Tilt (31 page)

I wish my mouth would let

me tell Mama I love her.

Let me tell Daddy I miss him.

Let me tell Shane how good

I feel

when I see him happy with Alex.

I like when I swim because when

I float, I am free. I like when I sleep

because I dance when

I dream.

Harley

Dancing

That’s where Dad and Cassie

are going later. Which means

Chad and I will be home alone.

And I’ve got a plan. Formulated

from watching many episodes of

Jersey Shore, The Bachelor
and

Desperate Housewives.
Mom

would throw a regular fit if she

knew those shows have become

my sources of inspiration. It’s

called the direct approach. So not

me. But what do I have to lose?

Meanwhile, I’m going school

shopping. With Cassie. I think

Mom was a little hurt that I didn’t

want to go with her—the low

fashion queen. I love her. But style

is not her thing. Cassie knows

the kind of look I’m after, and

she knows where to find crazy

cool clothes that aren’t too pricey.

I squish into a pair of stretchy

jeans. Tight, with back-pocket

detailing that draws attention

to my size-five butt. Size five!

It was worth walking every mile.

Next I try on a really short skirt.

Hmm. “Cassie,” I call to the far

side of the dressing room door.

“I need your opinion on something.”

Mom would freak immediately,

but Cassie takes the time to really

check it out.
Turn around.
She kind

of whistles.
It looks great, but

you definitely better not bend over

in it. At least, not without panties.

Cassie Rocks

She’s funny. Pretty. Smart, at least

about some things. And she always

makes time for me. Acts like she cares

about me. She even talked Dad into

contributing to this shopping excursion.

One thing Mom gripes about is how he has

never paid child support. She has a pretty

good job, but back-to-school always pinches.

This year, at least, he’s kicking in a little.

Stepping up to the plate, or at least as far

as the backstop, all because of Cassie.

All stocked up on jeans, skirts and blouses,

we look for shoes. It’s my lucky day.

Payless is having a two-for-one sale.

Which means I get four pairs—two athletic,

two heels. And once those are paid for,

Cassie says,
What about that hair?

Want to do something bold? My treat.

We Are Cruising the Mall

Discussing bolder hair and sipping

iced coffees (despite the caffeine,

which will stunt my growth, according

to my mom). We duck into Sephora,

check out the testers. There’s one flowery

one I really love—rose, violet and a hint

of vanilla. Pricey stuff, so for now,

the lingering reminder will have to do.

You have a birthday coming up soon, right?

“Three weeks,” I agree, and I love

that she remembers, not to mention

the fact that I now have hope of smelling

this way when I start school. As we

leave the store, Cassie tenses suddenly.

Shit. Shit. Shit.
She half pushes me out

the door, steers me into a sharp right turn,

picks up her pace till I practically have

to run to keep up, shopping bags swinging.

Quick veer down a perpendicular

aisle, then she allows herself to

glance over her shoulder. Apparently

whatever she saw to get her all worked

up isn’t there anymore, because she slows

and I can finally breathe. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing.
But she keeps walking

purposefully toward the exit.
I mean,

not nothing, exactly. I just need to get

out of here right now, okay?
It takes

until we’re in the car, out of the parking

lot and around the block twice, I’m

guessing so she knows “not nothing”

isn’t following us, until she thinks

about explaining. Even then, I can see

her deciding how much to tell me.

“Jeez, Cassie, what is it? Did you see

a zombie or something?” Three beats.

And She Says

Sort of. Except, more like a vampire—

a bloodsucker that just won’t die.

Look, this isn’t a story I share often.

And I’d appreciate it if you don’t pass

it on, especially not to your mom.

She worries about you being around

your dad enough as it is.
She takes

a deep breath, then plunges in.
I was

going to be a nurse. You didn’t know

that, did you? I was studying at Western

Nevada, making good grades and

everything. And then I met this guy.

Chad’s father, Damian. Typical bad

boy. Drugs. Booze. Rotten temper.

And I saw none of that. Not at first.

I never finished nursing school. I got

pregnant. Damian insisted I keep

the baby. Swore he’d take care of us,

and I had to believe him. I loved him.

That was enough. For a while.

She Turns onto McCarran Boulevard

It’s the long way home, so

I’m pretty sure there’s more.

There is.
We lived poor. And we lived

rough. And Damian lived fast—crystal,

crack, ecstasy. Anything he could get

hold of. That made him mean. To me.

To Chad, who was too little to know

anything except Daddy hurt him.

I was working one day—somebody

had to. It was a crap casino waitress

job, but it paid the bills, if not the drug

tab. Anyway, Damian was supposed

to be watching Chad, but he’d been

on a bender, and was crashed out on

the sofa. Chad was four. He decided

he was hungry and was going to the store.

So he took off walking. Alone. In a bad

part of town. Luckily, the woman

who found him was decent. She took

him to her house. Called the cops.