And so it was that Constantine Masters graduated with valedictorian honors, to high praise and accolades, and gave a grand speech at the commencement ceremony. People cried and people laughed. Oh, that Con, so good at saying all the right things.
Dulcie didn’t see any of it. She sat under the bleachers and put her headphones on and drifted away. To a shadowy place, where evil things could fulfill their dark wants and needs, and not be troubled with the bright and shiny world.
Being a teenager is so very black and white. I long for technicolor.
*
Dulcie held out hope that after graduation, after everything had settled down, Con would seek her out. He knew where she worked, knew she spent a lot of time at the library. But her dream quickly died – she found out Con had left town one week after graduation. He would be spending the summer in California with family, then he’d go directly to school in Ohio. There was a very real possibility Dulcie would never see him again.
Once again, she wasn’t sad. She was angry. Con had ruined something great. Taken something away from her. She couldn’t possibly have imagined it. It had only been a moment in time, but it had been one of the greats. Something she’d remember for a long time. One kiss, and no other guy would compare. It wasn’t fair.
About a month after graduation, she came home in the afternoon from working a breakfast shift at the diner. She grimaced at the sight in the living room. Her step-father in his boxer shorts, sitting on the couch spread-eagle while he snored away. Her mother was in a slip and she sat up as Dulcie entered the trailer.
“Hey, baby! Glad yer home, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” her mother cooed as she climbed to her feet.
Mrs. Bottle – formerly Mrs. Travers, formerly Mrs. Reid, formerly Tessa Banks – had the soft accent that was common in the area, yet had somehow missed her daughter. Not quite southern, but almost. Country, that’s what Dulcie called it in her mind. A distinct twang. Not everyone had it, and she wasn’t quite sure why that was, but her mother’s family had lived in West Virginia for years. All the Banks’ had it – Dulcie’s grandpa’s was so thick, sometimes he was hard to understand, but she loved it. Sometimes wished she had it. Wondered if it would soften her.
“You saw me last night, Momma,” she sighed, keeping her head down as she headed towards the hallway.
She hated looking at her mother because they looked very much alike. Her eyes, her lips, her hair color – her most distinct features, she’d gotten them all from her mother. Looking at Tessa Bottle, Dulcie felt like she was looking at her potential future, and it wasn’t pretty.
“I did?” Tessa sounded unsure. Dulcie wasn’t surprised, the woman had been high out of her mind.
“Yes. Look, I’m really tired. We can talk later, yeah?” Dulcie suggested, knowing full well that wouldn’t happen. Later, Tessa would either be high, or busy “earning her keep”.
“Sure, baby. Oh! You got a package. I left it on your bed,” her mother informed her.
Dulcie froze for a second, then rushed down the hallway. Nothing was safe in the house, she never left anything private or worth money in her room. She wasn’t expecting any packages, had no clue what it was, but knew it would draw unwanted attention.
She wasn’t wrong.
“What are you doing!?” she shouted, bursting into her room just in time to see her half-brother Matt standing by her bed, shaking a brown box between his hands.
“Wha’d you get?” he asked, holding the package up to his ear and shaking it harder.
“How would I know? I haven’t opened it. Get out of my room,” she demanded, hurrying around her bed and reaching for the box. Matt backed up and held it out of her reach.
“Aw, c’mon, we’re family. You have to share,” he teased, stepping backwards.
“Give me the box, Matt,” she growled, reaching for it again.
“Work for it, Dulcie.”
She jumped up, trying to snatch the box, and he snaked an arm around her waist, yanking her close. She almost gagged as she fell against his bare chest. He was only wearing a pair of baggy jeans, showing off a sickly thin torso that was covered in misspelled tattoos. She forgot the package and tried to pull free from him, causing them to stumble across the room.
“If you don’t get your goddamn hands off me, I swear to god, I will -”
“Mmm, Dulcie, you smell you good.”
She felt his nose against her hair. Matt had always been … strange towards her. They’d never been close. He was eight years older than her, and when he’d been thirteen, he’d run away to live with his father. She’d only been five at the time. Then he’d shown back up when he was twenty-one, and she’d been thirteen. She’d never felt like he was her brother, and obviously, he felt the same way.
I wish he would just overdose already and put himself out of my misery.
They were near her door and Dulcie managed to wiggle an arm free of his grasp. She reached out and grabbed a piggy bank off her dresser, swinging it around and slamming it against the side of his head. The thick porcelain shattered, showering them both in loose change and sending Matt to his knees with a groan. She yanked the package out of his hands and tossed it onto the bed.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me again!” she hissed, moving around and planting her foot squarely in the middle of his back. He fell forward, through the open doorway and into the hall. Then she slammed her door shut behind him.
She immediately went around to the other side of her dresser and shoved as hard as she could. The piece of furniture was old and made of a heavy wood, not to mention the fact it was full of her clothing. But she’d had a lot of practice moving it, and after she gritted her teeth and put some extra elbow grease into it, it slid across the floor. She kept pushing till it blocked the entrance to her room. Matt had apparently gotten to his feet, because he started banging on the door. Dulcie ignored him and picked up a thick piece of two-by-four that was just inside her closet. She dropped to her knees, wedging the wood between the dresser and her bed frame. Her door was now impossible to open.
“You stupid bitch! You better stay in there, cause if you come out here, I’ll make you sorry you ever fucked with me!” Matt was practically screaming.
The door was shut, so he was no longer an issue. He could scream all night and it wouldn’t bother Dulcie. She knew he’d eventually lose interest, or get into a fight with Tessa’s husband, or get high and forget he was mad. Whatever.
She dropped her messenger bag to the floor and crawled to the center of her bed, picking up the package. It was wrapped in brown paper and had her name on it, along with her address, written in big block letters. No return address. No other information, period. She frowned and began ripping the packaging paper away.
There was gift wrap underneath, with a large, square envelope taped to the top of the box. Again, her name was on it, but just in plain capital letters. Nothing distinct about it. She pulled it away and sat it next to her on the bed, then continued unwrapping her mystery mail.
When about half the paper was ripped off, she was shocked to the see the product on the box’s label. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, though – people packed socks in blender boxes, so who knew what was really inside it. She quickly ripped through some tape and yanked the box apart.
Nope. The label hadn’t been a lie. Someone had sent her a brand new digital camera. Better than the one that had gotten destroyed last fall. She turned the machine over in her hands. It was nice, and probably very expensive.
Who the hell would send me a camera!?
Dulcie scrambled to open the envelope that had been taped to the camera box. There was a card inside, but it was blank on the cover. She opened it and there was no printed message inside, either. Just a personal, handwritten note to her.
Dulcie -
I couldn’t say goodbye. I won’t say I’m sorry, because I’m not, and I think you know why.
I should’ve gotten this for you sooner. You see things other peop
le don’t. Take pictures, and then look at them and draw what you really see in the frames.
Don’t be afraid.
And don’t disappoint me.
Constantine
Dulcie was breathing hard by the time she got to the end of the note. She’d known it. She’d been right. It wasn’t just her, it wasn’t just some random moment in time. It had been realer than anything she’d ever experienced. This life, her home, her job, all of it was dishwater bland. Out of focus and blurry. Constantine Masters, now there was some high-definition for her life.
I’ll take those pictures, and I’ll draw what I see, and when you come back for me, you’ll see that we’re the same.
PART II
6
“No no no, this side! Get my good side!”
Dulcie sighed and pushed a button. The camera flash went off, which seemed to appease the girl who’d been whining. Or at least it distracted her from realizing the shutter wasn’t moving.
“Thanks, Dulcie. You rock.”
Whiny girl’s boyfriend fist bumped Dulcie, then the pair pranced out of the room and headed back into the dance.
The Halloween dance.
Senior year wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Maybe knowing college was on the horizon made it more exciting for some people, but Dulcie knew she wouldn’t be going to college. She’d been saving up to move into her own apartment the moment she turned eighteen, but the diner paid barely enough to cover her extracurricular activities and text books, let alone to save up oodles of cash for rent. Her eighteenth birthday came and went, yet Dulcie was still living in the trailer.
Still blocking her bedroom door.
“Dulcie! Over here!”
A blonde girl was waving at her from inside the gym, and Dulcie smiled and put down the camera. No one was in line to get their picture taken, so she figured she could have a couple minutes of freedom and she headed into the dance.
Senior year wasn’t all bad, either. When they’d gotten their yearbooks during the summer, she’d discovered the picture of her and Con kissing had gotten published in the “Hall of Shame” section. It was semi-tasteful, she supposed, and only showed them from the shoulders up, their lips barely touching.
At first, she’d been annoyed. She didn’t want anyone seeing their kiss, it was a private moment between her and Con. She worried that when he came home, he’d be mad about the picture. Or embarrassed.
But Con never came back. Never called, e-mailed, wrote, nothing. Her sketchbook was overflowing with drawings, her walls were lined with them.
And no Constantine to look at them.
She got mad. Over five months had passed, and there had been no communication. She knew it wasn’t him not having the time – she’d heard through school he’d been in contact with other friends. With other girls.
Meanwhile, the infamous kiss photo had given her a bit of celebrity. If Con Masters had found her attractive, well then, she must be attractive. And witty, and funny, and something worth looking at twice; suddenly, boys who’d never given her the time of day were chatting her up in the halls. Stealing seats next to her. Asking her on dates.
She ignored them, at first. Then, more time passed, and she got angrier at Con. Angry at herself. Angry at the town she lived in, and angry at her life. Why should she live life on the fringe? Just biding her time, trying to slip by unnoticed. Before, she’d begun to think really, she’d been waiting for Con to notice her.
Now, she realized she’d just been scared. Well. Not anymore. She hated the thought of being scared of anything, so one day, when a relatively good looking guy asked her out, she said yes.
Jared was nice enough. He played football – had played with Con, even. He was the same age as her, and was actually in a few of her art classes. He liked to laugh and he was very polite. He was also super understanding of the fact her legs seemed to be welded together at the knees.
It wasn’t that Dulcie was scared of sex – she was very familiar with her own body and was perfectly comfortable giving in to her baser desires. She had a very active fantasy life. Unfortunately, though, none of those fantasies featured Jared, so she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep with him.
No, all her fantasies featured a man made of shadows. A boy with a golden smile and a dark heart.
“Hey, ditch the photo room for a while – let’s make fun of peoples’ costumes,” her friend Anna laughed when Dulcie finally reached her side.
“Too easy. What’s happening after this?” she asked, glancing around the room.
Oh yes, Dulcie even went to parties now. She felt very accomplished.
“Bryce said something is going on at the lake,” Anna started, referring to her own boyfriend. “Jared mentioned you guys might go.”
“Hey, you guys talking about me?”
Dulcie didn’t get a chance to turn around before an arm slid around her waist. She felt Jared’s warm lips against the side of her neck and she smiled as she leaned back into him. He was so comfortable, like an old sweater. A comfy blanket. Her grandma’s house.
Not sexy at all.
“Yeah, you guys gonna go to the lake later?” Bryce piped up. Jared moved around so he was at Dulcie’s side.
“I dunno, it’s so far out there, and I have practice in the morning,” he replied. Dulcie let out a sigh of relief. She went to parties, but she didn’t particularly like them.
“C’mon, you gotta go! Didn’t you hear who’s gonna be there?” Bryce exclaimed.
“No, who?”
“Constantine fuckin’ Masters!”
Gravity quadrupled for a moment and Dulcie felt like she was going to collapse. All other sound receded and all she could hear was the conversation that was happening between the boys.
“Con’s in town? I heard he was like moving up the ranks in Ohio – he’s gonna be starting line next year, easy. Dude is gonna go to the NFL,” Jared commented.
“Yeah, but his mom died. He came back for the funeral, got here a week ago. He called the other day, just to catch up. I mentioned the party, he said he’d try to make it.”
A week. He’d been in town a week, and had made no attempt to contact her.
Nothing. It was all in your head. Just a stupid boy, kissing an even stupider girl.
“What do you say? You wanna head up to the lake?” Jared asked, shaking her shoulders gently. She shook her head.
“No. No, I don’t want to go to the lake.”
They left the dance and drove towards her home. He parked the car on the other side of a covered bridge and pulled her across the seat, pressing his lips to hers. She sighed and leaned into him. Maybe she should sleep with Jared. Get it over with, relieve some tension.
But as his hand fumbled around ineptly in her underwear, she could feel herself growing cold. It always started at her core and worked its way out to her extremities, till she was numb all over. The idea of having sex, of him being inside her, made her feel physically ill. So she pushed him back into his seat and surprised him with a blowjob instead.
At least someone gets a happy ending.
7
The town library had a courtyard behind it with several large benches, and Dulcie sat outside on one. The days were still a little warm and she wanted to soak it up while she still could, keep some of the cold in her at bay. A young woman was sitting on another bench and her three year old daughter was toddling around the area. Dulcie made faces at the little girl, making her laugh and smile. She tried to capture it all with her pencil, sketching out the child’s giggling face.
“It’s a good picture, but if you wanted it to be great, you’d make her cry.”
She froze up, but only for a second. Then she took a deep breath and continued sketching.
“Maybe that’s not what I’m going for,” she replied. She was sitting lotus style on top of the bench, and she listened as Con Masters sat in front of her.
“I find that hard to believe.”
She glanced up at him, but he was looking
at her paper, watching her pencil strokes.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked, looking back down at her work.
“I was dropping off some of my mom’s book collection, as a donation. Saw you sitting out here,” he explained. She nodded.
“Oh.”
Suddenly, he grabbed her sketchbook and pulled it out of her lap. At the same moment, a strong gust of wind blew through the courtyard. The little girl began to cry and her mother picked her up, cooing sweet nothings as she carried the child back inside.
“These are good,” he commented, flipping through the pages.
“Hey, you don’t have any right to look at those,” Dulcie snapped, reaching for the book.
“Don’t I? I told you to draw them.”
He could’ve slapped her and she would’ve been less surprised. He seemed completely at ease, leisurely turning each page, as if her reason for being outside had been to wait for him. Like an appointment. She couldn’t stand the tension and she jumped up.
“It’s been a long time, Con. Thank you for the camera, but that’s my book, and I would like it back,” she said in the voice she usually reserved for talking to rude customers or belligerent parents.
“Oh, really?”
He closed her sketchbook and slowly stood up. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how imposing. He looked so different. He was only a year older since she’d last really looked at him. Just a nineteen year old boy, that’s all. Nothing to make her nervous.
Except, he didn’t seem like some nineteen year old boy. He looked like something else. Like a man. Like something starved. Like something she had been missing for far longer than he’d been gone.
She wasn’t cold anymore. Oh no. Now she was hot all over, every inch of her. She licked her lips and watched as his eyes followed the movement.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” she suddenly blurted out. He raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Because she died. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. We weren’t close.”
“How did she die?”
“Fell down some stairs.”
“That’s too bad.”
The Bad Ones Page 4