Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

Part Eight

 

 

Because I live a cliché and that’s just how the universe works, my two bookends shuffled me in a backdoor, along poorly lighted Spartan hallways, into an equally baron room, pale green cinderblock walls, a bare bulb suspended from the ceiling over a table, which looked like it was tossed in the trash from my new school.

I assumed the long-awaited day when Randell, the football star who tried to rape me, got around to filing a police report over his broken nose. I figured, since it was mutual combat, and me being a little girl, I could bring it harder to him than him to me.

I danced for Pamala at sanctuary for an hour and a half, sitting at the table, staring at my reflection in the mirror on the wall, the time passing like minutes. I was intrigued she could see me transform into Antoinette, the change so subtitle. I did understand about Michael, having seen his shift in persona.

A file hitting the table pulled me from the mindscape, young detective looking down on me.

“Just how did you know Harold Hill?” he asked.

I blinked, rolling my eyes. “I do not believe I know a Mr. Hill.”

“Come on, Sister,” the old detective sneered because that’s how clichés work. “You bury a guy in the Pines, and you say you didn’t know him?”

“Gentleman.” Leaning my elbows on the table, hands folded under my chin, I looked from young detective to old detective. “I assure you. I did not bury anyone in these Pines you speak of – I don’t even know where these Pines are – and I do not know a Mr. Hill, as least not by name. I meet many people, don’t catch the name.”

“He was a con man,” young detective said.

“Conned everyone,” old detective added.

“Well, I can say with certainly I have not been conned by anyone, nor know of anyone conned.”

“We’re not interested in you, Sister. We want the two men you helped. Give us that, sworn affidavit, we’ll drop you home.”

“Paper? Pen?”

A yellow pad was quickly provided.

I wrote the date and time, my full name. Then: I don’t know a Mr. Harold Hill. I didn’t bury a body. Go fuck yourself. I signed it. “This good? Can I go now?”

“Sister,” old detective said. “You have no idea what kind of trouble you’re in.”

“You’ve got big trouble, big trouble.” Young detective nodded.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. You should be apologizing to me, putting me in a cab. I like Red Rover. In case you didn’t catch it.” I looked from young detective to old detective. “Go fuck yourselves.”

“Twenty years,” old detective said, nodding. “Right?”

“Maybe twenty-five,” young detective agreed.

Old detective came at me with more cliché. “You’d better start singing, Sister, if you want to stay out of the slammer.”

This went back-and-forth just under three hours when I finally looked young detective up and down. “You seem like the perfect male specimen. I bet you have a huge dick.”

If they had pearls, they’d have been clutching them.

I dropped my head, looking at young detective from under my brows. “A dick long enough that you’d have no problem going and fucking yourself.”

My two antagonists relaxed, old detective looking back at the mirror. “She’s not going to break. That enough? I could take the phone book to her.”

The mirror answered with five taps.

Young detective leaned over the table. “Really been a pleasure meeting you.”

I stood, narrowing my eyes, taking the hand. “Been a real barrel of monkeys.”

“Incredible, this one,” old detective said, passing Bill Locke in the doorway.

“You OK, Toby?”

“Almost as much fun as counting ridiculous amounts of money or cleaning up eighteen and a half buckets of shit. Do I get my Didn’t Squeal merit badge?”

“When did you catch on?”

“I wasn’t sure until you walked into the room, Bill.”

What I wasn’t going to tell Bill was I caught on early in the room. Harold Hill. A con man. The young guy practically sung You’ve got big trouble. Every school since the dawn of civilization has done The Music Man.

“Did we really bury someone out there?”

“Does it matter, I mean, to you?”

“Only in that I’d like to know if I want to kill someone, I can call you and Mike to help me tidy up.”

 

“Jack,” I said to the driver from the backseat.

“Toby?”

“I’ll be needing you on the 31^st.”

“Do you mind sharing? Busy night.”

“I do, actually. It’ll be me and my girlfriend.”

“Early or late?”

“What is?”

“Do you want me to pick you up early or late?”

“Early, I guess.”

“Eight pm.”

“That’s a long time to stand around waiting to yell happy new year.”

“There’ll be plenty of games and activities.”

“Really?”

Jack Remington laughed.

I thought Jack should run around the car and open the door like Rex of Red Rover instead of announcing, “Here you go, see you next week.”

I was met on the sidewalk by a blast of cold air and Pamala, Tex on the porch offering a nod, coming down the steps, circling back to the garage. The white Sedan Deville pulling off.

Enveloping me, Pamala said in my ear, “I was worried.”

“Been here long?”

“Half a chapter. Tex made hot chocolate and a fire.”

“Sorry. Turned out to be a prank.”

Arm-in-arm we entered the house.

“Everything’s OK, then?”

“Sure, what are we reading.”

In the living room, she presented the book.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be happy to read it to you if you snuggle with me while I do. Or I could just write the book report for you.”

“I’d like to snuggle – while you read.”

 

Mary Locke winked at me, my envelope typically heavy. I wished her a Merry Christmas, tucking my pay in my red suede bag. Keira made a point to ignore me, Robbie thankfully nowhere to be seen. Robbie obviously thought I’d be a pushover, him an older boy with a stupid grin and pot, which must have played well with the girls in the middle school.

“Hey, Toby,” caught me as I exited Playland amongst the crowded mall.

I took half a step back, blinking up at the cinnamon face framed in beautiful, lush black hair.

“Gail. From English.”

“Oh, hi, Gail.” Her entourage surrounded me.

“We did it, thanks to you.”

“Did what?”

“Got the dress code changed.”

“That’s great,” I said, attempting to infuse excitement.

“Thanks to your idea.”

“Glad to help.” I thought I may be swimming in irony dressed in my favorite denim skirt.

“We heard you got expelled – or were in the hospital.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Randell didn’t put you in the hospital?”

“Randell and I had a disagreement. He was the only one who went to the hospital.”

“We heard you broke his nose, but everyone was saying he got hurt in practice.”

“I’d go with hurt in practice. That sounds more reasonable.”

“Someone should break his nose, maybe worse,” a random girl said.

I managed to catch her eye briefly before she glanced away, a Library of Alexandria wealth of knowledge passing between us.

“He’s rich, you know,” another person offered.

“That’s why he gets away with it,” Gail said.

I held her eyes. “I’m glad that dress code thing worked out for you.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I’m not.”

“Want to walk the mall with us?” the maybe worse girl asked.

Just for a moment, I thought I could say yes, I thought I could be normal, watching the eight girls move off.

 

Tammy Flannagan was a strawberry blonde with thick waves, round face with a splattering of freckles across her nose, light ocher complexion, bright brown eyes, busy eyebrows affirming her hair the natural color, thin pale lips with an annoying permanent smile.

“Carol,” I greeted flatly as I entered the drug store lunch counter on my way to the rear, Tammy, her back to me, engaged with Carol.

“Hey, Toby. Toby, come here.”

I turned, attempting to not broadcast my impatience.

“Tammy, this is Toby. The girl I was just talking about.”

I felt as if physically struck by the irritating smile and enthusiasm. “Tobes!”

Now, I telegraphed my annoyance, glancing the extended hand. “We’ve met.”

“Don’t be like that, Tobes!” Tammy feigned a pout. “We can be friends! We’re like family!”

“Somehow, my mindscape doesn’t seem so fanciful all of a sudden,” I said barely not under my breath.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing.” I cut at the air like shooing flies. “Gee, Tammy, so nice to see you. How have you been? Getting some Christmas shopping done?”

“So nice to be seen! I work here, I mean, not at the drug store. At Bailey’s, center court, just to the right of Santa this year. That’s some Santa, huh? Carol and I met in school last year.”

I considered hitting her – in the face – with my fist – as hard as I could – twice, when Tex had my arm, pulling me. “I have to talk to you. Right now.”

I dropped on my usual stool in the back.

“Hot dog, burn it?” he asked.

“Sure. I think I’ll go a little nuts, have some relish with it today.”

“Oh, that one. Put a quarter in, she never shuts up.”

“I was working on a solution.”

He turned from the grill, chuckling. “You hit her, I imagine everybody applauding.”

“Who you going to hit?” Tammy asked, sitting next to me. “Sorry. I get so excited sometimes. It’s a nervous habit. Talking a mile-a-minute.”

I shrugged. “What are you having? My treat.”

“Well, in that case, how about a grilled cheese. I never got the grilled cheeses at home. Mom said too much trouble. Your father likes them just fine.”

“Tex.”

“Coming right up.”

“I did wish to speak to you. I’m sure Mark told you about our conversation. He’s a hard one to find, always going here, going there. We’re going to get together again after the holidays.”

“We’ve been busy lately, not much time to talk.”

“He was kind of mad, thinking your father left your mother high and dry, your mother saying things that are obviously not true, trying to turn you guys against your father.”

“We’ve been busy lately, my mother and I haven’t had much time to talk.”

“Your father found that nice apartment for you guys, arraigned the move. Even got his friend, Gus, to help out. Gus is such a nice guy. Realtor, you know. He’s paid the rent these past couple months –”

“He’s always been generous that way.”

At the grill, Tex lunged to the side, grabbing his head.

“Are you alright, Tex?” Tammy asked.

He placed her grilled cheese on the counter. “I think I got hit up the side of the head by some stray sarcasm. Diet cola?”

Carol supplied the soda.

“Thanks.” Tammy faced me. “You’re too young to fully understand this.”

“Enough,” I said sternly to Tex as he turned.

Tammy glanced Tex and then came back to me. “Once in a lifetime, if we’re lucky – most people aren’t – we get to meet our soulmate. We see each other and just know we’re meant to be together.”

“Well, that explains everything.”

Tex did another fake head slap.

“Oh, so you understand?”

“I’ve read Plato. What’s not to understand?”

“Now, I’m not sure I understand.”

I hurt myself resisting an eye rolling. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain it to you.”

Tex, between us, put both hands on the counter, looking at Tammy. “God created humans a dual being, both male and female, but not very functional, the seed and all spilling out on the ground. God then cut them in half, where they then clung to each until they died. So, God separated the two aspects, dooming them to forever seek out their missing part getting things done while looking.” Straightening, he bowed.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Tammy asked.

“Symposium, covered in any good first year literature or philosophy course. Maybe next semester, Tammy. You, Tex, and I shall speak at length on the topic of Plato.”

Tex tipped a finger off his forehead. “Ma’am. Maybe we’ll cover what cabbages have to do with kings, too.”

“Anyway,” Tammy wedged the word between us. “I wanted to tell you that you don’t understand your father. You don’t know your father.”

“Tammy, let me put you at ease. It’s all good. You don’t have to justify or explain anything to me. I’m just now figuring out the key to life is to let go. Just let go. My father’s black business shoes hit the black top, I turned the page. Done. What you think or do doesn’t matter to me.”

“He’s still your father. He’s still involved in your life. He still pays the bills –”

“I really don’t wish to do this. Ask him for the cancelled checks. I’ll show you mine.” I swished at the air again.

“Tammy.” I pointed to my upper cheek, maybe glared. “Do you know how I got this scar?”

She blinked repeatedly, leaning back.

“My father hit me in the face with a hammer. Now, you go ahead and fucking sit there telling me good things about him, I’m going to point to my face and say hammer.”

“But –”

I pointed. “Hammer. See how that works?”

Carol gathered the remaining half of the grilled cheese, placing the meal in a container. “I think you’d better go, Tammy.”

The faces of the five patrons at the counter followed her out.

Tex snarled. “I wasn’t going to stop you again.”

“This new lover – soulmate – she’s been raving about these couple months is – your father?” Carol asked.

“Small world.”

Tex nodded. “Address, Toby. I’m not done yet.”

 

I wanted to stop by, watch Santa and Miss Elf with the children. By the time I escaped the drug store lunch counter, I’d had my fill of people and two hours to kill. My plan was to sit in the back of Harvest Chateau, sip tea while watching Pamala work.

She wasn’t on the floor or in the kitchen.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Pamala said from behind the desk as I slipped into the office.

“Busy day.” We shared a quick kiss.

“Yeah, can you work the floor. We’ve gotten behind on the payables, Dad’s called away.”

I examined the desk. “Writing checks? I can do that.”

“Well, there’s the ledger, too.”

I chuckled. “Like my checkbook, but bigger.” I flipped a page back, then forward. “Write the check, record it like it’s done here, prepare the post. I’ve read a book – or two – on bookkeeping and accounting. I got this.”

“You sure? I’ll bring you coffee.”

“Get on the floor. If I want anything, I can get it. I do require a hug, though.”

“We may even get out of here on time,” she whispered in my ear.

 

Tuesday evening not far beyond afternoon, Tex had just gotten out of the shower, I’d just gotten off the phone with Pamala, settling in under a blanket on the Lazy Boy, the fire speaking in soft whispers, one of the two books I found in the library on human sexuality, a scathing indictment of anything the researcher judged as deviant.

Bad science hidden behind big words and technical jargon promenaded on bone jarring heavy feet down the page.

“Good book?” Tex asked, wrapped in a towel, working a towel on his head.

I rolled my eyes. “What did I tell you?”

“I’m not naked! I wanted to let you know you’re almost out of shampoo. I didn’t want to forget.”

“Intention of the prohibition, Tex. Two bottles, got them on sale, in the hall closet.”

“I should have known.”

“As for the book, I’d suggest we feed it to the nearest cow, but that would be worse abuse than throwing rocks at the cow, even large rocks.”

“OK. Here comes the obvious question: Why are you reading it, then?”

I closed the book, looking at Tex. “If you accidentally let that towel drop, I’m going to hit you with it.”

“That’d be a deadly weapon!”

“The book or the towel dropping?” I waved my comment aside. “I’m reading this because it’s the only thing the library had. I’m trying to understand why complete strangers would get all pearl-clutchy over Pamala and me – or a boy in a dress for that matter, which is not covered in anything in the library.”

“Well, Toby –”

“I get why church people may get all beside themselves, the logic following: God is God, God wrote the Bible, the Bible says homosexual acts are an abomination – an affront to God.”

“Your logic is flawed, for an argument to work –”

“Not my argument. It’s their argument. I’m well aware of what’s required for an argument to be valid.”

“Of course you are.”

“I’ve been wondering, Tex, why it is if a person isn’t a gossipy old church lady, why’d she or he object so violently to me holding hands with another girl.”

“Well, Toby –”

I stopped him again. “I’m not looking for your opinion on why they have such an opinion.” I displayed the book again. “Books like this are like the argument. Even if the argument is flawed, I can at least understand their attempt at logic. I have a treasure trove of opinions all over the map from reading my magazines.”

“I just look at the pictures.”

“I do both.” I reopened the book. “You going to be OK out there tonight. Looks like winter found us.”

“Over the last five years or so, I can say this is this the best permanent place I’ve had to sleep.”

I’d considered inviting him to take a guest room for the night. Sleeping with my bedroom door open was too much of a guilty pleasure. “Don’t freeze to death out there. You have that plaster work to finish and I’m getting spoiled with your breakfasts.”

He bowed slightly. “Your concern for my well-being will keep me warm for the night.”

“You’re so corny.”

“Like you aren’t.”

 

I wondered why Doctor Fox’s editor didn’t flag unnatural simply because of his overuse of the word. I’d read two – or three – Intro to Sociology textbooks. I didn’t think he knew the proper application of the term. Bill Locke, for example, was dressed unnaturally among the room populated by mostly men dressed as women.

If I owned the book, I would have tossed it casually in the fire and gone boiled a hotdog.

Five insufferable thuds resounded from the front door.

Bracing against the wind chill in the single digits, I flung the door open dramatically, Father Brown and Mrs. Flanigan turtled in their heavy coats. I held the eyes of one, then the other, glad a mob with garden tools wasn’t crowded on the walk, the wind whipping my red terry robe like a flag behind me.

I offered no greeting, no typical What do you want? I stared, one then the other.

Finally. “Hello, Toby.” Brown offered his gloved hand forward.

“Brown.” I glanced the hand. “Flanigan.”

“Merry Christmas,” Flanigan said.

I returned a single nod, more of a head bob.

“Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Brown pleaded.

“I am not.” I didn’t want the likes of them in my house.

“Christmas is why we’re here,” Flanigan said. “The poor enjoyed your turkeys last month.”

I assumed Sam Ellison confessed he wasn’t the benefactor.

“I know not everyone likes fruit,” I said flatly.

“Oh, my family does!”

She said The Poor as some kind of abstract concept and not actually a child somewhere sitting, hands one over the other on her lap, forcing back tears, staring at a single piece of white bread on a plate.

All those years ago, I ate the bread. Demands yelled down on me, my mother’s face in mine, I thanked her for such a wonderful dinner. Hours later in the dark, I crept around my mother, drunk, passed out on the dining room floor in a pool of her vomit. Like a raccoon, I had a second dinner, eating directly from the garage can.

I crooked a smile, sure Flanigan stole one of my turkey diners meant for the poor. In a flash across the mindscape, I saw Flanigan and my mother as the same person, a person who would casually deprive a child of the most basic of human needs. Eyefucking my bat leaning in the corner, I thought I could easily kill these two turtles on my porch, Brown first, a solid whack to the head, gut bat Flanigan, then a round house to the back of her hat.

A dark sedan waited at the curb, the engine running. I could test Tex, see if he were the kind of friend who would help me bury a body – or two. He could earn a bedroom in the house.

I could call Bill Locke.

I felt a small hand on my elbow, staying my reach for the bat. I love you, Antoinette said from the mindscape, her warm breath on my ear. This will not make you feel better.

She could have given me two pieces of bread.

Toby. There was much she didn’t give you. Don’t you realize. She gave you me. Knowing that, would you still wish for that second piece of bread?

“You have always been the better version of me,” I said to the cold wind. “Wait here.”

I went to my secret hiding place, under the floorboards in the back of my closet, counted out $100 then made it $200, which I handed to Brown without comment, closing the door.

I got the phone on the fifth ring. “Toby,” Bill Locke said.

“I was just thinking about you. Thanks for getting back to me.”

“What do you need?”

“Eh, if you were to get a bullet wound you didn’t want the cops eyefucking, who’d you call?”

“Who got shot?”

“Just a for instance, Bill.”

“We’ve met the requirement for that kind of friends, Toby.”

“I was raped. By four boys.”

“Are you OK?”

“This was a while ago, the night before you brought me to the house the first time.”

I knew he rolled his eyes.

“I want to see a doctor, Bill. To get tested for any disease they may have given me. I’ve read a lot of magazines. I’ve met someone who I like the fuck out of. I want to make sure I’m not going to give her anything when she gets her hand of my skirt.” I took a breath. “A doctor who won’t require paperwork, who won’t be eyefucking my paperwork.”

“I’ll call you right back.”

Two minutes leaked by. “Hello.”

“Friday morning, I’ll pick up at eight.”

“Eight, in the morning.”

“Yes.”

 

“Hammer,” Tex said, chuckling, shaking his head, setting pancakes in front of me at my kitchen table the morning of Christmas Eve.

“I crack me up. Oh, sausage links. Kind of sad, you know, my memories of him.”

“Sausage. The day we met. You looked hungry.”

“There was this one year, he decided to toss the half-decorated tree out on the lawn. I tell you, it was comical, well, it wasn’t at the time. He’s pushing and shoving, got stuck in the doorway with the tree three times. Out on the porch, his best effort put the tree halfway down the steps. Took him three throws to get it where he wanted it.”

“Sounds like an angry guy.”

“He was drunk.” I rolled my eyes, my face resting on my palm. “There was this time I was little. Somehow I got talking about dinosaurs, specifically if any were buried in the backyard.” Presenting my pancake laden fork, I said, “These are really good, never had anything like them.”

“I call ‘em egg cakes. I think Mom didn’t have any baking soda, so she did without. I like ‘em this way.”

“My father comes home the next day with a dinosaur mostly picture book. He laughed trying to pronounce their names. He was not always terrible when he was sober. He was always an asshole when drinking. I’ve wondered if he hid his assholery, bringing it out when drunk, or the drinking made him an asshole.”

Tex shrugged. “I don’t see where it matters.”

I returned the shrug. “Well, if he’s not drinking now –”

“You think he’ll somehow be nice to you?”

“Hammer.”

“Right.”

“He never did apologize.”

“From what I’ve seen over the years, drunks will deny before they apologize.”

“Anyway, I wish Tammy all the luck in the world. It’s gotta suck having a soulmate twice your age who’s a drunk.”

“The women folk, Toby, or maybe I’d better say many of the women folk are obsessed with fixing people, particularly men people. They’ll dangle the carrot and only give him a taste if he does what they want him to do.”

“Do you think I’ve done that with you?”

“The only thing you’ve ever asked of me is not to have a party in your house if you happen to be away for a while, which I wouldn’t have done anyway.”

“Well, I did tell you to wash your clothes.”

“You offered me the use of your washer. There’s a difference.”

“Do you know Keira? Tall, broad shoulders, dark, curly hair. Round face, really pretty. Works the roller coaster.”

“I don’t know her. I may have eye-fucked her once or twice.”

“Tex!”

He offered another shrug. “Just ‘cause I’d never date a teenager, doesn’t mean I won’t appreciate the beauty. You’d rather I say seen her around?”

“I’d rather you be the authentic you.”

“OK. Yes, I may have eye-fucked her once or twice.”

“I may be guilty of the same, but I’d never admit it. She told me the boys in the school have a tradition, which simply put is they gang rape a girl as initiation into their group.”

“Names, Toby.”

“So not the point. When she told me this, I wanted to reach into the fire and pull her out.”

“You wanted to fix her.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t.”

“She has her beliefs. Maybe she’s not broken in need of fixing.”

“And then there’s Pam.”

“Yes, Tex, there’s Pamala.”

“Soulmate?”

“I don’t believe in soulmates.”

“I think Plato was just fucking with us anyway.”

“We can wax poetic over Aristophanes’ pontifications another time. Pamala will be here soon. I wanted to do Christmas. I have two presents for you.”

“Damn. I didn’t get you anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. You make breakfast often, always clean my kitchen. What more can a girl ask for?”

I swung my red suede bag from over the chair, digging, producing a key. “This is to the backdoor, for emergencies only. Sunday night made me think. If I ever do disappear for a day or three, I need you to come in the house, turn lights on and off. Make sure nothing’s on fire.”

“I understand. Porch light off, stay out – unless you’re missing.”

“The gift isn’t the key.”

“I get that, Toby. The gift is the trust.”

I pushed off my chair, coming around the table. “Stand up.”

He did.

“You get one hug. Make it a good one.”

He did.

 

Instrumental orchestra versions of holiday classics – Jingle Bells, White Christmas, A Christmas Song, Holy Night, others – rained down on us, Pamala and I holding hands, early, white shirts, black pants, Pamala’s shirt open revealing the gold heart.

The throng of shoppers moved mindlessly, harried, hard soled shoes tapping out a disjointed melody, voices no more than murmurs melded into a monotone soup.

“I’d think by now, people would be done their shopping.”

“Sometimes something unexpected pops up,” Pamala answered, steering me away from Santa.

“I want to say hi to –”

“We will, quick stop. You’re not the only one who knows people.”

Holy fuck. “This is not how I planned my morning.”

We entered Bailey’s, bloated with browsers, two men to every woman, men likely seeking the last-minute perfect gift, Tammy looked up from behind the display case, confused.

“Merry Christmas, Tammy,” Pamala offered. “Mr. Bailey has something special for me.”

“Eh, Merry Christmas.” She looked at me.

I avoided eye contact.

“I really didn’t like how we left things.”

I could feel her eyes boring into the side of my head. I shrugged.

“Tammy?” Pamala asked.

“Let me see.” Turning, she applied a key to a drawer. “Ah, here we are.”

My heart may have stopped for at least ten seconds when I saw the blue velvet box, Tammy opening the box, turning white, removing a price tag.

“Holy shit,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Pamala answered. “That’s a whole lot of scratch.”

“It’s prepaid.”

“I know. If you’re done staring, may I have it?”

“Eh, sure, OK.”

Taking the small box, she faced me. “Tammy, this is perfect. Absolutely perfect. I might even kiss Mr. Bailey on the lips, and I don’t even like boys that way.”

As Pamala turned the box to me, she dropped to her right knee, the box held up in both hands, her keeping my eyes. “Toby, in our tradition of never, ever presumptionating, would you accept this. Would you be my official – accept not substitutes – girlfriend?”

I’m guessing there may have been more than two thousand shoppers in the store – OK, it was closer to fifteen, all watching us, all holding their breath because I really do live a cliché.

I took the box, within a 1” gold heart, a serious diamond left upper corner, Pamala etched in the gold. My chin quivered. I did my best not to cry. With all the words I own, all the words standing ready to do my bidding, all I could say was yes as I nodded.

 Pamala stood. We hugged, hanging onto each other as if to affirm Aristophanes’ soulmate pontification. For the first time in my life, I felt like a human being and until that moment, I wasn’t aware I didn’t.

A few of the people around us got all pearl-clutchy, offering exaggerated well, I never faces accompanying audible gasps. Most the shoppers applauded. A quick glance over my shoulder as we made for the door arm-in-arm showed Tammy with a wait until your father hears about this face.

On the mall, I held my ponytail out of the way as Pamala worked the catch. I opened a button, my fingers on the heart. “Never, Pam, have I ever felt so understood and appreciated.”

“I know the feeling. We could call out.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“Not too corny?”

I giggled, just a little. “The presentation? Oh, just the exact right and correct amount of corn.”

She chin-bobbed back toward Bailey’s, forty paces across the court. “Old girlfriend you left out of your sordid tales?”

I blinked, puzzled for a moment. “I told you. I’ve never had a girlfriend – or boyfriend – that’s living.”

“She seemed to know –”

“Oh. Tammy. In the sordid canon of tales that is my life, she’s the character who’s fucking my father.”

Pamala stared across the court, through the living sea of people as if she could see Tammy behind the counter. “My gosh, Toby. Not too creepy. She’s our age. Better her than you, huh?”

“If not for Tex Monday, I might have punched her in the face – twice. Then, she’d really not liked how we left things.”

 

We entered the Harvest Chateau thirty minutes early, Bob Edwards meeting us at the door. “Oh, you gave it to her already? Bailey did a great job.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Edwards.”

“Sure, Dad. I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the family.”

“Wait, what?” I asked.

“Pam, kitchen, Toby, office. I’ll be in shortly.”

I rolled my eyes, making my way down the corridor, which would become the line for diners. “I guess it’s time for some bud nipping, misconception dispelling,” I muttered.

Entering the office, I arrogantly dropped on the chair behind the desk, spun a full two circles just to remind myself that I’m barely not a child, bellied up to the desk, flipping through the new short stack of invoices. Opening the checkbook binder, I figured I’ll kill some time, keep my mind off Tammy and the other pearl clutchers.

“Don’t get up. You’re fine,” Mr. Edwards said, slipping in, closing the door behind him, dropping on a chair ten feet from the desk. “You and Pam, huh?”

I bit my lip. “It’s not like we’ve been sneaking around –”

“Oh, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, well that’s part of it. I remember being a teenager. We didn’t have malls back then. Met Taylor in school. 6^th grade.”

“Wow, you knew back then?”

“She was my nemeses. She was much smarter than me, but I wasn’t about to let her know it. We competed for top-of-the-class. We didn’t have an actual date until high school. A story for another time.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Let me first say you did an excellent job on the payables. Your penmanship is outstanding.”

“Thank you. I like numbers, numbers like me. When I write anything, I like for people to be able to read it.”

“Would you consider a couple hours a week? Bookkeeping?”

“I have a job.”

“Couple hours a week. Think on it. I need someone dependable, someone I can count on.”

“OK.”

“Pamala and I have had a long conversation about you. Let me be clear. She went about six and a half miles out of her way not to betray your confidence.”

“I appreciate that. I had a terrible experience with a priest recently.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s about all the detail she gave me on that, which was enough, though I’d certainly like to know more.”

“Pitch forks, hoes? Other garden tools?”

“Torches. There has to be torches.”

“I wasn’t in the room. I heard Mary Locke took him to the woodshed.”

He whistled. “I would have loved to be in that room.”

“Right?”

He folded his hands in his lap, pursing his lips again, looking down, closing his eyes. “Toby. You are an extraordinary child.”

“I appreciate that. Until recently, I’ve worked hard at being invisible. Last year, I could never have worked the floor here – or worked Bill’s party – or even attended the party on the 31^st. It’s that history I have of people having bad intentions, people hurting me.”

He looked up, holding my eyes. “The words Pam used were horrible and terrifying.”

“I’m glad I held back.”

“Here’s the thing. Pam says you’re alone for Christmas –”

“I’m OK alone.”

“No people around to hurt you.”

“I guess.”

“I want to, I mean we want to, invite you to join us tonight and tomorrow. Maybe you can catch a star, be a child again, if only for a little while.”

I held his eyes. “Mr. Edwards. Bob. I was never a child.”

He choked a little. “There’s that terrifying Pam warned me about.”

I shrugged.

“Pam says she loves you.”

“Really? She actually told you that?”

“Yes, all starry-eyed, staring off into space. Having been in love for real with her mother when I was younger than Pam is now, I’m not about to lecture down from the mountain, telling her she’s too young, to take it slow. Catch lightning in a jar, I told her, have it for life.”

“I’ve said that.”

“I know.” He nodded. “So, what do you say? Come be our extra daughter tonight and tomorrow?” He gave me a traffic cop palm. “You should know. There’s church involved.”

“I’ve never had a problem with church.”

“It’s the people.”

“It’s exactly that.”

He considered his watch. “We’re just about to open.”

I stood. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

 

I was treated as a celebrity instead of that temporary dishwasher girl. I think it may have had more for do with dating the boss’ daughter than my bubbly personality. Peter, a man in his forties, born in Columbia, full white apron, who thrust a knife at me with a carve this on Thanksgiving, stood behind me like a real father might, instructing me in how to properly carve a turkey. We were well into the third slice before I realized he was guiding my hand with his.

I felt vulnerable and at the same time comfortable with the vulnerability. I laughed, well, maybe a loud giggle, the meat rolling off in perfect sheets. Looking up to my left, Pamala nodded, smiling, fifteen feet away.

 Diane breezed by weighted down with a tote, heading for the dishwasher, hitting me with, “Merry Christmas,” instead of a knife plunged repeatedly into my chest.

“Merry Christmas,” I answered to her back, unable to read her.

Entering, I glanced the dining room, looking for familiar faces that could ruin my day: Mr. Blanc, my father, Tammy, Robbie if you won’t date me I’ll hit you in the face, Keira let them rape you so you can be cool, or any other assorted rapists or antagonists.

I have no idea why I allowed these uninvited wraiths to invade the outskirts of my mindscape. Deep sigh. I couldn’t stop smiling, blushing, which was infectious, strangers smiling back.

The day was perfect.

 

Diane watched her coffee mug. “I like the mall when it’s closed.”

Leaning on the railing, I watched Diane over my coffee mug, Diane at a Harvest veranda table. “Yeah. I get people overload. It’s a nice decompression.” I wanted to help clean the kitchen, Pamala calling for a break, Pamala, Diane, and I gravitating to the veranda with coffee like before. My back to the mall, I expected Michael to appear, greeting me with Thompson’s an asshole.

Pamala sat, stood, said, “Oh, I forgot something,” hurrying off.

I knew I was set up.

“Pork Chop and I have been best friends for years.”

I almost pulled a muscle applying a herculean effort not snapping the comment, A friend would not call her friend Pork Chop, nodding instead.

“Back in ninth, she got this crush on a new girl. Gail something-or-other. That’s when I first realized she was gay. Oh, I should have known long before. Anyway, I was shocked – and maybe a little green-eyed. As her best friend, she hit me with it, couldn’t stop talking about Gail.

“I am not proud of myself, the person I became. I mocked Gail and gays without mercy. Every time I got any interest in a boy, Pork Chop got in the boat with me, being excited for me. Here’s me, she likes someone, I shit all over it.”

Diane looked toward the interior, maybe examining her reflection in the glass. “I was never with a girl. I don’t even know why I said that. To me, that’s unthinkable, really. It’s unhealthy. I mean, I’ve got this distance cousin, nice enough guy, met him once at a family reunion. They live in Ohio. He’s been beat up, he said, dozens of times, often by strangers, just for being gay.” She turned from the window, back to her coffee mug.

“Sixth grade. I helped a boy with his algebra.”

“Huh?” She looked at me.

“I’m just saying, I got my face bounced off concrete steps at school for helping a boy with his algebra.” I pointed to the scar. “When boys get wound up, it doesn’t take much to get them assaulting people.” I rolled my eyes.

“That’s the point. Why go out of your way to give them something to beat you up over?”

“My point is they’ll beat you up. Doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do. Given the right circumstances – a bad test grade, ill wind from the north, a girl’s short skirt – they’ll come for you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Diane held my eyes for a long moment. “I’ve heard over Riversides, they make a ritual out of that.”

“You heard correctly.”

She returned her attention to her mug. “Anyway. If I ever get a boy looking at me like Pamala looks at you, I’m either going to marry him or kidnap him, tie him to a post in the basement. I’m more than a bit jealous. That’s got me in a dark place. I refuse to be that asshole I was before.”

She looked back at me. “If I’m honest, Toby, I have to say I love her. I just can’t love her in the way you do.”

“Merry Christmas, Diane.”

“Merry Christmas, Toby.”

 

 “I can see you looking, you know,” Pamala said, behind the wheel of the Chevy II. “Even in Harvest.”

“I wasn’t trying to make it a secret. You have a good face.”

“Covers my brain well. I noticed. You and Diane. That was not a pyramid hug.”

“We had our moments. She earned it, not that it’ll be a habit.”

“I’d given her an If we’re going to continue being friends deal, she had to make peace.”

“We’re not going to put our arms around each other, rock, singing kumbaya, but we’re not going to stab each other, either. Not having had any friends that are not wraiths, I can’t say for sure, but I think the two of you may have gotten too comfortable in the friendship.”

“Like Diane is too comfortable being a dishwasher.”

“Not easy getting out of a warm bed on a cold winter morning.”

“Until you have to pee.”

“Great. Now I’m pee.”

“I kind of slipped you in among important stuff. I don’t mean you’re not important – Diane important stuff. I was talking about if Diane wanted to be a doctor, she should find a job closer to that field instead of washing dishes. It’s not that she hasn’t thought of that.”

“Too comfortable.”

“Exactly. I’m going to ride her like a kid on a rollercoaster.”

“Because that’s what friends do.”

“Yeah. We inspire our friends to do what’s best for them.”

“Which is why she doesn’t want you being gay.”

“What’s best for me is –”

“Not the same as what Diane thinks is best for you.”

“Right.”

“I don’t know how to ask this question in a way that’s not creepy or weird, so I’m just going to ask it. “How you been with a lot of people?”

“Do you mean had sex with people that were actually in the same room with me? None. Why do you ask?”

“I was raped this past fall.”

“Four guys – you told the story.”

“My body could now be the host to many diseases plaguing mankind.”

“You have such a great way of putting things.”

“I have an appointment Friday morning.”

The car stopped in front of my house.

“I’ve thought, well, not to sound creepy, why you’ve not tried to put your tongue in my mouth.”

“If my rapists infected me, from everything I’ve read, it’s unlikely kissing would pass anything to you. I’d feel terrible. Abundance of caution.”

“I understand and appreciate that. How long until we know?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I want to mark my calendar. May I watch you change?”

“Of course.”

 

I inched a little closer in my understanding of Michael and Levy, the way Pamala watching me carve a turkey or undress and dress became a religious experience. “This?” I displayed my brushed denim, button front, half sleeve dress.

“You don’t have to wear a dress.”

“I happen to like wearing dresses, have forever.”

She blushed. “Well, I certainly like you in a dress, the shorter the better.”

“I think it was your white dress, the hem up to your ass that got my attention.” I paused, looking at my bedroom ceiling. “The hoop on the zipper. I wanted to pull it down.”

“I usually wear that for kitchen work. I was pushed into busing that day.”

“Is that Bob’s big plan for you?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Busboy. I know a woman, smart, capable, an actual chef. Her father owns a restaurant, has her busing tables – she has to get married so her husband can take over from her father.”

Pamala rolled her eyes. “Classic story. My father sees me running my own place sometime in the future. In a business like ours, even the boss has to wash some dishes sometimes. I do most the bookkeeping now. Dad says you’re going to take that away from me.”

“He’s asked me.”

“Say yes.”

“More time with you?”

“Good for many reasons.”

 

“I could have waited downstair,” I said once we were back in the car.

“I’ve seen you naked – twice.”

“It’s not a contest, and you’re not a wooly mammoth.”

She blushed behind the wheel. “I have hair –”

“We’re upper primates, but primates just the same. We’re supposed to have hair. I thought we’d all be riding together.”

“Dad’s idea. If you freak out, we can rush the door.”

“That’s incredibly intuitive of him.”

“He’s like a mind reader.”

 

Brilliant stars danced across the night sky, frigid wind raked across us as we approached the church, snow and ice hanging on in patches here and there, Pamala turtled in her dark blue coat.

“I can’t believe you aren’t cold.”

My red coat open, arm looped in hers, I answered, “It’s not so much I’m not cold as I don’t mind being cold.”

“I’ve noticed that. Good turn out.”

“I’ve only been to services during the day.”

“Special holiday service. For people who don’t wish to get up early tomorrow. I’ve met your father. I didn’t connect him with Tammy at first.”

I shrugged in my coat.

“He’s always trying to hit Dad up for advertising. Likes to tell stories. Acts like Dad’s best friend. Dad’s got this thing with Peter.”

“The turkey carving guy?”

“Yeah. The turkey carving guy. He’s our second, runs things when Dad’s not there. Peter gives them five minutes, then comes up on them with an emergency my father must tend to right away. You’d think your dad would catch on.”

“He’s not good seeing anything beyond his own little circle.”

“Flirty. Almost inappropriate. He’s embarrassed me more than once. I don’t know Tammy well. She’s in Harvest a lot on break. We’ve talked, you know, her being a customer.”

“Otherwise.”

“Yeah, otherwise I’d not give her a second glance, her with that annoying smile plastered on her face. She seems the kind of girl who doesn’t like herself.”

“I get what you’re getting at. The perfect sucker for a man who’s flirty, almost inappropriate. He says nice things about her, to her, she gets all giggly not knowing it’s just schtick.”

“He gets all puffed up at her gigglingness, thinking he’s all that, forgetting it’s all just schtick.”

“Soulmates.”

“Great. Sister Carolina and Sister Sophia.”

Twenty paces from the entrance, I disengaged from Pamala. Having been lost in my own circle, I hadn’t taken note of my surrounding, particularly the two nuns, both in habits, no coats, greeting people as they entered. Sister Carolina and Sister Sophia were robust, joyous people, smiling, quick with a laugh, taking hands briefly.

“Friends of yours?”

“Two of my teachers.”

“Of?”

“Western literature, world history.”

Pamala made introductions. I took hands in turn, glancing the walk, a family of five forty feet off.

“Sister Carolina,” I addressed, her being the older of the two.

“I love the boots, child.”

“Thank you. They’re kind of like my shield against evils in the world.”

“Oh, I must here that story.”

“I’ll be happy to tell it sometime, but not today. Do you have collection themes? I’ve been to church, just not this denomination.”

“I’m not sure – oh, I understand what you mean. We do, yes, have collection themes. Why is it you ask?”

“I was hungry. I have this thing about the hungry children out there in the darkness, the lucky ones with two pieces of bread for dinner and not just one.”

“So poetic – and dark – for such a young child.”

“It’s a gift and curse. I’d like to put something in the plate for the hungry children. I need to know the money will go to feed those children and not, for example, pay to keep all these lights on.”

She narrowed her crisp brown eyes. “I understand.” She held a hand forward. “I’ll make that promise. Every dime you donate today will go directly to providing food for children in need.”

The family of five passed us, exchanging greeting with the two nuns.

Fishing in my red suede bag, I produced a business size white envelope. “Sister Carolina, if I knew where the hungry children lived, I’d knock on their doors. I do not, so I’m counting on you.”

She took my hand, receiving the envelope with the other. “On behalf of those who will receive this blessing, I thank you.” Releasing me, she furrowed her brow, flipping the envelope open. “Oh, my!”

I shrugged. “I was hungry. Now I’m flush. When I was a child, hungry, I literally ate from a garbage can.” Please don’t gush or blubber.

“What is your name, child? We’ll mention you during mass.”

“I would rather you didn’t.”

“As you wish. You do own me a story. I’m going to hold you to it. This calls for a hug.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I understand – maybe more than you can guess.” She bowed her head slightly, eyes to my boots.

I was humbled.

 

Extra daughter.

The Edwards’ was a pale blue split level, multicolored lights on the windows, doors, and eaves. Santa hung on the chimney waving with his free hand.

“We like lights,” Pamala explained.

I could have picked Maria, Pamala’s sister, out of the crowd at the mall. A half a head on me, same soft Germanic face, light oaken hair like Pamala, cropped short not unlike Michael’s. Her brown eyes held mine, not innocent like her sister’s, a universe of understanding passing between us.

   Half out of my coat at the door, we clutched onto each other like the world were ending, pine, cinnamon, basil, and sugar cookie dough sweeping over me, filling my head.

We were given our moment.

“Sorry.” She pulled away, stepping back, keeping my eye. “I’m really not a hugger.”

“Something else we have in common.”

Pamala rolled her eyes, stripping me of my coat. “Best hugger in the universe.”

“Friends that hug is a rare gift I give myself.”

“I’m honored.” Pamala curtsied.

“I love the dress,” Maria said, still drinking me up. “I’ve not been able to wear anything not dragging on the floor.”

“Come on, let her in the door already,” Taylor Edwards said, offering a hand, “Taylor.”

We’d meet in church, only to nod at each other, the service starting.

“Taylor. Love the name.” I took her hand.

“My grandfather’s. I heard you weren’t a hugger.” She glanced Maria. “I am, well, we are. A family of hugger, which we will not impose on you.”

“But if I ever?”

“Mom. Let’s get away from the door,” Pamala suggested.

 

We gathered around the kitchen table with Christmas mugs full of hot coffee, Pamala to my right, holding hands, Bob pulling on his tie.

“That’s a beautiful tree.” I nodded toward the living room.

“We do this thing.” Taylor was confident and assertive, comfortable in her flesh, the quality Bob Edwards had called smart. “A couple weeks before Christmas, we get the tree, take half the night putting it up.”

“I come for the pizza,” Maria said.

Pamala rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the fun, too!”

“To touch something good, sometime beautiful, something normal,” Maria answered.

“If only for a moment,” I added. “Often feeling like the little match girl.”

“Standing outside.”

“Looking in the window.” A sigh forced its way out of me. “I did that this year. I borrowed a couple of people, got a tree, pizza. My most poignant memory of that day is me looking in my own front door window, watching my borrowed people between the fireplace and the Christmas tree, falling in love.”

“That’s some lightning in a jar,” Bob said.

“Toni,” Pamala said, untangling our hands, pushing away from the table. “It’s close enough to midnight.”

“It’s 11 O’clock!” Bob objected.

“Like I said, close enough.” She hurried off, quickly returning, setting a package in front of me, red paper, dancing elves, white ribbon, and white bow. Retaking her chair, she took my hand again.

 “Well, Toby,” Taylor urged. “Open it.”

“I only have one hand.”

Pamala reached across. Cooperating, we managed to unwrap the present.

“That’s so sweet, I’m going to fall into a diabetic coma.” Maria rolled her eyes.

“Right?” Pamala answered.

“The Complete Works of Hans Christian Andersen,” I read.

“I was going to read the story after you mentioned it, but I thought I’d rather have you read it to me.” She looked around the table. “Oh, we have this thing. We snuggle on the Lazy Boy, Toby reads to me.”

Maria sobbed, waving us off. “Happy tears. Happy tears.”

“Well, Toby, do you feel comfortable reading a tale to us? Maybe we’ll have a new tradition,” Bob said.

“And Toby. Mark your calendar for next year.”

“So marked, Taylor.”

 

Not long after midnight, with solemn Merry Christmases shared, I sat cross-legged on the floor by the fire, the family retreating to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. I felt comfortable, distance voices dancing like wraiths. I knew I was the topic of the sordid meeting. I didn’t know whether I was the good topic or the bad topic.

Maria handed off a mug with the warning, “It’s hot,” dropping next to me.

I glanced the living room. We were apprehensively alone.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

I caught her eyes, returning to the fire.

“Can I trust you?”

I almost launched into a long diatribe as to why that was such a stupid question. “You either do or you don’t. That’s not up to me.”

“Indeed. I wanted to first thank you for coming into my sister’s life. She needs you. I mean specifically, she needs someone smart, intelligent, wise, to challenge her. Her current friends are not that.”

“You mean Diane is not that.”

“Pamala doesn’t make friends easily.”

“Being the smartest person in the room is never easy. Playing it dumb to avoid drawing the ire from assholes is even more difficult.”

“A day in the life.”

“It’s not that I don’t make friends easily. I don’t particularly care for people in general. I don’t wish to make friends. Your sister is easy to like, easy to love.”

“She saved my life.”

I turned from the fire, taking Diane’s hands and eyes.

“I have never told anyone this. It’s not that I didn’t try once upon a time. I had a friend. One of those people you know will always be there. Every birthday, holiday, graduation, she’d be my maid-of-honor, godparent to my children, share a nursing home room.”

“Looking in the window.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what Pamala told you.”

“She was careful not to betray any confidence.”

“We’re big on that.”

“I understand you were assaulted in school, specifically in the boy’s bathroom.”

“No one outside my family believed me. My best friend, my friend for life, turned on me.”

I glanced the living room again. “Specifically. When we say assaulted, we really mean raped.”

She swallowed hard. “That’s what I never said.”

“I don’t think it would have mattered.”

“Pamala was vague.”

“Four – I was raped by four boys.”

“Three. There were others, cheering them on, joking, laughing. Classmates, not that I knew them, but I did know who they were. Urinal cake. The smell of urinal cake sends me into a panic.”

“Let me guess. Even before you got ten words out in the nurse’s office, Principal Asshole was proclaiming, Boys will be boys.”

“It’s like they were all in on it. Even my best friend. Dad’s anger scared me. I think if he knew the whole truth, he’d have burned the school down.”

“Sometimes I go to a dark place, think I should drop some bodies.”

“Really?”

I shrugged. “Just might, if I thought it would do any good.”

“I went to that dark place, I think my anger turned on myself. My life became standing on my toes, looking in a window, my fingers cold, frozen. I couldn’t touch anything, anybody. I had no substance.”

“You became a wraith.”

“A ghost, a specter. Oh, that’s so on the nose. I got obsessed with killing myself.”

She rolled her eyes. “Pamala. God, she was what? Eleven? Twelve? She reached into the darkness, the child helpless in the face of my pain, and held my hand. That’s all she did. She saved my life.”

“I understand.”

“A magical statement when said true and real.”

“It’s good you have family. A good family. These could very well be the best human beings I’ve ever met.”

“He called you their extra daughter.”

“I know. It’s an honor, invited in from the cold, the storm, to warm myself at the fire.”

I watched the fire, our hands wet from sweat. “The short version: My shambles of a life crashed and burned, me landing in Riversides middle school. On the first day, I got dragged into the boy’s room. Thanks to Sir Isaac Newton and a wet floor, I gave it to them worse than they gave it to me.”

“How so?”

“Once I bounced two faces off the sinks, leaving one boy crying on the floor, the other not moving, the other boys bravely ran away, which could have had something to do with me growling, asking who was next.”

“Oh my god.”

“That’s how I like to remember it. Here’s the thing. I’ve come to know, if I wasn’t such a snotty little cunt –”

“They called you that?”

“That was my mother, a story for another time. I’d met a girl who told me it was a privilege to be raped in the boy’s room by the cool kids, that it was considered an initiation, an invitation to join the club.”

“You’re shitting me – I mean that rhetorically.”

“Yeah. If you want in the group – read that the boys to like you, you need to do what they say, what they do, submit to what they want.”

“The flip side being if we don’t submit, we get shunned, which explains why my best friend turned on me.”

“People suck. In groups, they suck worse.”

“Thanks for listening. You are absolutely everything Pam said you are.”

“Thank you for being you.”

“They said you can stay the night.”

“I think I’d like to go home. I need my bed, my house. I’m peopled out.”

“I understand.”

I see what you mean about that.”

 

The soul deep quiet of Christmas morning was chased off by the wind pushing against the house. Long before sunrise, I watched shadows dance on the ceiling, my head full of pine, cinnamon, and sugar cookie, Pamala’s breathing comforting me. I worked out from under her arm.

With the percolator singing, I hit the switch for the back porch, Tex entering minutes later wrapped in a blanket.

“I have company.”

“I like her.”

“You assume much.”

“I saw you come in.”

I shrugged, grating a potato. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, right, mall’s closed.”

“Most the stores, anyway.”

“Morning, Tex. Merry Christmas.” Pamala kissed me on the cheek. “You didn’t have to let me sleep.”

“I was going to wake you for breakfast.”

Tex tried to nudge me from the stove.

“I’ve got this. Go make a fire.”

“Thanks for letting me stay.” Pamala wrapped me up from behind, her chin on my shoulder. “I know you told Maria you were peopled out.”

“You’re excluded from that. I spend too much time with people out there, I need to chill in my safe place.”

“This house is your sanctuary now.”

“It is, for now.”

“Thanks for talking to Maria. She needed that.”

“I may have needed it, too.”

“I have to leave right after breakfast.”

“Eat and run, huh?”

“Coming?”

“Of course. I’m the extra daughter.” I turned from the frying eggs. “Last night was wonderful. I really like your family.” There, I understood how Toni could be so seduced by the Palmers.

“Eh, not everyone is as openminded as Bob and Taylor.”

“I can safely say I don’t think anyone is as openminded as Bob and Taylor.”

“They do like you. That helps.”

“Tex!” I called.

“Yes?”

“Breakfast is almost ready.”

“I’ll clean up so you kids and do what you kids do.”

“I’m going to be gone all day. You can have the house. There’s a box under the tree with your name on it.”

“Sounds like a great day to sit in front of the fire with that book I’ve been eyefucking.”

“I dream of days like that. You heard me. A box?”

“Yeah. Since it’s not another hug, I’m not going to get too excited about it.”

 

Maria met me halfway up the walk, in her pajamas and robe. We embraced like I’d been lost at sea for ten years.

“You’re so corny,” Pamala said, walking by.

“Thank you for being you,” Maria moaned in my ear.

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered back.

Inside the door, Pamala took my coat.

“Merry Christmas,” Taylor greeted.

“Good morning, for-the-day Mom. You get one hug. Make it a good one.”

Taylor was a good hug, as was for-the-day Dad.

I immediately chased everyone from the kitchen forcibly volunteering to wash the breakfast dishes. I would not take no for an answer. The argument was forwarded I was a guest. I said, “Then I’d be a guest, not an extra daughter.”

Presents were opened. Obviously, everyone had been very good. By noon, people trickled in. Happily, I was lost in the background, though introduced as Pamala’s friend, which didn’t bother me.

By 2 O’clock, the house was crowded with fifteen people, three generations. I stood careful watch for Uncle Gropey. Taylor’s brother-in-law, Tom, a sloppy man of forty, ratty brown hair needing the attention of scissors, clothes hanging on him, couldn’t pull his eyes from the hem of my short denim skirt. I kept people between us and took Pamala or Maria with me to the bathroom.

Marshal, about my age, a full head on me, more of a man’s body then a boy’s, black hair falling in bangs down his forehead, brown eyes, almost black, focused, scared me the second I saw him, him taking my hand at the introduction, his finger swiping my palm, his eyes fixed on my breasts.

“My, aren’t you a pretty thing. Toby, interesting name. Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

“Eh, I have to peel potatoes.” Which I did, hanging with Taylor and her sister, Jean, in the kitchen. Neither objected to my presence or my help.

As Pamala and I flirted back and forth setting the table in the dining room, most others gathered in the living room around the fire, Marshal watching me across the distance, him and his brother, Eric, boisterously trading inappropriate racially themed jokes, their audience passively attentive.

They substituted ethnic for black.

“What’s the most confusing day for a kid in an ethnic neighborhood? Father’s Day!”

He looked at me across the rooms as if seeking approval.

I rolled my eyes.

“When it comes to family,” Pamala said at my shoulder, “Dad’s pretty passive. Just letting things go.”

We had the large table covered with bright white linen between us and the living room. Pamala corrected my silverware placement, her hand on mine, Maria coming next to me, placing bowl of cranberry sauce on the table.

“Asshole,” she said under her breath.

“I think we’re looking at everything I hate about human beings, particularly male human beings, all in one person,” I answered.

Then, because the rule of bad behavior dictates that gone unchecked the bad behavior goes too far, Marshal made eye contact with me, proclaiming, “Surprise morning sex is the best sex.” He paused. “Unless you’re in prison.”

“A rape joke,” I forced out, unable to breathe.

Pamala grasped my upper arm, keeping me from storming the living room. “I need you to do something for me.”

I forced air in my lungs. “OK.”

“Flurries have started.”

I closed my eyes.

“Would you please take Maria to sanctuary. Show her.”

“Now?”

George, Marshal’s father, had jumped up, going nose-to-nose with Marshal.

“I was kind of hoping to see Marsh get his ass beat.”

“By me or his father?” Maria said.

“Either, as long as I get a turn.”

“What’s sanctuary?” Maria asked.

“What have you told her?”

Pamala shrugged. “Nothing. Will you?”

“Are you sure it’s OK with you?”

“There is no greater gift I can share with my sister.”

I nodded. “Pamala. No human being in the whole history of human beings has ever loved a human being as much as I love you in this moment.”

“You’re so corny.”

 

“You didn’t warn me we’d be walking eight miles!”

“Oh, you and your sister. It’s a quarter mile.” Arms out, palms up, I spun as if directing the snowflakes dancing around me. “Sit.”

She did, on the log.

Working at my coat buttons, I said, “I fell in love, real and true, with Antoinette Blanc when I was eight years old. I was terrified, scared to death to touch my feelings, sacred to even approach her, that if I were to get too close, to stand before her, I would burst into flames like the heroes of old before the goddesses.

“Real and true. I watched her from a distance. The flow of her hair, the sparkle in her eye. She had this thing she did, scrunching her face, biting her lip when writing something important that melted my bones.

Storking, I removed my right boot. “Three years after I fell in love real and true, she died.”

“Oh my god.”

I removed my socks, dropping them on my boots. “I had stood on my toes, fingering pulling on the windowsill, looking in the window for so long – it’s not that I couldn’t tell the difference between what was real and what was not – I didn’t care.”

I removed, folding my sweater, placing it on the log, my skirt and underwear following. Naked, keeping her eyes, I said, “I manifested this place, a place that is not a place, in a time that is not a time. A place where I dance with Antoinette Blanc, she dances with me, I become her, she becomes me. My wraith, I give her flesh, I become the wraith.”

Maria nodded, taking me and my words in.

I spun with the wind, the snow dancing around me, the swaying trees as a backdrop. Dancing, I said, “You see, Maria, she is of the storm, the wind, the rain. She embodies all my heartache, my tears, my pain. She is love, filling me up in the places I’m empty, a better person than I – forever healing my wounds.

“She’ll come when the snow is falling, like now, or when the rain is tapping on my window. Without her, I get cold and lost. I need her near, at any cost.”

I stopped in front of Maria, arms spread, face to the sky. “Oh, earthbound drops of sky-born tears, touch me gently, wash away my fears. I close my eyes to the sky, Maria.

“She is of the storm, the wind, the rain.”

I spun away in a series of pirouettes, dancing for another twenty minutes while Maria cried.

 

Dinner was well in progress when we returned, thirteen people crowded around an extended table. I slid next to Pamala, Maria my other bookend. They blushed at each other.

“Everything you could say,” Maria answered Pamala’s unasked question.

I did not fully realize I was a wraith until I said it there in the woods. Pamala danced flesh onto me. Her family pulled me across. I would have taken their hands if I didn’t have to eat.

Our entrance interrupted Marshal’s pontification, which he picked up. “They’re lazy, don’t want to work. They’re going to replace us if we’re not careful.”

“What are you, Marshal? Twelve?”

Puffing up on his chair, oblivious to sarcasm, proclaimed, “I’m sixteen.”

“Where have you heard such things?”

“Everyone knows it.”

“Talk radio,” Maria said.

“Another good reason not to own a radio.” I rolled my eyes. “Let me explain to you the origin of such –”

“Try the bread,” Pamala said, popping a bit in my mouth. “I made it myself.”

“Good bread!”

Maria laughed.

 

 

Part nine