I can’t fucking believe this. — Wow. . I dunno what to say, I thought you’d hate me! I thought you’d go straight to the cops!
— How could I? She shakes her head. — You saved my life! I must admit, there were times I wanted you dead, but I was in cold turkey. Now I see what you’ve done, what you’ve given me. .
— What YOU’VE given you, I gasp, — . . but, Lena, listen, there’s something I gotta tell you—
— What you enabled me to do, she cuts in. — To bring back me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. . she looks at the monitor on the treadmill, — . . and fiff-tay. .
She shuts the machine down and steps off, heading to the kitchen. I’m following her in stupefaction, all those thoughts and images cascading through my brain. I find her pouring two glasses of champagne. — Lena, we need to talk, something’s happened—
— No, we drink first. She turns to me and says forcibly, — After what I’ve been through, give me one fucking moment before you hit me with any more of your shit. Jesus!
There’s nothing I can say. She really does deserve this moment and a lot more besides. Certainly more than I do, and so I’m trailing behind her again, following her to the living room. — Cheers, I say grimly, raising the glass of Cuvée to my lips, and thinking of Jerry on the rug, in his puddle of blood. I take a long drink.
— You’ve made me what I am, Lena says, — by making me confront who I was. What the others took away. . but I can barely hear her as this shit is going straight to my head, and I feel so slack-jawed and heavy-limbed, — . . you gave back. .
— Gave back. . I repeat numb and dumb, aware of Lena Sorenson looking at me with a shit-eating grin.
— But you’re an evil fuck and you need to be punished, she smiles, as I sit down on the mattress, sinking back into it. And I’m powerless to do anything as she clips the cuffs onto my wrist.
I’m back at junior high and I’m running in the track event against Sally Ford, the fastest competitor. I was always number two. I could see my dad’s red face, willing me on, and I almost beat her. Almost. It was the closest I’d ever gotten to the bitch.
Dad was silent on the drive home. — I nearly won, I pleaded.
— Nearly’s no good. You let that stuck-up little thing beat you again. He shook his head. — But you can’t help it. You’re just a girl.
And then it comes back to Clint Austin smiling at me in class, asking me if we’re gonna make out. Me saying maybe. But then when he and his friends surrounded me in the park, I just froze. Then he kissed me, put his tongue in my mouth. They started cheering. Then he took me into the bushes beside the tree, a big make-out spot, an almost concealed cave of overhanging branches and thick shrubs, but then he shouted for his friends to come in. — We wanna see your pussy, he said, and then I was on my back and they were grabbing me, holding me, and pulling at my clothes, and Clint was on top of me, and in me. I didn’t struggle, I didn’t protest. I was determined not to be a girl, like Dad said, not to cry and be weak and beg. I just lay there, in a trance and let him do it. I shut my eyes. Dug my nails and fingers into the ground beneath me as I felt a burning sensation sear me between my legs. Then the rest of them were scattering like flies, and Clint was out of me and off me and I saw Dad’s face looking down. I forgot the pain between my legs, and stood up and pulled up my panties and smoothed my skirt down. I didn’t want to tell him that I was raped, that I was bullied by a psycho and his gang, and that I couldn’t or didn’t fight back, like a real Brennan would have done. That I would have been probably been gangbanged by the rest, had he not found me then. No, I’d rather he thought me a slut than a weak coward, or even a girclass="underline" that would have been the biggest shame.
After that I went to tae kwon do, kickboxing, and karate. I wanted to show them all that I would never be scared, would never freeze like that, ever again. That I could do any fucking thing they could do. That I could damage those motherfuckers, that I could break them. .
. . I blink into sludgy consciousness with a team of miniature construction workers laying the foundations of another Walgreens inside my head. Lena Sorenson is standing over me. There’s an assortment of McDonald’s and Taco Bell fast food in bags on the floor, beside the two buckets. — Similar game, slightly different rules, I hear her explain, my throat too dry for me to speak out in protest. — You’ll be in here until you weigh two hundred pounds. That’s doable: thirty-five hundred cals per day equals an extra pound of fat. If you cram you should be out of here in no time. I’ve got Coke and potato chips for you to snack on, and cans of beer and wine boxes. .
I look at the bags she’s placing before me. My mouth is so dry. There’s no water so I pick up a can of Coca-Cola. It tastes like battery acid in my mouth and throat, and even more corrosive when it hits my gut, but it helps me find my voice. — Lena, I can see why you might feel that you want to do this, but you have to listen to me. . back at your place—
— Shut your mouth, you fascist psycho bitch! I’m fucking through listening to you! This is the part where you fucking well listen to me, she screams. — I’m gonna stuff you like a frigging French goose! Two hundred pounds! You get outta here when you hit that mark on that goddamned scale!
In panic I pull myself up to a seated position. — My mom’s back! She’s gonna be round here soon!
— You said we had another two weeks, you fucking lying bit— she stops herself, — you fucking liar!
We actually have more; they are heading for Tel Aviv tomorrow morning. I sit down and look at the shit in front of me. I glance over and I can see my iPhone on the table, with the Lifemap app.
— It’s. . there’s something I have to tell you—
— I said you’re through telling me—
— IT’S JERRY! I FUCKING KILLED HIM!
She looks at me in disbelief. — Don’t be stupid, how could you kill Jerry? He’s in New York—
— He’s on your rug with his head caved in.
— You really are fucking crazy! Lena roars, but there’s a look in her eyes that tells me she knows I’m not shitting her.
— No, no. . listen, I urge, convulsing, struggling for breath.
Lena’s mouth hangs open. Her eyes burn.
— I was over at your place to check your mail and he was waiting outside. I was confused, I’d had an argument with my dad, and I wasn’t thinking straight—
— As opposed to your normal, rational. . Lena interrupts, halfheartedly.
— He tricked me into letting him into the house. He was turning the place over, looking for some shit I had, I confess, a guilty shake of my head. — There’s a letter and notebook and some pictures in my purse, I nod over to the chair.
She goes to the purse and pulls out the package. Looks at the photographs, reads the letter, and starts to scour the notebook. Her eyes expand, then go glassy, then narrow. She’s struggling to keep her breathing under control as her nostrils flare.
— Like I said, I let him inside. I wasn’t thinking straight. Then I realized what he was doing and tried to get him out. He went crazy and we fought and I thought that he would kill me! He had me pinned down and I reached behind me and hit him with that ax, the ornamental one that you keep sharp, cause you sometimes use it to chop your animal carcasses. . it was an accident Lena, I swear it! I was trying to protect myself, but I didn’t mean to kill him!