Tough Love (3 page)

ONE OF THE coolest things about having a best friend is the way you adopt each other’s families. With Aimee, I called her grandmother ‘Grandma’ and she fought with my siblings the way she argued with her own.

Daddy even had a special nickname for Aimee. He called her ‘Me’. This started because of the way she would enter our house when she came over. We didn’t lock our door during the daytime, and Aimee always had an open invitation. She never knocked, but rather just opened the door and yelled out, ‘It’s me!’ to the entire household. Daddy called her by that name from that day forward.

It was kind of strange, then, that I didn’t meet Aimee’s grandmother until we’d been friends for almost two years. It was the summer before our junior year when Aimee came bursting in with her signature announcement.

“Hey. It’s me. Want to come with me to visit Grandma Nancy? It’s only a few miles away.”

I cleared it with my parents, and we started walking.

“So, this is your dad’s mother, right?” I asked, double-checking some of the details Aimee had shared with me about her family.

“Yes, she’s married to Grandpa Earl. They’re the ones I told you about, who are raising two of my cousins.”

I nodded. “Oh that’s right. And your grandpa is that guy Brendan’s dad.”

“Yep, he’s the one.”

“Wait, you don’t think he’ll be there do you?” I still remembered how he had made me feel a couple years ago. I shivered, thinking of his long hair and captivating eyes.

“He shouldn’t be, no. He lives with two other guys, and they keep him on a pretty short leash. It’s weird if you ask me.”

When Aimee said that, I remembered how she and her brother talked about Brendan; there were always rumors floating around in the family about him.

“Aimee,” I ventured. “Do you think he really is gay? Or at least bi-sexual?” I didn’t know anyone who was gay, and the idea was foreign to me.

She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I mean, he lives with those two guys, and I’m pretty sure
they’re
gay.”

I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. Billy said Brendan thought I was hot. If he really were gay, could he feel anything for a girl? I had no idea.

I changed the subject.

“There’s this lady we call Aunt Thelma. She helped raised us when we were little, and she has a cottage on Posey Lake in Michigan. Mom is taking me up on a Sunday, and then she is going to join me on Friday evening. What do you say? Want to come?”

“Heck, yeah! I would love to do that. I mean, let me check with my mom, but I know she’ll say yes. She thinks you’re a good influence on me,” Aimee teased.

“Very cool!”

Grandma’s small backyard was a testament to the family who lived in that house. There were a lot of toys thrown about – a sure sign of children enjoying summertime in Ohio. Behind the pool was a two-car garage that had its back to the yard with just a door for access.

We opened the gate and then climbed the three steps leading up to the long, rectangular back porch.

Aimee did not open the door until we were on the porch together. “Grandma Nancy has the air on,” she explained.

“Oh, okay,” I said with a nod. Everyone understood that you didn’t let out expensive cool air if you could help it.

And with that, we walked in the back door and stepped into the kitchen.

The large kitchen was clean, but cluttered. Separating it from the dining room was a breakfast bar, where a woman was sitting with her back to us.

“Hey, Grandma!” Aimee called out.

“How do?” the woman answered, as she turned around.

She and Aimee hugged each other, and then Aimee introduced her to me. “This is my best friend, Janessa. She lives across the street from me. Janessa, this is Grandma Nancy.”

“How do, Janessa,” Grandma Nancy echoed, a statement this time.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said with a smile.

“Well, sit down – don’t just stand there. You girls want some iced tea? It’s hot out there.”

Rather than sitting with me, Aimee pulled two glasses from the cupboard and got some ice while Grandma got the tea from the fridge.

“Grandma makes the best sweet tea in the world,” Aimee said. “You’ll love it.”

Before Aimee could shut the door of the freezer, Grandma Nancy called her name.

“Grab me a pack of cigarettes from the freezer, will you?” she asked. She must have seen the surprised look on my face because she smiled. “Keeps ‘em fresh,” she whispered with a wink.

As Aimee brought the glasses back to the table, she handed a pack of Alpine Light 100’s to Grandma Nancy. It dawned on me that almost every one of Aimee’s relatives – all but her mom – smoked. And, by smoking herself, she was doing what came naturally.

“The house is quiet. Where are the girls?” Aimee asked.

“Oh, they’re at dance. Grandpa will be bringing them home soon. You girls want to stay for supper?”

Aimee looked at me, and I nodded.

“We don’t have any other plans,” she answered, laughing.

I was amazed at how relaxed I was at Grandma Nancy’s house. From the very beginning, it felt like I was one of the family, finding my place and fitting in with every aspect of this fun-loving group. When Aimee and I left that evening, Grandma gave me a hug and kiss and told me to hurry back.

“See, I told you they would love you!” Aimee said as we walked back to our neighborhood after dinner.

“You really think so? I like them too – all of them. Hannah and Natalie seem like very sweet girls. I’m glad they made it home in time for supper.”

“Me, too,” she agreed. “Hey, they usually have a summer recital. Do you wanna come with me? It’ll probably be in a few weeks.”

“How do you even know you guys are still going to want me around?”

Aimee smiled.

“I just know ...”

Four days later, I was putting away some laundry for my mom when the phone rang.

“Hey, I really need to talk to you. Can you come over?” Aimee asked.

“Of course – I’ll be right there.”

I ran across the street as fast as my short, chubby legs would carry me. I had no idea what she was going to say but I knew it was something bad. Otherwise, she would have just strolled into the house in her usual “it’s me” fashion.

I opened the door and stepped inside. Aimee was sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette. She took a long drag and let the smoke out slowly. It seemed an eternity before she spoke.

“I’m going to transfer to Waite,” she said.

I sighed with relief as I sat next to her. “Oh dear God, is that all? Here I thought someone was dead. Not that we’re just going to be at different high schools.”

“At least we still live across the street from each other. I can still tell you everything when we get home each day,” I said with a smile. “Oh, by the way I have a babysitting job on Friday night. Do you want to come with me?”

“Sure, that’s cool. How are we getting there and back?”

“Mom is going to take me and then Mrs. Hines is going to bring me back home on Saturday afternoon. It’s kind of a double job. I’ll be watching these two little girls on Friday night and then again on Saturday while their mom works and their dad goes fishing. I figured it’d be more fun if you came.”

Aimee nodded as she took another puff of her cigarette. “Yeah, that does sound like fun. Count me in!”

“Hey there, Me,” Dad called out when Aimee walked into the house on Friday night. “What brings you over?”

“I’m going to babysit with Janessa tonight and tomorrow,” she replied as I came bouncing down the stairs.

“You ready to go? Got your overnight bag?” I asked her.

“Yep, I’m all set. Where’s Mom?”

“Oh, you know her, always late. She’ll be down in half an hour,” Dad joked with us. “I’ll see you ladies tomorrow, then. Have fun!”

As Dad walked out the door, Mom was rounding the corner. We piled into the car and headed off. All three of us were in good spirits, singing with the radio and enjoying the warm June air. Nobody in the car could have predicted the horror that was about to come.

“Aimee! Aimee, wake up!” I shook her shoulder and whispered her name as loud as I could, hoping the man in the next room could not hear me. “Aimee!”

“What? Huh? What’s going on?” Aimee struggled to open her eyes in the dimly lit room.

My voice was urgent, yet strained. “We have to go! I need to wake up Mrs. Hines, and she has to take us home right now!”

Aimee stayed in the living room while I went to wake up Mrs. Hines. She was sleeping alone in their bed; it was about two in the morning.

“Mrs. Hines, please wake up. I need you to take me home.” I was crying and could no longer hide my shaking voice. She awoke, got dressed and helped us gather our things without a word. She led us out to her car and started to pull out of her driveway, all without asking why I wanted to leave. I was shaking, and my teeth chattered, even though it wasn’t the least bit cold.

Finally I spoke up.

“Mrs. Hines, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Mr. Hines did something to me.”

She stopped at the end of the driveway and dropped her head to the steering wheel. “Oh, Janessa, I am so sorry. I was afraid something like this might happen,” she confessed. “Please tell me everything.”

Sitting there in her car, I described how the night had progressed; that Aimee was sleeping on the floor and I was on the couch. I remembered hearing them come home, and Mrs. Hines telling Mr. Hines ‘good night’ before she went to their bedroom and shut the door.

“I must have fallen back asleep after that, because the next thing I remember was the feeling of Mr. Hines’ lips against mine. I turned my head and moaned like I was sleeping, and he went away. But then a couple of minutes later, he was trying to touch my breasts so I rolled away from him.”

I stopped to take a deep breath. I was crying so hard that it couldn’t have been easy to understand my words through the tears, but I could see Mrs. Hines’ understanding nods in the glow of the clock. Aimee sobbed softly in the backseat.

“Then I remember hearing him in the kitchen before coming back to where I lay. There were loud breath sounds, and then I felt him rub something warm and wet on my lips.”

I wept into my hands as I said these last few words, trying not to remember the sensation and the sound of the zipper. Even there in the car, I could still smell the unmistakable tang of sex; the sweet, pungent odor that only semen could produce. It felt like a horrible dream.

“Janessa, I am so sorry,” Mrs. Hines repeated. “He does this all the time!” She pounded her fists on the steering wheel as tears covered her face, too.

“And it’s always after we go out together, and we have such a wonderful time. Why does he do this?” Her hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline, her knuckles white.

My breath caught in my throat as I realized what her words meant.

“He’s done this before?” I asked with disbelief. “He’s done this before and you still allowed me to come to your home and babysit for you?” I was bewildered and confused. But mostly I was angry.

Mrs. Hines didn’t answer me. She took a deep breath and turned onto the street to drive us home. She didn’t speak again.