Web of Angels (26 page)

Lyssa pulled on the jeans over her shorts, then glanced at the mirror. “They fit,” she said, hopping on one foot and leaning on Cathy as she removed the jeans. “I’m trusting you.” She nudged the girl.

“The jacket is pretty on you,” she said shyly, looking down.

“I’ll take these and also,” Lyssa pointed to the display of punky earrings, “those silver ones. No, not that, I want the anchors. These are for you,” she said to Cathy. “And the skulls. Yup, that’s all. No, wait.” It had taken her a moment to realize that Cathy had switched to someone whose voice and face were slightly familiar.

The girl’s hand was hovering over a tray of hair claws, drawn by the coloured crystals. Then she snatched it away as if she wasn’t allowed.

“Can I try that?” Lyssa asked the saleswoman, picking up a hair claw shaped like a butterfly and decorated with white and blue crystals. She bunched the girl’s hair, twisted and clipped it up, revealing the long neck. “It goes with your eyes. Turn around. You can see it if you hold up this mirror.”

The girl smiled tentatively, then shook her head, looking up at Lyssa through her lashes. “It’s too pretty,” she said.

And in those few words, Lyssa understood that here was a flirty girl, one of those dirty girls not allowed shiny things that show the lovely colour of the eyes. “Hey, didn’t you help me pick out this great jacket and the jeans?” Lyssa asked. “If that’s okay for me, then it must be for you since I’ve done everything you could do and more.”

“Daddy likes pink on girls.” The girl glanced up quickly then away, eyes on her feet. She wore silver flip-flops. Her toenails were painted pink. “I heard what you said to Mom about calling social services, but we can’t do that,” she whispered. “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.”

Lyssa could say kiss my ass. She knew how to say it in numerous languages. In Turkish it was lick my ass. But instead she said, “I’ve always wanted pretty things. I’m not a stranger. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“What do you think about your sister’s baby growing up like her?”

“It’s not so bad.”

“She killed herself. Isn’t that bad enough?”

The girl shook her head, then unclipped the hair claw, letting her hair fall around her face. Sometime when this kid was middle-aged, she might wander into a therapist’s office. God had more patience than Lyssa.

“By the end of next month you’ll be gone. You’ve got till then. That’s your chance. Just think of that,” Lyssa said. And she bought the hair claw.

Pushing through lines and wending her way between displays, Lyssa led the girl back toward the Caring for Your Pet booth, where Ingrid had joined Amy, bringing lunch. It smelled good, roast corn and burgers. Over on the grass, their next-door neighbour Nico Agostino was playing the saxophone, the case open, people throwing in coins. He would soon graduate from high school and his father was opening his wallet to give a donation to the Committee for
Youth. Rick turned the receipt book to a fresh page. This was Mayfest; who among them was the snake in the garden?

Debra put her stethoscope in the ears of a little boy, next in the line of kids wanting to tap each other’s knees and hear their own hearts. Heavy clouds covered the sun. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yup. I nearly bought a jacket that was awful. But this girl saved me. She has a good eye. Thanks,” she said to Cathy but it was her mother who smiled back.

“At the cottage I’ll be able to spend more time with her,” Debra said. “We’ve been in a state of shock and let things go in a way we shouldn’t have. She used to be such a good girl.” At the word
good
, the girl tilted her head coyly, glancing at her parents from under her lashes. “She was just like Madeline as a baby. Madeline hardly cries at all, even at night. I’ve checked on her in the crib and she’s just lying there with her eyes open.”

Tony Agostino took his receipt and there was a momentary break in the crowd, nobody looking at pamphlets, no one signing up.

Frowning, Rick looked at the sky. “Is that a raindrop?” He lifted his palm. Seagulls were squalling. “We’ve got to load the car in a hurry. Pack these up, Cathy.” Umbrellas were coming out, newspapers held over heads, the guinea pig chirping as a cloth was dropped over its cage.

“See you!” Lyssa called, waving one last time. In the western heaven water and ice collided. Lightning flashed as she went to collect her family.

B
y the Friday after Mayfest, warm rain had turned to cold rain as the north wind gathered speed. Lyssa was looking through the closet for something to wear with her new jeans. That shirt might do, she thought, or that one. After trying on each combination, she gazed at herself in the mirror and shook her head. What about the lacy camisole she’d seen underneath the cotton tops in the dresser? Nina and Emmie were asleep, Cathy and Josh in his room, studying for exams, Dan working in the office.

“Can I have some money?” Josh called from the bottom of the staircase.

“Sure,” Lyssa called back. She went to the dressing table, opened the purse that was on it, and took out the wallet as Josh came into the bedroom.

“What do you need money for?” Dan asked, emerging from the office.

“Snacks. There’s nothing to eat,” Josh said. The fridge was full, but he couldn’t study on a cheese sandwich or carrot sticks. “And I want to get a movie for later.” When
Dan raised his eyebrows, Josh added, “It’s not a school night.”

“Great. Bring back donuts, too,” Lyssa said, giving Josh some money. “I like the lemon jelly.”

After Josh left, Dan stayed in the bedroom, watching Lyssa with a smile while she dug the camisole out of the dresser drawer and changed into it. She studied herself in the mirror. Possible. Tucked in or out? Definitely out.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Nice,” he said.

“I should ask Cathy.” She didn’t have any jewellery to wear with it except for the jade heart. What about makeup—would the guys inside put up with it?

“My opinion not good enough?” he teased.

“It’s a chance to talk to her alone,” she said. “Josh will be a while. He has to go farther for the donuts.”

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope.” She started down the stairs.

“Maybe I can help this time,” he said and followed her.

Stopping, she turned her head to look at him dubiously. “I don’t know.”

“I haven’t tried, yet. What if she sees that both of Josh’s parents are willing to believe her?”

“Okay,” she said, and, together they continued down the stairs and along the hallway to Josh’s room.

Cathy was sitting at his desk, a tablet plugged into the computer, moving a stylus on its surface. She lifted the pen and leaned to touch the monitor as she studied the image, so absorbed she didn’t notice her boyfriend’s parents walk in.

Dan swore under his breath when he saw the computer screen. It was one thing to know such things existed, another to see it in colour and in his house. Lyssa thought:
Not this, I can’t do it, I need to get out of here
.

Cathy turned, pointing the grey e-pen at her. From where she stood, Lyssa could read the URL: www.angelsoftranquility.com. The little angel on the computer screen was blonde. Her hair was in pigtails. Her nose sunburned. She was naked and mounted by a grimacing rider nearly twice her height and four times her weight. Lyssa made herself stay though she wanted to run out the window and into the sky and along the trail of stars as far as she could get. On the inside some folks were moving lils back, others on alert. Thinkers thinking. Protectors protecting.

Cathy—not Cathy, but someone else in the same body, the same white top and pink skirt, hair in a ponytail, scarred palm, turned toward them, blue-grey eyes of a newborn, edgy voice, sardonic smile. The girl who’d drawn Wonder Woman with stained glass hair said, “Sorry,” as she closed the browser. “I gotta go.”

“Don’t. I saw that. I know what it is,” Lyssa said. Inside a furore, a scream that was cut off. Dead silence.

“What do you know?” Her voice was contemptuous. There were only two kinds of grown-ups: those who hurt kids, those who were stupid. And yet she’d let herself get caught. She’d come here to do it.

Dan said, “That was kiddie porn.” He sounded appalled, horrified, disgusted, all the things that would drive away the girl with the newborn eyes.

“Shhh,” Lyssa hissed. The blink of an eye and Cathy would switch back. Once she was back, she’d know nothing except that she didn’t feel very good. People who hurt children counted on that.

“We should call her parents,” Dan said.

“No, we shouldn’t. And we’re not, right?” she said quickly, looking at him, a warning in her eyes. If he started to lecture, they’d get nowhere. “You said you wanted to show Cathy that you’d believe her. First you have to listen.”

“Okay,” Dan said. “I’m listening.”

The girl opened her mouth to tell some lie, anything to deny what they’d just seen. “I …”

“Don’t.” Lyssa interrupted. “You hooked up that art tablet but you weren’t drawing. Why?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the girl said. But she was looking at Lyssa, not at the floor or the ceiling or blinking to switch.

“Just because I have a nice ass doesn’t mean I’m brainless.” A protector was trying to get out and push her aside. They were shifting back and forth, closer and further, melding and separating. “You were doing something to the picture. What?”

“Homework.” Behind the eyes Lyssa saw a flicker of fear. The girl crossed her arms, daring the grown-ups to figure it out.

“Was that you or Heather? I could tell it was one of you, but you look a lot alike and it was a while ago. Like—when you were maybe five?”

Dan looked stunned, and the fear in the girl’s eyes was turning into panic. But she didn’t switch though one hand
was on her stomach like it was hurting. She grinned. Or something like a grin. She could have been gritting her teeth.

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

“I’m not into girls,” Lyssa said with a straight face. “Besides, you’re jailbait and I’m married.”

Jolted, the girl laughed and then for a moment she relaxed, no longer smiling, looking up at the grown-ups with a little bit of hope.

The way to answer that hope was by sharing the truth, and Lyssa was the one to do it. She could ask the questions that nobody but her would think to ask, though she and the others inside weren’t supposed to let on what they knew. It was hard enough to talk to the therapist about things they were never supposed to say. If she didn’t choke on the words, if she didn’t get overcome by nausea, if someone inside didn’t haul her back, she could tell this girl that she knew exactly what the picture on the computer screen had been all about. From inside came a howl.
No!
But the girl who drew pictures was a kid in their house. Protect the children. Wasn’t that what they lived for? Lyssa moved forward as far as she could go and right behind her she could feel Sharon—the idiot outsider, the
it’s nothing
, the
be nice
one—saying,
Talk. Talk your head off. Now! We are the MOM!

“Are your parents hurting you?” Lyssa asked.

“My parents are wonderful.”

“I’ve got wonderful parents too,” Lyssa said. “Everyone likes them.” The girl was staring as if she could see inside Lyssa’s head and maybe she could. Let her. All she’d find
was someone who wasn’t running even though Lyssa had to fight every instinct to stay where she was. “But my father liked kids.”

Next to her, Dan stood quietly, nodding to show that he was listening, even if it cost him nearly as much to remain silent as it did Lyssa to say more.

“Don’t they all,” the girl said.

“He had sex with his,” Lyssa said, blood drumming in her ears.

Dan put his arm around her, but she shrugged him off, unable to bear any kind of touch right now.

“I did pictures like that, too,” Lyssa said. “And movies. And parties. Both my parents sold us.”

“But you’re married,” the girl said, face confused.

“Funny thing,” she answered softly. “I thought I’d always be a little whore. Sometimes I still feel like one.”

“I’d like to kill them for making you feel like that,” Dan said, trying to keep his tone level so as not to frighten anyone. “The people who did that to you are scumbags. But you, hon—you’re beautiful.”

And though Lyssa would rather have done anything but look at him, she did. This was what she saw in Dan’s eyes: anger, worry, love so sure she had to look away, but she let him entwine his fingers through hers.

“You don’t think she’s gross?” the girl asked.

“Why would I think that?” Dan asked, insulted.

“Because it’s disgusting.”

“It—and the adults who liked it. Not the kids. Not my wife.”

The girl looked down, looked up. Still present but barely holding on. “Heather was too old for the business so she had to do web maintenance.”

Dan swore again, and Lyssa pressed his hand, reminding him to stay calm. The question had to be posed even though it was risky because the girl might take off. “Your father, is he still doing you?” Lyssa asked.

The girl nodded. No words. There would have been threats about telling. There would have been demonstrations of consequences.

“They’re both in the business?”

The barest nod of the chin. Half the people Lyssa had met in multiples-chat had been done by both parents. It had nothing to do with being gay or straight. Breaking into a child’s body was something else entirely. “Does she use you?”

“Not anymore. I’m too big. But she’ll go berserk if she knows I’m doing this.” Looking from her boyfriend’s mom to his dad.

“It’s okay,” Dan said. “I’m not upset with you.”

“Please. I can get some of this done before Josh comes back.”

“Some of what?” Lyssa asked.

“I do the web maintenance now. So I’m taking out Heather’s face and putting mine in. I don’t want anybody looking at my sister like that.” She was pleading with them, this tough kid who’d as soon scratch your eyes out as say hello.

“Neither would I,” Lyssa said. “I’ve got a sister, too. But there are so many ways this could get you into worse trouble.”