Prayers and Lies (37 page)

I came down the stairs one day to find Reana Mae perched on the sofa arm, right next to Paul, leaning across him so that her breasts lightly brushed his face, pretending to look for the
TV Guide
, which was on the table right behind her. It made me catch my breath, seeing her that way, and I immediately looked around for Tracy. I was certain that, even on Valium, Tracy would tear Reana Mae’s hair right out of her head if she saw Reana draped over Paul like that.

I heard Tracy’s voice in the kitchen, so I walked into the living room and grabbed Reana’s arm, pulling her away from Paul and off the couch.

“What’s that for?” Reana asked me crossly.

“I need to show you something … in Mother’s room,” I said, pulling her down the hallway.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded as soon as I’d shut the door behind us.

“What’s wrong with
you
?” I hissed back. “You can’t act that way with Paul. You know you can’t.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because he’s Tracy’s boyfriend,” I said as calmly as I could. “He’s Tracy’s boyfriend, and she’ll have a fit if she sees you flirting with him like that.”

“I hope she does.” Reana Mae smiled smugly. “I hope she sees
him
flirting with
me
, ’cause he does, you know. He flirts right back.”

“Reana Mae, you can’t do that. It’s trouble, that’s all. Tracy would have a fit, and Mother would get upset, and … and you look like a tramp when you do things like that.”

She glared at me for a minute as if she might slap me, then turned away and said flatly, “You don’t know nothing about it, Bethany. You’re just a little girl. You don’t know nothing about it at all.”

With that, she walked back into the living room. I heard her call out after Tracy and Paul, “Bye, ya’ll. You have fun now, you hear?”

I told Cindy about it all, and then I told Brian. He listened, thought about it a while, and then told me to stay out of it.

“It’s between Reana Mae and Tracy,” he said. “One of them is going to end up getting hurt. And I don’t want you to get hurt, too.”

But I couldn’t ignore what was going on. Reana Mae was my cousin, my best friend, and I felt like she was drifting away from me and from Mother. Like she was drifting out to sea, and I couldn’t catch up with her or make her come back. She’d lost hope in Caleb, and it seemed to drain something out of her—her last shred of innocence or faith in anything good, even her faith in me. It cut me to the quick when she said I didn’t understand her. I was the only one who had ever understood her. I was the only one who always stood by her. And now, she seemed not to need me or want me at all.

I tried to take Brian’s advice. He was smart, after all, and he knew a lot about people. That’s what made him such a good reporter. But it was hard watching Reana Mae drift away. Her friends had never really been mine, but now she was hanging out with a different crowd. They smoked outside the school doors and often came to class glassy-eyed and smelling of pot. The girls had a rough look about them, and the boys looked mostly dirty.

Reana Mae laughed when I told her I didn’t think it was a good crowd. She told me to take care of myself and let her take care of herself.

She began dating a dark-haired boy named Doug who wore greasy jeans and black T-shirts every day of the week. He drove a motorcycle, too. Not as big as Bobby Lee’s old bike, but a motorcycle nonetheless. Mother told Reana Mae she absolutely was not allowed to ride on Doug’s bike, but of course Reana did, whenever Mother wasn’t there.

I saw them sometimes leaving the school parking lot, the one where Reana and Harley had parked the day of the funeral. Doug leaned forward on the bike, driving fast, and Reana Mae leaned against him, her hands resting in his lap. They looked for all the world like Bobby Lee and Jolene.

I hated seeing them that way.

32
An Oncoming Train

A
t the end of May, Mother took Tracy to buy a dress for the prom. Brian had asked me, as well, but I said I would wear my ruby red gown again. I’d only ever worn it once, and then for just a little while. And Brian said I looked so beautiful in it, he’d love it if I wore that gown again.

Reana Mae loaned me her new black high heels to wear with the gown. She was not going to the prom. Doug was a junior, so he could have asked her, but he didn’t want to go, and she didn’t seem to mind.

Tracy came home with a stunning white gown with a strap over just one shoulder, like an ancient Roman goddess. She looked ethereal in it, heavenly, really. And while she could not bring herself to accept my compliment, or to compliment me on my own dress, at least she didn’t say anything mean like she had the previous fall.

She told Paul he had to rent a white tuxedo and bring her white roses, and she bought a small tiara to wear in her hair. She had planned everything, down to which handbag she would carry and where they would eat.

Mother and Daddy smiled, watching her try on her new finery. Surely, the Valium was working.

They were so relieved over Tracy’s transformation that they seemed not to notice Reana Mae’s. Of course, Mother fretted over Reana’s new boyfriend and actually yelled at her about the cigarettes. But mostly my parents seemed happy … happier than I’d seen them in a long time. Tracy was well.

A week before the prom, I spent a Tuesday evening at the high school, working on a story for the paper. Brian was there, working away on his weekly editorial, and Linda Murray was typing on the electric typewriter, swearing now and then at a typo she’d made. At eight, we decided to call it a night. Brian would drive me home, and maybe we’d spend some time kissing in the driveway. Mother and Daddy were gone for the evening, out with friends from Daddy’s office.

As we walked toward the parking lot, I saw Tracy leaving the school. She was on the prom committee and had been working on decorations. Before I could stop him, Brian had called out to her, offering her a ride home. So much for kissing in the driveway, I thought unhappily. Still, that’s how Brian was. He was always polite.

Tracy climbed into the backseat of the car and we drove straight home. She spoke briefly but relatively nicely to Brian and ignored me completely. Valium worked, but it didn’t work miracles.

As we pulled into the driveway, where a Honda was parked, Tracy said, “Why, Paul’s here!”

She was surprised, I could tell. And in an instant, my stomach lurched.

“Tracy, wait,” I called to her. “Can you help me with these papers?”

But she was walking swiftly toward the house and never even paused.

Brian got out of the car and stood uncertainly. I ran up the walkway behind Tracy. I wanted to get to the door before her, to keep her from going inside. I knew—I don’t know how or why—but I knew what she would see.

Tracy reached the door just ahead of me and pushed it open. Standing just behind her, I saw them as soon as she did. Paul was reclined on the couch, wearing only his unbuttoned shirt. Reana Mae was completely naked, straddling him, her head thrown back, her eyes closed.

When he saw Tracy standing in the doorway, Paul froze, his eyes locked on hers. Then he tried to get up, but Reana sat firmly on top of him, grinding her groin into his. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t stop grinding.

“Reana Mae!”

It came out in a strangled cry as I pushed past Tracy and grabbed at my cousin’s arm. “Stop it! Stop it, Reana! Get off!”

I pulled hard at her arm and she opened her eyes, looking past me at Tracy. Then she smiled.

I stopped pulling at her, stunned by the smile on her face. It hit me then, hard, that she knew exactly what she’d done. She’d meant for Tracy to find them that way. She’d done it on purpose.

I backed away from her, staring at that smile, feeling sick. Behind me, Tracy made a single, small sound like a kitten mewing for its mama. When I turned toward her, she was already out the door, running down the porch steps and across the yard.

“Tracy, wait!” I ran after her into the yard, where Brian still stood by the car. She ran down the sidewalk and I pounded along behind her. I heard Brian running behind me, catching up and then passing me. He ran ahead, following Tracy, till he caught her arm just before the railroad tracks.

She swung around and began beating at him, slapping his face, his arms, his chest. But he held tight on to her until I caught up to them, panting and crying.

“Tracy, wait,” I said, mimicking Mother’s soothing tone. “Just wait a minute and calm down. Don’t run off, please don’t, Tracy. You’ll get hurt. You need to sit down, just sit down here with me and Brian. Please, Tracy, please sit down.”

Brian had pulled her toward him so he could wrap his arms around her, and she finally stopped hitting him and collapsed into his chest, heaving great sobs and clutching at his arms. He held her tight, stroking her hair and making shushing noises while he looked over her head at me, his eyes wide.

Then we saw Paul jogging toward us, his unbuttoned shirt flapping in the wind. At least he’d put his pants on.

I looked frantically from him to Brian and tried to wave him off. Tracy plainly did not need to see him, not now. But he kept coming.

“Tracy?” His voice was soft. “Tracy, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She pulled back from Brian then, turning to stare at Paul as he stopped before her. Brian held her arms firmly, so she couldn’t run away again.

“Please, honey, please let me talk to you. It was a mistake. I don’t even know how it happened. I’m so sorry. I love you, Tracy. You know that, don’t you? You know I love you.”

With a sudden twist, Tracy lurched away from Brian, running toward Paul and screaming. She scratched at his face, leaving long red welts, then slapped him again and again until Brian caught hold of her arm. Then she wrenched her arm loose from Brian’s grip and ran headlong toward the railroad tracks, toward the flashing red lights and the clanging bells and the whistle of a locomotive.

“Tracy, no!” I could hear myself screaming it over and over again. “No, Tracy, stop!”

Brian and Paul both ran after her, but I stood frozen to the sidewalk, watching my sister run toward the oncoming train.

“No, no, no, no!” I screamed, just as Tracy had done the night our grandmother died.

Brian tried to grab her arm as she reached the tracks, but she twisted away from him and threw herself onto the rails. The last thing I saw before the train hit her were her hazel eyes, staring up at Paul, wide and clear and beautiful. Then she was gone, and the huge engine rushed by, pulling car after car over her while Paul dropped to his knees by the tracks, and Brian sank to the ground, sobbing.

Daddy’s car screeched into the driveway. The street was filled with flashing lights, policemen, a fire engine, and neighbors.

I ran down the porch steps toward him, toward Mother, who had just stepped out of the car, her eyes wide.

“What the hell is going on?” Daddy bellowed.

I couldn’t even answer him. I ran straight to Mother and threw my arms around her. I wanted to protect her, to shield her from knowing what had happened.

A police officer carrying a small notebook stepped forward and said solemnly, “I’m afraid there’s been an accident, Mr. Wylie.”

Daddy stared at him for an instant, then asked, “What kind of accident?”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but your daughter was hit by a train.”

“A train?” Daddy repeated it, uncomprehendingly. “What kind of train?”

“A freight train, sir. She ran onto the railroad tracks just in front of the train, and … and she’s dead, sir. I’m very sorry.”

The policeman looked kindly at my father, who still stared at him as if he didn’t understand.

Mother stood absolutely still in my arms. She was staring at the policeman, too.

“Tracy?” she whispered.

“Yes, ma’am,” the officer agreed. “Your daughter Tracy.”

“Where is she?” Mother looked around the yard, as if she might spot Tracy.

“The ambulance took her, ma’am. She’s at the hospital.”

“Well, then, we’ve got to get to the hospital,” Daddy said firmly. “We’ve got to see her. We’ve got to be there when she wakes up.”

The officer shook his head sadly. “She’s not going to wake up, Mr. Wylie. She was dead before the ambulance arrived.”

“Sir?” Brian stood behind me, his voice shaking but sure.

“We tried to stop her,” he said to my father. “Paul and Bethany and I all tried to stop her before she got to the tracks.”

“Why?” Daddy asked, looking straight at me. “Why would she be on the tracks?”

“She and Paul had an argument,” Brian said softly. “Bethany and I got home and they were arguing, and then Tracy just started running … toward the tracks. And when she got there, she didn’t stop. I guess she thought she could beat the train. But she fell …”

At this, Mother sank to the ground. I tried to hold her up, but she slipped from my arms and fell in a huddle on the grass.

Daddy dropped to his knees beside her, and a police officer helped him carry her into the house.

On the porch, Paul sat shivering and crying. He’d thrown up twice and he looked like hell. He followed us into the house and watched in silence as Daddy and the policeman laid Mother on the couch. Her eyes were open and tears slid down her cheeks, but she didn’t say a word. She looked as though she could be dead herself, except I could see her chest rising and falling.

Daddy stared from me to Brian to Paul, then back to Mother. Finally, he said, “Go get your mother a glass of water, Bethy.”

Brian went with me to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and took it back to Mother himself. I simply followed behind him. Daddy had stepped outside with the policeman.

I sat down on the couch by Mother and stroked her hair, the way she often stroked mine. She never looked at me. She just stared up at the ceiling and let the tears stream unchecked down her cheek.

After a little while, Daddy came back into the house. He looked as if he’d seen the Armageddon. His shoulders slumped, his eyes were puffed red, and he reeked of tobacco.