ll be okay.” Aunt Lori rocked me in her embrace. “I just had to give Wendy the same talk last summer.”

  Oh no. Wendy! I wondered then. Was I his first? His last?

  Instantly I became afraid for Wendy. It hurt me to think that The Monster could have hurt her too. I leaned forward and groaned.

  “What is it, honey?”

  More groans.

  “You sound like you’re hurting.”

  I nodded.

  “That’s the cramps, sweetie. Menstrual cramps. They’ll go away. Sometimes it helps to take a cold shower.”

  After she left the bedroom, I laid down on the bed and pulled my legs up tight to my chest. A few minutes later Oreo jumped up on the bed. He lay down next to me and started purring. That sound, the sound of happiness, comforted me. It softened all the sharp edges of life. It was my favorite sound in the whole world. Then he started making biscuits with his paws. That was what my mom called it when cats kneaded their front paws on something soft, but I knew that’s what they did when they wanted to nurse.

  I rubbed his head. “I know you want your mother. I want my mine too.”

  I cried softly so no one would hear me. My tears disappeared into his fur, but he didn’t care. He was my only confidant.

  Since I didn’t sleep much the night before, I was dead tired. I listened to Oreo purring until I fell asleep.

  After I got up, I went to the porch and found my cousins and aunt at the table, playing cards.

  “Are you feeling better, honey?” Aunt Lori asked.

  “A little,” I lied.

  I sat down to join them but as soon as I did, I heard Uncle Butch’s car approaching. I immediately tensed up and my palms got sweaty.

  A few seconds later he pulled the car up in front of the porch and parked. I watched through the screen to see what would happen next.

  Uncle Butch and Bob got out of the station wagon and stretched. Then Uncle Butch pulled a white bucket out from the trunk while Bob removed his fishing pole.

  “Your daddy sure is a good fisherman,” Bob said.

  “He’s not my daddy,” I said, but no one heard me.

  “See you later, Butch,” Bob said and then went into his cottage.

  After Bob left, Uncle Butch reached inside the bucket. With a swoosh, he held up a stringer of fish. “I got dinner.”

  “Daddy’s home and he has some fish,” Paige called out to her mother excitedly.

  Aunt Lori walked over to the door. “Well, I’ll be.” She had a genuine smile. I wanted to run to her and hide from The Monster, but I was frozen.

  I looked at the fish, each one strung from gill to mouth on the thin rope, spots of blood on their bodies and running from their mouths. Even though there was a screen between us, I could still see their dead hopeless eyes.

  “You’ll have to clean them. I don’t want to have anything to do with all that mess.” A strand of Aunt Lori’s blond hair fell across the side of her face and she brushed it off.

  “It’s just a little blood and guts. It won’t kill you.” He walked to the picnic table in the muddy yard and set the fish down. Aunt Lori sighed and went into the kitchen while I continued watching Uncle Butch.

  He walked back over to the car and got out his tackle box, then went back over to the fish. He pulled out a filet knife. It gleamed in the sunlight. “Come here, girls. I’ll show you how to clean a fish.” I remained a chameleon, blending into the background to avoid The Monster that had replaced Uncle Butch.

  The screen door banged shut as Paige ran to her dad. He put the knife down and hugged her. Wendy stayed on the porch with me.

  He looked at us. “Wendy, bring me some newspaper would you, honey?”

  “Are you coming?” Wendy asked me.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m sorry you don’t feel good,” she said. She smiled a genuine smile. Not the fake Sympathy Smile Aunt Lori gave me. “Sorry about your dad too.” She said so much without saying anything at all. She seemed smarter than a thirteen year old. Smarter than both Aunt Lori and Uncle Butch.

  At that moment, I realized that I loved her like a sister. “Thanks.”

  Wendy reluctantly grabbed a pile of old newspaper and went to her dad.

  “You don’t want to learn how to gut a fish, Chris?” He gave me The Stare Down. His eyes searched mine, like he was waiting for me to say something. Something about last night. It took me a few seconds, and then I realized that it wasn’t just a look, but a challenge. Would I say anything about last night?

  “No. I don’t want to see any blood or guts.”

  “Okay. But you don’t know what you’re missing,” Uncle Butch said.

  Wendy and Paige shrugged and turned their attention to Uncle Butch, who reached into the bucket and removed a fish from the stringer. I went to our bedroom to watch from a safer distance.

  I knew what was in store for those dead fish. With one push, Uncle Butch inserted the filet knife into the belly and wiggled it up to the head. He took his thumbs and spread the fish wide, allowing for the guts to spill out from the body.

  Aunt Lori came into the bedroom while I was looking out the window. She put her arm on my shoulder. “Honey, where are your cousins?”

  “They’re outside helping Uncle Butch clean the fish.”

  “What?” She looked out the window just as Uncle Butch handed the knife to Wendy. Then Wendy plunged the knife into the belly of a limp fish. She forced the knife up toward the head, struggling to keep hold of the fish and the knife.

  After a minute of struggling, she lost her grip and the knife landed point down just inches from her foot. Uncle Butch plucked the knife from the ground and held it up in front of him.

 
“It’s okay. That was good for your first try.” He took the fish from her and placed the blade into the cut she had started. “Let me show you the proper way to do it.” He plunged the knife deep into its belly and forced his way up to the head.

  “I swear that man doesn’t have a lick of sense sometimes.” She left and I looked back out the window to watch.

  “I don’t want those girls around that knife! You hear me?” Aunt Lori said from the porch.

  “They’re not going to get hurt,” Uncle Butch said.

  “I just watched as Wendy almost lost a toe!”

  “You’re exaggerating. Besides, you treat them like they’re babies.”

  “And you treat them like they’re adults, and they’re not.” She yelled louder than I have ever heard her. It made me nervous because I had never heard her raise her voice to him before. Everybody stopped talking.

  He looked at her for a long while, then turned quickly and plunged the knife into the picnic table. The handle wobbled and then steadied itself.

  I thought about Uncle Butch and the fish all day, but I didn’t have to see him again until dinner. Aunt Lori had fried the fish in beer batter and the whole house smelled like fish and grease. Every time I looked at my plate, I saw those dead fish eyes staring up at me. I ate my hushpuppies and corn, but pushed the fish around on my plate. I just couldn’t bring myself to put the fish into my mouth.

  “May I be excused?” The fish smell stuck to me like sweat, and I felt the need to shower.

  “What is it, honey? Are you still feeling bad?” Aunt Lori asked.

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my abdomen. “Cramps.”

  “Okay, sweetie, you’re excused.”

  Uncle Butch was shoveling fish into his mouth. Then he put his fork down and looked up at me with his black eyes. “Chris, will you get me another beer while you’re up?”

  I didn’t move.

  “Honey, is everything okay?” Aunt Lori asked.

  “No.”

  “What is it?” Aunt Lori asked.

  I looked hard at Uncle Butch. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was holding his breath, staring at me.

  “What is it?” Aunt Lori asked again.

  A riot was forming in my head and I couldn’t think. I was going to tell!

  But then I remembered what he said about my mother. About how the truth would kill my mother and me becoming an orphan. If I told, it would also hurt my aunt and cousins, spreading the pain even more, changing everyone’s life forever. It just seemed like it would cause a huge ripple effect and we would all drown from the pain that The Monster had caused. Was that fair?

  I lost my nerve. “Nothing.”

  In his victory of keeping me silent, he said again, “Chris, get me a beer.”

  Everyone stopped talking. Aunt Lori sized me up. She looked like she was trying to figure something out about me.

  “I’ll get the beer,” Wendy said. She was becoming my protector.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” Uncle Butch said.

  No one knew what I was feeling. The riot was now blinding me and I left, leaving everyone but Uncle Butch in a state of confusion.

  I went to the bathroom to take a shower and to cool off. While in the shower, I clenched my hands into fists. My red painted fingernails looked like drops of blood against my skin.

  I soaped up my body, starting with my face and working my way down my body. My face, my arms, my chest.

  My thighs.

  The thighs that Reds caressed in the pool. The thighs my uncle bruised. I felt so dirty. I scrubbed between my legs, over my thighs again. I repeated the action over and over again as if I could erase the feeling of their touch. Erase what happened. But as hard as I tried, no amount of soap could make me feel clean.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trapped

  SINCE WE WERE on restriction, the time passed slowly. By Tuesday, Aunt Lori felt sorry for us, so after breakfast she asked, “Wendy, do you guys want to go to the pool with us today? I promise I won’t tell your father.”

  “Okay,” Wendy said.

  I wanted to go too, but then I thought about my bruised thighs. I did a good job of hiding them under my clothes, but I couldn’t hide them in just a bathing suit. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to go.” I was a prisoner not only in the cottage, but in my own skin.

  Wendy looked at me, puzzled. “Why? This is our chance to get out of the cottage.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to go.” I shrugged. “But you should go.”

  She thought about it, a little too long, then reluctantly said, “No, it’s okay, I’ll stay here with you.”

  “Suit yourselves,” Aunt Lori said, disappearing into the master bedroom.

  “Why don’t you want to go?” Wendy asked.

  I dreaded the question and didn’t want to get into it. How was I going to explain my black and blue bruises? I shrugged and left it at that.

  Wendy and I spent most of the day watching the antics of Oreo and chasing him around. We talked a lot but there was a cloud hanging over us. Like Wendy wanted to ask me something but couldn’t. It became a big fat question mark that we both ignored.

  A few hours later, Aunt Lori and Paige returned. After Paige changed out of her wet bathing suit, she plopped down next to us on the couch in the living room.

  “Are you and Mom going to the pool again tomorrow?” Wendy asked.

  “I think so, why?”

  “I want you to find out from Julie what’s going on with the gang,” Wendy said. We hadn’t seen or talked to anyone since the dance on Friday before we were grounded.

  “Julie will never talk to me,” Paige said.

  “I know, but I want you to give her a note. Can you do that for me?” Wendy asked.

  “Why should I?”

  “Paige? Will you do it for me if you won’t do it for Wendy?” I asked. She seemed reluctant, so I used my secret weapon. “Please? I’ll let you sleep with Oreo tonight.”

  “You will?” She didn’t seem to believe me. “You promise?”

  “Yes, I promise. Will you please try? That’s all I ask.” I put Oreo down and he went over to Paige and rubbed his head against her leg. She picked him up and kissed his tiny face.

  “Okay.” She cuddled the kitten a little too long and he squirmed to get down.

  “Do you want to feed him?” I asked, to keep her from being disheartened.

  We went into the kitchen and got the kitten food and scooped it into his bowl. Then I told her to wash his water bowl and fill it with fresh water. He had a healthy appetite for such a tiny kitten.

  “You’re going to be a fat cat if you keep eating like that, Oreo,” I said.

  Paige stroked him as he ate, but he didn’t like it. He meowed at her.

  “He just doesn’t like when you touch him when he’s eating,” I said. “Wait until he’s finished and then you can play with him.”

  Wendy and I got out a piece of paper and a pen and sat down at the kitchen table. We wrote a note to Julie. What have you guys been doing? We’ve been on restriction since the dance.

  That sounded stupid so we started again. In her best handwriting, Wendy wrote,

  Julie, we are on restriction, but we will be at the Fourth of July dance. Come by our cottage after work.

  Wendy folded the note and gave it to Paige, but before she let go of it, she said sternly, “Don’t let anyone see this. Give it to Julie tomorrow at the pool. Be sneaky. Slip it in under her towel or put it in her pool bag to make sure she gets it.”

  I looked at Wendy. We hadn’t thought this through. “Okay, suppose Julie does get the note? Have you stopped to think that we may still be on restriction on the Fourth of July?”

  “No,” Wendy said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Wendy looked at me. “Well, for one thing, I’ve never missed a Fourth of July party at Shady Grove since I was born. For another thing, my dad loves the Fourth of July party because of the dance competition, which he and Mom
have won seven years in a row. He’s a legend at the party. Everyone comes to watch my parents dance, and he’ll let us go because he loves an audience. Trust me.”

  “Do you think he’ll let us go to the party this Friday night?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask him tonight, if he’s in a good mood, and see what he says.”

  “I hope so.” I sank further into the couch cushions. Oreo jumped onto my lap and started purring.

  Wendy played cards with Paige on the porch until Uncle Butch came home from work. As soon as he put his keys down on the table, Wendy went to the refrigerator and got him a beer.

  “How was your day, Daddy?” She handed him the beer and he sat at the table and opened the beer first, then the newspaper.

  I kept my distance from him as much as possible, careful not to look at him directly for fear he would use the now familiar Stare Down tactic to keep me quiet.

  “Thanks, honey. Your daddy sure is tired.” He took a swig of beer and then lit a cigarette. “What a terrible day.”

  Aunt Lori emerged from the kitchen and kissed him on the cheek. “Bad day?”

  He put the newspaper down. “That lazy son of a—”

  “Watch your language in front of the girls.” Ironic. She wanted to protect me from Uncle Butch’s bad words, but couldn’t protect me from The Monster.

  “Charlie took an order without checking to see if we had the supplies in, and told the customer that we could install her kitchen cabinets next week, and now I have to call her and explain . . .” He got up from the table, grabbed his beer, and took it with him as he left the cottage in a huff. The door slammed behind him.

  Aunt Lori sighed heavily.

  “Is Daddy okay?” Paige asked.

  “He’s just a little stressed about work, that’s all. Everything’s okay. Go back to playing. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

  They continued playing cards.

  He came back a half hour later and didn’t seem any better. He sat in the chair that seemed to have lost all its stuffing.

  I didn’t dare move for fear I would cause unwanted attention. I was getting good at becoming a chameleon, blending into the background. I avoided drawing attention to myself as much as possible.

 

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