I was glad Aunt Trudy worked it out so I could spend the night. I still felt kind of strange with my mom, and I wanted to put off trying to talk with her. And I for sure didn’t want to have to see Fred Sloane. I felt safe for the evening.
“Cassie, when did Fred first start making advances to you?” Aunt Trudy asked.
Oh, no, I thought. All I wanted was junk food, and now I have to get into this again.
“I guess it was a few months ago,” I said. I thought back to that first night. It seemed years ago, but it wasn’t. “I think it was just after Christmas vacation,” I told her.
“Do you think he’s pulling that stuff with anyone else?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Cassie, you know that Lisa did the right thing by telling, don’t you?”
I looked at Lisa, who seemed totally engrossed in mixing the Rice Krispies stuff. She didn’t look up.
Just then, Uncle Tom called from the living room, “Hey, Trudy, how long you been home? Where’s my dinner?”
“You don’t need dinner, Gutso,” Aunt Trudy said, laughing, as she went into the living room.
She must have wiped her soapy hands on him because I heard Uncle Tom yell, “Hey, I’m pure sugar, remember? If you’re not careful I’ll melt. Then where would you be?”
They were giggling and scuffling around, and I was glad Aunt Trudy had been momentarily distracted.
Lisa spread the Rice Krispies mixture onto the cookie sheet. I got out the Cokes and potato chips, and we put it all on a big tray and carried it to Lisa’s bedroom.
Our houses were a lot alike from the outside. They were the standard California tract, stucco with a shake roof and a little brick planter under the picture window in front, like lots of other houses in Hamilton Heights. Inside though, our house and Lisa’s house looked really different.
Aunt Trudy and Uncle Tom had been in the Peace Corps before they got married, and they had all kinds of stuff from Africa and South America. In the living room was a giant weaving, hung from a hunting spear, and in the corner by the fireplace was this gross statue of a woman with huge breasts and other extreme, unnamable features. The statue was about three feet high and it was a shiny black wood carving. It was another cause of embarrassment to Lisa, but Aunt Trudy always told her that Victoria (the name of the statue) was a special fertility goddess, and that Lisa should pay special homage to Victoria every day. She said that without Vicky’s help, Lisa would never have been born.
Their kitchen was filled with crude-looking utensils made of wood, and there were all kinds of baskets hanging on the walls, and there was a big fishing net draped from one end of the kitchen to the other. Uncle Tom thought it was a fire hazard because it hung too low over the stove, but Aunt Trudy reassured him it was safe, since she now only used the microwave oven and just kept the gas stove as a decorative piece.
The whole house was like that though, with statues and weavings and pottery pieces, until you entered Lisa’s room. It was like something you’d see in Seventeen, bright and crisp and clean. Her walls were white and on her sliding closet doors she had done this graphic design in primary colors. Her desk was painted light blue, the same color as the down comforter on the bed. The windows had these neat canvas shades, with broad stripes, like the stripes on her closet door.
We pulled the TV tray next to the bed, where we both sat
cross-legged. We started with Cokes and potato chips.
“I had to tell, C.C. Are you mad at me?”
“No,” I told her. I’d already told her that before, but maybe I hadn’t been very convincing.
We were both silent for awhile, chewing chips and sipping soda. Then Lisa said, “You should have seen my mom! She was yelling and threatening to go right over to the Sloanes’ house and haul him to the police station. She was really outrageous for a while. You know how she can get. Then I was really scared.”
“I’m sorry I wouldn’t talk to you on the phone,” I told her. “I was so confused yesterday. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t even want to think.”
“It’s okay, C.C. I just don’t want you to think I let you down by telling. I really couldn’t help it. When I saw Fred yesterday, he was so mean! I thought I’d never seen such an ugly face as his was right then. Remember the night we babysat when he and Angie went to that party? I thought he was kind of handsome then. But I’ll never think that again.”
“I know,” I told her. “I used to think he was kind of handsome, too.”
I told Lisa about Thursday night ― how Fred had come home early from bowling, and how he had caught me alone in the hall, and how Angie had come home just in time. I didn’t tell her about how I had at first let Fred kiss me without fighting him, or how mixed up I’d been about the way my body felt when he started rubbing his hand along my legs. I skipped that part. I guess I was ashamed of those feelings. I told her how scared I was when he just kept pushing at me though, and how relieved I was to hear Angie’s car.
“What do you think Angie will say about all this?” Lisa asked.
“Maybe she won’t find out,” I said.
“How can she not find out? Between your dad and my mom, something’s going to come out in the open, and soon!”
I thought about Angie. She’d been a good friend to me. And I thought about some of the grown-up conversations we’d had together. She’d told me about how she and Fred met. He was engaged to someone else at the time, but it had been like love at first sight. They ran off and got married two weeks after their first date. And she told me that everyone in her family thought she was crazy, but she’d never been sorry.
“Angie’ll probably hate me now,” I said.
“But it’s not your fault she’s married to a lecher,” Lisa said.
“I know. But still, she’s my friend.”
“Do you think she ever suspected Fred?” Lisa asked.
“No, I don’t. I mean, she always talked like Fred was so great.”
“Maybe she just wanted to make it seem that way. Maybe she didn’t really think he was so great.”
I’d never thought about that. It sure seemed to me that she loved Fred, though.
“Do you think Fred’s just frustrated because she never gives him any?” Lisa asked.
“Any what?”
“You know. Any sex.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” I said. “Angie told me once that Fred was real good to her in bed, and that she never got tired of having him make love to her.”
“She told you that?” Lisa said, kind of in a screech.
“Yeah. She told me that a long time ago.”
“That’s weird, C.C. ― a grown-up woman talking to a twelve-year-old about her sex life? I mean, I know you’re mature and all, but really, C.C., that’s weird!”
“I thought it was kind of interesting,” I said.
Our hands were all sticky and we’d consumed nearly the whole batch of gooey stuff. We decided to go for a run. As usual, I was dressed for it in my standard jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers. We rinsed our hands off at the kitchen sink, yelled our plans to Uncle Tom, and took off running down Lisa’s driveway.
We ran all the way down Seventh Street, all the way to Hamilton High School, then we ran three times around the track. We raced the last lap. I won. I can always beat Lisa in a race even though her legs are longer than mine. I can beat her swimming, too. It makes up for her dimples, but not quite. After the last lap, we collapsed on the damp grass in the center of the track.
I love the smell of dewy grass ― it smells sweet, and clean. I picked a long blade of grass and held it between my thumbs, blowing a loud, shrill whistle. I did it just for fun, because I like to do a grass whistle and because it always annoys Lisa, who has never managed to get a sound out of any blade of grass held between her thumbs.
On my second whistle, this big golden retriever came running right up to where we were sitting and started licking me all over. The dog’s owner, who had also
been running laps, came over to retrieve the retriever.
“That’s how I whistle for Goldie at home. She’s just trying to be friendly,” he explained, attaching a leash to his dog and pulling her away. Lisa was rolling around and laughing.
“That’ll teach you to smart off with grass blades,” she snorted. “Next time maybe you’ll attract an elephant.”
It was pretty funny, I guess ― me getting all carried away about the dewy, sweet, clean grass, and then being slobbered all over by that grossly affectionate beast.
We started the run back. It was 8:30 and we had definite instructions to be back to Lisa’s by 9:00. We were more jogging than running when we passed the Baskin Robbins ice cream place. I glanced inside. I always look in ice cream places. There, sitting at a little wrought iron table and looking like the all-American family, were Angie, Fred, Dorian and Tina.
They didn’t see me, but seeing them made me feel strange. A few months ago I would have run in and pulled a chair up to their table. Angie or Fred would have bought me an ice cream and the kids would have fought over who got to sit next to me. We would have laughed and talked and maybe made arrangements for the next time I would babysit. Now it was as if things were kind of frozen. We could never go back to the old way. And something more was going to happen between us. I didn’t know exactly what that something would be, but I knew it would be a hard time.
Back at Lisa’s house, she took a quick shower, then modeled her prom dress for me. Even though her hair was wet and she was wearing old gym shoes, she looked beautiful. Her dress was long and made from soft, sort of frothy, material. It was a creamy yellow, a color that made her face glow.
“Oh, Lisa. It’s beautiful!”
“I know,” she said. “It’s a perfect dress, isn’t it?”
“You look like a model or a movie star or something.”
I wondered if I would ever look that good in my whole life. Not that I really wanted to wear a dress like that. It looked uncomfortable to me, like you’d have to be careful all the time not to step on the hem, or sit funny in it, or bend over so far that people could see down the front. But she really did look beautiful.
After we took the sticky dishes and TV tray out of Lisa’s room, and watched TV for a while with Uncle Tom, we crawled into bed under Lisa’s down comforter.
In the dark, quiet room Lisa told me, “My mom really does embarrass me sometimes. I can talk to her about almost anything. And she’s fun, too, most of the time. But she’s so extreme. And then I feel guilty about feeling embarrassed. You know?”
“I know,” I told her. “I really feel guilty about my mom sometimes. I said awful stuff to her yesterday, and then when I saw how hurt she looked, I felt bad. She just makes me so angry sometimes though, when she acts like she knows so much, or when it seems like she doesn’t trust or believe me.”
Lisa said, “My mom says that moms always feel guilty, too. Maybe that’s just how it has to be.”
“It’s hard to believe my mom feels guilty about anything,” I said.
“Well, you’re wrong about that, C.C. While you were getting ready for the movie today, I heard her tell my mom that she felt terrible about fighting with you, and that it was all her fault. She was crying, C.C.”
I didn’t say anything. I just thought about that for a while. It was probably the first time I’d ever tried to think about how things felt for my mom. I drifted off to sleep, thinking about Mom, and how Daddy said everything was going to be okay. I was tired from the run, and from all the tension and emotion of the day. I’m the kind of person who has an emotional crisis about once every two years. I was really worn out, and I slept so soundly that I couldn’t remember where I was when I first woke up in the morning.
Chapter
11
Daddy picked me up about 10:00 that Sunday morning. In the car on the way home he told me, “I called Fred Sloane this morning. We’re going over there at 11:00.”
I begged not to go. I felt sick. But he was insistent that we had to see Fred together.
“What about Mom, and Robbie?” I asked him.
He frowned. “I think your mother should go, too. After all, this does involve the whole family. But she doesn’t want Robbie to go, and she says she doesn’t want to leave him in the house alone. So she’s not going. I think it’s an excuse to avoid a big scene.”
I wished I had been able to come up with my own excuse.
On our way to the Sloanes’, Daddy and I held hands. I noticed that both of us had sweaty palms. We walked slowly. I was roasting. I had changed out of my shorts and blouse into jeans, a sweatshirt, and jacket. I zipped my jacket all the way up to my chin. I guess if I had had a suit of armor hanging in my closet, I would have worn it.
We walked in silence until we reached the Sloanes’ house. Fred and Angie were pulling weeds in their flowerbeds along the driveway. Angie saw us first as we walked toward them.
“Hi, Les. Hi, Cassie. How nice of you to come see us on this bright, sunny morning. How about some iced tea?” She smiled at us as she brushed dirt from her hands.
“No thanks, Angie. We just want to talk with your husband for a few minutes,” Daddy said, glancing at Fred.
Fred stood up. “You didn’t say over the phone what I could do for you, Les. Muffler problems? Need gas for your lawn mower?” Fred smiled a kind of fake smile.
I could see Tina and Dorian playing in their sandbox in the back. My stomach was turning flip-flops.
“It’s more serious than muffler problems, Fred. Maybe we should talk inside.”
Fred backed up a little. He looked first at my father, then at me.
“No, we can talk out here,” Fred said. “It can’t be all that serious, can it?”
“Suit yourself,” Daddy said.
“Of course you can come in, Les, if you want,” Angie said. She looked at Fred with a kind of puzzled expression. “Maybe we’d all be more comfortable inside. Don’t you think?”
Fred’s face was set hard. “I said we could talk out here.”
Angie nodded. I felt sorry for her. The four of us stood there for a minute. I wanted to turn and run away, or faint, or anything to avoid the inevitable. But I stood there, frozen, still clutching my father’s sweating hand.
“Well, there’s no need to beat around the bush then,” Daddy said, looking straight at Fred. “Cassie tells me you’ve been making sexual advances to her for some time now.”
“WHAT!” Fred screamed. “You’ve got to be out of your mind!” His face was red and he was looking right at me. Angie just sort of gasped and moved closer to Fred. Daddy seemed real calm.
“No, Fred. I don’t think either of us is out of our minds.”
“Shit,” Fred sneered. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, man. Sexual advances! This kid of yours must have a hell of an imagination. I’ve patted her on the shoulder a few times. And I lifted her down from the back of my brother’s pick-up truck ― along with Dorian and Tina, of course. That’s the extent of my ‘sexual advances’ to your daughter.”
“What Cassie described to me was not shoulder pats, Fred. It was more like having your hands all over her body, and forcing your tongue into her mouth, and generally trying to get off on her.”
“Oh, come on, Jenkins. You know better than that,” Fred said.
Angie put her arm around Fred’s waist. She looked at me for a long time. “How could you say such a thing, Cassie? You’ve been like a daughter to us.”
“It’s true,” I said to her. I could feel my face go hot.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, softly. She didn’t sound angry, like Fred, just hurt. “I knew you kind of liked Fred, but this ...”Angie stared at me with disbelief, then she turned to my father. “You know, Les, an adolescent crush can cause strange fantasies,” she said.
“Yeah, I know that, Angie. And I also know that your husband has been going after my daughter, and that’s no fantasy!”
“You go
t it all wrong, Buddy,” Fred said. “Your daughter comes around here, hangin’ around me. She’s just telling you what she wishes had happened. You’re lucky it was me she was playin’ up to. You better watch her or someone not as nice as me’ll have her knocked up in no time.” He looked at me with a nasty half grin. “She’s a ripe little peach,” he said.
Angie drew away from Fred, looking at him.
“Well, it’s true, Angie. Hey, you know that yourself.”
Angie nodded. She was crying. So was I. I felt Daddy’s hand tighten in mine. Then he let go of my hand and stepped closer to Fred. They were eye to eye and they both had their fists clenched.
“I’m warning you, you lecherous bastard. Stay away from Cassie.”
I’d never heard Daddy call anyone that name, and I’d never heard so much anger in his voice. My hands were shaking. They stood there, fists clenched, mouths tight.
“Get off my property,” Fred said. “You’re trespassing. You’ve got this thing all wrong, but you’d better get the hell out of here. Now!”
“Okay, Sloane. But you better believe me when I tell you that if you ever lay a hand on Cassie again, you’ll be in more trouble than you ever thought possible.”
Daddy took my hand again and we started down the driveway. He was walking so fast I practically had to run to keep up with him. It was fine with me to run. I wanted out of there.
I was still crying, from being scared, and from missing Angie. I felt bad that she would act like I was dreaming all of that stuff up. I guess I was missing Tina and Dorian, too. Maybe even Fred, strange as that seems. But just a few months ago it seemed like we were practically family, and now things were awful between us.
“That bastard. That bastard,” Daddy kept muttering. When we were about a block from home, we met Mom. She had started out toward the Sloanes’ house.
“I couldn’t stand waiting at home,” she said. “You were right, Les. I should have gone over there with you. What happened?” She looked worried.
“That bastard!” Daddy said, then went on to tell her about our meeting. He told her what Angie had said about adolescent fantasies, and how Fred said I only wanted that stuff to happen and that they’d better keep an eye on me.
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