Marionette (18 page)

The fucking rich—‌they can do anything.

I rolled over and hid my face in Jess’s arm. She felt warm. Alive. Even after working all night, I felt the vitality that always emanated from her. She could go for days without sleeping and not be any worse for it. I longed to be more like her. Confident. Brave. Assured. Happy to be alive. She was like Elie Wiesel.

When she said she wouldn’t let anything happen to me, she meant it. But even Jess didn’t know what she was up against when it came to my parents.

My mom flashed before my mind: her manic laugh, the shake of her fist. “Watch yourself, Paige, or I’ll do it to you too.”

I buried my head further into Jess’s and she held me tighter.

Not even Jess could save me.

Alex, I know you tried to warn me. If I had only listened that night. We should have run away. We should have left.

It had been raining that night as well. I’d seen Alex shouting through the deluge, “Let’s go, Paige. We have to get away from them!” She had pulled on my arm frantically. She’d been so hysterical, and Alex was always the calm one. The smart one. Level-headed, even.

I had just thought she was having a bad trip and that in the morning everything would be okay.

I was wrong.

Alex was dead.

And I would be next if I wasn’t careful.

The pitter-patter of rain on the skylight made me cringe. I had to fight the urge to jump out of bed and leave. To keep moving. To never come back. I knew it was harder to hit a moving target.

Jess snored gently next to me. She was all I had. Mel was out of touch with reality—‌why did she want to tell my parents? After everything I’d told her. Minnie and all of them, I really didn’t give two shits about. There was Julia, but she wasn’t enough to keep me in town.

But Jess.

I loved and trusted her implicitly. I couldn’t leave.

I had to pretend for three and a half years. I could get through school, and Jess could finish her MBA, and then we would get the fuck out of Dodge.

New York City maybe? Or London.

Shit, Jess spoke three languages and soon-to-be four. We could live anywhere.

I just needed to hold on for three and a half years.

* * *

After our much-needed nap, Jess and I wandered into Julia’s for lunch. I hadn’t eaten much of my breakfast and by this point, I was famished. No one made a crack when I ordered two sandwiches, fries, and baked beans. If my metabolism ever slows down, I’ll be screwed.

Before I had demolished my first sandwich, Mel walked in. Jess’s entire body tensed, but Julia hopped up and gave her a “mom” hug. Mel avoided looking in Jess’s direction and sat down right across from me. I felt Jess’s eyes on me; they said, “Don’t say anything. Be cool.”

How could I not say anything? I wanted to tell her to go to hell, that what she contemplated was idiotic. Did she want me dead? Then buy me a gun so I could do it—‌on my terms, not on theirs. No more strings.

My parents would never see the light and realize how awful they’ve been to me. I didn’t matter to them. All they wanted was a servant. Now that I was out of the house, my usefulness was expended. Yes, my father still had to pay for my school, but I bet he kept a running tab of all of the money I’d cost him since the day I was born. I half expect to see a bill once I “make” it. He probably knows just how many boxes of diapers I went through, and how many rolls of toilet paper I’ve used to wipe my ass.

Money. Plain and simple. My folks spoke in terms of money. Will this make me money? Will this cost me money? I was a cost—‌an expensive liability. And in business, that meant I needed to be cut.

Jess kicked me under the table and I did my best to erase any trace of loathing from my face.

“What’s up, Mel?” I tried to sound normal.

Jess gave me a nod of approval.

Mel looked away. “Not much. How’s school?”

“Oh, it’s going well. I’m starting to make some
new
friends.”

Jess’s swift kick under the table made my knee smack into the table and upset my water glass.

“Paige! I’m so sorry that old knee injury is acting up, huh.” Jess grabbed some napkins from the holder and began to wipe up the water.

Julia eyed me out of the corner of her eye, and then searched Jess’s face.

“How’s work going, Mel?” Jess asked as she set the sopping napkins off to the side.

Mel didn’t answer right away. She was seething; I could tell. What did she have to be upset about? Had Jess told her she was a ninny? If so: good. At least one person in my life had some sense and was looking out for me.

I flashed Jess a loving smile and she winked at me. I could feel her tension melting away, and mine with it.

“Are you getting geared up for the Christmas season?” I put out there as a peace offering.

“Not yet, thank goodness. Last season nearly killed me.” Mel still avoided looking at Jess, which wasn’t that hard since they sat on the same side of the table. However, I noticed that Mel kept her body pivoted to avoid any chance of seeing Jess, even out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, if you need help with anything outside of work, let me know. I’m always willing to help. And Paige tells me I can whip up a fabulous meal in seconds.”

Jess was trying. Really trying. Why?

“By whip up, she means she calls me and orders home-cooked meals.” Julia laughed.

“Julia! That was a secret!”

I chuckled. “If you want to keep it secret, you should throw out the wrappers that say ‘Julia’s Kitchen.’”

“Now you tell me!” Jess slapped her forehead.

The three of us laughed, but Mel just looked miserable. I got the feeling she wanted to talk to me in private, but I wasn’t going to let that happen. My bank account was dangerously low, and my father wouldn’t put any more money in until the first of the month. It was only the twenty-fifth.

Jess kept chattering away and Julia, who I don’t think knew the true story, did her best to keep things cheerful. I continued eating my lunch while Mel sulked in her chair. Every time she attempted to catch my eye, I focused my attention on Jess.

When I stood up to use the toilet, Jess bounced out of her seat to join me. Her panic made me want to laugh so hard I nearly peed my pants. Did she think Mel would lock me in the can until I handed over my wallet? The image made me smile because there was no money in my wallet anyway. Thank goodness Jess had paid for breakfast, and I knew Julia wouldn’t give me a bill. I would catch up with her the next time I was in town.

The charade didn’t last much longer. Mel gave up and left, empty-handed. At one point, I thought she was going to ask for money right in front of Jess and Julia, but then she saw my scars and looked away quickly.

“Do you mind telling me what that was about?” demanded Julia.

“Beats me.” I said as honestly as possible.

“I don’t want Mel asking Paige for any more money,” proffered Jess, which was partly true. She also didn’t want me blowing through my cash. She feared that Mel would turn against me and run to my parents to get even.

“How much money have you given her, Paige?” Julia’s concern showed on her face.

“Over six hundred this month alone.”

She whistled threw her teeth. “I had no idea. Okay, next time I’ll do my best so Paige won’t be alone with her either. I love Mel to bits, but this Wesley is bad news. She needs to learn that.”

Jess gave Julia a squeeze. “I knew we could count on you.” She looked more relieved than I did, which puzzled me. Usually, Jess was calm and collected. But ever since she had told me about Mel, she was frazzled. It made me wonder whether Jess secretly felt she didn’t have Mel under control and she was doing her best to reel Mel in fast.

I admired her dedication to me.

As Julia cleared our dishes, I turned to Jess and asked, “What foreign flick can I take you to today?” I wanted to repay her for her devotion.

“Actually, there’s a new exhibit at the Denver Art Museum. Van Gogh.”

Ugh. Museums gave me the creeps, but I didn’t let on. “Cool. He’s the dude who cut off his ear. Maybe he’s my long-lost soul mate.” I flashed my wrists.

She leaned across the table to kiss me. “Don’t even start with me, missy.”

Jess had me. I was putty in her hands. And she knew it.

Chapter Fourteen

Wearing a grey suit and blood-red blouse, Liddy rushed into the room five minutes late. Her expression said, “Don’t give me shit today.”

I wondered what it would be like to work with clients like me every day. Let’s face it, I tried to off myself, so I couldn’t be that much fun to hang out with. And suicidal ideation seemed to be her specialty. Why? Had someone she loved committed suicide? Had she made a promise to herself to help others? Or did she love being around self-absorbed assholes like me? I shuddered at the thought of having her job.

“What was that for? Are you cold?” She eased into her chair and retrieved her pencil and notepad from the desk.

I motioned to the notepad. “What do you write down?”

“Little things, really. Like, you mentioned once I should have pursued a bike accident you had when you were little, so I have a note to explore that further.”

“Is that what you want me to talk about today?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“What would you like to talk about then?” She smiled, knowing what my answer would be.

“Well, that seems to be the issue, Doc. I don’t like to talk about things.”

“No, really?”

I was starting to like her. Maybe this therapy thing wasn’t so bad. I thought she would demand to know every secret I had and would push and push until I revealed all, but she wasn’t like that. Maybe her sweetness was just a way to dupe me into talking. And it helped that she was drop-dead gorgeous. Pardon the pun.

“Why don’t you tell me about your sister—‌Abbie. We haven’t talked about her yet.” Her eyes looked hopeful.

“There’s not much to tell about Abbie. I don’t really know her. I know this may sound odd, since we are fraternal twins, but we’re like strangers. She’s a lot like my mom.”

“How so?”

“She’s not very nice to me. She isn’t outright mean like my mother, but she has a way of making it clear that she never wanted me for a sister. And she drinks, just like my mom. Abbie, though, has taken it one step further: she likes drugs.”

Liddy scribbled something down on her paper.

“What did you write?” I leaned forward. Surprisingly, Liddy showed me, but I couldn’t decipher her chicken scratch. “You write worse than my father.”

“My girlfriend tells me that all the time.”

Girlfriend? Like lover or friend? I tried not to react to the word, but I know I did. Was Liddy baiting me? Part of me wanted to confess, because keeping Jess a secret was difficult. Having three separate lives meant having to remember to put the correct hat on in each place. Sometimes, I would get befuddled about where I was.

“Jess says the same thing about my writing,” I said, squinting at Liddy’s words to no avail.

“Can you decode it?” I asked.

“Of course. There seems to be a common theme to your childhood. Your mother, sister, and Alex all had issues with alcohol and drugs. I think that’s something we should explore.”

I expected her to demand to know what I thought about that connection, but she didn’t. Instead, she asked, “How do you know Abbie uses drugs?”

“How do you know the moon exists?”

“I’m sorry, what?” She tapped her pencil gently on her leg.

“I’ve seen it…‌I mean, I’ve seen her use them.”

“Even though you are twins, you weren’t close growing up?”

“Not one bit—‌it was almost like we weren’t sisters at all. We always had separate friends, different activities. We never had the same teachers. I loved sports and Abbie is a musician. I love to read. Abbie can’t sit still for more than a minute.” I folded my hands together and rested my chin on them. “We never wore each other’s clothes, never had heartfelt discussions, and we never plotted against our parents. Our rooms were on opposite sides of the house. We all live in different wings of the house.”

Liddy looked up from her notepad. “Even your parents.”

“Yes, even them. You’ve seen our photos in the paper. You probably wouldn’t have guessed that the four of us hated each other.” I stopped to mull something over. “Actually, I don’t think Abbie and I hate each other. There’s something else, but I’ve never been able to put my finger on it. We just don’t know each other.”

“When did she start using drugs?”

“Early on in high school. She has a lot of friends who are in bands. I know its cliché, but I think Abbie went down that path since she wants to be a musician. Music is her passion. I’ve never known her to date anyone seriously. Oh, she had a date for the prom and such, but never a boyfriend.”

“What about a girlfriend?”

I almost smiled at that one. Liddy was trying to make it seem normal for me.

“Nah. She’s not gay.” I unfolded my hands and gripped the armrests of my chair. “It’s like she can’t share herself with a person. Music—‌music speaks to her. A couple of months ago, she tried to share her passion with me. At first, I was touched, but it ended up being a horrible experience.”

“Why?” Liddy’s voice was low, soft and coaxing.

“Well, it was right after”—‌I motioned to my scars—‌“the stitches were gone, but the marks were still quite visible, all red and puffy. She took me to Red Rocks to see one of her favorite bands. I can’t even remember their name. It was like walking into a hippie commune in the sixties.

“Everyone talked with their heads tilted to the side, their eyes half open, their speech was slow and painful, and they all stank. You know when people use natural deodorant? That stuff doesn’t work, especially on humid days. It had rained earlier in the day. By the afternoon, it was muggy and stifling. For some reason, all of them wanted me to play Frisbee. I was afraid my shirt would slip up and reveal my wrists, so I sat out during the reindeer games.”

I stirred in my seat. “I think Abbie was embarrassed by me. They were her friends and I was snubbing them. That wasn’t my intention, but I just couldn’t relate to them. That’s when it became clear just how different we were. While I had retreated into my own world filled with books, she had retreated into this one, filled with peace-loving hippies. It’s comical really. If my mother knew, she would rip the heads off all of Abbie’s cohorts. I can kinda picture her shouting, ‘Off with their heads.’