In their kitchen, she found two glass tumblers and filled them, both with ice. This emptied the white plastic ice trays, so she set out refilling them carefully, as not to make a mess. Lucy looked through the small kitchen window and out over their backyard as she stood at the sink. The grass needed to be cut. She wondered if she could get Anne to show her how to do it so that when her parents got home from work, they would be surprised and pleased. She often cleaned the house or made dinner for her parents before they came back from work, hoping that they would see how hard of a worker she was and because it made things better and easier in the evenings.
Lucy slowly walked outside, carrying ice water for her and her sister without realizing the lawnmower was no longer running, the air silent and still. As she rounded the corner of their hydrangea bushes, she saw Anne talking, again with Mr. Smith, his one hand resting lightly on her lower back, the other, wrapped around a beer bottle.
Lucy stopped abruptly and thought about what she was seeing. Her left hand began to throb as she crouched down, hidden by the bushes, watching her sister closely from the edge of their porch. Anne was beaming as she held on to the ends of her hair while he talked, and she listened intently. He let his hand drop lower and lower until it slowly and intentionally lingered on her sister’s bikini bottom. His fingers slipped inside the band of her swimsuit, resting momentarily, before he pulled them out quickly and dropped them to his side. Anne reached out and grabbed that same hand, swinging it back and forth before he finally pulled away and stepped back from her. She laughed and grabbed the beer bottle from him, lifting it to her lips as in a dare, and then he playfully swiped it out of her hands.
Lucy could not look away but did not know what she was seeing between Anne and Finn’s dad. She felt her heart beating fast inside her chest, and suddenly, she was overwhelmed with a burning desire to scream for her sister to come back into their yard, right now. But she didn’t, her voice wouldn’t work again, and then she started shaking, and crying, and wanting to leave.
“I’m going to throw up,” she thought, anxiously, and dropped to her knees, her head heavy and pounding.
She sat the water glasses down quietly and hid, nervously, for a few more minutes, carefully watching her sister. But, there was nothing more to see other than the two of them laughing and talking. Lucy examined the tumblers, wet now on the outside, streaking patterns of random tears down their beveled glass and decided to abandon them. She soundlessly made her way back through the sliding glass doors and down the hall into her bedroom’s safety. She quietly closed the door and locked it, standing there, waiting for someone to knock loudly and make her come out to explain why she had left.
After a few minutes, Lucy turned robotically to her shelves and looked for a book where she could escape. She found her favorite, Island of the Blue Dolphins, and eventually, lost herself until hours later, her mom knocked softly on the door, bringing her back from the sea.
Lucy froze when she heard the knocking and lay still in the bed, wondering who was on the other side of the door. She contemplated pretending to be asleep, but curiosity got the better of her, and she sat up, crossed the room, and slowly opened the door. Dianna stood back from the door with her arms crossed and an anxious look on her face; Lucy waited and tried to calculate what was going to happen next.
“Where is your sister?” was what came out when her mother finally spoke to her.
Lucy stood like a statue, with no information to give, knowing it would all be her fault if Anne was missing or hurt. She had done nothing, ran from it, and now something terrible must have happened. Her hand started to burn again, and a sick feeling spread across her body, the way panic did right before it took control of brain her completely.
“I don’t know Mom, I think she was cutting the Smith’s grass earlier today,” was all Lucy could think of to say.
Dianna’s green eyes flashed, and she turned away from Lucy and walked silently back into the kitchen. Lucy considered for a moment, if she should have mentioned the grass cutting, or if that was something that she needed to practice forgetting. She stood in the hallway and listened to the silence of their house and felt a strange new tension in the air. Her dad must not be home yet, she had not heard him come in, and a glance into the living room showed an empty hook where his work bag usually hung.
Lucy stepped back into the hall, standing at the kitchen’s threshold, watching her mom standing at the sink, looking out over the back yard. Dianna’s head was still, but her shoulders shook as she sobbed silently, her back turned safely away from the world. Lucy came and stood behind her Mom, not knowing what to do or say, but wanting to help.
“Did you check her room, Mom?” Lucy asked softly while watching the back of her mother’s head drop as she finally let her chin fall helplessly into her chest.
Dianna turned around slowly and stared at Lucy, mascara streaking down her splotchy, pinched-up face. She looked lost and terrified, and at that moment, Lucy almost reached out to grab her mother’s hand -to tell her it would be alright- and that surely, they would find Anne. But the chance to connect was lost when Dianna unexpectedly pulled back that same hand and struck Lucy across the face.
Before Lucy could get her bearings, Dianna grabbed her youngest daughter by the shoulders and screamed into her face, telling her that, of course, she had looked in Anne’s room, and when people said stupid things, they got the shit slapped out of them. Lucy courageously looked into her mother’s eyes and knew she was telling her the truth. She thought very hard about what to say next so that she would not be slapped again, but could think of nothing smart to say. She decided instead, to stand motionless, looking straight ahead, and waited.
“Go next door!” Dianna demanded, “Go ask Finn if he has seen her and come right back, and tell me what he says,” she mumbled, crumbling forward to lean against the counter and close her eyes. Her mother had reached the point where she had nothing left, and Lucy knew she would have to be the one to carry on.
Lucy backed out of the kitchen slowly and walked quickly down the hall to the bathroom. Looking at her face in the mirror revealed the slight imprint of her mother’s hand on her round cheek. Shame and humiliation washed over her, and she knew she did not want Finn to see this. She pulled the bathroom door closed silently, and locked it, in case her mom came searching for her, angry about the delay. Lucy opened the washcloth drawer and pulled one out, setting it down on the cold counter. She turned on the hot water faucet and let it run, wastefully, down the sink, monitoring the temperature change roughly every half minute.
Once the water was scalding hot, Lucy submerged the washcloth in the clear stream of liquid and touched it, immediately to her face. It burned, especially the tender area, but the goal was clear; to make her face look all one color.
Lucy repeated this action until she was pleased with her efforts, and her face, was covered in red puffy patches. She would explain it away if anyone asked by telling them she had tried one of her mom’s face creams, to which she had an allergic reaction. She studied the patches on her face and said the story to herself in the mirror several times, smiling, because she felt it was believable and that she had solved her problem.
Lucy unlocked the door to the bathroom and stepped silently out into the hallway. The kitchen light was off, and she thought her mom was probably lying down now in her bedroom, crying, or letting wine take her to a place less upsetting. Lucy made her way stealthily through the living room and out the front door, walking to her best friend’s house, where she hoped she would find out something that could help her mom.
Luckily for Lucy, Finn was the one to open his front door. “Hey, little lady,” he teased, as he kicked open the screen door, motioning Lucy to come in. Lucy relaxed upon seeing his face but did not necessarily want to commit to coming inside. Her dad was still not home, and she needed to be there to make sure things stayed calm between her parents tonight. They usually did not agree on the best way to handle Anne.
“That’s alright; I can’t stay. I am trying to find Anne and wanted to see if she might be here,” Lucy said, speaking quickly, her eyes darting between Finn and the winding stretch of asphalt that turned into their cul-de-sac, looking for her dad’s car.
Finn looked at her closely, sensing her unease and began speculating about his friend’s odd behavior. He quickly glanced over into her driveway and saw that Dianna’s car was there, but not John’s. Finn looked back at Lucy, who looked pale all over except for her face, which was blotchy red.
“Anne’s not here, but let me get Mom and see what she knows,” Finn said, turning away to walk down the hall to find Charlotte.
Before Lucy could stop him, he was gone, so she stepped hesitantly into the living room and looked sheepishly around for clues that her sister might have been inside their house. There was no trace of her sister, and nothing different about the familiar living room other than the butterflies, she felt banging around in her stomach. Charlotte’s voice split the silence and beckoned her to come down the hallway to meet her in the bathroom.
Lucy felt horrified at seeing Charlotte after what she had witnessed between Mr. Smith and Anne today. She feared completely losing control and blabbing everything, just to get rid of the thing festering inside of her. Lucy said nothing and did nothing and stayed frozen in place until finally, Finn’s mom walked into the living room. She immediately noticed the blotches and fear on Lucy’s face.
An unsuspecting Charlotte was surprised to find her son’s best friend standing very still, almost statue-like, right at the threshold of their front door. Lucy looked up, painstakingly, and put on her best smile. She told the story about the face cream, her surprising allergic reaction, and concern that her mother had come home early from work, very sick, and that Anne needed to help out, so she had been sent to find her.
Charlotte looked at Lucy thoughtfully for a moment and then softly asked her what was wrong with Dianna, to which Lucy replied, “I am not sure, but I think she threw up.”
No one could tell Lucy anything about her sister other than it looked like Anne had been there earlier because the grass was cut. Lucy thanked them graciously and made a quick exit, expressing the need to check on her mom. She walked home quickly, worrying about what to do next, unaware that someone was watching her go.
Charlotte slowly turned away from the living room window, concerned with the whereabouts of someone else missing, reached into her handbag, and grabbed her cell phone. She watched the screen light up, displaying an adorable picture of Finn posing on the soccer field, and then, she dialed Mark’s phone.
Hours after Lucy left Finn’s house, her dad pulled up in their driveway, Anne, with him in the car. Dianna had long ago passed out, but Lucy watched out her bedroom window, relieved to see her sister sitting on the passenger side. The two of them sat in the driveway for a long time, and then, they came inside.
Anne had turned up drunk at her friend Sarah’s house, with no explanation of why she had chosen to drink, or who had purchased the alcohol for her. By the time Anne got out of the car, the words had all been spoken, so Lucy witnessed only the small sounds of the front door unlocking, opening, shutting, and locking again.
Alone in her room, Lucy lay, restless, on the bed and tried hard not to cry, but eventually, massive tears ran into her ears, and she muffled the painful sounds in her pillow. There was no one to tell about what she had witnessed, and the fears of what could be happening between Finn’s dad and her sister. Meanwhile, Lucy had no idea that on the other side of her bedroom wall, Anne lay there too, on her bed, in a trance-like state, replaying John’s lecture in the car repeatedly on an endless, brutal shaming loop.
“You’re just like your mom, you know, messy and drunk, requiring people to chase after you-keep an eye out-, so you stay out of trouble. You’ll always need help in life because you’re reckless and selfish. It’s always been like this with you, Annebelle, it’s in your genes, on your mother’s side. Your grandmother, she’s another sorry excuse for a human, a complete royal bitch if you ask me. Unlike my mom, my mom was a damn saint I’ll have, you know, the best person I ever met- taught me everything I know. Your problem Anne ...”
Those words, spoken in anger, muted away from Lucy and her mom, were brought into their house that night. They lodged themselves into Anne’s heart like an icy bullet, and the coldness spread from cell to cell until all Anne felt was numb and dead inside, and she wondered how the saintliest of women could have raised someone as hateful and cruel as her black-hearted father.
“We do what we do because of you, Dad,” Anne said out loud, to no one, swallowing four white pills this time and holding on until the hateful words he gave her, dissolved into inviting pink clouds that enveloped her, melting away the painful frostbite.
8
Dianna
This morning was the first day of school for the girls, and Dianna felt more at ease than she had in a very long while.
“Morning Shelia,” she chirped, setting her warm coffee down and digging through her purse to collect her cell phone and charger, before stowing it away.
She sat relaxed at a tidy desk in her office, admiring a picture taken on Anne’s thirteenth birthday at the beach, a little more than four years ago. Both girls had been excited to be on vacation, and the look in their eyes reminded her, she had once been a successful mother who planned magical trips that made her daughters happy. In this picture, Anne’s face turned perfectly to the camera, was still slightly rounded, and her body was beginning to turn into that of a beautiful woman.
She was sitting cross-legged on a beach towel dotted with random seashells, gifts the girls had dug up as a thank you for taking them to the beach. Lucy sat, boyishly, on her feet, smiling widely, her hair asymmetrically pigtailed, looking away from the camera and out into the sea of anonymous people surrounding them. Even after looking at this same picture day after day for years, Dianna still felt a twinge of annoyance that both girls had not been looking directly at the camera. It would have made the picture perfect because, at this point, Lucy had not yet gotten thick in the middle, and both girls were adorable.
“What in the world were you looking at Lucy?” Dianna whispered to herself, feeling the usual bewilderment, bordering on annoyance, that seemed to accompany any interaction she had with her youngest daughter.
It had always been this way between them. Anne was easy to understand, she had the normal range of emotions that all humans possess, and she tried them all out frequently. Lucy was different, so very different than her older sister, and Dianna felt taxed when she spent large blocks of her time with her.
Lucy was overly diligent about everything and sometimes too honest with what she communicated to others. Dianna believed that most people didn’t have the time or energy to approach every little thing with such careful consideration. Still, Lucy took that time and invested in people and ideas in a way that her mother found genuinely pointless. They were opposites in almost every way, which bothered Dianna because Lucy was a good person. She worked hard and aspired to do things right, which prompted Dianna to feel that she was a bad person because they were undoubted, nothing alike.
Dianna knew this about the relationship but had long given up trying to rectify it. Lucy reminded Dianna of her older sister, a goody-goody, who typically adhered to rules and would follow through on promises - no matter what. On the other hand, Anne was more like Dianna, following her heart wherever it wanted to go; indulging it with novel experiences; some good, some bad, coasting on wishful thinking that all roads eventually lead somewhere.
Dianna believed a winding journey was necessary for the making of a full life and often held her breath as she watched her beautiful, oldest daughter zig-zag through each day. They shared a genetic propensity to act impulsively, so this last year had been hell on Dianna. However, today, she sat calmly at her desk, knowing Anne was safely in school under the watchful eyes of six teachers and three high school administrators.
She
was almost sure that Anne was no longer sneaking around with older boys who could buy her alcohol because recently, she had invited several different high school-aged boys to the house. Anne had started a Saturday night routine where she set up the grill and demanded her father cookout with her and whatever boy she invited. The gig was, Anne would play dumb and get the boys to try to teach her how to operate the grill. She intentionally made mistakes until they suggested her dad come out and help them.
“Wait, I thought that was the gas button,” Anne would say, convincingly, biting her lower lip and tilting her head to the side.
Once John got involved, Anne would leave the men to do the work and set up camp on an old rope swing down by the woods, stretching out her long tan legs and throwing back her hair, playfully, until the boys no longer had any interest in grilling with her dad- who ended up finishing the meal alone.
Dianna had to admit her daughter was no saint, but she relished watching her dazzle these impressionable young men. Why shouldn’t Anne be able to see different boys, there was no need to settle down now and especially not with the wrong guy. There had been a time when Dianna had been able to command the attention of young boys in the same way. Dianna thought drearily about her courtship with John and how she never considered if they would make a good couple for the long haul. She was too focused on getting away from her cold, critical mother to decide whether John was the right person for her.
He was smart, she knew that, and he took care of things Dianna found tedious and mundane, so eventually, they had married, and things were pretty good for a while.
The Truth Lucy Saw (The Truth Turned Upside Down Book 1) Page 5