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6

              David stood before the black workout bench knowing the impending conviction and sentence.  He had read the note his mother had placed on the end table.  When David had walked into the house, he had noticed it immediately, red.  The paper clashed against the earth tones blanketing the room. 

Meet me in your room.

              David had been standing in front of the bench for a half-hour thinking what he could have done wrong.  Mrs. Shelton was undoubtedly in her room praying for David’s soul.  He knew that the longer she prayed the more the rod would be used. 

              After another hour, David heard the click of his mother’s handle and strident squeak of the hinges as the door eased open. 
She’s coming.

              Mrs. Shelton’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she walked slow through the hall.  He thought of the harmonious notes of Carissa’s steps compared to the clicks he heard now.  The sounds were different.  Mrs. Shelton’s steps were cold and pointed, determined.  He felt her need for his repentance, the waves now echoing off the walls. 

              The clicks stopped.  He felt the hot breathe on his neck, fire.  The pace was exhausting.  He held silent.  He closed his eyes so light could not bear witness to his defeat.

              “I saw you, David.  You were lusting like a dog after that little harlot.  You wanted to take her there.  Did you not?” David kept silent knowing this question had no answer.  “You stand there as if you did nothing wrong.  What do you have to say for yourself?”

              “I wasn’t lusting mother.”

              “Don’t lie to me.” The calmness in her voice was almost soothing.  He felt her hair brush his neck. 

              “I’m not mother,” he said as she walked around him.

              “You’ve been letting that thing between your legs think for you.  It makes you forget who feeds you and clothes you.  You’re just like your father.  You don’t care about me.  You just want some little girl play thing,” she said as she struck at his crotch.  David drew a deep breath.  Despite the pain, he held back his defense. 

              “I need you, mother.”  David said, his voice trembling. 

              “Go get the rod,” she said emotionless.  David turned from his mother.  She watched him as he stepped through the threshold.   The hallway was much cooler than David’s room but he was still beginning to sweat.  David’s hands began to burn.  Crosses and pictures of Jesus mocked him.

              One lone color portrait ended the shrine to the Son of God.  The picture was of a seven year old David, one buck tooth and another missing.  The second grade 8x10 depicted David when he was happy.  He remembered his mother holding him while she read bible stories to him.  The photo reminded him of how her warmth blanketed him.  He knew his mother loved him.   

                David turned the corner into the kitchen.  The light cast a bluish haze across the room.  The rod sat in a drawer dedicated to its power.  He closed his eyes as he grasped the handle.  Pulling back, he heard the grind of the tracks sliding.  The rod revealed itself with an augural glow.  The sharp edge rested cheerful on the yellow and white drawer bed.  He picked up the whetstone situated beside it.  He pulled the edge back and forth along stone.  He ran his finger horizontal to the edge, making sure it was sharp.  He swiped the blade a few more times then placed the stone back in the drawer.  Through the reflection of the rod’s perfect chrome, he could see his mother watching him. 

              David walked into his room not even looking at his mother out of the corner of his eye.  He laid the rod gently on the floor next to the workout bench.  David turned to his mother wanting to plead for her to have pity on him but held his tongue.  Her expression told David that it was useless.  He just stood waiting for the order.

              Mrs. Shelton looked directly into David’s eyes.  They had been the same height since he was fifteen.  He could have easily taken her but he never felt the urge to jump.  She knew that when she told him to lay down that he would.  She thought it was because he knew he had sinned but it was not that at all.  She had broken his will to fight back. 

She took one small step back, “Lay down.”

              David turned.  He laid down, his chest pressed against the imitation leather padding.  He was never scared but his breathing quickened out of habit.  Mrs. Shelton turned to the dresser that was behind the open door.  She took the golden handle and opened it slowly reveling a small black box.  She unclipped the latches revealing steel handcuffs.  David heard the jingle of the metal as she let one of the wrist locks fall from between her figures. 

              David began to sweat as he heard the steps come closer to him.  A small pool began to form where David’s chin pressed into the black padding.  The bottom of her dress came into view.  He closed his eyes when the cold metal touched his wrist.  Mrs. Shelton slowly closed one of the cuffs, the lock clicking, and then the other.  He was sure she did this for effect.  Pressing the cold steel tight on his wrists, she hummed softly.  She stood and left the room.

              David was confused.  She had never done this before.  She had always delivered the rod before she left. 
What is she doing?
  The first note of the fifth symphony began to play. 

              David laid on the bench for an hour before he fell asleep.  He drifted quietly without even noticing.  Dreaming, he could see himself sitting in the classroom with Carissa working on the lesson he taught hours before. He could feel the emotion between them, but something was different.  She was not smiling.  She looked bored in his dream.  He was sure the way he was feeling was not mutual and that he had mistaken her kindness for something else.  Carissa blankly stared. 

              A sharp sting then pain brought David back.  He felt the blade slide easily down his back.  His skin opened wide.  He felt a warm stream down his left side.  The blade lost contact with his creamy flesh and touched again.  The pain streaked up his back as the rod cut through the next portion of flesh. 

              It was over as quick as it began.  David had slept through most of the first lashing.  He had only experienced the full force of the second.  This time was not that bad, then he felt the splash on his back, then the burn. 

The smell of alcohol filled the room and stung David’s nostrils as he began to cry out.  “Did you think you would get off that easy?  Falling asleep.  You know you have to be punished for your sins.  The Father will not have his child fall for the trappings of Satan and his unholy deeds,” screamed Mrs. Shelton then she walked out of the room.  David’s tears mixed with the pool of blood and sweat already puddle on the bench. 

              Three hours later Mrs. Shelton unlocked the handcuffs.  She lovingly caressed his hair. “Now, go bandage yourself.  I left you a plate of food on the table.  You can eat, and then do your homework,” Shelton said.

              The room was lit by one desk lamp and the florescent stars that shown dimly on the dark room.  Lea lay sleeping in her twin bed, her blanket tucked tightly under her neck.  Carissa sat writing the paper that was assigned earlier that day.  She thumbed through her text book every once in a while to find supporting passages for her main points. 

              Carissa heard Randy’s door close.  Usually the sound would have meant something else, but tonight her thoughts where beyond her father and his misunderstandings (as she liked to call them).  She was thinking about David.  His name ran through her mind, more like dancing than running, a flow none the less.  She could see the look in his eyes as he softened, but still she had no idea why he was so intriguing.  Since Randy began his voyage to discover his daughter, she had locked any real feelings away.  If she felt then she had to deal, and that was something she never wanted to do. 

Carissa knew the draw could not be mere infatuation because if it was, she would be directed to Rob.  After all, Rob had been her friend for years.  He fought for her.  He cared.  He was a good guy and now she knew he liked her.  But, that did not seem to matter.  David and Carissa had not even talked about anything but math and his mother and the fact he did not want to talk to her but she was here…thinking about him. 
What the fuck is going on?
  Maybe it was curiosity. 
That’s it.  Just curiosity
.  She wanted to know more about this mysterious boy that walked into her life just this very day.  But still, she knew there was more than mere interest or concern brewing.  She had no idea what but something was there.  It was almost hurting her but she was smiling.  She was being pulled to him, anxious to understand.  She did not know if the risk was worth the effort but she did not care, either. She needed to take her chance.

              Carissa went back to her paper.  She could already see the red F Mrs. Shelton was going to give her.  Carissa was pretty sure she committed lesser sin in class, but the next would be cardinal.  Then her concentration broke from the sound of steps in the hall.  The pace seemed slower than usual but stopped at the door of her room.  Carissa hoped it would not be tonight. 
Please let me have tonight
. 

              Randy stood at Carissa’s door thinking about Jen.  He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to smell her, to love Jen again.  Jen was gone forever but she left Carissa to take her place.  Carissa looked so much like her that Jen must have touched her from heaven, just for Randy. 

              He could smell Jen just beyond the wooden door.  He only had to open it to see her.  Thinking about what he would do once inside aroused him. He would feel Jen’s skin, run his figures through her hair, kiss her mouth, and feel himself inside her.  He reached for the door handle and began to turn it slowly.  Jen’s smell was already growing stronger.

“Randy, are coming to bed?” Casey yelled seductively. 

              Randy was brought back by the voice beyond his bedroom door.  “What am I doing?” he whispered.  He let go of the door handle, “Coming Casey,” Randy said as he walked away from where he knew he could be happy, satisfied. 

He opened the door and Casey was lying naked on the bed, her finger rubbing her pink flesh.  Randy could see her juices shining in the intruding light.  He smiled as he closed the door.  He slowly slipped off his pants and crawled onto Casey.

              Carissa was relieved to hear the pounding of the bed as it beat gentle against the their bedroom wall. 

7

              The day broke through the curtains shining a warm beam of light directly onto Carissa’s face.  She opened her eyes with noticeable ease.  Carissa, surprised by her energy, did not think about the doorknob’s turn or her father giving into Casey’s uncharacteristic offering.  Usually on such mornings, Carissa felt relief but her dreams had still haunted her.  Carissa’s night would be filled with sleepless anticipation and when she would dose, her dreams were traced with nocturnal images of her and her thrusting father, face to face.  The images would bring her too, then she would wait.  Sometimes, not for very long.

Today was different.  David was different.  He was waiting on the bus, hopefully.  Though he probably had not even left his house, she thought of him watching, patiently, in the third, maybe fourth, seat for her eyes to shine solemn over the green vinyl wall in front of the first.  The image of David’s stoic face, maybe smiling, urged her up and about. 

              Carissa threw her comforter wide, in a way that only a girl with a secret crush could master the technique.  The smile on her face was more radiant than the sun that had awakened her just moments before and was starting to ache.  Somehow the colors of her room seemed…brighter.  The insistent sadness clouding her mornings had subsided if only for a brief daybreak run.  In turn, Carissa knew the real world milled beyond her bedroom door.  Could the mood be shattered by Casey’s sharp tongue?  Maybe.  Could this all be a dream?  Possibly.  Was the nameless swelling in her chest real?  She could not answer that question just yet.  She had never experienced a “crush” so judging its validity was not yet an option nor was it a notion she was willing to consider.

              Carissa’s feet hit the floor softly.  She maneuvered around Lea’s toys cluttering the floor and ended up at her closet.  As she opened the door, she found herself asking for the first time, “What the fuck am I going to wear?”

“I heard that,” Lea squeaked from her bed.

              The alarm clock chimed its unwelcome reveille waking David from a shallow, dissatisfying sleep.  Most of the night, David turned and contorted to find a comfortable position that would not reopen the fresh rod marks.  Even though he probably needed a day after the lashings, it was not an option.  David’s sleep deprivation did not matter.  David wounds did not matter.  David’s state did not matter. School mattered.  In pain or illness, in weak or well, David would stack his books, take his notes, and run his laps.  Mrs. Shelton would not allow for sick days because God did not allow for them.  David had had pneumonia when he was fourteen. The doctor had told his mother to keep him on bed rest for the week and provided him antibiotics which the doctor had said would take care of the illness.  Mrs. Shelton refused the bed rest, sent David to school, and prayed for David’s recovery. She instructed David to do the same, which he did.  David took the antibiotics, went to school, and prayed every night.  Day by day, his chest barreled more with his lips changing to a deep blue.  By that Saturday, he was coughing blood and admitted to the hospital.  When he was released five days later, he was punished for not praying as he should.  The only answer, in Mrs. Shelton’s mind, being God required punishment for David’s hindered faith because she had made sure every pill was taken and every prayer was prayed.  As always, Mrs. Shelton felt God’s hand on hers as the blade slid down his back.

David rose slow attempting to keep the pain at bay but more to keep from reopening any of the cuts.  The pain was expected.  The bandages covering the wounds were starting to seep; his white sheets now had crusted blood spots, crimson and wide.  As he walked to his dresser, Carissa’s voice whispered, “
Save me a seat.”
He still believed that he did not hear the “don’t” that led the short but electrifying sentence. 

I miss understood
.  He believed that nothing bound them but math and Mr. Gilbert’s incessant need to help.  Beyond that, what was to tell?  There was nothing but a bus ride and nervous tutoring session.  Could this be a gift from God or a temptation?  Whatever it was, he knew the end result would be the rod as normal.

              Carissa had nothing to wear.  She threw shirt after shirt onto the bed.  It was the first time that she actually cared what she looked like for somebody other than herself since her and Destiny had ended their “friendship”.  Impressions were not something that Carissa had taken any comfort in.  The first impression was the lasting one, however deceiving that impression be. 

              Carissa found a shirt. 
Finally!
It was yellow and snug.  It formed soft across her breast while fitting so tight around the waste to reveal any distinction of her perceived “muffin top”. 

              The slow anticipation crept higher; Carissa could feel her knees begin to shake as she admired her figure through her tight formed jeans.  She turned to see how the pockets curved around her ass. 
There you go
.  Though smiling, her nervous stomach turned.  She just wanted him look at her and she was sure he would.

              The hot sting of the shower against his fresh marks was enough to shake any existence of exhaustion.  He washed the dried blood from his torso then bent forward to wash his hair.  He usually leaned back to clean his hair but just the thought of shampoo running down his back was enough to make it burn.  When he was finished, he dried most of his body then used paper towels to pat his back, went to his room, and bandaged his wounds.  The fresh white gauze felt slightly more comfortable than the ones he had taken off moments before.  No discernable oozing was present but he applied a thick layer of petroleum jelly just to be sure.  Not many boys David’s age had a medical supply drawer in their room, but David did.  He replaced some unused packages and opened the next drawer down, socks.  The white from the freshly bleached fabric reflected the light filling his room through an open curtain.  He pulled one pair out closing the drawer back. 

              David turned catching his narrow frame in the mirror.  David’s pale flesh did little to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He turned his torso so he could inspect the bandages on his back.  For a moment, David thought about the last time he had woke without having to tend to some wound or another.  The thought passed because this was David’s reality. 
This is me
.
This is normal.

              Opening his closet, David was not sure what he was going to wear.  Even though he was almost positive that there was a “don’t” he did not hear, he still wanted to look nice though.  He thumbed through his shirts knowing they were all some derivative of a light blue or white, but color did not matter.  He wanted one that would fit him well but hide his bandages all the same.  .  David gingerly tried on three before he found one that satisfied him.  He grabbed a pair of pants off another hanger and slipped them on, tucking in his shirt before securing the clasp.

              Looking in the mirror, David examined and adjusted his shirt buttons with the zipper of his pants so that they made a straight line. Though the same as usual, he took extra care in combing his short hair forward then to the side, making sure there were no strays lingering behind.  He looked perfect.  He grabbed his books and tucked them under his arm.

              Opening his door, the smell of eggs and bacon wafted into the room.  As he walked through the hall and into the kitchen, he heard the toaster spring.  Turning the corner, he saw his mother standing before the counter spreading butter onto a slice of toast.  An apron was tied around her neck and waist, dress billowing from the bottom.

              “Good morning, Mother,” David said as if the last evenings events did not occur.

              “Good morning, David.  How did you sleep?” Mrs.  Shelton said as she placed a plate with eggs and bacon on the counter.  She motioned him forward.

              “Good Mother,” David said mechanically, his stomach growling.  He reached for the fork sitting sat to the right of the plate, stopped, then fluidly brought his hands together, grace.  David mumbled low enough so that his mother did not know he was not actually saying anything but loud enough to convince her otherwise.  When he felt he had spent enough time making the sounds, he said, “Amen” then began to eat. 

              David was famished but held back the fervent need to devour for sustenance.    He bleed heavy the night before and needed the energy to recover but had to remain controlled.  Each bite tasted like heaven was already on earth and dancing in his mouth.  With every nibble, he had to hold back, not too eager.

              He finished and handed her the plate, not saying a word.  She looked at the plate, smiled slightly, and then plunged it into the sink of suds.  “Now, go before you miss the bus.”

              “Yes, Mother,” David said as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

              Carissa finished her hair as the clock hit 7:20 am.  She picked up her English book and papers from the desk, and hurried out of the bedroom door.  She walked through the hall and into the kitchen.  Randy was standing at the stove putting the final touches on what he called his “famous” biscuits and gravy.  Carissa laid her books on the table and walked to the cabinet.  “Where’s Casey?” Carissa said as she grabbed a cup. 

              “She’s still sleeping.”

             
Must have been a vodka kinda day.
  Carissa thought as she opened the fridge.  The orange juice was gone.
Vodka.
Carissa gave a snorted smile.  Milk would have to do.  She pulled the half gallon from the door.  “Where’s Lea?”  She asked as she poured a glass and put the jug away.  Lea had not taken near as long to get ready.

              “She’s already left to catch her bus.  You need to hurry up, too,” Randy said handing her a plate with two biscuits smothered in white gravy.  Carissa took the plate and walked back to the table. 

              After what seemed like four bites, she dropped her plate into the sink and hurried out the door.  “Bye, Dad,” She said yelled as the screen door slammed.

              She stepped off the porch and could see the bus rounding the corner two blocks down.  Carissa ran as fast as she could and beat the bus by only the last screech of the brakes.  “Holy shit, freaky,” Scott said as Carissa ran up.

              “Why don’t you get some new material, jerk off,” she said still trying to catch her breath.  “What’s up, Rob?” 

              “Nothin’,” He said annoyed.

              Carissa knew he was still upset.  The bus door opened before the awkwardness could set in.  Carissa stepped onto the bus first.  As her foot touched the second step, she noticed David in the same seat as the yesterday, an empty spot as before.  A knot formed in her stomach.  She was not sure if the seat was saved for her, but she was going to sit there anyway.

              As the bus pulled to a stop, David leaned toward the window to see if Carissa was there.  She was.  She was breathing hard, but she was there.  He began to sweat.  A small droplet rolled slowly from his neck, down his spin, and into one of his wounds.  The sting was immense but David hardly noticed.

              The door opened letting out a loud whine.  David felt the bus tilt slightly as she stepped in.  He heard the sound of her foot contact the second step, he could see the morning sun shine as it glistened hair.  As her face came into view, his heart sped and his throat dried.  She was perfect.  She licked her lips softly as she turned her head.  Their eyes met for a split second before David turned in disbelief.  She tossed her hair to the side as sat down.  David felt the seat shift slightly.  He could not turn, not yet.

Rob stepped onto the bus after Scott.  As he reached the isle, he notice that there were two empty seats in the back directly across from each other.  He glanced at Carissa.  Her face was blushed, already sitting next to David.  Rob did not wonder why she had sat with him.  He walked to the open seats without breaking focus on Scott’s back. 

              “Hey,” Carissa said, voice dancing once again into David’s ears.  He knew now there was not a “don’t” he did not hear.  She sat down next to him.  She chose the seat. 

             
What am I supposed to do?  I don’t know what to say.  I don’t talk to harlots, or tramps, or girls or whatever she is.  Is she trying to make fun of me?  Why am I so nervous?  My heart is racing!  What do I do? What do I do?
“Hello,” David said turning to her. 

Carissa’s expression was calm, but the knot in her stomach was still growing with no sign of subsiding.  She knew he was nervous, she could hear it in his voice.  She had to be the calm one.  She had to be confident.  If she wanted to get to know him any better, she could not scare him. 
Keep it safe!
“So what are we going to learn today?  Well…what am I going to learn?” Carissa asked to jump start some sort of conversation. 

              “You don’t have study hall today.”