Carry Me Home

by Jessica Therrien

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. We can’t afford for you to quit your job. It’s hard enough to get by with you taking summers off. And if you think I’m paying your way through school, you’re crazy. You think you’re the only one who gave things up for this family? Maybe I want to go back to school.”

  “Look, I haven’t got it all figured out yet, but I will figure it out, and when I do, I’ll make sure that I’m pulling my weight. I don’t want to take a few classes here and there and have this take forever. If I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it. The money I borrow will be worth it once I’m getting a teacher’s salary instead of the measly $10,000 I’m bringing in a year. Think about it. It makes sense.”

  “You’ll bring in at least $10,000 a year and go to school, or you won’t go. I’m not putting you through school. What has gotten into you, anyway? You wanted children, remember? Oh, I’ll do all of the work. It won’t change me,” he mocks.

  “Honey, I’ve lost myself. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  “You’re their mother! And you won’t put that on me. You want to go to school, go ahead, but don’t ask for my help. I won’t babysit or help you, but you go ahead. You’re going to do whatever you want anyway. Why do you need my permission?”

  “I want you to be excited for me. This is a big step. I’ve put my dream of graduating from college off for a long time.”

  “Yeah, and why aren’t we living on our boat anymore? Huh? You got pregnant, remember? You wanted this. This is what YOU wanted. Well you got it and the hell with what it cost anyone else.”

  “I know, I know. You had to give things up too, and you can pursue your dreams if you want. That’s what I’m trying to say. We need to stop just living and move forward. The girls are at the point where they don’t even need a babysitter. Let’s not get in a big fight over something that won’t even be an issue. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? I’m sure I can pull in the money, and I won’t ask you for anything.”

  Once again I’m begging for my life and letting him off the hook at the same time, something I always do. I can’t bring myself to stand up to him, to point out the fact that he’s their father. That “helping me” or “babysitting” would be considered normal parenting to anyone else. I will do this alone because I’m afraid of him. I’m always afraid. Afraid he’ll be mad. Afraid he’ll leave me. Afraid I’ll muster the guts to stay gone. Afraid to be alone.

  My mantra: keep everyone happy, all the time. Everyone, except me.

  “We’ll see,” he says.

  I hang up and lean back in my father’s beat up recliner, feeling myself sink into the imprinted groove he’s formed by watching countless hours of golf and nature shows. It cradles me.

  The conversation was defeating, but also eye-opening. I’m not the only one who has lost me. I don’t want to do this anymore, fight for every inch of my happiness. No matter how hard I try he’s never happy. I swallow down my fear, afraid to admit the truth, but knowing it like a kept secret. My marriage is over.

  CHAPTER 7

  Lucy

  “ARE YOU EXCITED, GUERA?” Ro nudges me as we slink along the sidewalk that runs under the freeway. Rona and Veronica are leading the way and the other girls are behind us with Leti.

  “Hell yeah,” I say, but it’s a lie. I push my fingers against my leg to crack my knuckles. I’ve already done it a thousand times so they don’t pop. I don’t want to do this, but I don’t want to chicken out either.

  We’re looking for a fight. Vee says I’m ready for a one-on-one, to think of it as training for when shit gets real. She knows there are girls at the park from a clique she doesn’t get along with, so that’s where we’re headed.

  When we get there I scan the area hoping it’ll be empty. It’s not. I see six cholitas, which means I won’t be the only one fighting today.

  They notice us approaching and stand up from their picnic table. There are seven of us so we outnumber them, but I’m new. And scared.

  We slowly come face to face with each other and Veronica eyeballs the pretty one in front. I get the feeling she’s their “queen”.

  Veronica smiles in a sweet, friendly way, and for a minute I think this whole thing is a joke. Someone is punking me. Then Vee pops little chica in the face so hard I hear the snap of bone and her nose gushes.

  The rest happens fast.

  Someone yells at me from behind to take down the smallest one. She looks mean, but maybe her stenciled eyebrows have just been drawn at too much of an angle. When she catches me watching she turns to run, and I take off after her, letting my natural instincts give over to the chase. I hear the violence around me, but don’t have time to stop and look.

  Someone screams. “Fucking bitch...”

  I catch the girl in front of me by the hair. It’s long and black like a horse’s tail. I yank it back, overly confident that I have the advantage. My first mistake. She turns, an angry groan ripping through her clenched teeth, and shoves me to the sidewalk. I hit my head against the park bench, and the sharp sting begins to throb. Despite the pain, I jump to my feet. I have to react or take the beating.

  We stare at each other for a split second, breathing hard and waiting for the other to move. Her makeup is caked on like a layer of beige frosting filling in her pockmarked cheeks. It creases as she smirks.

  “Fucking wanna-be bitch.”

  It’s the wrong thing to say. Those words challenge me to prove myself. I lunge forward and swing my fists in a wild rage. Once I have her hair tangled around my fingers I do the first thing I can think of and slam her head into my knee over and over again. My heart races, enraged by her taunting and fueled by the pack mentality. I get carried away and smash her cheek against the concrete until she’s limp and her face is painted red.

  The site of her blood dripping from my hands snaps me out of the violent fit. Instant regret turns my stomach into a sick nauseating knot. She’s not moving.

  I’m rigid as I stare at her lying at my feet. The moments are glacial. Slow and terrifying. I wait for her to groan, to shake the daze away and come to. She doesn’t.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I utter under my breath in a quick repetitive plea.

  My fingernails scrape at my scalp as I comb my hair away from my widening eyes. My throat turns dry and tight with the threat of tears, but sirens steal my focus, and I can’t wait any longer. I nudge her with my foot.

  Please!

  My fear turns to anger. Why did she have to taunt me? Wake up dammit!

  I kick her in the ribs, and her body takes the hit like a bag of cement.

  “Guera 5-0. Book it!” I look up debating whether or not to stay and face what I’ve done.

  There isn’t time to think it through.

  I run.

  Tears chill my cheeks as I push myself as fast as I can go. The urge to stop and hurl is overwhelming, but the fear is stronger, and I let my racing pulse propel me forward.

  I follow the girls into an alley, breathing hard as I slow behind them. Finally, I allow myself to hunch over and puke beside a dumpster. The smell doesn’t help, and it keeps coming as the girls talk up ahead.

  Their voices are gleeful, laughing and excited. “I beat that bitch straight. She’ll be marked for life. I shanked her face. Lower left eye. Almost took the fucker out.”

  “Suga had me for a quick minute, but I took that shit back. She didn’t know what was coming when I hit her. Straight shattered her cheek I think. Left me a nice cut though, check it.”

  I stand and try to control my shaking as the girls show off their wounds like badges of honor earned in battle. My fists are still clenched and covered in blood. Even as I watch them I can’t escape the image of that black-haired girl, lifeless on the ground.

  “How’d you do, Guera?” Ro takes me to the side and puts her arm over my shoulder. I immediately start to cry, almost giving in to moaning hysterics.

  “Stop that shit before Veronica sees you. They don’t handle tears on t
he streets. You only get a tear when you get a kill, okay?”

  “I think I can cry then,” I whisper as I try and stop before they hear it in my voice.

  The Rosa I’ve known since I was five suddenly drops the tough-chick act. She gives me a flat, blank stare. “What do you mean?”

  “She was out, Rosa.” I wipe my cheeks. “She stopped moving and there was blood. Her whole face...it was covered. I hit her head on the pavement. She, she stopped moving after that, but I kept hitting her. I couldn’t stop.”

  She steps forward, as if to hug me, but stops herself. Instead she leans in and whispers. “Careful. You can’t back out now. No police. None of that shit.”

  My throat burns with the urge to sob, but Ro shoves me playfully, as if we never shared that secret moment.

  “Damn, Guera,” she shouts. “Yo Vee, we might have one out. Guera here rocked the life out of Littles.”

  Everyone quiets. I’m Guera, the little “white girl”. I’m not supposed to know how to fight or have the guts to kill. My heart speeds up until the only thing I hear is the thrumming rhythm of my pulse.

  “No shit, Guera? Tell me what happened?” Veronica demands. “I gotta know right away if they’re coming for us now.”

  I’m paralyzed with fear. Terrified of what will happen if I tell her the truth, but even more afraid of lying. “I don’t know. I can’t remember everything. It all happened so fast.”

  She moves in close, putting her arm around my shoulder, and I can’t help but notice how she smells like sweet vanilla even after slugging a girl in the face. “Just start from the top and walk with me. Ladies, move up. Let us have a minute.” They all listen to her, and then it’s just us. Me and the queen.

  “She hit me first,” I start. As we head away from the girls, the gravely dirt of this rundown dumpster alley cracks under our shoes. I run through the clipped memories of what happened, reliving the moment I uncaged the beast of rage inside of me, and confess it all to Vee.

  “After I slammed her good on the ground, she wasn’t moving anymore,” I finish, touching my blood-dampened hair. “I smacked my head on the bench. I think it’s bleeding still, but I don’t know.” There’s too much blood on my hands to know what’s mine.

  I pause, staring at the red creases of my palms, and run through all the what-ifs. When I pull away from Vee’s arm, every worry I have comes spewing out in a long string of words. “I don’t know if her heart was beating. I didn’t have time to check. I know she didn’t get away, though. If she’s alive, the cops must have her. I know she got a good look at me. She’s going to tell them exactly what I look like, and they’re going to come find me. If not, she’s dead and my fingerprints are all over her—”

  Vee puts a hand to my shoulder, stopping my rant.

  “Well Guera, congrats on your first K.O.,” she says, completely ignoring how scared I am. “You for sure knocked the bitch out. Littles is a crazy little fuck head.” It’s strange hearing such harsh words come out of her pretty mouth. “She can usually take hits. It takes a lot to take that little hina down. I’m proud of you. You did good. We got to teach you restraint, though. You never want to take someone out with your hands. We got tools for that. No trace left behind. We call Kim ‘Trace’ because she never leaves a trace and always makes sure the job gets done.”

  She fixes her hair as she talks, combing it back up into a smooth ponytail like it simply came loose in the wind. No big deal.

  “Now as for Littles,” she continues. “I think you caused some damage, but I don’t think she’s gone. She’s too stubborn for that. We’ll need to keep a low profile on you for a few days. Let the news get out that we’ve got a newbie who rocked Littles.” She laughs. “That’s going to start some shit. I really thought she was going to blow you away.”

  She smiles at me, and I try to smile back, but it’s forced. I’m hardly listening until she mentions the police. “With the pigs, there’s a strict rule there. One, she doesn’t know who you are or what your background is so she won’t want to do anything ‘til she gets info on you. Two, she’s not a rat. She is the type that’s going to come back for you. But next time she won’t be just using her fists. She’ll be armed. We got to get a shank on you. You ever see one of these?”

  She pulls out a long silver metal tube and places it in my hand. It has a razor at the end but is really light. Longer than my palm but not by much, just enough so that I can make a fist around it and only the razor would be exposed.

  I answer a timid, “No.” Her apple cheeks and bronze skin are hypnotizing.

  “Well this is a shank, and we use this to make serious damage when we know things are going to get bloody. That was just a fight. There was no territory involved. Next time we throw down we won’t be looking for it. It’ll find us, or something will happen and we’ll have to retaliate or defend. Those are the fights that count. You keep this one. I have a few more I can get my hands on.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Ruth

  I FIND MOM CRYING quietly in the bathroom. For a moment, I stay outside, watching secretly through the cracked door. She wipes her cheeks with toilet paper, sitting on the floor against the bath. The site of her puffy face and dimpled chin is a familiar one. We cry a lot, my mother and I. Lucy’s the one who’s tough as nails.

  Still, something about seeing Mom so vulnerable this morning shakes the fragile foundation of my 17-year-old world. It isn’t right that I’m the one to comfort her, but I can’t help it. It’s what I’ve always done.

  I open the door and step in. She doesn’t try to conceal her tears. We’ve been here before, and I know she’s waiting for my reassuring words.

  “What happened?”

  She lets out a deep sigh. “Dad.” Her eyes flicker toward the door. “Can Grandma and Grandpa hear me?”

  “No. The TV’s too loud.”

  I sit beside her, absorbing her distress into my own heart. I can’t stand the way my father treats her. I’ve been team Mom for years now.

  “Why don’t you just get a divorce?” I ask.

  “It’s not that simple. He makes the money. Besides where would we go?” She scoffs. “Here?”

  I eyeball the dirty linoleum curling up from the floor at the base of the sink. I love my grandparents, but definitely not here.

  “I don’t know,” I answer. I just need her to be happy. When she shuts down I start to unravel. “Who cares as long as we have each other? You can figure it out. You always do. You can find a job in Reno and—”

  “We can’t live in Reno,” she interrupts. The mention of it brings on a fresh torrent of tears. “There are casinos everywhere.”

  I concede her point. Every few months I talk her down from the hysterical fit that comes after she’s lost the mortgage payment to her gambling addiction.

  “Then we stay here. Just for a little longer until you figure things out.”

  “What about you guys? It’s almost August. School’s supposed to start in a month and a half. I’ll have to get you enrolled here, and what about your friends? Lucy will be so mad.”

  “None of that matters,” I say, even though she’s right. Lucy will throw a fit, but secretly I’ve been hoping we’ll stay in the city. I’m bigger than our small town. In Massack, it doesn’t matter how smart, pretty or sweet you are. Families have been in that valley for generations. It’s like the caste system. If yours isn’t high on the social ladder, you aren’t either. I’m stuck being a b-level geek no matter what I do.

  “Maybe.” Mom considers it, and I can hear the whisper of opportunity.

  I can’t go back to Massack High to perform more plays in our gym. I’ve got a heart full of Broadway show tunes and a dancer’s body. The city beckons me. They’ll have a real stage at any of these schools, and maybe even art class or ballet. It’s where I belong. Besides, I’ll find love if we stay, I just know it.

  “It’ll be fine,” I promise her. I wrap my arms around her pillowy upper body, squeezing her into a hug.


  She nods and sniffles, hugging me back.

  I am her anchor. Her mule to haul the burden. I am her confessional, the forgiver of sins. She has groomed me to love her, and I do, wholeheartedly, unconditionally. Because that’s how she loves me.

  CHAPTER 9

  Lucy

  “WAIT, RO...” I SAY, looking at the green street signs hovering above me in the shadowy night sky. We aren’t heading home from the store like we’re supposed to. “Where are we going?”

  She cuts across the middle of the busy road, forcing cars to stop too fast as she passes through the gleam of their headlights. I follow without question and catch the glare of an old Asian man who honks his horn.

  “Toño and Angel’s crib,” she answers when we reach the sidewalk.

  My stomach flutters with nerves, but we walk in silence up a staircase to the number 53 apartment. I think for a second they must have known we were coming, because the door is open. But as I get closer it gets louder.

  Inside, there are at least twenty people sitting either on the floor or on the single brown couch in front of a beat-up entertainment system with a TV. They’re all drinking beer and smoking cigarettes.

  I see Angel talking to Vee. She’s sitting on the kitchen counter between him and someone I don’t recognize, laughing and telling them a story or something. The way she keeps touching Angel’s arm makes me think they have something going on, but he keeps smiling at me. It makes me nervous. The last thing I need is to crush on the queen’s man. I suddenly hate myself for liking him at all.

  I take a seat on the floor against the wall and watch everyone, picking up on a few conversations about the fight that happened a few days ago. They’re still talking about it. Rona took a good hit to the eye but she seems pleased with her recovery. Kim battered the shit out of two of the girls with some help from Cynthia. Ro took on a chick about her size and they had a pretty even outcome.

  But nobody has heard a thing about Littles. Part of me doesn’t want to know. What if I did kill her? Would I turn myself in? My life would be over. Thinking about it makes my whole body flush with fear. I start to sweat and breathe harder. I bite my lip in the same spot too many times.