The Melting Season

“You’re not,” I said. “You won’t.”

 

 

He put a finger in me. “So wet,” he said, and then he put in another, and moved back and forth. He put his hand to my face. “Can you feel me?” I shook my head. I looked down at his hand. He pulled back and then put another finger in me. I shuddered a little bit. “You’re starting to feel me now, aren’t you?” It was true, I was. It was like I was staring at the sky and all of a sudden a shooting star went by me. There was something new in my universe. He moved his hand back, and there was another one, another finger deep inside me. I held my breath and looked up at the ceiling. I was feeling everything at once. And then there was the last finger. I cursed. I cursed loudly. I cursed my fears. I cursed my mother. I cursed the past. And then I came into the future.

 

 

 

 

 

24.

 

 

I moved next to my father and knelt close. The snow soaked through my jeans.

 

“Where’s Jenny?” I said.

 

“My stomach’s on fire,” he said. He rubbed his belly and licked his lips around the corners.

 

“Dad, where is Jenny?”

 

“She’s upstairs, I think. Your mother’s got her locked up there in the bedroom.”

 

I took the drink from his hand.

 

“This is not you,” I said.

 

“Are you hungry?” said Timber. “When was the last time you ate something?”

 

My father looked at Timber and opened his mouth and then nothing came out. Then he just started nodding. Timber waded toward him and lifted him up. “I’ll take care of you,” he said to my father. “We’ll set you up real good.” They struggled off together in the snow toward the front of the house, Timber telling him all the things he was going to feed him. Chicken noodle soup. A big bowl of chili. Cheeseburgers.

 

I turned to Valka. Her eyes were bigger than ever. “I swear they were not this crazy when I left,” I said. “They got stuck in the snow, I think.”

 

I slid open the back screen door and we walked in silently. Inside the kitchen looked the same as always but maybe worse for the wear. The orange tile of the kitchen floor was beat down with a brown film. There were three ashtrays on the kitchen table, all overflowing with butts. Some were stubbed out, and some my mother must have lit and just forgotten to smoke. Beer cans everywhere. It stank to high heaven. There was a pile of broken glass in the corner. I looked around the corner to the living room. Two chairs were overturned.

 

“The scene of the crime,” said Valka. “I’m surprised there isn’t a chalk outline. Or a hooker passed out somewhere.”

 

“Let’s go get Jenny,” I said. We ran upstairs. I tried the handle on the door. New locks had been installed. I did not know when that had happened.

 

I banged on the door. “Are you in there?”

 

“She locked it from the outside,” said Jenny. “You need a key.”

 

“I got this,” said Valka. She shook the door handle, then peered closely at it. “We need a knife,” she said. “Like a really thin knife.”

 

I ran back down to the kitchen and rummaged through the silverware drawer. Something in the sink caught my eye and I stopped where I stood. I looked back over toward the sink slowly. Inside it was a massive pile of blond hair. Jenny’s pride.

 

My mother walked around the corner from the living room. She was wearing a housedress and held a cigarette and a can of beer. Her lipstick was perfect. Her hair was held high, but her head hung low. I crossed my arms and looked at her.

 

She crossed her arms right back at me and said, “When will you girls learn?”

 

I pulled out a knife from the drawer. “Sit,” I said.

 

My mother waved her hands in the air. “Fine, fine.” She slumped down at the kitchen table.

 

I reached my hand out to her. “Give me the key.”

 

“I swallowed it,” she said.

 

“You’re insane,” I said.

 

“Oh, please,” she said. “You and I are the exact same kind of crazy and you know it.”

 

I pointed a finger at her. “Do not move,” I said.

 

She flapped her hands in the air. “Where the hell would I go?” she said.

 

I ran back upstairs and handed the knife to Valka. She slid it between the door and the frame, jiggled it a few times, and the lock popped open.

 

Inside the room Jenny was sitting on her bed. Her knees were up to her chest. She had a small bowl of hair left around her head. The walls around her were bare. All her posters of hip-hop stars were gone. The fall football schedule. Every single wrist corsage she had ever been given. The calendar where she counted down the days till graduation. A collage of movie stars she admired. Everything was gone. It was just Jenny alone in her bedroom with a bad haircut and a baby in her belly.

 

“We’re busting you out of here,” said Valka.

 

Jenny looked at Valka.

 

“Where are we going?” She sounded hard.

 

“Away from the mean lady,” said Valka. Jesus, Valka really did not get kids.

 

“You know, I don’t even care about this baby,” she said. “I could care less.”

 

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