Dreamland

Dreamland

Chapter 12

It was three in the afternoon on the day of the Fool's Party when Rina showed up at my house. My mother, who was having a minor breakdown over the lack of citronella candles at Home Depotshe was convinced someone would get malarialet her in. I was in my room, trying to decide which of my pictures to exhibit at the Arts Center during the wine-?and-?cheese reception that was our last official class. I could only pick four, so I had all the faces I'd collected spread out across my bed in a fan shape, examining each one and trying to make a decision. “Hey, stranger.” I looked up and Rina was standing in the doorway of my room, her arms crossed over her chest. She had on a short, pink dress and strappy high-?heeled sandals, and her skinthanks to her mother's tanning bedwas already a deep brown. Her blond hair was down, curling over her shoulders, a pair of white sunglasses parked on top of her head. She looked so healthy and alive it was like she was almost sparking, right there in front of me. “Hey,” I said, as she crossed the room and plopped down on the bed, swinging one leg to cross it over the other. “What's going on?” “I have come,” she said, plucking her sunglasses off her head and expertly folding them shut, "to kidnap you.“ ”Kidnap?“ I said. ”Yes.“ She leaned back on her hands, narrowing her eyes at me. Her lips were done in a perfect pearly pink, the color of cotton candy. ”Caitlin, you never do anything with me anymore.“ ”Rina,“ I said, ”I've just been“ ”You don't,“ she said, waving me off with one hand. ”You can't deny it, so don't even try. And frankly, I'm not going to stand for it anymore.“ ”You're not,“ I repeated, reaching to eliminate a shot of Dave half a burrito hanging out of his mouthfrom my collection. ”No.“ She glanced down at my stack of pictures, spreading them out with her hand. ”Wow, Caitlin. These are awesome. This one“ and she pointed at the portrait I'd done of her, sticking out her tongue ”is especially striking.“ ”Thank you, “ I said, watching as she picked it up and smiled at her own image. ”I think.“ She kept going through, making approving noises, until she came to the first one I'd taken of Rogerson, standing outside Corinna's with that bleak winter sky behind him. She studied it, saying nothing, before sliding it to the bottom of my stack of discards. Then she looked at me. ”You,“ she said decisively, ”are coming out to the lake with me for the afternoon.“ I opened my mouth to say something, but she held up her hand, stopping me. ”No arguments.“ ”But Rina,“ I said. ”I can't. I'm supposed to meet Rogerson here later and there's the party tonight.“ ”Rogerson,“ she said, a slight hint of irritation in her voice, ”can do without you for one measly afternoon, since I have done without you since God knows when. With little complaint, also, I might add. And you and I both know the party won't be in full swing till at least seven anyway.“ ”Rina, I can't. I'm sorry.“ Rogerson hadn't said specifically when he was coming over, but I knew better than to try to predict when he'd show. ”I would love to do it“ ”Then do it,“ she said firmly, standing up like it was decided. Then, softening, she added, ”Come on,

Caitlin. It's a gorgeous day. We'll go out and eat some chips, soak up the sun, and complain endlessly about our lives. Just like old times.“ Old times. Rina's lake house was where we'd spent most of our summer the year before, sneaking her stepfather's beers and lying out on the huge wooden deck while the sun sparkled wildly on the water before us. There was a dock, a hot tub, and every fish her stepfather had ever caught stuffed and hanging on the living room walls: They stared out at you with dead eyes, their expressions somewhat shocked as if they'd believed, to the end, that they'd be thrown back in to swim away safe. “I don't know,” I said, still hedging. I could see the lake in my mind, remembering sitting at the end of the dock in a thick sweatshirt as the sun went down, my feet dangling in the water. That summer seemed like forever ago, now. “My mom probably needs me to stick around.” Rina sighed, stood up, and walked to my door, yanking it open. “Mrs. O'Koren,” she yelled down the hallway, and seconds later my mother appeared, holding her School Marm doll by the leg, a bottle of Pledge in her other hand. She'd been moving the dolls around all week, trying new arrangements: One had even popped up in the bathroom, on the floor by the heating vent, causing my father to shriek like a schoolgirl when he mistook it for the toilet brush. “What do you think, girls?” she said, hoisting the doll up so we could see it. “Should I arrange all the townsfolk in one place, or break them up into smaller, more intimate groups? I can't decide.” We just looked at her. “I have no idea,” I said finally. “More intimate groups,” Rina told her. “Less is more.” “Oh,” my mother said, adjusting the School Marm's little slate, “I guess you're right.” “Now, Mrs. O'Koren,” Rina went on briskly, “don't you think Caitlin should come with me out to the lake for the afternoon instead of sitting around here waiting for Rogerson to call?” My mother looked at me. “Absolutely,” she said. ”It's so lovely out! And Caitlin, honey, you could use a little color. You've been so pale lately.“ ”Exactly,“ Rina said, winking at me. ”See? We'll go out there, have a late lunch, and be back in plenty of time for the party. I promise.“ ”I really can't“ ”I told you, no arguments,“ Rina said right over me, walking to my closet and yanking it open. ”Now I am going to the store to buy some snacks and suntan lotion, and while I am gone I want you to take a shower, find your bathing suit, and put on“ and she reached into my closet, rummaging around before finally pulling out the white, ivy-?patterned dress my mother had just bought me ”this dress, right here. It's pretty and you can wear it and still get good sun. I'll be back in twenty minutes. Be ready.“ And then she threw the dress on the bed beside me, put on her sunglasses, and walked out of the room. A few seconds later we heard the front door slam behind her. I looked down at the dress, feeling a bit of the swishy material between my fingers. Of course Rogerson hadn't said when he was coming: I always had to wait around to find out what our plans were, which usually meant putting off any invitations to do anything else until it was too late. I didn't think he'd mind if I could just tell him where I was goingno surprises. I just had to let him know. ”Oh, i can't wait to see how you look in that dress!“ my mother said, tucking the Pledge under her arm. ”You know, I have some tuna salad I made for the party, plus this great pimento cheese spread. With some crackers you'll have a wonderful meal and you girls won't even have to cook anything. I'll just pack it up for you right now.“ ”Oh, Mom, you don't have to* “I want to. It'll just take a jiffy.” And she turned around, so happy to be involved, somehow, in getting me out of the house, back to my old life again. I could hear her fussing around, ripping plastic wrap out of the box, shaking out grocery bags, the same noises I knew from the preparation for all those bake sales and Girl Scout camping trips.

I took a quick shower, then tried to call Rogerson. I had my easy tone ready: Just doing a girl thing, no big deal, I'll be back in an hour or two. But the phone just rang and rang. After I dried my hair, I tried again. Still no answer. I called Corinna's, then the main number at his parents' house. Nobody was home either place. Relax, I told myself. Get dressed and then try again. When I put the dress on, it felt good: light and airy, like wearing summer. I had a pretty big bruise on my leg, which it covered, and one fading on my arm that it didn't; there were a couple of others, one on my back, a very old one at the base of my neck, but when I put on my jacket you couldn't see any of them. Then I sat down and called Rogerson again. Five, six, seven rings. Still no answer, and of course he was the only one in the world without a machine. Where was he? Halfway across town? Orthe worst case scenarioon his way, ready to pull up the minute I left with Rina? I hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and hit redial. No answer. I was still trying when I heard a beeping outside. “Rina's here!” my mother called out cheerfully from the kitchen. “Okay,” I said, hanging up and dialing again. I could feel my heart beating, that same trapped feeling I had every day at lunch as I rushed through the hallways, trying to make it to the turnaround on time. I'd been so stupid to let Rina convince me to do this. Come on, come on, I thought. Just be there. “I've packed some food for lunch,” I heard my mother saying to Rina. “I just made gobs too much for tonight anyway.” “Great,” Rina said. “Wow, is that pimento cheese?” “Caitlin! Rina's here!” “Okay,” I said. “I'll be there in a second.” And I listened to them talking in the hallway, my mother explaining the best way to serve the tuna salad, on lettuce, while Rina made listening noises and popped her gum. And Rogerson's phone rang, on and on. No answer.

“Hey, O'Koren, get the lead out!” Rina yelled. “Let's go!” “Honey,” my mother said, “I'm putting one of these two-?liter Cokes in this bag, too, since I overbought for the party.” “Caitlin,” Rina said, “don't make me come get you.” “I'm coming,” I said, and now I was getting nervous, shaky, trying to find a way out of this. I kept dialing, again and again, while my mother and Rina talked on, cheerfully, their voices bouncing down the hallway and off my closed door. “God, Rogerson, pick up the phone,” I said under my breath, even as I heard Rina coming down the hallway, her fingers already rapping on the door as she pushed it open. “Let's go,” she said impatiently. “You can call him from the lake if you want. Okay?” “And I will tell Rogerson where you are if he calls,” my mother called out from the kitchen. “I promise.” “Okay,” I said, but even as I hung up the phone my stomach was aching, twisting in on itself. “Come on then,” Rina said, and stuck out her hand just like we used to do as cheerleaders, pulling each other to our feet, one bouncy move. “Let's go.” “Oh, honey!” my mother said as I came down the hallway, clapping her hands excitedly. “That dress looks just wonderful. But you certainly don't need that jacket. You can hardly see the lovely neckline.” “I'm kind of cold,” I said, glancing outside quickly, wishing Roger-?son would just pull up, so I could explain everything while I still had the chance. “Oh, nonsense, it's over seventy out,” she said, walking over and beginning to tug at my sleeve. “Let us see the dress by itself.” “Mom, I don't want to,” I said, clinging to my cuffs even as she tried to pull it off of me. Rina looked at me, raising her eyebrows. “Oh, don't be silly,” my mother said, laughing easily. “It's a sleeveless dress, Caitlin, and you have such lovely arms. You should show them off!” “Mom” “Just let me see for a second.” She just would not let up, reaching behind me to pull at the collar, her thumb brushing the tender spot I had back there, and it hurt. “I'm cold,” I said again. “Oh, please. Do this one thing for your poor mother,” she said, jabbing at the bruise now, and I winced, pulling myselfhardout of her grasp. “I said no,” I said firmly, and her face fell, shocked, as if I'd slapped her. She dropped her hands and they just hung there, limp, in front of her. “Aren't you listening to me?” Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then she swallowed shakily and said, “I'm sorry, Caitlin. I... I just wanted to see how it looked.” She was looking at me as if I'd somehow become possessed, changing right before her eyes. As if just then, at that second, she saw who I'd become over all these months, and it scared her. I felt like some prickly animal, lashing out, scared as those ugly possums that sometimes stumbled out into daylight. “We should go,” Rina said quickly, picking up the bag my mother had packed for us. “Thanks for the food, Mrs. O'Koren. We'll be back by six-?thirty at the latest.” “Fine,” my mother said, one hand fluttering to her mouth as she forced a smile. “Have fun.” I was only half-?listening to Rina as we drove out of the neighborhood and she kept up a constant chatter, talking about Jeff and her life, her voice floating out behind us. But all I could do was feel my dread building as I watched the road whisk by in the side mirror, miles and miles of it, each one taking me farther from home.  By the time we pulled onto the highway that passed Corinna's, there was a part of me I was afraid would explode. I kept thinking of Rogerson showing up at my house, beeping the horn. Waiting. And the penalty I'd pay, the hardest of fouls, when he found out I was gone. “Rina,” I said quickly as Corinna's came into view, “turn in here.” “What?” she said. I'd interrupted her in mid-?story, something about Jeff's ex- girlfriend and a series of mysterious earrings she kept finding in his couch cushions. “Here?” “Yes.”

She hung a hard left, spinning out gravel as we started down the dirt road to their driveway. Mingus was sitting on the porch, and he started barking when he saw us. I didn't see Corinna's car.

“What is this place?” Rina said, cutting off the engine. She glanced around, taking in the trailer next door and the huge field to our left that always smelled like manure. “Just a friend of mine's,” I said, getting out of the car. “I'll be right back.”

I started up to the house, praying that Corinna was home. She would understand this, could get in touch with Rogerson or explain if he showed up there before coming to look for me. I was already planning what I'd say to her, how she'd shake those bracelets and fix everything, as I started up the stairs, glanced through the screen door and saw the living room. It was mostly empty. The couch was still there, and the TV, but all the knickknacks the blue glass in the windowsill, the framed Ansel Adams prints, the clock where the numbers were marked by steaming coffee cupswere gone. As were the afghan from the couch, all of Corinna's buttons from the coffee table, and the picture I'd taken of her sitting on the front porch with Mingus. It was all just gone. I stepped inside, letting the door fall softly shut behind me. Outside I could see Rina in the car, picking at her bangs impatiently, fingers drumming on the outside door. I pushed the kitchen door open: it, too, was stripped of just about everything, even the velvet Elvis. Mingus's bowl was still there, on the cracked tile, and the sink was full of dishes, the window over the small table open, drapes blowing in the breeze. “She's gone,” I heard Dave say behind me, and I turned around to see him standing there, in a pair of shorts, barefoot. He was holding a pack of cigarettes, his hair sticking up in all directions, a crease mark across his face from sleeping. “She left yesterday.” “What?” I said. “Where did she go?” He looked down at the cigarettes, shaking one out of the pack and sticking it in his mouth. "Home.

California. I don't know. Anywhere away from me.“ He laughed as he lit the cigarette, then coughed a couple of times, closing his eyes. ”Had enough of my shit, I guess.“ Outside, Rina beeped the horn, and Dave glanced behind him, pushing the kitchen door open to glance out the front window at her. ”Um ... did she say anything?“ I asked him. ”I mean...“ ”Nope,“ he said, shaking his head. Then he smiled, kind of grimly, and flicked his ash into the sink. ”It's been coming a while, I guess. I just didn't think she'd really go, you know?“ He rubbed one hand over his head, his hair springing up underneath his palm. ”I justI didn't think she'd really go.“ And then he laughed, like it was funny, but he wouldn't look at me. All this time, Corinna had been the only one who just took me as I was, not caring about whether I wore primary colors, or stuck with cheerleading, or spent too much time with Rogerson. And now, she was gone. Rina beeped the horn again, longer this time. She hated to wait. ”So,“ Dave said, ”you wanna smoke a bowl or something?“ And then he smiled at me, and I felt strange, as if it was suddenly wrong for me to be there. ”No,“ I said. ”I mean, I have a friend waiting for me.“ ”Tell her to come in,“ he said. ”No, I should go.“ I took a step forward and he didn't move, so I dodged around him, knocking my hipbone against the handle of the stove. I could smell himlike sweat and sleep and I was suddenly disgusted with both of us. ”Come back later,“ he called out as the kitchen door swung shut behind me. ”I'll be here. Okay?" I walked quickly through the living room, hitting the screen door hard with the palm of my hand. But just as I started to step out on the porch, I saw something sitting on the little table in a small glass dish where Corinna always kept her keys. The bracelets. They were all there, stacked neatly, glinting in the small square of sunlight coming through the window above them, like a treasure, shining and waiting for me to find them.

I wasn't sure what I was thinking as I scooped them out of the dish, then slid them, one by one, onto my own wrist. I watched as they fell down my arm: clink, clink, clink, a sound I knew so well. I stepped onto the porch, wondering where Corinna was, and how she could leave them behind. But as I watched them catch the light on my own wrist, making her music, I knew the truth was that at home, or California, or anywhere in between, even Corinna couldn't help me now.  The first thing Rina did when we got to the lake house was put on her bikini and pop open a beer. We sat out on the front porch, overlooking the water, where she slathered Bain du Soleil all over her until she stank of coconut, and I sat in my dressand jacketchainsmoking, the cordless phone in my lap. I still couldn't get ahold of Rogerson, and I was starting to panic. If he showed up at Dave's and found out I'd been with Rina, and didn't tell himno. I couldn't even think about it. “Will you put that thing down, for God's sakes?” Rina snapped at me after I'd been dialing for a solid ten minutes, reaching over with one slippery hand to grab the phone away from me and dropping it onto the deck beside her chair, completely out of my reach. “Honestly, I have never seen anyone so co-?dependent in my life. Why don't you go put on your suit, have a beer, and relax?” “I'm fine like this.” I stretched my legs out to make my point, easing the hem of my dress over the fading bruise on my upper thigh. The truth was I was sweating under my jacket: It was unbearably hot. I turned my attention to the lake, where I could see someone waterskiing, the motor humming as a girl on skis cut a swath back and forth across the water. “Caitlin.” She lifted up her sunglasses and looked at me. “What is the matter with you?” “Nothing,” I said. “Why?” She kept her eyes on me, as if daring me to tell her, like I'd told her a million other secrets in this same place the summer before: my crush on Billy Bostwick, lifeguard at the community pool. That I secretly liked liver as a child. That I'd stolen Cass's pearl earrings, the ones she thought she'd lost at school. But this was too much for me to tell Rina. Even if I really wanted to. “You're just not yourself,” she said softly. “You haven't been in a long time.”

I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes, and reached my arm up to my face, letting Corinna's bracelets fall down my arm. I could still hear that motorboat, humming past, the girl on skis laughing as she cut across the waves. “I'm fine,” I said. “It's like he's done something to you,” she said, and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter behind my sunglasses. “Like he's changed something in you. Hurt you or something.” I opened my eyes and looked at her, my best friend, her face worried as she waited for me to respond. I hated to treat her this way. But her face, slowly, was replaced in my mind with a flash of Rogerson driving, looking for me, his face changing and eyes growing darker, angry, the way they looked right before impact. It was like the mean lady on her bicycle in The Wizard of Oz, the music building as she raced to find Dorothy: You knew she was coming, you just didn't know when. “Caitlin,” Rina said softly. “Please. You can tell me anything. You know that.” But I couldn't. Rogerson was somewhere, on his way, looking for me. I could feel it, the way Boo always said she could feel rain coming in her bad elbow. I just knew. I took a deep breath and sat up, gra66ing my cigarettes. “I need to use the phone,” I blurted out, reaching over her to grab it. My hand brushed against her skin, damp and sticky and warm, as I started inside the house, pushing the sliding glass door open. When I looked back she was lying flat on her chair, one arm thrown across her face, having given up on me. I called Rogerson at every number I knew, standing under those rows of stuffed fish. They stared back at me, bug-?eyed and scared, as the phone rang on and on, endless, with nobody home. 

It was late afternoon and I was long ready to go when Jeff showed up. He snuck around the side of the house, crept soundlessly behind our chairs, and expertly dropped an ice cube on the small of Rina's already pink back, scaring the crap out of both of us. “Jeff!” Rina squealed, sitting up quickly and slapping her top which she'd untied to avoid strap marksagainst her ample chest. “Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack, you jerk.” “Lighten up,” he said easily, sliding a hand around her leg as he sat down next to her. He waggled his fingers at me and did his signature move, flipping his hair out of his face with a snap of his neck. I could see myself reflected backanxious, angry, glancing at my watch one more timein his sunglasses. “Rina,” I said, for at least the twentieth time, “I really need to go.” I'd been pressing her for what seemed like forever, while she kept drinking beers and waving me off. “What's your rush?” Jeff said. “I brought some steaks, invited over some of the fellas. Thought we'd have us a little cookout.” “Umm, that sounds good,” Rina murmured, rolling over onto her stomach again. “Who'd you invite?” “Ed and Barrett,” he said. “Oh, and Scott from the store.” “I can't stay,” I told him. “Rina was just about to take me home, actually.” “I told you, I can't drive home right now,” she said in an irritated voice, scooping some more pimento cheese out of my mother's Tupperware container onto a cracker and popping it into her mouth. “i have to sober up first.” “Rina,” I said, feeling panic rising in me, higher and higher, even as I tried to squash it down. I'd been circling like this madly for over an hour, like an animal about to gnaw its own leg off to get free. “i told my mother I'd be home by six-?thirty, remember?” “She doesn't care,” Rina said easily, as Jeff rubbed her leg, taking a sip of her beer. “She won't even notice if you're late. Have some dinner and then we'll go.”

I lowered my voice. “Rina. I have to go right now. Okay?” “Caitlin, relax,” she said. “God, have a beer or something.” To Jeff she added, “She's been like this, like, all afternoon.” Jeff looked at me, flipped his hair again, and I wanted to kill both of them. “You promised you'd drive me home,” I said to Rina, and I could feel my throat getting tight. “You promised.” “Look, give me the phone,” she said, grabbing it sloppily from where it was lying on the deck between us. “I'll call Rogerson and explain everything. What's his number? Oh wait, I think I know” “No,” I said, yanking the phone out of her slippery hand. I could only imagine how Rogerson would react to hearing where I was from her. “Please, just take me home. It'll only take a second. Okay?” “What is the matter with you?” she said angrily. “God, you'd think it was killing you to be here with me or something.” And then she looked at Jeff, raising her eyebrows in a can-?you-?believe- this kind of way. For two hours I'd felt myself stretching tighter and tighter, like a rubber band pulled to the point of snapping. And now, I could feel the smaller, weaker parts of myself beginning to fray, tiny bits giving way before the big break. Out on the lake the sun was hitting right by the dock, glittering across the water like diamonds. “Fine,” I said, standing up. “I'll get there myself.” I walked off the porch, across the scrubby pine yard and out onto the road, which snaked ahead of me over a long bridge, around a bend and miles and miles into town. But I didn't care. Just walking would get me that much closer, give me the forward motion to feel that I could somehow fix this. “Caitlin,” I heard Rina calling out behind me, her voice sun-?baked and drunk. “Don't be ridiculous. Come back here!” I But I was already hitting my stride, sandal straps rubbing my feet and Corinna's bracelets clinking, playing her theme music, with every step I took.

 | I must have walked about a mile when a car pulled up behind me and beeped, quickly, three times. I walked closer to the edge of the road, eyes straight ahead, willing them to pass, but they didn't. Instead, the car rolled closer, slowing down to stop right beside me. It was Jeff. “Would have been here sooner,” he explained, flipping his hair as I fastened my seat belt. “But Miss Rina threw a little fit about me leaving her. You understand.” “Yeah,” I said, as he hit the gas and we sped toward town, his big convertible sucking up the road beneath us. “I do.” We might have talked on the way home: I don't really remember. My mind was already working my defense, figuring the play, setting the pick and the run and shoot. As we got closer to town, the pine trees and flat fields giving way to asphalt and strip malls, I could feel the dread that had been building in me all afternoon finally fill me up. And by the time we got to my house, every muscle in my body was tight and I could hear my heart beating. I had a crazy thought to tell Jeff to just keep going, gunning past what was waiting for me, driving on and on to someplace safe. But I knew Rogerson would find me. He always did. There were cars parked all up and down the street for the party, but I could see Rogerson right in front of the walk. The BMW was right by the mailbox, windows up, engine off. “You know, ”Jeff said in his slow drawl as he pulled into Boo and Stewart's driveway to turn around, “Rina was just a little tipsy is all. You shouldn't hold it against her.” “I don't,” I said, opening my door before he'd even come to a full stop. The sight of Rogerson waiting for me, just like all those times at the turnaround, filled me with a fear that clenched hard in my chest, like a fist closing over something tightly. “Thanks for the ride, Jeff.” “Looks like quite a party,” he said, nodding at my parents' backyard, where I could see the tentstill standingall lit up, with peopie milling around beneath it. Someone was playing the piano, tinkling and sweet, and it was slowly getting dark. The perfect Fool's night. “Yeah,” I said, already backing away from the car. “It always is.” The grass was wet on my feet as I ran across it, with Jeff yelling good-?bye behind me. My house was all lit up to my right, and I knew that inside it smelled like potpourri, all those dolls arranged in their intimate groups. Rogerson's car was dark as I came up on it, with that eerie green glow from the dash lights coming from inside. I opened the passenger door and got in, shutting it quietly behind me. He didn't say anything. I turned to face him, ready with my explanation, the defense I'd drawn out in the long walk and ride home: I tried to call you, I couldn't get here, I'm sorry. But I didn't even get a word out before he turned, with the face I'd never captured on filmwrenched and angryand slapped me across the face. It was hard enough to push me back against my door, which hadn't shut completely and so fell open just a bit. I reached out behind me to try and grab the handle, but he was already coming at me again. “Where the hell have you been?” he said, moving so close that his breath was in my face, hot and smoky-?smelling. He grabbed me by the front of my dress, yanking me even closer to him, the fabric bunching in his fist, bulging through his fingers. “I have been waiting for you for an hour.” “Rina,” I said quickly, gasping, “Rina invited me to the lake, I tried to call you” “What the fuck are you talking about?” he screamed, and then pushed me away from him, hard, so that I fell back against the door again and this time it swung open fully, making a loud, scraping noise against the sidewalk. I felt myself tumbling backward, losing balance even before I hit the pavement, my elbows grinding as I tried to catch myself. My face still stung, my dress bunched up at my chest, and then he was suddenly out of the car, standing over me. “Get up,” he said, and behind me I could hear the party, the piano, now with voices singing along. “Get up!”

“Rogerson,” I said as I struggled to my feet. “Please” “Get up!” he yelled, and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me toward him. I tried to duck my head, to turn away, but he was too fast for me. I saw his fist coming and it hit me right over my left eye, sending a flurry of stars and colors across my vision. I slid down, out of his grasp, onto the grass: It was wet and slimy against my bare skin. I lifted my head and he was standing over me, breathing hard. I knew I should get up before someone saw us but somehow I couldn't move, like those voicesall those voiceswere suddenly shaking me awake, pulling me to the surface. It was the first time he'd done it out in the open, not inside the car or a room, and the vastness of everything, fresh air and space, made me pull myself tighter, smaller. “Goddammit, Caitlin,” he said, glancing at the house, then back at me. “Get up right now.” I tried to roll away from him onto my side, in the hopes of getting to my feet, but everything hurt all at once: my face, my fingers, the back of my head, my eye, my arms, my skin itself. Each place he'd ever struck me, like old war wounds on rainy days. He nudged me with his toe, in the small of my back. “Come on,” he said quietly. And I remembered the first time he'd said it, when all this had started, standing by that open door: Come on. “No,” I said into the grass, trying to tuck every bit of me in and hide, to sink into the cracks of the sidewalk beneath me. “Get up,” he said again, a bit louder, and now the nudge was hard, more like a kick. I rolled a bit, curling tighter, and closed my eyes. Out in the tent, the song went on to the rousing finish, then a burst of laughter and applause. “Get up, Caitlin,” he said, and I closed my eyes as tight as I could, clenching my teeth, thinking of anything else. Corinna, standing on a cliff in California with the blue, blue water stretched out ahead of her, with even Mexico in sight. Cass in New York, sitting in her window with a million lights spread out behind her. And then, finally me, left behind again. And look what I had become. I jammed my hand in my jacket pocket, bracing myself for the next hit, and felt something. Something grainy and small, sticking to the tips of my fingers: the sand from Commons Park. Oh, Cass, I thought. I miss you so, so much. “Caitlin,” Rogerson said, and I snapped back to reality as he reached down and yanked at my jacket,

trying to pull me up with it. But I just shook it off, letting it slide over my arms and away from me, keeping the sand in my hand. My bare skin was cool, exposed under the streetlight with the white of the dress and the green ivy almost glowing. I was tired. Worn thin, my springs broken, spokes shattered. I felt old and brittle. I braced myself, waiting for the next kick, the next punch. I didn't care if it was the last thing I ever felt. “Caitlin,” Rogerson said again, and I felt him draw his foot back, readying. “I told you to” And that was as far as he got before I heard it. The thumping of footsteps, running up the lawn toward me: It seemed like I could hear it through the grass, like leaning your ear to a railroad track and feeling the train coming, miles away. As the noise got closer I could hear ragged breaths, and then a voice. It was my mother. “Stop it!” she said, her tone steady and loud. “You stop that right now.” “I didn't” Rogerson said. And in the distance, suddenly, I could hear sirens. Rogerson stepped back from me: He heard them, too. “Get away from her,” my mother said, crouching down beside me. “You lousy bastard. Caitlin. Caitlin, can you hear me?” “No,” 1 said. “Wait” I could feel her smoothing my hair off my face, her own chest heaving against my shoulders. Then, suddenly, she said, “Oh, my God, Caitlin. Oh, my God.” I turned to her, but she wasn't looking at my face. Her mouth was open, horrified, as her eyes traveled over my arms, shoulders, back, and legs. Under the white of the streetlight, my skin was ghostly pale, and each bruise, old and new, seemed dark and black against it. There were so many of them.

Rogerson was backing away now, even as my mother wrapped her arms around me, so gently, sobbing as she tried to find a spot that wasn't hurt. The sirens were coming closer, and I could see blue lights moving across the trees. The front door slammed and I could hear voices gathering, getting closer. The piano music had stopped. It seemed like everything had stopped. “Margaret?” I heard Boo call out. “What's going on?” “What's happening out here?” I heard my father say, his voice choppy as he ran through the grass. “Caitlin? Are you all right?” “It's over now,” my mother said, still crying softly as she rocked me back and forth, smoothing my hair. “It's okay, honey. I'm here. It's okay.” “What happened?” my father said, but no one answered him. The police car pulled up and I heard a door slam, a voice garbled and hissing over the radio inside. I looked up, trying to find Rogerson, but it seemed like the dark had somehow sucked him up and he'd disappeared. I could hear everything that was going on around me: the murmuring of the Fool's Party guests, my father talking to the policeman, Rogerson complaining angrily as the cuffs clicked shut. I could hear the streetlight buzzing and Boo crying onto Stewart's shoulder when she saw the bruises on my skin, the way she whimpered again and again, I should have known. I should have known. And all the while my mother was crouching over me, her voice steady, rocking me back and forth like she had the day Cass had cut my eye, saying everything would be all right. I couldn't even tell her I was sorry. I was worn out, broken: He had taken almost everything. But he had been all I'd had, all this time. And when the police led him away, I pulled out of the hands of all these loved ones, sobbing, screaming, everything hurting, to try and make him stay. 

ME