A Gray Life: a novel (6 page)

Crying,
and then, “I’m sorry. Please. After everything, don’t turn away from me. All we have is each other. Please.”

Michael scoffed.
Or coughed. Not sure. “All you have is yourself.” He walked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Louise didn't come out. She stayed in the bathroom for a couple of hours, until Erin knocked to ask if she was all right.

When the door opened, Louise tried to down-play her puffy cry-eyes by smiling at us, but we all knew.

* * * *

September 2nd
 
 

Don’t feel neglected, ‘o journal of mine. I know it’s been a few weeks since I’ve written anything. Life
feels gray. My dad used to say that when things got depressing.
Life feels gray.

I put too much
of my hope in Michael and Louise. The happiness I felt was borrowed, and now it’s gone.

They haven’t spoken to one another in awhile. What’s worse is Louise isn’t really
speakin’ to anybody. Erin and I have tried to say hello, but she stares through us like our mama and daddy were glass-makers.

Michael and Erin
are talking every day. Sure, they’ve always been friends, but they’re actin’ 
funny
. While he speaks to her, Erin’s twiddles her hair and smiles like an idiot. Michael smiles like an idiot too.

They’re acting like
there’s two teenagers down here instead of one. But there’s more to it than that.

The whole thing makes my stomach squirm.
Must make Louise just as sick, ‘cause she hasn’t been eating. Gruel doesn’t motivate much of an appetite, but it does when there’s nothin’ else to eat.

I think Louise has reached what my mom used to call a dangerous place. When I was in trouble, or I couldn’t seem to get my
ish straight, my mom would tell me,
Son, you’re in a dangerous place. You better see yourself out
. Louise doesn’t wanna see herself outta anywhere. To her, there’s no point.

Over by the bathroom, Michael and Erin are talking to each other quietly. He just tucked her hair behind her ear.

Dad used to tease Mom, and then tuck her hair behind her ear. I’ve seen guys do it to girls in movies. Why did Michael touch my sister like that?

* * * *

The place wasn’t what Ashley had been expecting. Then again, most of her pre-pubescent expectations of life had been decimated over the course of half a day.

I have no one. My grandparents are dead. My father is dead.
She even felt sort of bad about losing Gloria. Sort of.

Grace
had driven to the suburbs south of the city. The rich suburbs, as in million dollar homes. A billboard by the entrance read, 
New homes being constructed from $500’s and more. Come join our community!
 Even without the sign, the homes were not for paupers. They were sprawling estates made of brick. Two houses down sat a fountain big enough to swim in. The house they stopped at was modest compared to the others. Not in size, but in outdoor ornamentation. The lawn was well maintained, but the mailbox wasn’t customized into the shape of a mosaic mermaid or dolphin. There were no statues or fountains.

They
walked to the front door.

Before Grace
knocked, Ashley wanted to know: “Is this your…friend’s…house?”

She hesitated on the word friend because she meant to say
Leemo, but decided against it. From the sound of him, Leemo wouldn’t live in a nice place.

“Who else’s house would it be?”A
smile teased the woman’s face.

She knew what Ashley had meant to ask. She found it funny and chuckled to herself. Four
knocks  later, and she hollered, “Can you let us in already? It’s freezing out here!”

“I’m coming!” A
man answered. When he opened the door, Ashley thought, 
Oh
.

He
looked about Grace’s age, similarly attractive. No gold chain or white powder dotting his nose, though. Rectangular-shaped glasses served as his one accessory.

“Juniper, next time
be nicer or I won’t open the door.” To Ashley, he said, “Hello.”

“That
 
was
 me being nice.” Grace/Juniper said.

“Juniper?”
Ashley mumbled.

She thought back to the three wallets in the truck. Did one of them read Juniper-something-or-other?
Probably not.

The man stepped back, allowing them room to walk into his not-so-humble abode. Like his lawn, the indoor décor was sparse. Ashley couldn’t believe one person could live in such a mausoleum.

“I would invite you into the living room to catch up, but let’s get business out of the way first. Follow me.”

Business.
She knew what sort of business Juniper engaged in, and she didn’t want any part of it.

“Wait.” Ashley said. The man stopped walking. “How do you know what we’re here for?”

“When Juniper showed up at my door with a young girl, I assumed it was so I could help you the way that I helped her. Am I wrong?”

“I do need help, but…” She didn’t know what to say next. She didn’t want to offend, but she didn’t want to be violated either.

The man hunched over a bit to look Ashley in the eyes. Usually, an adult getting down to her eye-level was condescending, but the man’s voice and eyes read anything but.

“Are you lost? Are you alone?”

Two naked questions, with equally vulnerable answers. Ashley swallowed the ocean of spit in her mouth, ready to answer.

“Yes, I am.”

“If you’re a friend of Juniper’s, I’ll do everything I can to help you. Let’s go to my workroom.” He reached for a door at the end of the foyer. Inside was an illuminated stairway.

Ashley’s heart picked up pace. She heard her father’s voice in her head,
don’t trust strangers
. He had told her the same thing over and over, along with
don’t get in the car with strangers.
Following a stranger into a basement would have probably been next on her father’s list of no-no’s. Another night, she might have gone anyway. Adults could usually be trusted, but the night’s events had shown her adults could discard one face and then put on another. She had to choose between following these two strangers or getting answers.

“
Why do we have to go down there?" She looked behind her. "Juniper, what are we here for?”

“You don’t have to be scared." Juniper promised. "You have to trust me and know I wouldn’t lead you into a dangerous place. Do you believe me?”

Again, Ashley felt a strange tingle, and a faint roar built and fell behind her ears. “Yes, I believe you.”

“Good.
Then c’mon.”

****

September 4th

Even though she hasn’t been speaking or eating on a regular basis, Louise noticed the
weirdness of Michael and Louise. When Michael and Erin were speaking nearly nose to nose, Louise’s eyes flickered out of the haze. After a few minutes of watching, she changed to marble again.

Last night, Michael and Louise…Michael and Louise…well, I think they did
 
stuff
. TGIFF kinda stuff.

A
round 3 am (not that I have a watch, just felt like 3amish), Erin’s giggles woke me up. She wasn’t next to me like always, but she was next to Michael. Under his covers-kinda next to him. Whispers and groans came from their corner in the basement. I was about to cough loudly, but they went to the bathroom and I didn’t have to.

When the door closed, I heard zippers coming down. Using my blanket as a buffer, I covered my ears to block out the inevitable moans. What surprised me were the tears that
blotted my eyes. I didn’t think I could cry anymore after dad and mom.

Yet,
I blubbered over business which certainly wasn’t mine. Well, it was sort of mine. Really, I cried because everything had gotten so twisted up. We used to be almost like a family, but Erin and Michael broke that up for good.

(
I’m going to lose her all over again.)

What seemed like hours later, the traitors left the
bathroom. Michael came out first. Erin came out a few seconds after, going to her bed pallet with a strange lilt to her walk. She settled into her blankets. It was odd when her and Louise (who I hoped wasn’t awake) caught each other’s eyes. Erin looked away first.

A year ago, I could have never imagined anything improper
could happen between Erin and Michael. I don’t know the extactos of doing
It
but I do know that’s the word for what Erin and Michael did. The infamous
It
Gary always laughed about, making jokes about a process he didn’t fully understand.

The Man has seen to the continued sex-
ed part of my schooling. I know things Gary would never have thought about.

Thanks, you heartless bastard.

* * * *

September 9th

When you can see a person’s ribs through their clothes, their anorexia has reached a critical point. Anorexia isn’t regularly taught in 7th grade. Not where I’m from. Like most of the lessons I’ve been learning from day to day, I've learned about anorexia from experience.

Louise’s ribs aren't poking through her grungy t-shirt just yet, but her chin is more defined than it was, and
her collarbone is like a hanger-rod holding up shoulders. She sleeps most of the day, and with her lack of food, it’s understandable. She has zero energy for anything else. Even when He comes to collect her, she shuffles to the kill room to do her duty. No screams or protests about it.

Because I'm worried, and because Erin couldn’t do it herself, I talked with Louise today. I tried to reach her through the layers of hurt.

“Do you wanna know I why I really take care of the Wasters when no one else does?”

Her stare wouldn't have spurned on many, but I kept at it.

“I take care of them because that’s what killed my mother.”

A change in her blinking pattern told me I’d gotten her attention.

“See, after He killed my dad, mom had no hope. She stopped talking, stopped eating, stopped caring. Erin and I were scared of how skinny she was getting, and we tried to make her eat. Nothing worked.” I thought it’d be easier to tell the story, seeing as how months had passed, but my voice was shakier than I wanted it. “I remember the day that I knew she wasn’t coming back from it. I woke up in the middle of the night, and there she was, awake. Her eyes were green emeralds flashing in her face. I still have nightmares about that night. Mostly because of her eyes. They weren’t her eyes anymore. It was like she was already dead. A few days later, she fell to the floor and didn’t get up. Hers was the first body Erin and I rolled up into the tarp for Him to take. Easy peasy, like trash.”

Even though I wanted to cry, it wouldn’t have been right. I swallowed the
softball in my throat.

“
The same thing’s gonna happen to you.” She wasn’t looking at me. I tried again. “Louise, you’re gonna die.”

Louise didn’t move. She didn’t seem to be listening to me. My big guns had fallen flat. I decided to try another way in.

“We’ve talked about a lot of things, but you’ve never mentioned how you and---” saying Michael’s name right then would have been counter-productive, “----how you were taken. How did it happen?”

It was quiet. I swear I could hear the sound of her wetting her eyeballs. My speech about my mother’s death and the possibility of her own death didn't move her. Why
would a conversation about her capture bring her around?

I stood up.

I took two steps before she finally spoke.

“It was a Tuesday. Michael and I were on a date, going to our favorite sushi restaurant. We ate the dollar
sushi, but would have sprung for the lobster had we known it was going to be our last real meal. Anyway, we drank too much plum sake and had to walk home. Of course, we were scared of walking anywhere because walking, especially at night, was asking for trouble. We went anyway, with all the arrogance and stupidity of great youth. On the way, we stopped for cigarettes. Nasty habit brought on again by the arrogance of youth. Before I walked into the store, I saw red and blue light on the glass windows. An officer passed by in this patrol car. I wish I could say I felt a premonition, or that I got a chill from how he looked at me, but it was the exact opposite. Like a fool, I smiled at him, my cute smile, too. He tipped his hat at me, and kept driving. I was sure that was the end of it.”