Soon.
But even now I resist.
Part of me wants to stay dirty. Stay unclean.
Stay…
The water from the showers is lukewarm, but at least it’s water. Donny and I stand naked with several other boys, some younger and some older than we are.
I grab my little brother’s hand and pull him away from the gazes of the others. I shield him with my body as we stand under the light water pressure. We’re dirty. We stink. The acrid smell of body odor and shit surrounds us, the water bringing it out more at first.
I hold my breath. Still, I feel the nausea creeping up my throat.
“I’m going to be sick, Dale,” Donny says.
“Swallow,” I tell him. “Swallow it down. Swallow it all down.”
He gulps loudly. “It’s not working.” Then he heaves. But nothing comes out of him. His little stomach is empty.
Dry heaves. They hurt. I know because last winter I had a bad stomach bug, and I couldn’t keep anything down. Still, I heaved, my stomach cramping worse each time.
“Easy,” I say to him. “Swallow it back. You can do it, Donny.”
He tries, contorting his little face, but he ultimately fails and heaves again.
Another boy vomits all over the shower floor.
I hold back my own puke. I have to be strong for Donny.
There’s no soap. Just the lukewarm water to wash the stink from our bodies.
About five minutes later, the water stops.
“Get out, all of you,” a masked man says.
They all wear masks. Black ski masks.
I’ve never been skiing. I always wanted to learn, but Mom never took us. Never had the time or the money. “Skiing is too expensive,” she always said.
The men give us each a tattered towel to dry off and then a gray T-shirt.
“Where’s our pants?” one small child asks.
“You don’t need pants anymore, shithead,” a masked man says.
Donny opens his mouth, but I gesture him not to say anything.
I already know what he was going to say.
Why don’t we need pants?
I know the answer, and I’m sick just thinking about it.
I’ll give my little brother a few more minutes of childhood before he discovers the answer to the question himself.
Chapter Fourteen
Ashley
I walk in the back door to the main house. Darla is in the kitchen making lunch.
“Miss Ashley, will you be joining us for—” She gasps, taking a good look at me. “My goodness! Are you all right?”
I nod. If I try to say anything, the tears will come back. I did the best I could to gulp them down before entering.
“Miss Jade!” Darla calls.
“No, Darla, I’m—”
Then the tears come.
They roll down my cheeks, and sobs get locked in my throat.
Jade hurries in. “What is it, Darla? Is everything o—” She rushes to me when she sees me. “Ashley, honey, what’s going on?”
But no words come. I sink into Jade’s open arms and sob into her shoulder.
“I’ll make some tea.” Darla turns back to the stove.
“Thanks, Darla,” Jade says. “Bring the tea down to the family room.”
As much as I want to cry into Jade’s arms, I manage to gulp back the sobs. Jade leads me down the small stairway into the family room. She sits down on the leather couch and pats the seat beside her.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.
“I know. Just sit.”
We sit silently for about five minutes until Darla arrives with the teapot, two cups, and a box of selected teas. Jade opens it and hands it to me. “What kind do you like?”
Though I don’t drink coffee, I do like tea every now and then. Today seems as good a time as any to indulge. I take the English Breakfast.
Jade smiles. “I’m surprised. I took you for an herbal tea person.”
I sniffle, and she hands me a box of tissues.
I pull one out and blow into it unceremoniously. “I’m done now.”
“It’s okay.” She takes an Earl Grey bag for herself.
I rip open the foil packet, dunk my tea bag into the hot water, and watch the brown swirls move slowly in intricate patterns.
“You don’t have to talk,” Jade says, “but I know this has to do with my son.”
I nod, still mesmerized by the steeping tea.
“He doesn’t always know what’s good for him.”
“I don’t understand.” I continue to dunk my tea bag rhythmically. “I mean, I do understand about the Syrah. I totally get it. But his birth father…”
“I know,” she says. “Sometimes things affect us differently than we think they will. Dale didn’t think he cared about Floyd, but maybe he did.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Because I understand about birth fathers. I had one too, and he was a horrible person.”
“Did you know him?”
I shake my head. “He died when I was young.”
“What if he hadn’t?” Jade asks. “How would you feel if he came to you today, after abandoning you your whole life?”
“I don’t think I’d care.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I clear my throat. “I only found out recently—in fact, I try not to think about it—but my birth father raped my mother.”
“Oh, Ashley…”
“I’m the product of that rape.” I twist my lips, still dunking the bag. The water has turned a light brown now. “I don’t know how she can even look at me. And all those years, she knew and I didn’t. She cared for me, made sure no one ever hurt me.”
“She loves you.”
“But she didn’t ask for me. I was forced on her.”
Jade smiles. “I’m so sorry for what she went through, but by having you, she can at least understand that the rape led to something good.”
I nod. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”
“You’ll understand when you have a child of your own.”
With that last comment, I’m ready to dissolve into sobs again. A child of my own. I’m in love with Dale, but we’ll never have a child together. We won’t be together.
A baby, though… A baby boy with Dale’s green eyes. He’d be blond, of course, since both of us are blond.
And he’d be beautiful. Just like his daddy.
It’s a nice fantasy, but that’s all it is. A fantasy.
“I still don’t understand,” I say. “I have no feelings for my father, and I don’t think I would if he showed up from the dead tomorrow. Floyd may not have raped Dale’s mother, but he did abandon all three of them. He’s no saint.”
“He’s not,” Jade agrees. “Dale knows that.”
“I wish I could help him. I just don’t know how.”
“Sometimes all you have to do is offer your support.”
Jade is right. I love Dale, and he needs me. So what did I do? I walked out on him. He told me I wasn’t going anywhere, and I went anyway.
“I have to go back,” I say.