Disciplining Little Abby (19 page)

She’d fallen asleep almost as soon as he’d turned out the light and closed the door. When she finally woke up, she called out his name but got no answer. There wasn’t a clock in the room and she didn’t have her cell phone, so she had no idea how long she’d slept. Her bottom was too sore to lie on her back, so for a while she stayed on her side and studied the room, marveling at how different it was from the one she had as a child. Though she couldn’t remember back to her crib days, she did remember the nursery when Julia was an infant. It had been done in the same cool neutrals and whites as the rest of the house, with nothing to indicate the presence of a child. Even the toys had been selected to compliment the conservative style—brown teddy bears and white bunnies and faux vintage wooden trains and tops. More than once Abby thought the real reason her mother hated Mr. Jingles was because the bright blue stuffed dog stuck out like a neon sign amid the taupe and beige and eggshell, telling one and all that Elizabeth Joan Willis had children.

Even the books they were allowed to read as children had been carefully selected for their intellectual value. Her mother was a firm believer in only exposing her girls to literature that would encourage their ambition and drive, and whimsical stories of pokey little puppies and green eggs and ham did not make her list.

Gingerly easing herself out of the crib, she shuffled across the room to the bookshelf and squatted down for a closer look at the gaily illustrated covers and silly names. Pulling them out one by one, she read the titles out loud.

“
Where the Wild Things Are. The Lorax. The Going to Bed Book
.”

She pulled a pink covered one with a smiling girl holding a wand and a pink cupcake out and set the others on the floor beside her.

“
Pinkalicious
,” she giggled, trying to imagine what her mother would have said if she’d found such a book anywhere in her house. As she opened it, she found a handwritten note on the inside of the cover, and as she read it her heart stopped.

For my favorite princess, Kali, who adores all things pink, but most especially pink cupcakes.

Love ya,

Chris

Oh, you silly fool
, her mother’s voice whispered smugly inside her head.
You want to know why he has this room? Because the world is full of foolish women who will do anything to please a man, no matter how sick his desires may be.

“Shut up,” she whispered to the empty room.

This is Kali’s room, and who knows whose room it was before her. Those are probably her clothes too.

“Shut up!” she snapped, flinging the book across the room. “She’s just an ex is all.”

Sure about that? Haven’t you wondered why he never brought you home before? Why you always met at your apartment? Or why he avoided Mr. Green’s place?

“
No!
” Abby stumbled to her feet and ran out of the room and down the hall, flinging open doors as she went until she came to one that was clearly Chris’ room. Inside she found her borrowed clothes and clutch laid across his dresser. Rummaging through the drawers, she grabbed one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers and quickly pulled them on. Abby pulled her cell from the clutch, dialed Amanda, then tucked it between her shoulder and ear as she grabbed up her clothes from the night before.

“Hello?”

Abby could tell she’d woken her up, and on the heels of how she’d acted the night before, she’d be lucky if Amanda didn’t hang up on her, but she didn’t know who else to call. “Amanda, can you come get me?”

To her surprise, Amanda answered yes without hesitation. “Where you at?”

“Shit, I don’t know!” Feeling stupid, she ran into the kitchen and looked around for something that might have an address on it. She found a stack of mail on the counter by the pantry and quickly read the street address off.

“Are you okay? How come you aren’t at Chris’ house?”

“I am. I’ll explain later. Just come get me, like right now.” She hung up before Amanda could ask any more questions. Chris wasn’t supposed to be back for another hour, but Abby was determined to be long gone by then.

“Oh, I gotta pee!” she groaned. Suddenly it felt as if everything she’d drunk in the last twenty-four hours wanted out. It would be at least fifteen minutes before Amanda showed up, and Abby doubted she could wait that long. Setting everything on the counter, she ran to the bathroom.

No sooner had she sat down when she realized the toilet paper holder was empty.

“Really?” Reaching over she pulled open the sink cabinet and breathed a sigh of relief when she found three new rolls stacked just inside. Pulling the top roll off the stack, she spied something behind the rolls and her stomach sank.

I suppose he just keeps her tampons for the memories?

“Fuck you,” she growled as she ripped off a handful of tissue. “And fuck him.”

* * *

“I wish you’d tell me what happened,” Amanda said softly, but Abby remained silent, staring out the window at the passing cars and houses. “I’m your friend, Abby. Whatever happened, you know I’m on your side.”

Amanda didn’t know what else to say. She’d turned into Chris’ driveway to find Abby barefoot and in men’s boxers, pacing nervously outside and unwilling to talk. The only time she’d spoken was to tell Amanda to pull over at a c-store, where she bought a pack of smokes and quickly lit one up. Whatever happened, it had to have been bad, but Amanda knew that prying wouldn’t do any good. Clearly, Abby wasn’t ready to talk about it.

They drove the rest of the way to Abby’s apartment in silence. Once there, Abby jumped out without a word and half walked, half ran up the sidewalk to her door and disappeared inside without a look back.

Amanda sat at the curb, staring at the closed door. It just wasn’t like her to be so closed down, and she was worried. For a moment she thought about banging on the door and demanding Abby open up, then shook off the idea. For now she would give her friend some space and hope that after a day or two she’d shake it off and talk. She pulled out her phone to send a quick text, then headed home.

* * *

Abby stood in the middle of her living room, her eyes closed tight as she played back everything she’d seen at Chris’ house. The room had been too elaborate to have been created after they’d met, that much was obvious, and the loving inscription in the children’s book made it clear that it had been purchased for another woman. The tampons killed any hope that the other woman was long gone. No man would keep tampons in his bathroom cabinet if there wasn’t a woman there to use them, and Chris knew they gave Abby horrible cramps, so it wasn’t likely he’d gotten them for her.

Suddenly everything she’d ever questioned seemed to fall into place. The unexplained disappearances, his refusal to use Mr. Green’s facilities, the adult sized children’s clothing and toys, even his tendency to call her “babygirl” instead of Abby.

“Probably can’t keep us all straight,” she muttered. She imagined an entire parade of women passing through that room, sleeping in the crib, and remembered what he’d said when they first formally met.

You’re what I’ve been waiting for.

“And what was that, Chris?” she spat as her eyes opened and fell upon the pink blanket he’d given her the day she’d faked sick. “A desperate loser who would do anything for your affection?”

Deep down Abby felt a slow burn of wounded anger begin to rise, twisting and roiling through her veins as it morphed into a boiling fury. Gritting her teeth, she stomped across the room and snatched the blanket from the couch.

“Pink isn’t my color,” she snarled, and of their own accord her fingers dug into the blanket and began yanking and tugging until at last the satin trim along one edge began to pull loose. “Pink is your other babygirl’s color!”

The idea that he might have originally bought the blanket with the mysterious Kali in mind sent her rage into overdrive, and within minutes the pink blanket lay in a shredded heap at her feet. She hadn’t felt this much anger since her mother had thrown Mr. Jingles in the dumpster, but she wasn’t a little kid anymore, and now there was no one around to restrain her. Mindlessly, she rampaged through the house, snatching up everything Chris had ever given her and furiously tearing it apart. A growing wake of destruction trailed behind her as she charged from room to room, venting her pain and anger on every object she associated with him, and with every stuffed animal she decapitated and bath crayon she smashed, she imagined a similar gift sitting in some other woman’s apartment.

Overwhelmed with rage, she didn’t recognize what her hands had landed on until it was too late. Horrified, she stared down to see that the stuffed arm she’d just ripped free and flung across the room belonged to Mr. Jingles, who now lay in a dejected heap at her feet.

“Oh my God!” she cried, falling to her knees and scooping him up. “No, no, no, no!” Hot tears scorched a path down her cheeks as she crawled across the room to retrieve his poor arm. Staring down at him, she heard her mother’s disapproving voice asking her why she always had to act like such a child, why she couldn’t just grow up and be an adult and deal with things rationally. Clutching the now dismembered Mr. Jingles to her chest and staring about at the aftermath of her childish tantrum, she wondered if her mother had been right about her all along.

The Chris phone went off in the kitchen, but she wasn’t about to go answer it. Her body felt numb, almost boneless, as she remained slumped against the wall. The last thing she wanted to do now was listen to whatever excuse he might offer up. As far as she was concerned, their relationship was over.

* * *

Chris had been surprised to return to an empty house. After what she’d endured to prove her willingness to be in their relationship, it didn’t make sense for her to turn around and disobey him while her butt was still sore. Looking through the house, he discovered his ransacked dresser drawers and missing clothing. Clearly she’d left in a rush. Had she had a change of heart while he was gone? It didn’t seem likely, but he knew she was deeply conflicted about their relationship.

Kali’s room was a mess as well. The bedding was pulled halfway off the mattress, and her books were strewn everywhere. Now he knew something was wrong. He wanted to jump on his bike and go straight to her apartment, but first he had to clean up the mess and air out the room. If he left it like that, Kali would have a fit when she got home. Abby had smelled like a bar when he’d picked her up, and the bedding reeked of stale beer and cigarette smoke.

After throwing the sheets and blankets in the washing machine, he tried to call her. When she didn’t answer, his heart sank.

Shit
, he thought miserably. It was easy enough to come up with logical reasons for why she’d left before he got home, but there was no way she would ignore his call, not now. He tried dialing her again, but this time it went straight to voicemail. He didn’t bother to leave a message. She knew who she wasn’t answering.

The rest of the afternoon, he moved about the house on auto pilot, doing laundry and fixing dinner without any thought as to what he was doing. Several times he tried calling her again, but each unanswered call left him more depressed than the one before.

“Why would she just leave like that?”

The empty house had no answers for him. Chris nursed his third rum and coke as he sat on the sofa and stared at the screen. Some crime drama was playing, a rerun most likely, but his mind overlapped it with a constant stream of memories of his times with Abby. Abby at the zoo, laughing and posing like the flamingos in the enclosure behind her. Lying on her tummy on the grass at the park with her bare feet up in the air. The way she would look up at him with those huge blue eyes of hers. The way she would talk back and then wait expectantly for him to swat her on the butt.

“I fucked up,” he told the TV. “I fucked up big time.” He downed the last of his drink and headed to the kitchen to pour himself another. “She trusted me, and I fucked up.”

* * *

Amanda was about to go to bed when the text came in.

I could really use a friend right now.

She fired back a reply.

I’ll be there in ten
.

Slipping on a pair of flip-flops, she grabbed her keys and ran out the door, not caring that she was in her pajamas. She’d called Abby a couple of times after she’d dropped her off the day before, but her calls had all gone unanswered. The worry she’d felt all day at last gave way to relief as she raced across town to Abby’s apartment.

The worry came roaring back when the door opened.

“Jesus, you look like shit,” Amanda said as she threw her arms around Abby and hugged her tight. “Let me in and tell me what the hell happened.”

For the next hour, Amanda sat and listened and tried not to look shocked as Abby told her all the details of her relationship with Chris. The rules, Spectrum International, Mr. Green, the spankings, the age play, even what had happened after Chris had picked her up from the bar.

Suddenly, Amanda’s expression turned to one of horror. “Oh my God, wait. That woman, the woman I called, she wasn’t your stop smoking sponsor at all!” Her hands flew to her mouth as the realization of the part she’d played sank in. “Oh my God, are you saying, oh shit, oh crap. Abby, it’s my fault you got spanked in the bathroom!”

“It’s not your fault,” Abby said, shaking her head. “You thought you were helping. You didn’t know they lied to you.”

“I’m so sorry, Abby!”

“Forget it. In the grand scheme of it all, it’s nothing.” Abby leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. “What kills me is how stupid I’ve been through it all. I should have known something was up. We were together over three months, and I didn’t question why he never let me go to his place.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Because he was in control, I guess. I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t want to know. And I was so fucking proud of myself, Amanda. Proud at how I held still while he spanked me and teased me and fucked me, proud at how well I obeyed him. Not just proud, either. I liked it. God, I was so hot for him the entire time. And then I find out he’s doing the same thing with someone else.”