Pieces of Us (23 page)

Katie

H
e has stopped coming to me to talk. There were no picnics this summer. I tried, but he wanted to drink instead. At least he was too tired to make it up the hill to the dumpsters. Too tired to do anything but sleep, his arm around me, forgetting that I make him sick.

It’s been three nights since he’s come to me at all. I can’t sleep. I hear a car come down the gravel path. I look out the window and see it’s his. Where could he have been? Another strip club? He thinks I don’t know, but I saw the matchbook peek out from his pocket.

I can do that, if that’s what he wants. I can be anything. I was Pyramid Girl. I open a dresser drawer and put glitter in my hair. The voices are screaming. Ethan and Chris block the door. Tonight is my night. My terms.

I walk into the darkness.

Alex

S
he’s waiting for me by the clothesline, just staring at the sheets blowing in the night air. Does she know I haven’t been in all night? Maybe she isn’t waiting for me at all, just trying to figure shit out. Like me. She likes looking at underwear on a rope and I like looking at G-strings on strippers. Same diff. But I haven’t cheated. Not since we decided to try to work things out.

Strippers aren’t cheating. Neither are lap dances.

I could be a complete a-hole and go to the back room, let those exotic fingers work their magic on me. But I have restraint. The most I do is pay a few bucks to cop a feel while a bitch gyrates on my lap. Then I get home and wash the skank off.

Katie turns around before I have a chance to speak. Does she smell the girls on me? Does she care? I want her to, and I don’t. Sometimes she’s the old Katie I knew, other times all I see is her and those guys on that video. Those times, she may as well be one of the pole girls.

“Have a fun night?” she asks. She doesn’t accuse, just a regular question.

“It was all right.”

She nods. “Find what you were looking for?” The way she says it gives me the creeps. She walks toward me, taking off her shirt. Her bra is purple and sheer. I don’t move away, or walk to her. She moves closer, her hips gyrating. She unhooks her bra in the front and lets it fall to the wet grass.

It’s past midnight, but some of the lake houses still have their lights on. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She pushes me down on the back stoop and straddles me. Her eyes look crazy—hollow and wild at the same time.

She pulls down her pants to reveal a thong. I rip off my shirt and grab her ass. Her tits press against my chest. She pushes harder into me, putting me inside her. She moves around, clawing at my back, her eyes closed.

I’m not sure if she knows it’s me she’s fucking. Seems like I could be anyone. The only time she reacts is when I try to hold her. She moves her arms, wrenching free.

When we’re done, she gets off and gets dressed. “How was that?”

I’m short of breath. I see my Katie. Then whore Katie. Like the thoughts of a schizo. “
What
was that?”

Her eyes focus, but only for a second. “That’s not what you wanted? You like it better when the dead chickens watch?”

“Fuck you.”

She laughs. “Greedy boy.” Then she walks back to her cottage.

I stare after her, thoughts racing. Then, right before she opens the door, she calls out, “Don’t forget to wash the skank off! Who knows where I’ve been.”

Kyle

T
wo weeks go by since you first saw her bruises. You stop meeting her on the swings, but you keep watch from afar. There’s something off about her. Her hair looks like straw, her clothes hang. The only times she seems strong is after flings with Alex. You don’t watch those, but you know when they happen by her change in clothes—tighter, more revealing. You’ve also noticed she does the initiating. Her terms. You understand that—the need to be in control. But you also know when you’re really not. Katie doesn’t get that yet, and you’re afraid she’ll fall apart before she does.

You see Julie when Katie is screwing Alex. At least you know where she is at those moments. You stop bringing up Katie to Julie because that’s when venom spews from Julie’s lips. You have enough poison in your brain.

“So,” she said the last time you saw her. The two of you were on the swings (she never goes when Katie is there), ankles touching. “Are we past everything?”

“Sure,” you say.

“Good.” She gets off the swing and takes your hand, leading you to the grassy hills by the creek. She pulls you down with her onto the grass and kisses you hard and fierce. You kiss her back. Quickly, slowly, hard, soft. She gets on top of you, pulling at your clothes, taking off her shirt. You stop her before it spins out of control.

“You’re right,” she says, laughing. “Way too soon. Us just getting back together and all.”

You kiss her again, trying the same techniques, hoping you’ll feel something different than minutes ago. You don’t. You’re still empty. You still feel nothing. And her touch no longer makes you warm.

Julie

I
know before he finally has the guts to tell me, but I make him anyway. Why should I give him an easy way out?

“It’s not you,” he says, our toes in the creek, moving the water around in circles.

I snort.

“It’s not, Julie.” Then he takes my hand, like we ever had something. Like we could still be friends. I snatch it away.

He sighs. “Don’t be like that.”

“Why not? If it’s not me, what is it?
Who
is it? Katie?”

He stares down at his hands. I laugh. How typical. Shocker. Another boy choosing Katie. But he and I used to be friends. I go for broke. “Tell me what it is about her. Why do you all want her?” My voice cracks. I do not expect this. I brush my tears away with the back of my hand, annoyed.

“I don’t want her like that.” He stops, kicks at the water some more. “But I can’t be with you, when things between the two of you are what they are.”

She had
everything
. She
still
has Alex. Now Kyle. Why can’t I at least get to feel how I do?

“What does it matter how I feel about her?” I shout. My voice floats up into the willow trees.

“It makes you ugly.”

My breath flies back into me. Sharp stabs at my lungs. “Fuck you.”

I jump up and pull the blanket to take it back to the lake house, but it doesn’t move. I suck in air through my teeth. “Get your faggot ass off my blanket.” I want to take the words back, but it’s too late. Kyle rolls off in slow motion, his mind, his eyes, all of him closing me out forever.

“You know,” he says, his voice emotionless—I’d rather it were cold or mean because it would mean he cared—“all this time, I thought it was just Katie who needed protection. I was wrong. You need saving, too.” Then he walks away.

Katie

~
The Chickens
~

S
ummer is almost over, and it’s now or never. I won’t be coming here again next year. The voices here are too loud.

Today is the last day of the chickens, and I want to watch. To see if I can. But not alone. I knock on the guys’ screen door. Kyle answers, looking surprised to see me.

“It’s chicken-killing day,” I say.

“Hi to you too.” He smiles. It’s warm and safe.

“I want you to watch with me.”

“God, why?”

“I want to see them today.”

“Julie and Alex are already there.”

His name makes me cold these days. He always enjoys their pain too much. So does she. “No, they’re not the right ones for this.”

He nods. “You’re right. They like it too much.”

Kyle closes the door of his cottage as we hear the familiar sound of tires on gravel. “You owe me.”

“Big time,” I say. He begins to walk to the benches, but I direct us to the bottom of the hill by the creek instead. “I don’t want Julie and Kyle to see us.”

His face has a question mark, but he follows me.

The chicken man brings out the first chicken. Its feathers are brownish red. It has red by its beak.

It squawks loudly. Like it’s screeching. I close my eyes. Kyle squeezes my hand. “We can go. You don’t have to prove anything.”

My mouth is dry. “I want to see.” I open my eyes again, and Chicken Man is holding a knife high in the air. It shines in the sunlight. The chicken’s feather are reflected in it.

Kyle is pale.

Chicken Man swoops down with the knife and slices cleanly through the neck. I suck in air. Kyle jumps. The chicken falls at his feet immediately.

“It didn’t try to fly,” I say.

“What?” Kyle’s voice is choked.

“Julie says they fly headless, most don’t go quietly. It didn’t fly.”

“You need it to fly?” He’s trying to understand me, but I don’t even understand me.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe the next one. But, Katie, I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Me neither.

Chicken Man picks up another one. Same clean slash. It drops to his feet with a shudder as blood trickles out of its neck.

Two more. More blood. Quick and lifeless. Maybe painless.

I see Julie and Alex shake their heads and leave. Not enough of a show for them. Why did the chickens stop fighting? Maybe there was no point, since their fate wasn’t going to change. They must have known. Chickens talk.

Kyle looks like he’s going to throw up.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“You sure?” he asks.

It’s nice of him to ask. I’ve missed nice.

“I’m sure.”

We go back past the lake houses and away from the swings. Today is definitely a car-watching day.

Kyle

N
ight after the chicken slaughter, and you want to see her. Remembering her face—a mixture of wistfulness and empathy as she stared at the headless bodies of chickens, wanting them to fly—hurts you. Each time a new one was brought out of the cage, she squeezed your hand tightly, crushing your fingers. When the blade sliced through the neck, she let go.

Alex was on a high, hours later, scoping out the trash bin. You knew he would make her fuck him by the dumpster, and didn’t understand why she let it happen. Not when she had so much control about others days they hooked up. She wasn’t a chicken at the mercy of a blade. She could
really
fly away.

Tonight, you hang back behind the trees, blocking out the banging of head, arm, legs on corroded dumpster. You don’t watch, just stand there in case she needs help. You hear her scream, hear Alex cursing at her to be quiet. But you don’t step in to help. Only when he finishes and you’re sure he’s gone, do you go to her.

This time, her face is bruised. There’s blood on the back of her underwear. She crawls around on all fours picking up her clothes. When she sees you, she crawls to you. “Tell me it will be okay,” she says.

You hold her naked, shivering body and tell her what she wants to hear. You cover her with your sweatshirt. She shakes against you, letting you save her. Thinking you can.

Not knowing you had the chance but chickened out.

Julie

I
’m a chicken, a coward, walking around the lake houses looking for Kyle. It’s become a pattern and makes me question my sanity. I want to make it look like an accident. “Oh!” I’d say after I bumped into him. “I’m sorry.” I’d mumble these words and look down at my feet so he’d think I was embarrassed to have run into him after how we left things. He’d stare at me awkwardly, sigh, and finally say, “Me too.” Of course, he’d mean he’s sorry about how things ended, not for bumping into me. Sorry for the bigger picture. Then we’d talk, clear the air, start anew, understand each other like never before.

But I’ve been walking the grounds all week, and nothing. Sometimes, I run out thinking I hear his voice, but it’s just a dedushka listening to the radio or a babushka watching a favorite soap. I started replaying the pretend conversation Kyle and I will have, over and over in my head, letting it lead me to where he may be. Some nights I’ll stop in the middle of the gravel path and just hold my breath and listen for his footsteps. I’ve been thinking that maybe he’s looking for me, too, and we just keep missing each other. Last night, I stood out by the lake so long my feet fell asleep.

Tonight I have a new plan. I’m going to the dumpsters since I’ve covered everywhere else. I’m prepared, with the nose clip I wear for diving. I walk with purpose, not scared of what I may find. I’m not a wuss like Katie.

Seems like it was a good hunch, because I hear shuffling and then whispers as I get closer. Then Kyle’s voice. I speed up and stop short when I see Katie lying on the ground, naked except for Kyle’s sweatshirt.

I watch them from behind a tree, my breath caught in my throat. I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying, but the way he bends down protectively around her makes me sick. He helps her get dressed, and I let the anger rise up. So he doesn’t see her “like that.” Yeah, right. Stupid Julie, mixing up signals again.

Will Katie try to explain? Will she apologize? Give me another cardigan? Is she the innocent victim again? Poor Katie:
Why, I don’t know how these things keep happening. All the boys want me, I guess.
Let her have Kyle. Mama said Katie and Kyle have the same eyes. Weak. She said I can do better than him. I think of Alex’s knee on mine. All I need is time.