Marionette (12 page)

“I crept to the bathroom to retrieve her pills. If I had kept them on the nightstand, she would have just kept taking them. The pain never truly went away, so she said. As I exited the bathroom, I smelled something: metal, rust, or—‌something.”

I crinkled my nose. The smell still haunted me.

“The light in the room was always dimmed, so she could rest. Squinting my eyes I saw crimson tinged with black. All of her bedding was white. Mom didn’t like colors. I knew right then. I was young, but I knew what she had done.”

Needing a moment, I asked Liddy for a glass of water. My throat was parched.

She handed me a plastic cup filled with lukewarm water and settled back into her chair. “Did you call 9-1-1?”

Bobbing my head from side to side, I explained. “The blood had stained her nightgown. I panicked and reached for the phone on her bedside. My fingers were like lead weights and I fumbled the phone. When I leaned down to retrieve it, her hand knocked the receiver away. I saw the blood on her arm. The razor was on the ground by my foot. I tried to fathom how she managed to rifle through the bathroom to get it.

“She told me not to call—‌she wanted to die. Over and over she chanted, ‘I’m already dead.’ Over and over and over. All I wanted to do was run away from the room, from the house. I wanted nothing to do with any of it.”

I took another drink of water. My eyes stared straight ahead, but I saw nothing in the room. Even with my eyes wide open, I still saw her. The blood. The razor. The dial tone of the phone droned in my head. And the disgusting smell—‌blood, sweat, and sickness, putrid death—‌was still in my nostrils.

I let out a mirthless laugh. “By the age of ten I was burned out. What could I do, though? I couldn’t just stand there and watch her die. I had to conquer my fear.”

Jesus. I couldn’t believe I put Jess through the same torment. A tear rolled down my cheek. I prayed that Liddy thought it was for my mom.
Oh Jess. I’m so sorry.

They say suicide is one of the most selfish acts a person can commit. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized the extent of that statement. Why hadn’t I remembered that before?

“What did you do?” Liddy’s gravelly voice brought me out of my head.

“I called 9-1-1. It was a struggle. She kept clutching at the phone, kept screaming for me to let her die. It was like I was trapped in a cheesy horror film and this old woman in a blood-covered nightgown was fighting me.

“The paramedics came. I didn’t think of calling my father. By that time, he was just an entity in the house, not a person. But they called him. Or maybe the dispatch operator did, since he arrived before she was taken away. That was even worse. He pranced in and the first thing he did was slap me for being late. I was sitting in the hallway outside her room, covered in her blood, and he wrenched me off the ground and slapped me hard across the face. If we were alone, I think he might have killed me.

“But he straightened his suit jacket and strolled into the bedroom. My mother was still screaming, and from the sound of it, fighting off the medics. For someone who had been bedridden for years, she put up a mighty struggle.”

Sitting in the chair, I suddenly didn’t know what to do. Tears streamed down my face and my nose was dripping. I was never in the Girl Scouts, so I didn’t pick up the habit of carrying tissues in my bag. I was never prepared.

Liddy handed me a box of Kleenex like a good Brown Owl—‌the name seemed fitting for sweet, innocent Liddy.

“I don’t think my mother ever forgave me for not heeding her pleas. I know my father never forgave me. But I’m not sure if he was miffed that I was late or that I was not late enough. He’s a tough man to read. That bastard counted on me to take care of everything at home, as if I wasn’t his child, but a servant. I still have no clue where Abbie was that day. She was never accountable for anything. No chores. Nothing. Might as well call me Cinderella, except without mice and birds to help me out.

“My mom was away for a few months. How my father kept that quiet, I don’t know. It was right after her surgery, so maybe people believed there were complications and she was in intensive care or something. My parents were popular, but they didn’t have friends. No one asked if they could visit her. No one cared enough. I didn’t see her once, not the entire time.” I searched the ceiling for an answer. “In fact, I don’t even know where he stashed her. Weird.

“And, if you want me to stick to this honesty thing that you like, I was glad she was gone. It was a relief to just be a kid for weeks. I didn’t enjoy being alone with my father, and we never hung out. He was either at work or in his office at home. It was as if nothing happened. No one talked about it or anything.”

I picked at the shirt in my lap, unsure whether I wanted to put it back on. “That’s how it was all the time at home—‌nothing ever happened, everything was always on the up and up. If I disappeared to an institution like my mom, my father would put some fancy spin on it and no one would be the wiser. Fuck, he would probably forge a death certificate. He has a knack for sweeping shit under his magic rug so nothing stains his reputation.”

Liddy’s eyes showed interest. “Does your mom ever talk about it?”

“Nope. No one does. We’re like automatons. When there is a camera on us, we smile and pretend to be a loving family. The rest of the time, we go through the motions and stay out of each other’s way. Our house is huge. I can go days without seeing another living soul.”

A thought crossed my mind. “I know there’s a patient/doctor confidentiality deal, but does that apply here?” I glanced about the room, nervously.

“Yes, of course.” She seemed puzzled. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. My dad has influence. I didn’t know if there was a way he could find out about this…‌about me…‌and about what I say.”

“You really do fear him?”

I didn’t answer her.

“Paige, everything you tell me is confidential. None of this will get back to your father. You can trust me.”

Oh, the famous last words: “You can trust me.” Briefly, I considered what it would be like if all of my family’s secrets were leaked to the press. Oh, that would be grand. I would love to watch my father try to wiggle out of it. Many might think there isn’t a situation my father can’t figure out, that he’s like Indiana Jones. But I never saw him that way. I only saw him as he was: a despicable man who hated me from the start. Others could glorify him; I just wanted to escape him.

But what lengths did I have to go to just to be free? Death? There is a beauty about death. No one can bring you back. But fucking it up, that’s just messy for all involved. I glanced at my arms. Without thinking, I turned my palms up and eyeballed my scars.

Did Liddy notice? Honestly, I didn’t care right at that moment.

* * *

I walked into my dorm room with a strong sense of foreboding. I needed some time to myself. It was raining out, so I didn’t go for my normal walk after therapy. Not good. My brain liked to spend that time processing the thoughts and emotions. Usually, it liked to percolate, and it didn’t like sudden changes. I could be spontaneous, but that was rare. Jess was the spontaneous one. I was the one who tagged along. My rash acts were usually just to do with being lippy. Simply put: I could be an asshead.

Minnie and Karen sat on my bed, talking. That alone sent flashes of anger coursing through my mind and body. Was I shaking?

“How was your day?” asked Karen.

“Just dandy. Yours?” My words were tinged with sarcasm, but she didn’t seem to notice. More than likely, she didn’t care. Karen never seemed to get rattled by me. She was determined to be my friend, and maybe in her book, friends ignored rudeness.

“Okay, nothing to write home about.” Her voice sounded far off.

That meant she didn’t meet any cute boys; hence, she wasn’t any closer to getting a boyfriend. Her new goal was to have one by Christmas because she didn’t want to spend another holiday alone. That made me snigger. She was eighteen. Save the drama, princess.

Minnie was holding my answering machine. Of course, we both used it, but I paid for it—‌just like I paid for the beanbag I could never sit in, the TV I didn’t have any control over, the food that kept disappearing, the PC and printer that others felt free to use whenever they liked. Once, I had woken up at 3 a.m. to find Karen printing off an assignment. At three in the morning! Imagine waking up to the high-pitched screech of a printer.

“Are you praying that you’ll get a message?” I gestured to the machine.

“Oh, no.” Minnie sounded deadly serious. “We’re trying to think of a funny message. I’m tired of the one on there. It’s so bland.”

“Bland, huh. Aren’t all messages boring when you think of it? Their purpose is straightforward: to tell the caller you can’t answer the phone right now. Not much more to it.” I had recorded the original message.
Why isn’t Jess here to help me concoct the perfect message that will leave everyone in stitches? Why can’t she be around?

Oh, that’s right. That was my doing, not hers.

“Have you come up with anything?”

“Nope. Zip, nada, zilch.” Minnie’s face twisted up, as if a thought had hit her like a flash of lightning. “Hey! Can you think of something funny?” she squeaked.

Shaking my head, I said, “I doubt it. I’m the one who put the boring message on.”

Minnie looked to Karen for help. Karen, though, was too enthralled with picking the polish off her fingernails.

Minnie grunted and then eyed me hopefully. “Sure you can. You can be funny sometimes.”

I had to chuckle about that one.
Sometimes.
What a compliment? Usually, they found me funny when I wasn’t trying to be. The other day, Karen had mentioned that she received the same math mod quiz she had failed a few days earlier. Math mods involved passing six quizzes before you could advance to the next level. There weren’t any classes. Students waited in line to take the tests. If they passed, they could take the next level. If they failed, they had to keep taking it until they passed that level. I didn’t entirely understand the system, as it revolved around luck, not learning. Fortunately, math came easy to me, so I had passed out of the entry-level math classes and would be taking calculus the following semester.

Karen remembered all of the answers to the test and had filled in the correct bubbles. She got one hundred percent. When she had gloated about it, I exclaimed, “But that’s cheating!”

The three of them had burst into hysterics.

“That’s the point, Paige. All of us share our tests so we can cheat. Who wants to learn math?” asked Karen.

I’ve been told I was born an old fuddy-duddy, and maybe I would have preferred a time when honor meant something. I don’t see much honor in the world now.

I held up the answering machine. “Okay, let me think…” I cleared my throat, and started. “Hi! You’ve reached Audrey’s and Paige’s room. We can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave your name, number, and physical description, and we’ll call you back if we like what we hear. Mentioning your sex toys is a plus. Take care, and have an orgasmic day!”

Karen burst into laughter.

The frivolity was cut short by Minnie. “What if my parents or grandparents call, Paige?”

I rubbed my chin, pretending to think of an honest solution. “They don’t have to leave a physical description. You know what they look like, and I’m pretty sure I’m not interested. Boom. Done. However, if they could mention their sex toys, that would be funny.”

Minnie’s face turned a vivid plum color. A vein in her forehead bulged, and I thought I could see it pulsing. Could a person’s head literally explode from anger? Why was she getting so worked up?

“Oh, come on. Your parents have to know you’re having sex. You borrowed my car last week and didn’t come back until the next day. I figured out why: make-up sex.” I crossed my arms and flashed her a bitchy smile.

“Don’t make assumptions about my life. I try not to with yours.”

I don’t think Minnie meant to say the last bit, but I didn’t want to push her on that. My best bet was to keep pushing her, to make her forget about that.

“You don’t expect me to believe that when you spend the night at his place, nothing happens, do you?”

“Nothing does happen. We’re waiting to get married.”

Karen blurted, “Really! Nothing?”

Minnie looked disgusted by both of us. “Yes. I’m Catholic!”

“Oh come on, even the Pope has sex. They have for centuries. Ever hear of the Borgias and all of their kids? Only one way to get kids during that time period.”

She looked aghast, and shattered. “Paige! I will not stand to have you ridicule my beliefs!”

I knew I should have stopped pushing her buttons then. That would have been honorable. Sadly, I’m not honorable.

“I’m not ridiculing your beliefs. I’m stating historical facts. Unless you believe in more than one Immaculate Conception, which I believe you would call blasphemy, your religion and its paragons do not hold up to scrutiny. Now, as to your own personal beliefs and adherence, I have a hard time believing that you and Jeff are not screwing. Or do you not count blow jobs and eating pussy?”

All of the color drained from Minnie’s face. She tried to articulate a response, but nothing came out. Karen casually got off my bed and tiptoed out of the room. I maneuvered closer to Minnie, just in case she toppled over.

I had taken it too far, but I didn’t know how to heal the gaping wound. Surely she had heard these phrases before. She went to public school for Christ’s sake. It was a good thing I didn’t blurt that out, however. Watching her face was like watching a grandmother react to porn—‌not that I’ve seen that personally, but the faces and sounds Minnie made brought that image to mind.

I picked up the answering machine and deleted my message. She snatched her purse and stormed out of the room. After she had slammed the door, I heard Karen’s footsteps.

“Was it something I said?” I smiled meekly. I felt horrible. I was a wretched person.

Karen tittered, and then stopped abruptly and ran over to the door to peek out the eyehole. “Okay, I think she’s gone.”