Shattered Memories

  “Thank you,” I said again. “That was truly special.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. I was afraid it wasn’t posh enough.”

  “Posh?”

  “It’s a British expression. It kind of means high-class. Comes from the cabins used by the upper class on voyages from England to India. The most expensive cabins were port side on the way out and starboard on the way home, Port Out Starboard Home, POSH.”

  “I bet you’d be great at trivia.”

  “Au contraire, mon frére. I hate anything trivial. So now you see that I am a bit of a snob.”

  “You’re not a snob, Troy. You’re just too serious,” I said.

  He looked at me quickly. I was sure I had made him angry, maybe angry enough to end our night. “Do you expect me to take that seriously?” he countered. I started to smile with relief when he added, “Especially from you? Remember? Birds of a feather?”

  “You said that. I didn’t.”

  “But you believe it.”

  “Oh, you’re so self-confident.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  I thought for a moment. “It’s . . .”

  “Too soon to tell. I know,” he said, smiling and shaking his head.

  He made another turn, and now we were on a road that really looked like the road not taken. After a short while, the macadam disappeared, and it became a hard dirt road.

  “Where are we going?” I couldn’t hide the trembling in my voice.

  “Just a minute more,” he said, and we started up an incline.

  It was so dark now, without even the weak illumination of a streetlight behind us. I struggled to hold back the hysteria building inside me.

  “I don’t like this,” I said. “It’s too out of the way. Please turn around.”

  He didn’t answer. He jerked the car a little to the right, shifted gears, and climbed another small incline until we burst out on a flat piece of land and stopped. I had my head down and was embracing myself so tightly that I could barely breathe.

  “Voilà,” he said. “Hey, take a look.”

  Slowly, I raised my head and looked out. The lights of houses and buildings twinkled below. The night had cleared enough to reveal most of the twenty-five hundred stars visible to the human eye without any sort of telescope or binoculars, especially since there was no moonlight to drown out any. Two commercial jets were also twinkling, as though they were moving stars.

  “I’ve never brought anyone up here,” Troy said.

  I hoped he didn’t see me taking deep breaths. “How did you find it?”

  “I overheard a meeting my father had with some real estate investors. Their plan is to develop the side road we took and create a housing development. My father makes so much money that he’s always looking for different ways to invest. They raved about it, so I decided to make it one of my explorations. What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful, and it didn’t take us that long to get here.”

  “Now you’re thinking like an investor.”

  We really couldn’t see each other that well in the darkness, but I saw that he was sitting back, turned toward me, and looking at me not with a smile but with an intensity that, although I didn’t want it to, frightened me. Best to keep talking, I thought.

  “Why do you take so many rides by yourself, Troy? Don’t you have any buddies?”

  “Back to truth or dare?”

  “No, just normal conversation.”

  “I guess I’m just too particular,” he said.

  “So why me?”

  He sat up and leaned toward me. “I don’t want to sound like a broken CD, but there’s something about you that’s different. You’re not . . . obvious.”

  “I’m a challenge, is that it?”

  “Exactly. You’re a mystery.”

  “So are you.”

  He moved closer. “The very fact that you saw that rather than go with one of the labels your girlfriends assign to me convinced me you’re head and shoulders above them. I just don’t know why yet.”

  He reached out to touch my shoulder. He wasn’t close enough to sense it, but I cringed.

  “Maybe I’d rather not be solved,” I said. “And something tells me neither would you.”

  He stopped moving toward me. “Maybe. Maybe we both would rather that wasn’t true. It’s all a matter of trust,” he said, and leaned forward again. “It begins with something as simple as this.” He brought his lips to mine, his hands gripping my shoulders firmly to hold me in place.

  It wasn’t a violent kiss. It wasn’t even unexpected.

  Any other girl would have simply kissed him back if she liked him or been indifferent enough to send a message that read simply NO.

  But the feel of a man’s lips on mine triggered an explosion of horrid visions.

  Once again, Anthony Cabot’s naked body was all over mine. Once again, I inhaled the smell of beer, an odor that seemed to spin my insides. Once again, I struggled to leave my own body and envision myself someplace safe. Once again, I felt the chain on my ankle. Once again, I screamed a scream unvoiced, a scream that echoed inside me. I was a child crying for her mother and father, a twin cursing her sister, a helpless girl about to lose everything that made her human.

  My cry in Troy’s car was a cry full of pain. He recoiled like someone who had felt an intense electric shock.

  And all the stars looming before us seemed to fall out of the sky like diamond tears.

  13

  I could feel how shaken up Troy was. The air was that electric between us. The sound of my cry probably was echoing as loudly in his ears as it was in mine. Tears burned my cheeks. Gradually, the visions of terror receded and fell back into that dark place that was behind a door I had hoped was permanently sealed after all the therapy and the passage of time. The depth and intensity of my emotional wounds surprised me. I was ashamed and frightened again. All I wanted to do was curl up in a fetal position in some dark corner and disappear like Mother in the safety of her shadows.

  “I’m . . . sorry,” Troy said, although he had no idea why he had to say it. A little indignation stirred his pride when I didn’t respond. “I thought we liked each other enough for a kiss.”

  “I do like you. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault,” I said, and wiped away the lingering tears. “I’m not . . . right yet. I shouldn’t have gone out with you and given you reason to believe I was. Just take me back, Troy. I’m sorry. Really. Please.”

  He started the car and carefully turned it around. I curled up against the door.

  “We’re both not right yet,” he said after a long silence. “But we’ve got to try, or at least want to try.”

  We were back on a road lit with streetlights and the windows of homes, but I didn’t feel any less tense. The resurgence of the danger and pain I had suffered swirled about me like rings of fog. His words only resurrected the hours and hours of therapy and that repetitive warning my therapist practically chanted: You’ve got to try.

  Of course, I had to try; I wanted to try to behave normally, to welcome affection, to trust someone enough to risk being disappointed, but all of it was as hard as walking up a hill made of ice. Right now, I wasn’t in the mood to measure Troy’s or anyone else’s pain against mine.

  “I’m not going to play ‘you tell me your bad story and I tell you mine,’ ” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  I was really beginning to hate that word sorry, but I didn’t know what would work better. I knew I sounded mean and angry, but right now, I couldn’t find any other appropriate response. I was angrier at myself than I was at him for what had just happened, but I didn’t think he’d understand the reasons, and I had no idea how to begin explaining.

  The silence that followed felt like a widening dark crevice. I could see he was thinking long and hard. When he didn’t speak, I concluded that this was it; my short-lived budding romance was over. I began to prepare myself for the myriad questions that would be tossed over me like a fisherman’s net ba
ck at the dorm. Eventually, it would bring in the big catch, my recent history, and I would have to leave Littlefield, leave with the question of what was a good alternative now. Maybe I should join the army or the Peace Corps and go live in some third world country where no one would care who I was and what had happened to me.

  “You don’t have to tell me yours,” Troy finally said through clenched teeth.

  I didn’t blame him for saying it. He had every right to be upset with me. “I understand how you feel,” I said. I tried not to sound magnanimous. That would only make someone with his pride and ego angrier, but it was difficult not to sound like that.

  “No, you don’t understand,” he said. He finally turned to look at me. “I lied to you that first night we met.”

  “What? What are you talking about? What lie?”

  “When you had come outside to speak with your father, and I told you I was just taking my usual walk. I wasn’t. I was actually hoping to see you, and when you came out, I lay back in the shadows listening, because I thought you might be talking to a boyfriend. I heard most of what you said.”

  The chill that had come over me turned into a surge of heat before it finished climbing up my neck. I was speechless, trying to remember what details I had revealed during that phone call. At a minimum, he certainly knew I had a sister.

  “I heard enough to be more interested, and then I did some research on the Internet and found your story.”

  I didn’t know whether to be angry or frightened. Perhaps I would be both. His confession churned up reasons for both.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he quickly said. “I wouldn’t tell anyone anything, especially at school.”

  I stared ahead silently. What was his next comment going to be? Would it be blackmail?

  “Frankly, despite what happened back there just now, after reading about you, I anticipated you would be worse. For one thing, I didn’t expect that you would go out with me so soon. Because of that, I assumed you had made more progress recuperating from it all.”

  “You should have told me,” I said. “You shouldn’t have lied.”

  “I was afraid to once I had done it. I didn’t want to drive you away so quickly. I was selfish, and I was wrong, but I wasn’t lying when I said we were birds of a feather. I wasn’t abducted or raped or anything like that,” he added quickly. “But you were right when you recognized that I had my secrets, too.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear about them,” I said petulantly.

  “No. I don’t blame you. Ironically, I’ve destroyed exactly what I was trying to win, your trust.”

  “Yes, you have,” I said.

  He sat back to drive and was quiet all the way back to Littlefield. When he pulled into my dorm parking lot, I told him not to bother getting out to open my door. He reached for my arm when I opened it.

  “I meant everything else I said to you, Kaylee. You’re not different simply because of what happened to you. You’d be head and shoulders above the other girls no matter what. I really like you, and I was wrong to lie to you. I know you feel . . .”

  “Betrayed and embarrassed,” I said. “Thanks for adding all that to the load I carry, but oh, thank you for the pizza, too.”

  “Kaylee,” he said, but I shut the door before he could continue, and I didn’t look back.

  And thank you again, too, Haylee, I thought as I walked away. Your actions will ripple into eternity.

  The dorm was quiet when I entered a good two hours earlier than our curfew on a Saturday night. I practically tiptoed to my and Claudia’s room. Thankfully, she and Marcy were still out. I managed to get myself ready for bed without seeing any of the other girls. When I got into bed, I sat up with my arms folded across my breasts and thought about everything.

  No, I thought, now defiant and raging with fury. I wouldn’t do what my father wanted and agree to see Haylee’s psychiatrist. I didn’t for one moment believe what my father believed or hoped, that she was finally regretful and repentant. She was still conniving to get her way; she always would be. I won’t stop hating her; I won’t.

  Thinking and even saying it aloud made me feel better, but only for a little while. Hating Haylee now was easy. Forgiving her was difficult, and loving her again seemed nearly impossible, despite what I had told Dr. Alexander. However, the realization did nothing to cheer me up or relieve any of the pain. I only fell into a deeper funk. I was tired of hating myself because of what I had become and even more tired of trying not to.

  I glanced across the room at Claudia’s dresser. I knew what she had put under her neatly folded socks in that drawer after she and Marcy had returned from their double date. I had pretended not to notice when they giggled and Marcy passed it to her, urging her to hide it.

  I rose slowly, moving like someone in a trance, and opened her dresser drawer. I felt under the socks and found the packet of Ecstasy. After I took one pill out, I put it all back as neatly as I could and closed the drawer. I held the pill in my palm for a few moments and debated with myself. I could be expelled for this, and what a mess that would create. It would reinforce the belief that I was contaminated, that I had been so violated there was no possibility of any recuperation.

  But I couldn’t stand this disappointment and depression that made me feel like I had swallowed dark shadows. Taking one of these pills was definitely something Haylee would do, but I wasn’t going to get to sleep anyway, and if there was one thing I didn’t want the moment the girls returned, it was the two of them seeing me upset. I just wasn’t ready to answer questions. I’d never be ready.

  I downed the pill with the glass of water on my night table and returned to bed, sitting up just the way I had been. I remained there, defiantly expecting relief, waiting and watching the clock. I felt no different after ten minutes and only a lot more restless after twenty. This was disappointing. It wasn’t changing my mood the way others my age had claimed it did and the way I had seen it change Haylee’s. Probably a weak dose, I thought, and rose quickly to return to Claudia’s drawer. I took out the packet and plucked another pill, not putting it back as neatly as I had previously. I didn’t even close the drawer all the way, but I didn’t notice at first and then thought, what difference did it make? No one was going to complain about my stealing her pills.

  I swallowed the second one and went back to my position on the bed. I was starting to feel warmer. I was even sweating a little. I couldn’t continue simply to sit. I got up and began walking about the room. I paused when I thought there was someone at the window. It was Troy, I decided. He’d come back to spy on me or something. I rushed to the window and threw it open. The cold air was like a splash of ice water over my face and breasts. Nevertheless, I leaned out and looked left and right.

  “Are you out here in the shadows again?” I screamed. “Listening for another phone call?”

  I saw a car pull up to the dorm. The headlights washed the side of the building. There wasn’t anyone standing there. I heard laughter coming from the car and quickly stepped back and shut the window. Shortly after, there was noise in the hallway and more laughter, Marcy’s laughter. I went to the door to listen and heard Mrs. Rosewell telling them to be quieter.

  “There are girls who didn’t go out and are asleep,” she said. “We must respect others, or they won’t respect us.”

  Nothing could sound sillier to me at the moment. Respect others, or they won’t respect us? I opened the door and leaned out.

  “Will you stop being so quiet!” I screamed. Marcy and Claudia froze. Mrs. Rosewell gaped at me. “Sorry,” I said. “I was trying to stay awake.”

  Marcy’s face practically exploded with laughter, and the two of them hurried down the hall, promising Mrs. Rosewell that they would be quiet, we’d all be quiet. She remained there watching suspiciously. Marcy pushed me back, and Claudia followed, closing the door behind her.

  I started to laugh again and slapped my palms over my face to muffle the sound. The expressions on their faces made m
e laugh harder.

  “What’s going on?” Marcy asked. She brightened with the realization. “What are you on?”

  “On? On the earth,” I said.

  Everything I said and everything they did made me laugh. The two of them practically smothered me and forced me back onto my bed.

  “Check it out,” Marcy told Claudia.

  Claudia opened the door slightly and peered out.

  “She’s gone,” she said.

  “Great. Kaylee, what did you take? What’s going on? And don’t start laughing.”

  “He was in the shadows,” I said.

  “What? Who?”

  “Never mind. Never mind anything. Never.”

  Claudia’s suspicious eyes turned from me, and her gaze went to her dresser.

  “She was in our Ecstasy,” she announced, and rushed over to the drawer. She held up the packet for Marcy to see.

  “You? You took Ecstasy now? Why now? You’re supposed to take it when you go out, stupid, not when you’re going to sleep. Oh, pickles,” she moaned. “When did you take it? How many?”

  Claudia had emptied the packet onto her bed and counted the pills. “She took two,” she declared.

  “When, Kaylee?” Marcy shook me, but that only made me laugh.

  “You’re tickling me,” I said.

  “Where’s her robe?”

  Claudia found it, and they got me into it. Claudia opened the door slightly again and looked back at us. Marcy had her arm firmly around my waist. Claudia nodded, and they both rushed me out and to the bathroom. Once there, Marcy brought me to a toilet and then stuck her fingers in my mouth. I gagged and wiggled to get free, but they were both holding on to me now, and Marcy pinched my face with her fingers and the thumb of her left hand so that I kept my mouth open while she pressed the fingers of her right hand over my tongue. I gagged and struggled, but she kept it up until I started to vomit. Vomiting made me vomit more and more, until I practically collapsed on the floor.

  “You idiot,” Marcy said. “Why did you do this? You could have gotten us all in big trouble, Kaylee. We don’t do that in the dorm. The Iron Lady would throw us out for sure.”