Family Ties (4 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Arissa and I are talking about our classes at lunch when Jason takes a seat next to her.

“So what happened to your arm, Parker?” he asks, gesturing with his chin.

“I tripped over one of my sister’s toys and fell.”

Lying is too easy the more I have to do it. I have to follow the rules, but I hate being dishonest with my friends. It will be one more thing they won’t like about me if they ever learn the truth.

“So do I get to sign it or what?”

Arissa smiles, winking at me while mouthing, “He likes you.”

My eyes widen at her.

Jason glances between us. “What?”

“Riss is being gross, showing me the food in her mouth.”

“Way to go Jericho!” He slaps her back.

“I do what I can,” she says, laughing.

“So back to your cast, Parker. Do I get to sign it?”

“If you want.”

He draws out a black Sharpie from his pocket and straddles the bench next to me.

“Aw, how ‘tweet,” Arissa coos.

“Jealous, Jericho?” he asks, scribbling on my cast inside my upper arm.

“In your dreams, Waters,” she retorts.

“It’s not you I dream about,” he replies. “Done,” he proclaims, popping the cap on the pen with the center of his palm.

I check where he signed. He drew a heart and wrote inside:

To my Parker

~JW~

I smile at him. “Thanks. But what’s your girlfriend going to say?”

He flashes a playful smile. It makes him look innocent, sincere, and confident all at once. “I don’t know. She’s not my Parker.” He stands, picking up his backpack. “Catch you girls later.”

“Bye, Jason,” we say in unison.

Arissa reaches over, studying my cast as soon as he is gone. “Now tell me he doesn’t like you.”

“Shut up!” I exclaim, half-joking.

“And you like him too!” she teases.

“Shut up!”

“No, you shut up!” We giggle together.

“Okay, he’s cute,” I admit. “But he has a girlfriend.”

“Ah ha!”

“What?”

“You
do
like him,” she says, eyes gleaming

I roll my eyes at her. “You know my parents. If I paid any attention to boys and mentioned it to them, I don’t even want to know what would happen.”

Boys are unfamiliar territory. I don’t know how to read the cues, because I never had to before. I know what it’s like in the fictional worlds I read about, but this is the real world. In the real world, spending time with him at lunch makes me happy and I look forward to seeing him.

Jason is a friend. The only one I have besides Arissa.

I know that if I do like him, I’m not equipped for it.

I practice what to ask Mother over and over in my head while I do my chores. She arrives home with Victoria in tow while I’m working on my homework. I leave my room and follow her to her bedroom.

“Mother.”

“What?’ she asks irritably while changing her clothes.

“I have a question.”

“Ask and stop wasting my time,” she snaps, unbuttoning her blouse.

I say it before I lose my nerve. “There’s a boy at school who talks to me and I think I might like him.”             

She points her finger at me. “You stay away from him.”

“But, Mo-“

“Boys are nothing but trouble!” she screams. “Just look at your drunk ass father.”

“But this boy is nice, Mother.”

Her eyes flare. “Sure they all seem nice to start off. But all he wants from you is between your legs.”

She’s not making sense to me. “What?”

“Enough questions!” she yells, stalking into her bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

So much for answers. All she gave me was more questions.

I tap on the door.

“What now?”

“Can I go to Arissa’s?”

“Is your homework done?”

“I need to work on a project with her.”

The ease of lying goes both ways. 

“Fine,” she grumbles.

“Can I stay for dinner if they ask?”

“Yes! Now leave me alone!”

I gather my homework and hurry to Arissa’s. Andrew answers the door.

“Would it be okay if I finished my homework with Riss?” I ask.

“Of course.” He lets me in. “Arissa!” His voice booms.

I jump back and freeze.

Andrew sets a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Sometimes I forget how loud my voice really is.”

I inhale deeply and smile. “That’s okay.”

Arissa comes out of the dining room. “Hey!”

“Hey. I could use some help with my homework.”

We go up to her room and settle down on the floor. “So what do you need help with?” she asks.

“I don’t really need help, I just wanted out of the nut house. Mother was having one of her episodes. It got worse when I tried to talk to her about Jason.”

“Oh,” she says, hushed.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to get my mom?”

Rose is easy to talk to, showing genuine interest in me when I spend time at their house. I don’t need to think about whether or not I want to talk to her about Jason. “Sure.”

She spends half an hour talking to me and Arissa about sex and relationships. I’m lost in thought by the end of the conversation.

“Are you okay?” Rose asks.

“Yeah. It’s just a lot to think about.”

“I know it is. But you and Arissa now know more than my parents ever told me.”

The house is dark when I return home.

I head to the kitchen and open the refrigerator, grabbing the bottle of apple juice. When I turn around, Father smacks me in the face and the juice container falls, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“What—“ I start.

He strikes me again then grabs the front of my shirt, hauling me out of the kitchen in his wake. The stinging burns hot on my cheek.

“What did I do?” I ask, stunned.

He throws me down on the living room floor instead, kicking me onto my back. The throbbing in my side takes my attention away from the bite of his initial blows. Tears roll from the outer corners of my eyes.

He straddles my hips and grabs my shirt at the collar, ripping it open to the bottom.

“No!” I try to wrap my ripped shirt around me.

He punches my stomach and pries my hands from my shirt, pinning them over my head with my right wrist crossing over my cast. The force of his punch blows all the air from me and I wheeze, searching for oxygen.

“Please! No!” I beg between gulps of air.

He ignores my pleas, pushing my shirt away and unclasping the front clasp of my bra with his free hand. I try to wiggle out from underneath him, but his full weight is on me. He pinches my nipples. “Ow! Stop!”

He punches me again and bellows, “Shut the fuck up! You wanted to know about boys, so I’m gonna teach you.”

I swallow the urge to vomit from his punches and what I know is about to happen.

He licks my breasts in one motion.

I stop struggling, closing my eyes as I cringe. It will be worse if I keep fighting.

He releases my wrists, then strips off my jeans and underwear. Tears stream from my sealed eyelids. The zipper of his pants swoosh down and moments later he spreads my legs roughly; the tip of his penis pressing against me, searching. Searing pain shoots through me as he tears into me, thrusting in and out. I squeeze my eyes shut harder and bite my lips.

I was wrong. This is worse.

He breathes harder in what seems like seconds, but I have no idea how much time has passed. After his final groan and grunt, he withdraws and puts his pants back on.

“No boy could ever want damaged goods like you. Now clean up your mess before your mother and sister get back,” he says, throwing my jeans on me.

I sit up, wincing from the pain between my legs. Blood smears over my thighs and the carpet as I push myself to my feet and traipse to the bathroom. I give my legs a cursory wash and get dressed before scrubbing the sanguine fluid on the carpet until it disappears.

But it plagues me like it did Lady Macbeth. Different circumstances, same problem.

That damned spot.

I shower, scouring my skin until it is raw. The feeling of him licking me, pinching me, and pushing into me remains no matter how much I try to erase him.

It was nothing like what Rose told me about having sex with someone you love.

I don’t love my father. I fear him.

I’m gonna teach you
, his voice echoes in the nightmares plaguing my sleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I wake up tired, sore, and unmotivated to get out of bed or talk to anyone.

Mother opens my door and snaps, “You’re going to be late.”

“I’m sick.”

She marches over, setting her cold palm on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

“I feel like throwing up.”

“You’re going to school,” she says with finality, whipping the covers off me. “Now get up.”

My abs tighten, my thighs cramp, and my vagina spasms in protest when I slide out of bed. I wince with each movement, knowing I’ll need to wear a stoic mask for the school day.

Arissa is waiting in the living room when I finish getting ready. “Come on sleepyhead, we’ll be late if you keep moving at that pace.”

I pretend to listen to Arissa as she rambles on about some boy in her English class on our way to school. My silence continues in class, but no one notices the quiet girl.

“Are you okay?” Arissa asks, sitting in our usual lunch spot.

“I feel sick.”

“Do you want to go to the office?”

“No. I don’t have a fever and Mother won’t pick me up if I don’t have one.”

“Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

Irritation rumbles within, threating to break free. I just want her to stop asking questions. It’s like pouring salt on a wound and mine are raw enough right now. “I’m always quiet.”

“Maybe with others, but not with me,” she says pointedly.

“I’m just tired.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve been preoccupied since you came out of your room this morning.”

“I had nightmares all night.” Partial truth. My father haunted my dreams half the night. The other half was spent awake, fearing the nightmares. 

Jason slides in next to me on the bench, draping his arm around me. “So how are my girls today?” he asks with a giant grin. The grin that makes me smile. The one I look forward to all morning.

I shrug his arm off.

A stabbing pain pierces my heart.

I do like him.

His hand flattens on the bench between us. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Maybe you can find out what’s bothering her, ‘cause I sure can’t,” Arissa says, jumping in.

“I told you already,” I say.

“I’m not buying it.”

He scrutinizes me. “Jericho’s right. What’s wrong?”

Here we go again. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“No. It’s something else.”

“I felt sick this morning and my mother made me come to school.” 

“I don’t buy that either,” Arissa says.

“What is this?” I snap. “An interrogation just because I’ve been quiet? Is that a crime now?” Is it irony that after all the lies I told them, it’s the truth they don’t believe?

“Calm down,” Jason says, touching my shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” My arm jerks back and his hand falls from my shoulder. “I don’t think your girlfriend would like it,” I add, hopefully covering my outburst.              

His hands go up in a sign of surrender. “I’ll talk to you later, then,” he says, slinging his backpack over a shoulder and grabbing his tray.

“What was that all about?” Arissa asks once he’s gone.

I stare at my lap, shaking my head and holding back the tears.

“He didn’t even do anything, Sara. All he did was show some concern and you treated him like dirt.”

I don’t need her to make me feel bad. The stabbing pain returns, incessant this time, like a nail being driven into my heart one millimeter at a time.

We walk home and part in silence after school. I crawl into bed, forming a protective bubble around me with my covers.

The pealing doorbell wakes me from my nap.

When I open the door, Jason smiles and hands me a white calla lily. “Peace offering.”

“Thank you.” I accept the flower with a wisp of a smile.

“That’s the first smile I’ve seen from you today. But you still don’t seem yourself.”

“Maybe because I just woke up.”

“Napping, Parker?” He grins.

“I had nightmares all night.”

“Are you going to invite me in?”

“My parents aren’t home.” I leave the door open and sit with him on the porch stairs. “So, how did you find me?”

“Arissa.”

“Figures.” I twist the flower by the stem with my fingers.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not bad. Just typical of her.”

He nudges my shoulder with his. “She’s right, though.”

“About you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

I let out a deep sigh. “She may be right, but I need you guys to leave it alone.”

“But we’re your friends and we care about you.”

“You keep saying I look different. How do I look different?” I change the subject anyway.

“Your eyes aren’t their usual bright green.”

Tears brim and I feel like I’m in an alternate universe in which I’m not a supporting character who bites it in the first hundred pages. But I’m not the main character. I’m not strong like them. I’m damaged.

“Park—“             

“You should go. Go be with your girlfriend. I have work to do before my parents get home,” I say flatly, standing and averting my eyes.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he states, accepting the end of our conversation.

“Thanks for the flower and for coming by.”

“Only for you, Parker.”

I can hear his smile. I head for the door then stop short. “J,” I say without looking back, hiding my wet face.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about lunch.”

“Forgotten already.”

I drop the calla lily in a glass of water on my desk, then call Arissa to apologize, cutting the conversation short so I can do my chores. And to not be caught on the phone by Victoria.

Later, Father interrupts me doing homework in my room.

“Where’d you get this?” he asks, picking up the glass.

“A boy at school.” I keep an eye on the glass, worried he’ll throw it against the wall.

“Does he know you’re damaged goods?”

I shake my head.

He places the glass back on my desk, then crushes the bloom in his hand. He leaves without another word. 

I stare at the mutilated flower and my heart drops into my stomach.

Damaged like me.