by Peter Seth
I think Rachel was a little jolted at how fast Nanci snapped back her answer.
Nanci got up from the couch, swaying to her feet in her big, white bra and wide, white panties. Her flesh was pink and a little blotchy. She turned toward me with a smile.
“Don’t be shy,” she said as she came toward me, working her way around the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rachel, watching us intently.
I stood up from the ottoman as Nanci closed in on me. She was breathing heavily and trying not to show it.
“I should have brought my inhaler,” she said with a twisted smile.
“Don’t you take it everywhere?” I asked, seeing how big she was before me.
“Not everywhere,” she said. “Sometimes I forget it.”
She was right in front of me now.
“Kiss her!” said Rachel. “Go ahead. She needs it.”
Nanci leaned toward me, closing her eyes. I had no choice but to kiss her.
“Feel her if you want to,” Rachel said. “You know she’s soft and gooshy.”
Nanci kissed me harder, forcing herself toward me. I felt her fleshy, wet fish lips. I started to draw back.
“Don’t go –” Nanci muttered, trying to pull me toward her.
“You can touch her,” whispered Rachel. “Go on. She’ll be grateful.”
Max started to bark like crazy in the laundry room.
“Shut up, Max!” Rachel yelled, getting up from the couch.
“Please –” breathed Nanci into my face. She kissed me again and held me. She tasted different from Rachel.
“Do what you want,” urged Rachel. “She won’t mind. You’re doing her a favor.”
Nanci cringed, but she kissed me harder, holding me closer. I felt her skin against mine. The dog kept barking.
“Shut up, Max!” Rachel said, going someplace out of my sight, maybe to see about the damn dog.
Nanci kissed my neck and held me tight to her. She seemed to be all over me, the way I was all over Rachel. Her belly pressed against me.
“Come on,” whispered Nanci. “You remember. Be my toy.”
She gave me another deep kiss, and I had to kiss her back.
“Get her!” said Rachel from somewhere. “Kiss that fat cow.”
“Ow!” said Nanci, pulling away from me, hit by something. “What are you doing??”
I pulled back from her and saw that Rachel, with the fireplace poker in her hand, had just poked Nanci in the butt.
“It’s my cattle prod,” said Rachel with a fierce smile, holding the tip of the poker up toward Nanci’s face. “Go on, kiss him again.”
“Stop that, Rachel!” said Nanci, pushing the tip of the fireplace poker away from her and rubbing her behind. “You’re drunk, and you’re –”
“Right!” laughed Rachel. “You’re kissing him, wishing it were me! I see it in your little piggie eyes.”
I didn’t know if Nanci was going to cry or throw something at Rachel. By then I had the feeling – more than a feeling, a dread – that something bad was going to happen, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was like a boulder, rolling downhill, and if I put my body in front of it, I would have been crushed.
“Take off your bra,” said Rachel, pointing the fireplace poker at Nanci’s chest. “Let’s give him a good laugh. Then we’ll talk about those giant grandma panties –”
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”
The voice came from the entryway to the back room, and we all turned at once.
Like a nightmare, there was Eleanor, standing there in a fit of rage.
“WHAT IN THE NAME OF HELL IS THIS???”
I looked over at Rachel, and she was as surprised as I was.
“The first weekend I leave you alone – the very first! – and look at you!! And what the hell is he doing here??” Eleanor pointed at me with a long, red fingernail as she walked straight at Rachel. She was wearing a purple whatdayacallit – a pantsuit – with this very loud, flowery scarf, and her hair was all done up fancy, and she walked like an angry man, spoiling for a fight.
Rachel stood her ground, though I could tell that she was super shocked, and we had been drinking all that bug juice, which made us – at least me – a little woozy.
“W-W-What is he doing here?” Rachel parroted, “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow! And where’s Herb?”
“Herb? Herb can drop dead,” sneered Eleanor. “Is where Herb is. That piece of gahbage just dropped me off and left.”
“Hah!” Rachel stifled a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” said Eleanor. I could swear that Eleanor had been drinking, too, the way she was slurring her words.
“Nothing,” said Rachel. “So what happened?”
“We had a big fight, right in the middle of the bar at the Maidstone Club fuhgodssake,” ranted Eleanor. “A place I’ve always been dying to go to! And right in front of all these ritzy Hamptons people. I am finally finished with him and his crap! Tomorrow he’s going to come and move all-a his junk outta here!”
“Good,” said Rachel, and I smiled warily, watching how she played her mother.
“Don’t say ‘good,’” Eleanor practically sprang at her. “You didn’t answer me: What is he doing here?”
“He’s here,” Rachel said firmly, standing her ground. “Because I invited him here. That’s what he’s doing here.”
“Did I or did I not give you explicit instructions not to have anyone over?” Eleanor practically spat in her face. “Not when I wasn’t home. Except for Nanci.”
“Yeah, well,” said Rachel, stalling for some strength. “The truth is . . . I didn’t think you’d be home. I thought you’d be gone all weekend with your boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend, my ass,” said Eleanor. “I’m never gonna see that creep again, believe you me.”
“Good!” said Rachel.
“STOP SAYING ‘GOOD!’” shouted Eleanor, getting closer to Rachel. “You are in big, big trouble! Bigger than you know.”
Rachel stood her ground, still holding the fireplace poker. I think she held onto it to give herself a feeling of support and force. Eleanor was taller than Rachel and was asserting her dominance over her daughter. In fact, Rachel seemed on the verge of weakening at Eleanor’s onslaught, but she fought back anyway.
“The fact is, Mother,” said Rachel. “The fact is that I’m entitled to see who I want, where I want, when I want. I’m eighteen, and you can’t stop me. You have no right.”
“No right?” snickered Eleanor, her hands on her hips.
“Yes! No right!” Rachel shouted back.
Eleanor laughed, “Look at you! Talking about rights – in your underwear.”
“Better than you look in yours,” Rachel shot back at Eleanor with a tight smile. “A whole lot better.”
That stopped Eleanor for a moment, so Rachel attacked.
“Maybe Herb wouldn’t be after me all the time if you didn’t look like this,” said Rachel, pointing with the poker at Eleanor’s body. “In fact, he told me that he can’t stand to touch you. You should see the faces he makes behind your back!”
“You little tramp!” Eleanor hissed. “Well, maybe it’s just because you can’t keep your clothes on in front of him. I keep telling you to close your robe, but you can’t help but try to flash your little boobies and –”
“At least they’re not down to my knees!” Rachel shot back.
Eleanor gasped with anger. “You ungrateful little snotnose!”
“‘Ungrateful’?” Rachel yelled. “Tell me, Eleanor, what exactly am I supposed to be grateful for? For ruining my life? For going out of your way to make my life miserable, like it was your hobby or something? And when I find a boy who’s kind and decent and not one of these country club –”
El
eanor shook her head scornfully, cutting her off, “I give you everything, and look what I’m left with. I’ve always known what you are: a selfish, unfeeling, unloving –”
“You’re looking in the mirror, Eleanor!” Rachel sang out derisively. “The mirror!!”
“I stayed with your father for almost twenty years for you!” Eleanor said the word “father” like a curse word, just the way Manny said “mother.”
Rachel wouldn’t take any of it, shouting back, “That wasn’t for me! That was for you – and your American Express card! And your Diner’s Club card! And your Master Charge! And the bills from Saks and Lord & Taylor –”
Eleanor interrupted, “I see that you have no problem spending money.”
“And who taught me to spend money?” Rachel said, right back in her face. “All you ever could do for me was buy things. The only love you know is money.”
“You never turned it down –”
“It’s all I had!!!”
They both stood there for a moment, taking a breath, like two fighters between exchanges. Quite frankly, I was frozen. It was so ugly, so horrid. I sort of knew it was like this between them, but not this horrible. I looked over at Nanci. Tears were streaming down her face.
Eleanor looked at me with cold, angry eyes. I thought she was going to say something to me. Instead, she turned on Nanci. “How could you let this happen?” Eleanor spat at Nanci. “What’s wrong with you?”
Nanci stood there, shaking in her bra and big, white panties.
“What?” Eleanor lashed into Nanci. “You lost your pea brain for a weekend?”
Nanci stammered back, “I’m sorry, it happened so fast.”
“I thought I could trust you,” Eleanor muttered. “You’re as useless as she is!”
“Don’t say that,” wept Nanci. “I was gonna tell you, but –”
“Just be quiet!” Eleanor snapped.
“Please, Eleanor,” said Nanci in a small voice, “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Just shut up,” said Eleanor, taking two steps toward Nanci.
Nanci backed up, sniffing away her tears, “You were supposed to be gone all weekend. I try to do things right. I try to listen to you –”
“Shut up, Nanci!” implored Eleanor.
“I’m not perfect,” sniveled the big girl, heaving her weight from one leg to the other. “I can only do so much.”
“What are you talking about?” said Rachel to Nanci in a very steady voice.
Nanci cried in a tiny voice, “I try to do what you want –”
“Be quiet, Nanci!” ordered Eleanor. “Right now.”
“What is going on?” asked Rachel, looking back and forth between Eleanor and Nanci, sensing that they’d been concealing something from her.
Nanci sniffed up her tears and said, “You think you’re so smart, Miss Rachel Prince. But you . . . simply . . . aren’t.”
“Tell me what you’re talking about, Nanci,” demanded Rachel.
“I’m sorry, Eleanor,” said Nanci, wiping off her cheeks. “But I can’t do this anymore. It’s been driving me absolutely crazy.”
“What has been driving you absolutely crazy?” shouted Rachel.
“Tell her, Eleanor,” said Nanci.
“You’ve already said too much, thank you very much,” huffed Eleanor.
“What are you two talking about??” demanded Rachel.
“Well, Rachel,” Nanci started, stifling a smile. “It’s like this. You know how you and I hang out and talk all the time, and you tell me everything you do –”
“Well, not everything,” Rachel interrupted.
“OK, not everything, maybe,” Nanci accepted. “But we talk a lot. And you tell me a lot.”
“Sooo . . . ?” asked Rachel fearfully. “So what exactly are you saying?”
Eleanor answered for her, “She’s saying that she tells me everything you say. Nanci, you might say, works for me.” She smiled triumphantly, her arms crossed in front of her. “I pay her a little every week, and she tells me everything you’re doing, everything you’re thinking, everything you say. Ev-er-y-thing.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I could see that Rachel was completely dumbstruck. Things were spinning out of control, and yet I felt frozen and powerless to stop them. What was I going to say to them: Stop being your true selves?
“Rachel – ?” I called to her, but as she turned to me, Eleanor snapped – “YOU SHUT UP!” shocking the room into a moment of silence.
Then Nanci faced off against Rachel.
“It’s so funny,” Nanci said with a cruel smile. “You said that you let me be in your life? Babe, I’m paid to be in your life! It’s not a lot of money, fifty a week, but it helps. My parents can sometimes be real pissy about my expenses. So after you go to school, I come over here, or Ellie comes over to my house –”
“Ellie?” I thought.
“And we talk all about you all morning,” Nanci continued with savage delight. “I tell her every little detail about your life. Everything you tell me, I tell her. And we laugh about you. We make fun of you and all your antics. Your pretensions, your silly plans –”
“Not to mention your great love,” Eleanor interrupted eagerly. “For this grubby little social climber.” And she pointed to me.
Nanci rattled on with an almost ferocious glee, “We sit around my kitchen, drinking coffee, for hours. You might not know this, Rachel, but you are a source of amusement to a great many people. Even Pauline jokes about you!”
“What did she call Rachel?” Eleanor asked Nanci. “The Princess – The Princess of Pretend?”
Nanci and Eleanor laughed loudly at this memory.
“My favorite,” said Nanci, gulping her laughter. “Is when she said” – and this was in a grossly fake Southern accent – “‘Mizz Rachel is about as deep as a puddle. But she think she’s Niagara Falls!’”
They exploded with guffaws as Rachel stood there, stunned and humiliated by what they were revealing. She still had the fireplace poker in her hand, and I could see her gripping it by the horse-head handle tighter and tighter as she became more and more overwhelmed by the twin attacks from her mother and her friend.
“What else did she call her?” asked Eleanor, her face merry with malice. “Miss –”
“Miss Easy Pants.”
“MISS EASY PANTS!” shrieked Eleanor, laughing and swaying.
Nanci closed in on Rachel, saying, “Everything you ever told me about what you and he do in bed, every time he got to second base, and third base, when you were late, everything – she knew about it.”
“You little tramp,” sneered Eleanor. “I always knew you couldn’t keep your legs together.”
My whole body started to tense up.
Nanci got real close to Rachel and said, “I’ve had to listen to you condescend to me all these years. You don’t hear how you sound, Rachel, but you really are a horrible little person. It’s good you’re seeing that therapist. Though I doubt that you’ll ever become a truly nice person. No offense.”
I didn’t know if Rachel was going to cry or going to hit one of them, or both. I should have reached for the fireplace poker earlier, and gotten it out of her hands, but I didn’t.
“To tell the absolute truth, dear,” said Eleanor. “Nanci is the daughter I should have had, she’s the one I deserve. She is so smart and so talented.”
“You don’t have to say that, Ellie,” murmured Nanci with what was clearly false modesty.
“Oh, and one more thing,” said Eleanor sharply to Rachel. “Next year, you’re going to Nassau Community, and staying right here with me, where I can keep an eye on you. Nanci even helped me fill out the application for you. She can forge your signature almost perfectly.”
“Thank you,” gloated Nanci.
Rachel was s
tarting to breathe deeply, trying to hold back tears.
“More therapy will help you, Rachel,” said Eleanor.
Rachel stood there, shaking. She sobbed, “I wish I had never been born.”
Eleanor snapped back at her, “Well, that makes two of us, baby.”
Rachel answered back harshly, “Anything that came out of your body would have to be evil.”
With an instantaneous flash of her hand, Eleanor slapped Rachel across the face, hitting her across the cheek almost like it was a tennis forehand, swiveling Rachel’s head straight around.
And that’s when it happened: in a flash of rage and pent-up revenge, Rachel swung the fireplace poker, whack, right across the side of Eleanor’s head, hard. And, in one motion, giving out this deep, almost animalistic cry, she struck her again on the back of the head as she fell to the floor.
Eleanor crashed face down, wham, onto the hard wood and didn’t move a muscle. Not even a twitch. She just lay there where she fell. One last choking sound gurgled from her throat, then total silence.
No one said anything for a long, horrible moment.
Rachel, breathing hard, sobbed, “She asked for it. . . . She really did.”
All three of us looked down at Eleanor in the purple pantsuit on the floor, not moving. We were afraid to do anything.
Nanci finally moved. She walked slowly, silently over to Eleanor and knelt down next to her. She tried to listen for some sign of breathing, then put her ear to Eleanor’s back for a moment. Then she reached around to feel by her nose and face.
“I don’t think she’s breathing,” said Nanci in a scared voice. She moved around the body and scrunched down on the floor to look into Eleanor’s face.
“She’s not breathing!” Nanci said, shaking Eleanor’s body a little by the shoulder. There was no response.
Nanci shook her again, but Eleanor did not move at all. Nothing.
“You killed her,” said Nanci.
I looked at Rachel. She was still holding the poker. It seemed as if it had become part of her arm or something.
“Rachel?” I whispered.
She said nothing. I think she was in shock, or something. She was licking a scratch on the edge of her hand.