In Control (The City Series)

by Crystal Serowka

  After a quick one finger salute, I followed Wren inside.

  Three days had passed since I last saw Porter. 72 hours spent doing the same routine all while consumed with thoughts of when I’d get to see him again. Waking up: I wonder if he’s still sleeping. Taking a shower: I wonder what kind of shampoo Porter uses. Eating the flavorless food set out for me: I wonder what delicious pastry Porter is enjoying right now. Everything I did steered back to him.

  Mrs. Hall asked me yesterday if I could come over and help with her laundry. I’d never done laundry before, since that was Tommy’s job, but I jumped at the chance of doing something other than watching the hours pass by. As I got dressed, I thought of what Porter was wearing that day.

  The kitchen was empty, which surprised me since it was typically the time the Hendersons ate breakfast. I’d never been the first one there, so I wasn’t sure if I should get my own bowl of oatmeal. I stayed in the doorway, trying to decide if making my own food would get me into trouble. I didn’t hear any other sounds around me, so I walked to the cabinet and grabbed a bowl. The pantry was just to the left of it, and I reached in and grabbed the steel cut oats.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Henderson’s sharp tone cut through the silence like a chainsaw.

  Hearing her voice caused me to drop the box, midway through pouring the oats, in fear. It landed onto the floor, the contents spilling everywhere.

  “I’m so sorry!” I cried, quickly dropping down to scoop the remnants into my hands.

  “Get up,” she fumed.

  I stood, still holding the oats in both hands. “I’m so sor—”

  “Shut up!” Mrs. Henderson raced toward me and pushed my body into the refrigerator. “You stupid little girl! Who do you think you are coming into my kitchen and treating yourself?”

  The handle to the refrigerator dug into my back, but I tried concentrating on anything else. Mrs. Henderson’s face was red and each of her hands were holding tightly onto my wrists.

  “Answer me!” she ordered.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “You’re sorry. You’re so sorry!” she mocked. “I asked you a question, little girl. Answer it.”

  “I thought you and Mr. Henderson were still asleep. I was hungry and I didn’t want to bother you.” My body was already trembling.

  Mrs. Henderson’s lips perked up into an evil grin. Her eyes followed the length of my body before stopping on my face. “My precious boy isn’t here to save you this time.” She grabbed onto my throat and as she spoke, her grip tightened. “We keep you around because the older you get, the more money we get to care for you, but just know that as soon as you’re eighteen, your time is up in this house.” With one last menacing look, she released me.

  Air was finally able to escape and I bent down, trying to stifle my coughing.

  “Get out of my kitchen. You won’t be eating today.”

  As soon as I heard her footsteps climb the stairs, I allowed the tears I’d been holding back to pour down my face. My appetite had disappeared, though I knew it would come back soon and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. My throat was burning and the skin around each of my wrists was a bright pink. My heavy breathing became more active with each second that passed. I knew I had to move, I had to get out of the house, but my body felt like it was glued to the fridge.

  I should have been upset by what Mrs. Henderson said. I was just a paycheck to them, but I was more concerned with the time. I wouldn’t turn eighteen for another four years and seven months. That meant almost five more years of being treated like a vile creature. I couldn’t last that much longer—my body couldn’t last that much longer.

  Before any more time could pass, I pushed myself forward. My feet were like a ton of bricks, making it impossible to hurry out of the kitchen. All I wanted to do was collapse on the cold tile and allow my body the time it needed to repair, though I knew that while I was still living under this roof, it never would. By the time I got downstairs, I felt like an hour had passed. The top of my shirt was soaked from tears and if I had to guess, my neck was already bruised from Mrs. Henderson’s tight grip.

  I lay down on the bed I had made out of old clothes. I still couldn’t sleep on my mattress no matter how many times I’d tried convincing myself that I’d washed the remnants of that night away, that there weren’t any traces of him left anywhere on my body or the mattress. Still, it was too much to endure. My bed was now the scene of a crime.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I focused on the cobweb spun in the corner. The elaborate silk of the web formed an amazing, intricate orb. Fixating on the cobweb helped me forget about the pain. The longer I studied it, the easier it became to pretend I was somewhere else. I squeezed my eyes shut and could almost feel the warm sand underneath me. I’d never been to a beach, but could have sworn I smelled the ocean.

  The commotion upstairs interrupted my fantasy. The children were sitting down for breakfast, which meant it was 6:30 on the dot. I heard them laughing, talking to each other about what fun things they’d get to do with Jenny that day. I was envious of them. They got to enjoy family life while I stood on the outside looking in. Andrew tried including me, but it was like inviting someone to a pool party who didn’t know how to swim. I stayed on the ledge, always fearing the deep end.

  Since everyone was enjoying themselves in the kitchen, it was my chance to leave the house. Mrs. Hall didn’t need me until 7:30, but I couldn’t stay in this place another second. Hearing Mrs. Henderson speak to the other children, treating them like they were all precious metals, made me feel more and more like an outcast. I was treated that same way the first month I was here, then once I got comfortable, once I thought I was safe and sound, the rug was pulled from underneath me.

  I quietly opened the basement door, listening closely to the chatter. Mr. and Mrs. Henderson were talking over one another about who was going to pick up the groceries that night. It was the same argument they had every week. I heard Drew telling Ava about the accident he saw as he was walking home from his friend’s house yesterday. In full detail, he explained how a huge machine had to come and rip the car door off from the trapped SUV, and how ambulance workers carried out the man and immediately started working on him. No matter how much Ava begged him to stop, Drew continued.

  While I had the opportunity, I quietly stepped into the hallway, making sure I kept my back to the wall the entire time. I smiled to myself, finding it funny that I was only trying to escape a house—it felt more like trying to escape a prison.

  To my surprise, I made it out without notice. By the time I got to Mrs. Hall’s, I was still forty minutes early, but I knocked on her door anyway.

  “Oh dear, I’m still in my robe. You’re early,” Mrs. Hall stated as she hugged her robe to her chest.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I woke up early and just decided to come now.”

  “Come in then,” she said, opening the door only a few inches more to allow me to fit through.

  I stepped into Mrs. Hall’s home and was greeted by her three parrots. Bogart, Chaplin, and Gable were like children to her. She had real life kids, but since they were all grown up, the birds sort of replaced them.

  “Mrs. Hall?”

  “Yes, dear?” Mrs. Hall closed her front door and turned to look at me.

  “Why did you name your birds such weird names?”

  After a silent minute, Mrs. Hall laughed, almost as if she were reminiscing. “They aren’t weird names. They’re all wonderful,” she corrected. “My birds were named after some of the best Hollywood stars to ever grace the big screen.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of their movies,” I admitted.

  “Then you’re missing out, my girl. Humphrey Bogart, Charlie Chaplin, and Clark Gable were three men who knew what it took to make it in show business. Their talent far exceeds what we see nowadays.” Mrs. Hall shook her head and looked at me as if she were disappointed.

  “Maybe I’ll see one of t
heir movies someday at the theater,” I answered, thinking about the last time I was there. Maybe Porter could take me again.

  “Oh dear, they don’t make movies anymore, but I could loan you a few tapes,” Mrs. Hall said as she walked toward her TV. “You do have a VHS, right?”

  “VHS?” I asked.

  “Yes. To play the tapes.” Mrs. Hall spun back around.

  “Oh! Yes, we do have one of those.”

  “Then here you go,” she said, handing me the three tapes. “Please keep them in good condition. I know how many kids are in that house of yours. Don’t let them fool around with my videos.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I carefully placed the videos on the table near the front door. I wasn’t sure when I would be able to watch them, since I wasn’t allowed to use the machines, but maybe I could ask if Porter would like to watch them with me. Maybe he’d invite me to his house and we’d sit close together on his couch with a big popcorn bowl on his lap. Maybe he’d reach for my hand and hold it tightly as we watched the movies back to back.

  “Kingsley?” Mrs. Hall’s voice broke into my daydream.

  “Sorry. What?”

  “Daydreaming about something nice?”

  “No, not really,” I said, though my smile gave everything away.

  “I’ve had that smile before, young lady. It’s a smile that you only have when you’re in love. I had it the entire time Mr. Hall was alive.”

  Mrs. Hall’s face became sad. I knew she’d lost her husband two years ago, after a sudden heart attack. They’d been married for fifty years and just like that, he was gone. Mrs. Hall told me that once you lose the love of your life, a veil is cast over your entire world. Everything appears darker, almost like it’s nighttime year round. I think that after Mr. Hall died, a piece of her heart died too.

  I read a story in a newspaper not long ago about a married couple that spent 73 years of their lives together. They died one week apart and the story went on to say that when you spend that much time with a loved one, it’s like when they leave this world, your body stops working...it doesn’t see a point. As much as I was happy to have formed a friendship with Mrs. Hall, I was just waiting for the day that she’d follow Mr. Hall up into heaven. Her heart died along with Mr. Hall, so I knew soon enough, I’d have to say goodbye.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hall.” I reached out and touched her hand. “I’m sorry you lost the love of your life.”

  She gave a weak smile. “Thank you, dear. I just miss him so much.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, almost as if she were wishing the tears away. When she opened them, her face returned to normal. “Let’s get started on the laundry.”

  It took three hours to wash, dry, and fold all of Mrs. Hall’s laundry. In between washes, she’d tell me stories of how she used to travel the world as a flight attendant in the 1950s. She eagerly went into the back of her closet, and grabbed the old uniform she’d worn, which consisted of a long skirt, matching blazer, and a small hat that could never be removed while in flight. She told me how she and the other girls had to be aware of their weight at all times, because as a stewardess, you couldn’t weigh more than 132 pounds.

  “One of our girls was fired for weighing 140 pounds. They got rid of her, just like that,” Mrs. Hall said, shaking her head in disbelief.

  I threw my hands in the air. “That’s crazy!”

  “I know, and if one of the girls were to marry, it was automatic retirement. I had to wait until I was 33 to marry Mr. Hall, because after you were 32, you’re considered too old to be a flight attendant.”

  I sipped my glass of orange juice, listening intently to Mrs. Hall’s stories. I hung on her every word, imagining how wonderful it would be to see the whole world. I’ve never been out of New York, but dreamed of escaping someday. I wanted to see the beaches in Hawaii, pet the kangaroos in Australia, and ride the ocean waves in California. My list of dreams grew every day, and I knew that if I put my mind to it, like Mrs. Wilkinson said, I could achieve all of them.

  It was almost noon by the time all of Mrs. Hall’s laundry was put away. It was right around the time she typically took a nap, so I knew I should get out of her hair. After saying goodbye, I began walking around the city. As many times as I’d seen all of the shops that bordered my neighborhood, I still found it entertaining peeking through each window. Some windows were filled with fashionable mannequins, while others displayed tons of books. I was tempted to go into the bookstore, but knew that if I did, I wouldn’t ever want to leave. I loved reading, but could only get my hands on what was either at the library or in the boxes in the basement. My birthday was a few days before Christmas. I’d always ask for books, but the Hendersons would only get me two presents. For my birthday, it was always a new pair of sneakers. For Christmas, jeans.

  I walked past the bookstore and around the corner to see a pay phone. It practically screamed out to me, telling me to call Porter. I had all afternoon and not a thing to do, so why not?

  I took the school directory out of my book bag and scrolled through the H’s to find Porter’s number. Before placing two quarters in the machine, I took a deep breath, trying to hold back my excitement. Two rings and his sweet voice filled my ears.

  “Hi, Porter...it’s Kingsley. Hi.”

  “Hey! I didn’t know you had my number,” Porter said. He didn’t sound annoyed, he sounded excited.

  “Student directory,” I blurted.

  “Oh. Awesome!”

  “Um, well, I was calling to see if maybe you wanted to hang out?” I asked.

  One second, two seconds, three seconds of dead air. I wondered if Porter had hung up.

  “Porter?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m playing Grand Theft Auto. What did you say?”

  I could hear the television in the background. Gun shots, and screaming, and police intercoms, and all sorts of bad words.

  “Is that a game?”

  Porter laughed, then swore. “Sorry. Yes, it’s a video game.”

  “I see,” I replied. “Well, I was going to ask if you maybe wanted to hang out?”

  Another silent pause. Five seconds later, Porter finally answered.

  “Yeah, sure! Let me just finish my game and then I’ll meet you somewhere.”

  “I’ve got these videotapes we could watch. My friend loaned them to me,” I suggested.

  “Tapes? Like VHS tapes?”

  “Yeah, like VHS tapes,” I answered.

  “I think we still might have one of those,” Porter contemplated. “What movies? Action? Sci-fi?”

  “I don’t really know. I’ve never seen them. Let’s see,” I said, bending down to take out the tapes from my book bag. “City Lights, Casablanca, and Gone with the Wind.”

  “The only one I’ve actually heard of is Gone with the Wind, and that’s because my mom always says it’s her favorite movie,” Porter said with a slight edge in his voice. “It’s like a romantic movie I think.”

  “Oh, okay, never mind then,” I stammered, shoving the tapes back in the bag.

  “I didn’t say no!” Porter corrected. “It’s fine, we can watch one of yours and then maybe one of mine. It’ll be a tradeoff.” His beautiful laugh filled my ears, making my smile wider than an elephant’s behind.

  “Deal.” I couldn’t say more words because I was fearful I’d blurt out what was really on the tip of my tongue. Let’s hold hands the whole time, even if our palms get sweaty.

  Twenty minutes later, Porter stood across the street from where I was. As he waited for the walk signal, he stared right at me. He waved, then smiled, and my heart burst into pieces. So many butterflies filled my stomach, I began to feel queasy. I wanted to meet him in the middle of the street, jump into his arms, and kiss him right there. If it wasn’t such a busy street, I might have considered it.

  “Hi.” Porter finally approached me and with one greeting, the butterflies fled my stomach.

  I wasn’t sure how Porter made me feel so comfortable, but he did. The more I wa
s around him, the more I felt like I could be myself, let my nervous habits go, and just be a kid.

  “Hello,” I greeted.

  “I’m glad you called,” Porter confessed.

  “Really?” My eyes opened wide.

  “Yeah. Really.” Porter shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. “I lost my student directory, so I had no clue how to find your number. I was hoping you’d show up again at Cafe Grumpy, but it’s been three days. I was beginning to think you didn’t have fun at the movies.”

  “Oh, but I did!” I admitted too excitedly. “I mean, I had a blast.”

  “Good.” Porter looked back up at me and smiled. “So did I.”

  We looked away from one another and focused on the cars passing by. From the corner of my eye, I could see Porter look from me to the cars then back at me. When I looked over at him, he quickly turned his head back to the street.

  “So, wanna go back to your house?” I asked as I put my backpack on.

  “Yeah! My mom said she can make us some snacks for the movie.”

  With the mention of his mom, I got nervous. What if somehow she knew who the Hendersons were? What if she thought they were trashy people and didn’t want her son hanging out with me? My face must have displayed my worry, because Porter reached out for my hand.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No, um, I’m fine. I just got kinda nervous thinking about meeting your mom.”

  “Well, this should make you less nervous. I told her what movie you were bringing over for us to watch and she said that any girl that brings over her all-time favorite film is already an A+ in her book,” he assured me.

  With my nerves on the back burner, we walked to his house. The walk wasn’t long, and a few times, Porter would bump my shoulder purposefully. He would laugh, then I would laugh, then he’d reach his arm out to touch my elbow. He told me all about Grand Theft Auto and how he’d beaten it at least five times already. Just to keep from talking about myself, I continued to ask him questions about the game, specifically what the point of it was and why it was sounded so violent. Porter left no detail out, going into specifics of how the character in the game had to rise through the ranks of organized crime and how to progress through the storyline by stealing cars and assassinating other characters. To me, it sounded like a blood bath and something I never wanted to play. Of course, I didn’t let Porter know that.