Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Bad Boyfriend


When Emily walked into the house I knew right away something was terribly wrong. It was obvious that she had been crying. But I had never seen that look of fear on her face before. She had scanned the room quickly to catch my eye and then slipped into her room.
It had been my week to have our book club over and even with the lateness of the hour not all of the ladies had gone home. I quickly finished pouring Mary a second glass of wine and looked at Deb across the room. Yes, she too had seen Emily come in.
“Leslie let me help you serve that cake. You know it’s the real reason we come to club anyway. Forget the damn book, let’s get that cake out here.” Deb said for the benefit of the room. With one hand on my shoulder she steered me into the kitchen. Quick, I’ll see to the cake, you go get in there and see what’s up with Emily. “You’re the best, I said in a low voice and followed my daughter to her room.
There sitting rigid on the edge of her bed was my eldest daughter. A slip of a girl that belied her eighteen years of aged. Right now, with her hair done up in a messy ponytail and puffy tear stain face she at first looked the same to me as she had years ago. Like when she had fallen on the playground or been frightened by a bee, a problem solved easily with a hug and a kiss, perhaps a Band-Aid for good measure. But no this was much worse. Emily was very pale. Her hands were clenched tightly into fists. And then I saw that her white sneakers were covered in blood.
I ran over and knelt next to her. “Baby, baby what happened! Are you all right? I grabbed at her. Wrapping her up in my arms bending her stiff body down to me. Forcing her to be held. “ Tell me what happened so I can help you.”
“I killed Jack, Mom. He’s outside in the car.” She had said this without emotion. As if she were telling me where she had put the remote to the TV. “ I… I think I want to take a shower now and go to bed.” She started to stand and kick off her shoes, but the shoe slipped in the blood against the other. She stumbled a little. “ No darling, not yet, here let me help you,” as I pushed her back down. And reached for her shoes. “I’ll do that, you just, relax and try to tell Mommy what happened.” As I pulled off one sticky shoe and then the other, Emily took a long slow breath, and began.
“I told him I wanted to take a break…you know just for a while. I mean we’re graduating this year…it would be good for us to get used to being on our own. He got so quite, Mom. Then he hit me. He grabbed my neck and said I could, go…he called me awful things…I think he was going to kill me; he never looked like that before. His eyes were crazy. The way they moved in his head… like it wasn’t me he was seeing anymore. He just kept squeezing my neck. I don’t know exactly how I found it,” she said emotionlessly. It just was in my hand suddenly. His screwdriver. The one he keeps in the center console to fix the glove compartment when it pops open. I just wanted him to stop hurting me. I hit his head. He stopped and fell forward. It was then that I saw it sticking in him. Mommy, I pulled it out. I thought I could fix it. Isn’t that crazy? I thought he would wake up if I pulled it out of him. When I reached over and grabbed the handle …it was just blood. Pouring out …running down his face…on the floor and my feet.”
It’s ok, baby, I’ll take care of your shoes. Here, you lie down and rest.” I bundled her in her white quilt. Rest here now and wait for Mommy. I’ll take care of everything. I left her light on. Then closed the door and took the shoes with me down the hall.
Water from the faucet washed over Emily’s sneakers over flowing them and sending a river of pink and dirty water down the drain of the tub. The blood was almost completely cleaned away when there was a knock on the bathroom door.
I shut off the water. “Ah, just a minute I’m almost done.” I’ll tell them it’s mud Emily tracked in. We’ve had so much rain that’ll work. I’ll complain about how irresponsible teenagers are. I’ll gripe and complain and even act embarrassed.
“Leslie, it’s me. Deb’s voice was low and conspiratorial. She opened the door. In her hands was a bath towel covered in blood. “She left tracks in the hallway. No one saw me. You take care of this, I’ll get rid of the stragglers.”
“What are you gonna tell them?”
“ Emily’s sick, with a fever. Maybe they’ll think she’s drunk. Let them; think the worst, so long as they go home. Then we can think about what to do next.”
“ I know what I’m going to do.”
“What’s that?”
“ I am going to dig a very big whole.”
“ Alright then Leslie, I’m going to move his car. I’ll meet you in the back yard.”

12 comments:

aishoka said...

you lefties! no faith in the legal system!;>

Beverly Hamilton Wenham said...

Sometimes a girls gotta take the law into her own hand...see!

Ana said...

Too wonderful! Who's this Deb and why does she only get to drive the car? Shouldn't she be allowed to help dig the hole? Or will she be hauling the body? I think you need to continue this story!!

Sorry I've been so lazy. I will write soon, I promise!

kate said...

if there's a very large hole in your backyard the next time i'm over i'm going to be very suspicious..... :)

Beverly Hamilton Wenham said...

Don't worry all of you Part Two is coming...

Rerun said...

No story ends well when includes the statement, "I'm gonna dig a hole." But I'll keep hoping that is one does. You've certainly dug yourself into a hole – sorry, very bad pun. I missed you Bev. I hope you are well.

Peter N said...

Hello to you. This is my first time here, and my only thought after reading your totally amazing post was that the last words should have been "to be continued." Please?
By the way, I'm an instant fan...I found your link through Sully.

Just another twenty something blogger said...

This is really good! i really wana read more and what find out what happens next!

Peter N said...

Hi..if you want to follow my blog, just punch in my blog addy...
peteronall.blogspot.com Peter's Red Sox Forever. I can't wait for part deux.

Brandon G. said...

Yikes, you need to label these things as fiction. I almost soiled myself!

Eva said...

Brilliant and decadent... Love it! Off to part 2!

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