Cage of Bone

  “Leave me alone, I’m sleeping.” I pulled up my comforter and turned away to face the wall. “Go to bed, Mom”.

  She pulled the blankets off me again, not giving me any peace and waved the uniform sweater in my face. “Have you been snooping around Katherine’s room? I found this on the floor.”

  “Yeah, I had to see if the uniform fit. I’m trying out for the squad.”

  She clutched the sweater to her face and breathed in the bit of scent that still remained. “There’s no way you’ll ever make the squad.”

  “Gee thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom. You sure know how to make me feel good about myself.”

  The house was silent, except for my own breathing. Mom had stumbled off to bed, clutching the sweater like a security blanket and leaving me with her bitter words ringing in my ears.

  She was right. Who was I trying to kid? I’d never be a cheerleader. I couldn’t take Katherine’s place. Not on the squad and certainly not to my parents. Mom and Dad probably wished I had been the one to die, not Katherine.

  Mom had enough fond memories to keep her warm for years to come and Dad had a new baby on the way. I was just stuck in between them both, the invisible middle child. Just call me Jan Brady. And Katherine was Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.

  “You’ll be happy to know that I have come to my senses and have declined Jessica’s gracious invitation to try out for the cheerleading squad,” I reported to Danielle at the start of English class the next day.

  “Thank God,” Danielle exclaimed, slamming shut her latest Bronte tome. “I thought I was going to have to lobotomize you with a dull knife.”

  “That would have been a little extreme, don’t you think?”

  “No way. You were seriously going all Miss America there for a minute. I was worried. I even dug out all my Gloria Steinem books and was ready to beat you over the head with them if you didn’t smarten up soon.”

  “Meet you in the cafeteria for lunch again?” I changed the subject. “I hear a soy burger calling my name.”

  “Totally bitchen. I’m game for the mock nuggets myself.”

  “Ugh, gag me with a spoon,” I replied. “Those things are gnarly.”

  Danielle laughed. “Fer sure, fer sure”.

  So my only friend thought everything was back to normal. It scared me to realize how easy it was to deceive the very people I was supposed to care about.

  I loved the crush of bodies in the halls between classes. The energy, the noise, the privacy. It was easy to get lost in the crowd, to lean against my locker and just watch the streams of students flow past.

  Snippets of conversation filtered past me, things I shouldn’t hear but since nobody noticed me, they never censored their words. I knew Bobby McKenzie was on penicillin for an STD and Angela Bowers had missed her last period. Hope she wasn’t sleeping with Bobby.

  The cacophony roared in my ears. I closed my eyes and absorbed it all. I was nobody and everybody all at once. No memories, no feelings, just peace.

  A voice directly in my ear jerked me out of the flow. I opened my eyes. Griffin peered at me, his face two inches from mine. “Oh, it’s you,” I said slowly, trying to bring my self back to the real world.

  “Earth to Ronnie,” Griffin said. “Where the hell were you? I was standing right next to you for at least five minutes and you didn’t even know I was there.”

  “Sorry. Just zoning out for a while. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  Griffin grinned. “Exactly! And that’s why you need to come to Toronto with me and the guys from Roadkill this weekend. We’re going to see a band, check out some cool stores. It’s time you got out of this shithole and saw the real world.”

  “Sure, I’ll come along.” I hadn’t been to Toronto since the Geography field trip to Kensington Market last year.

  “Bring a change of clothes with you because we’ll probably end up crashing at my buddy’s place. He’s got a pull out couch that we can sleep on and the guys can use the van. Be ready to go by 5 o’ clock. We’ve got a busy night planned.”

  Mom was on the couch looking through some old photos. Her knees were covered with our Granny Square afghan, the usual drink on the end table and a cloud of cigarette smoke masking the lines on her face.

  “Come look at this, Ronnie,” Mom said, waving a picture at me. I sat down beside her, breathing as shallowly as possible. “She was so beautiful,” Mom continued. “Just look at her here. Only nine years old and she already had that sparkle in her eyes. You could tell she was special from day one.”

  I glanced at the photograph. Katherine was holding a baton in one hand, the other hand resting on her hip.

  “I’m not surprised she went on to become a cheerleader,” Mom went on. “She liked to be the centre of attention.”

  Mom picked up another picture of Katherine, smiled, then picked up another. I got up and walked away. She didn’t even notice I was gone.

  I was waiting outside on our porch Saturday when the guys came to pick me up. I had pajamas, a change of clothes, my toothbrush, a can of hairspray and about five pounds of eyeliner, mascara and other makeup. Keeping up my image was almost an Olympic event these days and that was just me trying to look as though I didn’t give a shit about my appearance. God knows how much work it would take to actually make myself pretty.

  Jeff was driving. He honked the horn as he pulled into the driveway and I ran to the van before my mother could come out to investigate. Griffin sat up front on the passenger side with a bottle of Coke in his hand.

  “Shhh,” I hissed, jumping into the back with Tim and the rest of the gear. “My mom is home.”

  I hadn’t told her about going to Toronto. After that happy, twisted trip down memory lane with the photographs, I didn’t figure she’d care where I went as long as I was out of the way.

  “Hey Tim, switch places with me for a while,” said Griffin, crawling into the back of the van. “I’ll move later when it’s time for me to navigate.”

  Griffin leaned in close to me and took a swig of his drink. “You thirsty? Help yourself.”

  I took the bottle and drank, instantly starting to choke. “What the fuck is in this?” My throat burned and I could feel the path as the drink made its way to my stomach.

  “Just a little bit of this and that. Whatever my dad had in the liquor cabinet. Have some more.”

  I took another swig and swallowed quickly. It tasted vile but felt sort of good on the way down, like my entire esophagus was on fire. After one more swallow I handed the bottle back to Griffin. I didn’t think I was drunk but my tongue felt looser and my entire body was relaxed. The guys cracked jokes about cows and farmers as we sped down Highway 10 and I laughed loudly. Everything seemed funnier now.

  The back of the van rattled with amplifiers, guitars and microphone stands. Griffin and I snuggled in a little nook, sitting on a bunched up sleeping bag. Jeff took a turn a little too sharply and Griffin bounced against me, his hand grazing my breast. My nipple hardened in response, a pleasurable heat radiating from his touch. I gasped at the sensation and ached for more.

  “Did you like that?” Griffin whispered in my ear. I didn’t trust my voice so I simply nodded. Griffin licked my ear and I gasped again. Heat shot through my groin and I squirmed in my seat. “There will be more to come later, I promise,” he said.

  Flashing neon, the crush of bodies, laughter, honking, concrete, garbled language, the scent of meat from every corner hotdog vendor. My head swirled with the sights and sounds of Toronto.

  A jittery energy ran under my skin. We went from store to store down Yonge Street until we reached Sam the Record Man, its signature sign in the shape of a black, vinyl record lighting up the night sky like a beacon.

  Inside, row upon row of music from every possible genre, every band I had ever heard about but couldn’t find in my sorry excuse of a town. I twitched with excitement as I ran my fingers along the records. I wanted so many of them that I didn’t know where to begin. An hour ra
ced by and we each left the store with a bag in hand. I simply closed my eyes and pointed, selecting albums by instinct.

  Dinner consisted of a Shopsy’s hotdog from a corner vendor and a few more swallows of Coke and mystery alcohol. My head was spinning as we reached a tiny door set back in the wall of a red brick warehouse, the only light a lone bulb that barely broke the darkness. No sign was visible to tell us where we were but Griffin seemed to know the place.

  “This is it,” Griffin assured me, seeing my look of confusion. “They know me here, so we’ll get in no problem. If anybody asks, tell them you’re old enough to drink.”

  The throb of the music instantly made my ears ring. A small stage was set up at the end of the room with a wall of speakers on either side. A female singer roamed the stage, roaring into the microphone and inciting the crowd into a frenzy of slam dancing. I was caught in a current of mohawks, black leather, chains and music, the bass line pulsing in my chest with each strum of the strings.

  I turned and found Griffin approaching, a beer in each hand. “Here,” he said. I grabbed the bottle and took a sip. The bitterness made my tongue ache but I kept drinking, hoping to bring back that looseness I had felt before, the laughter.

  “This is so cool,” I said, shouting over the music. “How did you know about this place?”

  Griffin leaned forward to speak directly into my ear. “I used to come here with the guys from my old band. I’ve got to get back here more often. I feel my soul shriveling up in Owen Sound.”

  I nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. I can’t wait to get done high school and leave. Forever.”

  We drank the rest of the beer in silence and watched the band. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol and a pungent sweetness that made me want to shout and jump.

  “Come on,” I yelled to Griffin. “Let’s dance.”

  Midnight had passed and my head was spinning. I couldn’t remember how many beers I had drank but my body felt strangely disconnected from my brain. I’d want to move my hand but it took a moment for the thought to reach my nerves, like the impulse had to weave its way through a pool of Jell-O first. My vision was blurred and everything a haze of colours and shapes with no definition but I liked the feeling. I felt alive.

  Tim drove the van while Griffin navigated through the city. We arrived at a quiet neighbourhood of shabby brick houses and convenience stores with Greek lettering on the signs. The van snaked its way down a narrow driveway and pulled to a stop behind a house that looked exactly like the ones on either side.

  “My buddy Constantine lives here,” Griffin explained. “He’s away with his parents this weekend but he told me where to find the extra key. We can crash here as long as we don’t mess anything up. His mother would kill him if she knew about this.”

  “Hurry up and let me in,” I said. “I have to pee so badly!”

  The bathroom walls were tiled in butter yellow and the worn linoleum floor curled up in the corners of the room. A cigarette burn had melted a spot on the flooring next to the toilet and long, black hairs curled along the edge of the tub. I squatted over the toilet to pee and instinctively reached out to wipe away the hairs on the tub but the grossness overpowered my need to clean.

  I brushed my teeth and took a long, hot shower. I still didn’t use the bathtub at home, so having a shower here was a piece of heaven, bad housecleaning or not. The water felt so good against my skin, the soap slithering down my body, each nerve ending registering a tiny electric jolt as I lathered myself.

  I toweled off and got into a pair of soft cotton pajama pants and an old black tank top. I swayed my way downstairs, clutching the railing to prevent myself from falling, the alcohol still swimming in my system.

  The house was silent and dark except for a hint of light creeping in around the edges of the drapes. “Hello?” I called out.

  “I’ll be right there.” Griffin walked into the living room with a small candle on a saucer, one hand cupped around the flame to keep it from blowing out.

  “Where are the guys?” I asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

  “Out in the van,” Griffin answered. “We’ve got the place to ourselves.” He set the candle down on an end table and started tossing the cushions off the sofa. “It’ll take just a second to pull out the bed. Are you tired?”

  “No, not really.” I slid my hand down his chest, continued past the waist of his jeans and stopped just above his groin. He took a sharp breath. “Don’t you have something you want to do?” I asked, leaning in close enough to graze his jaw with my lips.

  “Um hmm,” he said, kissing me with a warm, wet mouth.

  The room was spinning but I didn’t stop him when he slid his hand up my tank top. My nipple tightened as he touched my breast, gently at first but growing rougher as his breath became ragged. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pulling me onto the sofa bed.

  The kisses were soft and wet and hard and passionate and sweet. Hands went everywhere, groping and stroking and rubbing and teasing until finally our clothes were gone and he was kneeling above me, beads of sweat glistening on his chest in the candlelight. “Is this good?” he asked. I nodded, staring into his eyes. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to feel it all.

  I was shocked by the sensation as he slid inside of me. I gasped at the pain, clenched my eyes and held him tight. It was over soon enough and he snuggled up beside me.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice ragged, like he’d just ran a marathon.

  “Yes. Perfect,” I lied.

  Griffin’s breathing soon turned deep and rhythmic and I knew he was asleep but I didn’t have the same peace. I stared up at the ceiling, tracking the shine of headlights through the edges of the drapes and across the stucco as a car swept down the street, music blaring, the driver not caring about how late it was or if people were trying to sleep.

  Pushing Griffin’s arm off me, I rolled over on my side and curled into a ball. I could feel the semen oozing out, gathering in a pool between my thighs. I hadn’t said no. I had wanted to have sex. I had wanted it all. But now all I felt was that old familiar emptiness in my chest. I was back to normal.

 

  Chapter Eleven

  There was a police car in my driveway when we pulled in the next morning. An officer was at the front door talking to my mom. Trying to calm her down by the looks of it. She was crying and waving her arms madly.

  I grabbed my bag out of the back of the van and gave Griffin a quick wave. “Gotta run,” I said. “It looks like all hell has broken loose.”

  Mom rushed from the front steps and hurled herself at me, grabbing my arms. “Oh my God, Ronnie! Where have you been? I thought you had run away. Or worse!”

  I shook her off and head towards the front door. “I’m fine. You can relax. I was just out with friends. I am allowed to have friends, aren’t I?”

  Mom ran ahead of me and blocked my path. “But you didn’t call. There was no note. I didn’t know where you were.”

  “Well, I’m home now. Can I go to my room?”

  “Officer,” my mom said desperately. “Arrest her. Charge her with something. She’s a minor. She shouldn’t have been out all night.”

  The officer stopped taking notes and flipped his notebook shut. “You gave your mother quite a fright,” he said to me, turning to leave. “I’m a dad and I’d be scared too if my daughter didn’t come home. Next time, make sure your family knows where you are. It will save your parents a ton of worry.”

  There had been lots of nights where Mom had stayed out until all hours and I wasn’t calling the cops on her. All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed and sleep for a week but I wouldn’t get any peace until I apologized.

  “Mom, I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I honestly didn’t think you’d even notice I was gone.”

  Mom lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, toying with her plastic lighter with the logo of the convenience store down the street. “I was scared
half to death. I thought I had lost you too.”

  “I was just out having a life,” I said, grabbing the handle of the screen door and yanking it open. “Guess a bit of fun is too much to expect. As usual.”

  I sank into my bed and pulled the covers up over my head. I was just drifting into a sweet, dark sleep when there was a pounding on the door and my dad burst through. Big-mouthed Mom must have called him.

  “Get your sorry ass out of bed,” he demanded. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Leave me alone. I’m sleeping.”

  Dad yanked off my covers and loomed over me, glaring. “I said, get your ass out of bed. Now!”

  “Okay, whatever. Just stop yelling. My head is killing me.”

  “Yeah, I can smell the booze on you. I bet you had a hell of a time last night, didn’t you? Throw on some clothes and meet me in the truck. Pronto.”

  The sun was too bright when I went outside. It hurt to open my eyes but I hadn’t had time to grab my sunglasses since Dad had been in such a rush to get me out the door. I squinted and hurried inside, shutting my eyes against the day. I could see red blood vessels behind my closed eyelids. I squeezed them tighter and scrunched down into my seat, pretending to sleep.

  “Sit up straight,” Dad said, turning the ignition and beginning to back up out of the driveway. “We’re going for a ride.”

  “Whatever,” I mumbled.

  The truck lurched to an abrupt stop. “Do you dare to talk back to me after the stunt you just pulled?”

  “Look, I’m sorry I scared Mom last night. I didn’t mean any harm. I was just out with friends and it was late so we stayed overnight. I didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

  “Somehow, I don’t believe you,” he said, putting the truck into gear again and pulling out onto the road.

  We drove for a while and pulled into the parking lot of Canadian Tire. “Come with me,” Dad said. “I don’t trust you to stay in the truck alone.”