Melt (9 page)

      Oh god.

Joey

      That Nike poster hangs in front of us it's like a red cape flagging a bull.

Just do it.

Just

do

it.

      Yeah right.

      How many times can I just do it before I wind up back behind steel bars or buried

in a wood box?

Asshole

I'm such a thick shithead.

Doll all she wants me to do is

think.

Think.

Think before I

just do

it.

      Here I am giving her grief and that's all she wants.

Dorothy

      I'm staring off somewhere. I'm not even looking at him. Then I hear him say, “Okay.”

      Cotton rests on each of my cheeks, his fingers touch my temple. He's staring into me, bringing me back.

      Back to him.

      His eyes are earnest. “Okay, you're right. I promise, I'll just drink beer tonight.”

      As ludicrous as that affirmation is—he really needs a ride to AA for his birthday—I feel intense relief. He's not slipping away. He's on the level field with me, he's playing my game.

      I can still hope ….

      I can still believe that one day he'll stop drinking altogether.

      One day, he'll stop. He'll change.

      He wants to.

      He kisses me, and we fall to the mat together.

Dorothy

      It's 9:11 p.m. and I'm channel surfing on the couch with Mom and Dad. I was supposed to go study with Amy and a few other girls, but I wasn't in the mood. I've decided that Amy's okay if you accept her as she is—her primary goal in life is to be popular and admired, but hey, you have to appreciate that she's up front about it. And once I made it clear that I was going to date Joey no matter what anyone thought, she accepted it. I don't like all the gossiping, though, and so I can only hang out with her and her crowd now and then. And tonight, I didn't feel up to it. I just want to veg, after all that went on with Joey. It was beautiful, but it was exhausting.

      He had to go home for dinner, he said his mom always bakes a cake for him on his birthday. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to meet his family; I wanted to sing to him; I wanted to watch him wish and blow out his candles. But he wouldn't let me come. He wouldn't even discuss it. At first it seemed like he was going to say something, tell me something. He had this anxious air around him, like he wanted to spill something out. Like in my room that day, when he told me everything he'd done.

      Was there more?

      But then he pursed his lips together and swallowed—it was as though he choked down the words, forced them down his throat—and when he did speak, his voice was firm. He said, “Doll, trust me. You don't even wanna go there.”

      It was good that I came home, anyway. My parents both made an attempt to talk to me at dinner—Mom's voice was actually normal for once—and over spinach fettuccine, salad, and garlic bread we had a lively conversation about school and about their new offices in Garden City. That's why we moved, because they brought their practices to Long Island. They got a great deal in a luxury building, saved a bundle in rent, and now they have adjacent suites and lunch every day. Cute, isn't it? Anyway, I was so happy to have parents back that I agreed to hang with them afterward, watch tv.

      I'm sandwiched between them, and it's nice. It's like old times.

      Dad's flicking through channels—we just caught the tail-end of
Good Will Hunting
. Huge faces flash by on the giant plasma screen as Dad now hunts for something we'd all enjoy. There's the
Law and Order
guys, there's Jack Nicholson trying to hack up his family in
The Shining
, there's Queen Latifah in one of those feel-good-about-yourself-no-matter-what movies, and now there's the Lollipop Guild, welcoming Dorothy to Munchkinland.

      Dad leaves it on.

      I say, “You know, those Munchkins really make me laugh. Dorothy kept telling them she wasn't a witch, but they just wouldn't listen.”

      Mom says, “Small-minded.”

      Dad says, “You think that's the real point of this movie?”

      I say, “Let's not psychoanalyze
The Wizard of Oz
.”

Joey

      This whining little motherfucker Holden Caulfield

what's his

problem?

If I got packed off to some

candy-ass

boarding school if they shipped me the fuck outta

this

place I sure as hell wouldn't do nothing to get booted out to get

sent

back

home.

      I'm laying in bed reading this book just ‘cause Doll gave it to me I wanna know what the hell she thinks I have in common with this

tool

who trolls around

sponging

for company and

cocktails.

      Cocktails.

      Christ.

      Drink from the bottle dude.

      Meanwhile I bailed on my friends tonight. I was just too tired after all that stuff with Doll god what an awesome day and then I came home I had

cake with Mom Jimmy Warren and

Pop.

      Pop

actually gave me a

rap

on the shoulder wished me

happy birthday

but in a way that's harder when he's

cool

it knocks me

off my

game

when I get a taste of the

Pop

the rest of the world knows. The

stand

up

guy who'll always pull over to help someone

stuck on the side of the

road. Mister good time who's

cracking his buddies up

so amusing

down at the bar

plus

he's buying the next

round.

No one knows the

Pop

behind our

closed front

door.

So anyway I was just too frigging exhausted and I wanted to lay down and read my book.

      I got my wraps on now

I put them on again.

When I got home

before dinner

I came right

upstairs

brought up all my stuff to

my room and I

unraveled

my wraps.

I did it partly cause I didn't feel like explaining or

sharing yet with no one about the

boxing

and also on account of I wanted to

keep

them

clean.

But I looped them on again as soon as I got in my room

after cake.

      Doll did them better so

neat so

sleek so

perfect like a

new

skin

how'd she do that? Now they're

lumpy they're

thick they're

bulky clumps I look like a

mental

patient fresh from a suicide try gone wrong but who gives a shit my hands they feel amazing.

      I think of her again I think of Doll I look over at the card she gave me it's

propped

up on my night stand next to a

half-empty bottle of Bud.

I promised I wouldn't drink no rum so here I am

downing

piss-warm

beer

aww it don't matter anyhow

it does the same job in the long run.

      I think of

her

the way she wanted to

come over tonight she wanted to

meet

my

folks yeah that'd be something.

I wanted to tell her I almost did I almost let it all loose about

Pop.

      The words were there at the

edge

of my tongue they were ready to

leap

but I

stopped

them I stopped them I

stopped

them I gulped a wad of spit and shoved them words

down

down

way the hell

down ‘cause I'm

scared.

      I'm

scared

she'll leave me that

that'll

be

it

my freak show family is too much for her

I'm too much of a

freak

for her.

      I'm

scared

to tell what my

pop

is how he hurts my mom how I

watch.

      I'm

scared

she'll think I'll

be

that monster one day and I'm

scared

she'll be right.

      I'm scared of changing the way she sees things

forever

changing the

shading

of her world

she's got no

clue

how

dark

things can get.

      I been

covering

so long I'm

scared

of the light. Even after today after all we been

through

even though I felt so

light

with her still I can't do it I can't show myself

in

this

light it's too much.

      Me and my family

we been passing so long.

People

pass

us by

they

pass

our house our neat flower beds our

shiny

aluminum siding

all those

stupid

smiling

people

all those

deaf dumb blind

dense like a brick passers-by

they got no idea

what's

up

inside.

What would they do if they knew?

      She wants to come in.

      I'm scared.

For me.

For her.

      I can't tell her.

      Ole Frank Sinatra he starts wailing away downstairs on

Pop's

stereo.

      
Come fly with me.

      It's a signal to me

it's like the Bat Signal reversed

‘stead of telling me to

spring

into

action it's telling me to stay put in my cave.

      It's a signal that

Pop's

getting hammered he's slamming them down getting ready for another night of hammering.

      Something crashes sounds like glass.

      Sinatra wants to

pack

up and fly

away.

Not an option,

Frankie

baby.

Not yet.

      I fold my arms

together.

      Tight.

      Soft black cloth

coats

my goose bumps it

settles

those little raised hairs.

      Happy frigging birthday to me.

      Cheers.

Dorothy

      We watch the Wicked Witch of the West sink to the floor, shrieking all the way.

      I ask, “Why on earth would anyone keep a bucket of water around when they know it could destroy them?”

      Mom says, “It's just a story, honey. You can't think about it too much.”

      Dad says, “The bucket has to be there. How else would they melt the witch?”

      My point exactly.

Seven

Joey

      I must be

nuts

bringing her here when I swore to myself

I

wouldn't.

But she kept at me

she wouldn't let up she wanted to meet my folks she wanted to see my

house she wanted to see my

room.

      Yesterday my mom got a call she found out my grandma in Florida came down with double pneumonia. So Mom she took Warren they flew down to go see her and they won't be back for three days.

Doll

when she heard that

she got this idea to cut

out of school come over my house while

Pop's

working his shift.

We didn't get to borrow Jason's garage

at all this week on account of him and some of the

other guys

training

heavy

for a lifting contest

so that left us

outside and horny.

      Even if I

broke my

word

to

myself

and agreed to go to her house when her

parents

are working, we couldn't. Her mom

finally found a housekeeper she liked

enough

to hire for

keeps

she was testing them out since they moved here.

Guess she's as picky for her

home as she is for her daughter.

Hey you can't blame her.

So I thought,

Why not bring her

home?

We get some inside

alone

time and it'll make her

happy she gets

part

of what she wants.

Maybe that'll be enough.

      Christ I hope so.

      I gotta admit it's unbelievable having her here in my room in my bed she smells so good she's like a Glade Air Freshener in my stale world maybe her scent'll linger when she's gone.

      We're laying here holding each other

just finished making love

we did it the minute we got through my

bedroom door

we just about fell onto the bed in a

tangle.

She wanted to do it downstairs when we walked in she was all over

me I was about to lay her down on the couch but then I caught that old

love seat

in the corner of my

eye

and then I just

couldn't.

      I didn't tell her that of course add that to my list of things I don't

tell her

makes me feel so bad but I

can't.

I said, Slow

down

okay? I said, Let me show you the place

and

then

we can hang out

upstairs.

      I

watched

her walk through the living room

the dining room

into

the

kitchen.

Part of me it thought, Maybe she'll

guess. Maybe she'll

sense

the truth

now that

she's

here.

      I couldn't pinpoint if I wanted that to happen or not.

      The good news is the

inside of my house

passes

just like the front

apparently

‘cause she passed through every spot where Mom gets

beaten

like nothing.

Even in the

kitchen

she couldn't tell she stood right by the stove she stood right where Mom

stirs

those potatoes and

eats

lead

and she

didn't

feel

nothing.

She didn't get

jumped

by that feeling of doom it grabs me it sinks in my chest it wraps

round

my

heart and twists

twists

twists

when I

step

on that linoleum she didn't breathe in that fear

the whole kitchen

reeks

of

it's built up like grease on the walls she didn't hear

my

mom's

cries

they vibrate through my bones

even though she stopped crying so goddamn long ago.

      I don't know if I'm

thankful or

betrayed but

this time

she didn't

feel

my

pain.

      She said it's so

nice she said it's so

homey.

She said

my house it's so neat

and practically

immaculate.

She was

surprised she'd thought maybe there'd be clutter

chaos

a heaping mess

maybe that's why I didn't want her there.

You could say that,

I

thought.

You could definitely say that.

      She said she'd had visions of

filth she

laughed she

said

the way I acted trying to

keep

her

away

she was expecting

maybe even

pestilence.

      Yeah.

That's it exactly,

I wanted

to tell her.

I wanted to

shake

her I wanted to

scream, We're

surrounded by filth and

pestilence don't you

see it?

      Poor Doll she thinks my house is clean but it couldn't be any dirtier.

      It's

stained

there's streaks everywhere they don't never come out no matter

how much

you

scrub.

      After that

after we left the kitchen

I felt off I felt

woozy maybe even dazed a little

like when a bird

smacks

into glass

and then lies there all stunned

it was kind of like that.

I staggered away

at least in my head

I guess I seemed like my regular self ‘cause Doll she

didn't

notice.

      We headed

up

to my room. When we got to the top of the stairs I

hurried her

past that

closet.

If we lingered

there if I got caught in that

trap

then I might've spilled it all out

I might've messed up everything

the mood

our plans

her

I would've spoiled them all

by telling her

the truth by dragging her into the

dark

with me.

      Once I got her through my

door

it was okay I felt

okay

again I let out my

breath

I didn't know I was holding it in.

I felt all the

good

stuff she makes me

feel I felt all the good flowing from her

into

me.

      And all that other

stuff that

bad

stuff

it just lifted up up up off of me.

She was kissing

kissing

kissing me she was touching me I could breathe again and it was okay.

Dorothy

      His room's the color of midnight.

      Some would call it black but they'd be wrong.

      It's darkest blue, it's got the slightest dab of white in it, barely noticeable but undeniably there.

      I wonder if that tinge of white mixed in midnight is dawn. I wonder if dawn's there always, inside the night. I wonder if dawn's tucked somewhere in midnight's folds, safely stowed until its time to shine.

      He holds me close, and I can feel the warmth. I feel the light inside him, spirited and hopeful.

      Waiting.

      Waiting for its time.

      His room's the color of him.

      We're cuddling on top of his comforter, which is black. His bed's centered against the back wall, facing the door. Other than his night stand next to us, his dresser to our left and his bike parked to our right, his room's pretty stark. Even the floor's bare wood.       

      The few personal items in sight are from me. His boxing gloves and wraps are on top of his dresser—he actually wears the wraps most days, if we're not going to get completely physical. My birthday card is on his night stand, along with
The Catcher in the Rye
, which he's almost done reading even though he says he can't stand Holden Caulfield. He does have posters on the walls: Ozzy right behind us, eyes crazed and mouth baying; AC/DC, Nirvana, and other bands scattered around the room; and on the ceiling above the bed there's some model in a bra and panties. He apologized for that, but I couldn't care less except that it's sad for her to have to put herself out there like that, with her body twisted into a seductive pose which is ridiculously unnatural.

      “Kind of a let-down, isn't it?” he asks, breaking into the quiet. We haven't been able to share complete silence for over a week. It's a great thing to be so comfortable with someone that you don't need to fill up every moment with words.

      “What is?” I know he doesn't mean the sex.

      He strokes my arm. “My room.”

      “Why would you say that?”

      He sighs. “It's just … it's just, nothing really.” His fingers smooth, smooth over my skin slowly. “It's pretty empty.”

      “Well, it may not have many furnishings,” I say, “but any room with you in it is far from empty.”

      He smiles, kisses me.

      A few licks later I add, “And, it's our first time in an actual bed.”

      “That it is.” The mattress frame squeaks as he pulls me on top of him, and that's the end of conversation.

Joey

      We're climbing

climbing

heading up that

mountain

when suddenly

she

jerks

her body

jerks

back

she screams in horror now in

pain

her body jerks back

and she's

off me she's

gone and I see

him

he's got her by the

hair he

yanked her right

off

me by her hair it's

Pop

holy fucking god it's

Pop.

Dorothy

god

oh my god
what
's

happening who is this

man
?

he's a cop he's got a blue uniform a badge

he's

got

a

gun

oh

god he's gonna kill us

Joey

      She's hysterical she don't know what's happening to her I wanna help her save her but I'm frozen I'm fucking useless staring at his gun in its holster. Could I grab it before him? I don't even try I'm such a piece of crap wimp.

      Don't hurt her

Pop

please let her go, I beg him but I know I

know

he don't give a rat's ass how much I beg matter of fact he probably feeds off of it.

      Who's this little cunt? he booms.

      Pop

Please …, I say. I wanna jump up jump

him

but no I just stay there

stuck.

      And no condom

either

you stupid shit, he yells.

      I say, I'll do anything you want

Pop

you can do whatever you want to me beat me whip me you can rip my goddamn head off just

please

let her go.

      Pop

laughs. How

sweet, he says.

He says, All worried about your

girlfriend?

Should've warned her what could happen when you brought her

home.

Dorothy

      He called him

Pop

Joey called him

Pop

oh my god it's his

dad

this monster is his

dad.

Joey

      He looks

down

at her she's

quivering

kneeling naked on the cold floor his hand's gripped round a

clump

of her hair she's crying

quiet

now I could kill him.

      How old are you, he asks her but of course she don't answer her eyes are shut and puffy and those tears they're still pouring

pouring

her face it's like a waterfall. He yanks on her hair she just

whimpers it's like she don't have the

strength

to scream anymore.

      Sixteen she's sixteen leave her alone

Pop

please, I beg him. I don't think he'll do nothing crazy to her he'll get caught

she'll tell she ain't Mom but then

who

knows

what's in his mind.

      Statutory rape, he tells me.

He says, I could bring you in.

      I say, Fine do it cuff me just let her get dressed let her

walk

away.

      Relax I ain't gonna hurt her, he says.

He says, I'm just gonna teach her a lesson while I'm

taking

care

of

you.

Dorothy

      He's gonna

hurt

him.

      Joey, I

cry

out I reach for him but his dad

pulls my hair

again he tells me to

shut

the

fuck

up.

      It's

okay Dorothy, Joey says his voice is

soothing he's trying to make me feel

better he called me Dorothy not

Doll

how can he be

calm when his dad's gonna

hurt

him?

      Oh god he's gonna hurt him.

Joey