Fuck you, you little bitch – who the fuck touched my stereo?
Eleanor hadn’t seen it coming the last time. When Richie kicked her out.
She couldn’t have seen it coming because she never thought it could happen. She never thought he’d try – and she never, ever thought her mom would go along with it. (Richie must have recognized before Eleanor did that her mother’s allegiances had shifted.) It was embarrassing to think about the day that it happened – embarrassing, on top of everything else – because it really was Eleanor’s fault. She really was asking for it.
She was in her room, typing song lyrics on an old manual typewriter that her mom had brought home from the Goodwill.
It needed new ribbon (Eleanor had a box full of cartridges that didn’t fit), but it still worked. She loved
everything
about
that
typewriter, the way the keys felt, the sticky, crunchy noise they made. She even liked the way it smelled, like metal and shoe polish.
She was bored that day, the day it happened.
It was too hot to do anything but lie around or read or watch TV. Richie was in the living room.
He hadn’t gotten out of bed until 2:00 or 3:00, and everybody could tell he was in a bad mood. Her mom was walking around the house in nervous circles, offering Richie lemonade and sandwiches and aspirin. Eleanor hated it when her
mom
acted
like
that.
Relentlessly submissive. It was humiliating to be in the same room.
So Eleanor was upstairs typing song lyrics. ‘Scarborough Fair.’
She heard Richie complaining.
‘What the fuck is that noise?’
And, ‘Fuck, Sabrina, can’t you shut her up?’
Her mom tiptoed up the stairs and
ducked
her
head
into
Eleanor’s room. ‘Richie isn’t feeling well,’ she said. ‘Can you put that away?’ She looked pale and nervous. Eleanor hated that look.
She waited for her mother to get
back
downstairs.
Then,
without really thinking about why, Eleanor deliberately pressed a key.
A
Crunch-lap.
Her fingertips trembled over the keyboard.
RE
Crch-crch-lap-tap.
Nothing happened. No one stirred. The house was hot and stiff and as quiet as a library in hell. Eleanor closed her eyes and jerked her chin into the air.
YOU
GOING
TO
SCRABOROUGH
FAIR
PARSLEY
SAAGE
ROSEMAYRY AND THYME
Richie came up the stairs so fast, in Eleanor’s head he was flying. In Eleanor’s head, he burst open the door by hurling a ball of fire at it.
He was on her before she could brace herself, tearing the typewriter from her hands and throwing it into the wall so hard it broke through the plaster and hung for a moment in the lath.
Eleanor was too shocked to make out what he was shouting at her. FAT and FUCK and BITCH.
He’d never come this close to her before. Her fear of him crushed her back. She didn’t want him to see it in her eyes, so she pressed her face into her hands in her pillow.
FAT and FUCK and BITCH.
And
I
WARNED
YOU,
SABRINA.
‘I
hate
you,’
Eleanor
whispered into the pillow. She could hear things slamming. She could hear her mother in the doorway, talking softly, like she was trying to put a baby back to sleep.
FAT and FUCK and BITCH
and BEGGING FOR IT, JUST
FUCKING BEGGING FOR IT.
‘I hate you,’ Eleanor said louder. ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.’
FUCK THIS.
‘I hate you.’
FUCK ALL OF YOU.
‘Fuck you.’
STUPID BITCHES.
‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.’
WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY?
In Eleanor’s head, the house shook.
Her mother was pulling on her then, trying to pull her out of bed.
Eleanor tried to come with her, but she was too scared to stand up. She wanted to flatten herself to the floor and crawl away. She wanted to pretend that the room was full of smoke.
Richie
was
roaring.
Her
mother pulled Eleanor to the top of the stairs, then pushed her down. He was right behind them.
Eleanor
fell
against
the
banister and practically ran to the front door on all fours. She got outside and kept running to the end of the sidewalk. Ben was sitting on the porch, playing with his Hot Wheels. He stopped and watched Eleanor run by.
Eleanor wondered if she should keep running, but where would she go? Even when she was a little girl, she never fantasized about running away.
She could never imagine herself past the edge of the yard. Where would she go? Who would take her?
When the front door opened again, Eleanor took a few steps into the street.
It was just her mom. She took Eleanor’s arm and started walking quickly toward the neighbor’s house.
If Eleanor would have known then what was about to happen, she would have run back to tell Ben goodbye. She would have looked for Maisie and Mouse and kissed them each hard on the cheek. Maybe she would have asked to go back inside to see the baby.