One Bloody Thing After Another (7 page)

They go down the block to rent a movie from the corner store. They want something chock full of sex and nudity and adult themes which may not be suitable for minors. This is a sleepover, and sleepovers mean gratuitous nudity. This is what you learn from the movies.

The boy behind the counter has his hair tucked behind his ears, which makes them stick out. That is his identifying, quirky character trait. When Jackie and Ann put the movie down on the counter, he doesn't notice the title at first. He opens the case, scans the disc on the computer and then looks up. He looks back at the title.

“Uh,” he stammers. “are either of you eighteen?” He won't look directly at them.

Jackie purses her lips like the girl on the movie cover. “It's nothing we can't handle, I assure you,” she says.

He pushes his hair back behind his ear again.

Back at Jackie's building, Ann takes the elevator and Jackie races up the stairs to the apartment. She loves running up stairs. It feels so perfect, reaching each landing, grabbing the railing and swinging herself around the turn, flinging herself up the next set of stairs.

She comes laughing in the door. Her father looks like he wants to ask where they've been, but his daughter is laughing and safe, and he looks relieved. Ann sits down to pull her boots off, and Jackie gives him her best perfect-daughter smile.

“Can Ann stay over tonight?” she asks him.

“If her mother says that it's okay.”

Ann says nothing.

In bed Ann and Jackie look up at the ceiling and lie on their backs like teen girls are supposed to do, and Jackie does all the talking. Ann keeps going quiet and Jackie feels like the day is almost over, which isn't what she wants. So she rolls over on her side and she puts her hand on Ann's shoulder and she kisses her friend on the forehead and then on the nose and then Jackie kisses Ann on the lips. She's gone off the script, here. This isn't the way this scene in the movie was supposed to go. Jackie was supposed to squeal with delight and do Ann's hair and they were going to have girl talk all night and eat chocolate ice cream right out of the carton, but instead, she goes ahead and puts her mouth on Ann's, and Ann doesn't kiss her back. She doesn't say anything or react at all. Jackie doesn't know what to do. So she starts talking.

She talks about the first girl she ever kissed, Laura. Laura had pictures of horses everywhere in her room. She had magazine pages of dogs and kittens torn out and hung up. She had a house with a big tree and a tire swing right out front.

Why would Ann care how Laura's room was decorated? She hasn't said anything yet, though. Maybe she's still waiting for Jackie to squeal and break out the chocolate ice cream so they can talk about boys. Jackie keeps talking instead. Her hand is still on Ann's shoulder, but she doesn't know what else to do with it.

Laura had pictures from magazines up everywhere. She had a big poster of bats. Scientific names of bats. Snub-noses. So many types of bats. Back then Jackie thought it was creepy, but talking about it now she realizes that Laura was kind of awesome. She was a huge nerd and she just didn't care. Jackie never even knew there were that many types of bats. Laura's older sister, Kelly, was on the same soccer team in elementary school as Jackie. Kelly was the biggest girl on the team, tall and muscled. She was the loudest girl, too, and the most popular. Jackie wanted to be her friend. Everyone did.

Laura was a year and a half younger, with long blonde hair and glasses. She interrupted her sister's parties to show everyone the newest issue of some scientific journal. She got so excited about things like sonar, and she just couldn't understand why nobody else got excited. She wanted her sister's approval, too.

And everyone teased her. It was just one more way to impress her sister. They threw popcorn at Laura, and “accidentally” spilled their drinks on her dress. They hid her science magazines and replaced them with porn Kelly stole from their dad. Jackie teased her, too.

And then, at one party, Kelly locked Laura and Jackie in an attic crawlspace together. She locked them in and sat outside with her back to the door, laughing. Jackie could hear another voice, then another, until the whole soccer team was out there laughing. They had planned this.

Laura and Jackie sat in the dusty crawlspace in silence while everyone laughed outside. Laura was crying, but she was always crying. There was a big crowd outside the door, chanting, “Seven minutes in heaven. Seven minutes in heaven.”

And Jackie knew that afterward, everyone was going to tease them anyway. These were her friends. She knew them. So she decided, brushing dust off her jeans, that she might as well.

“They're going to make fun of us anyway,” she said, and Laura just looked at her. Jackie leaned forward and touched the younger girl's face. She stopped crying.

“Are you okay?” Jackie said, and Laura nodded. And then Jackie kissed her. Kissing girls comes easy, like breaking windows. Jackie grabbed Laura and pulled her close and she kissed her on the lips. Outside Kelly was laughing and leading the chant.

Ann still hasn't said anything. Jackie's never told anyone this before, but a woman should be brave. She sits back a little, and takes her hand off Ann's shoulder. They're sitting too close maybe.

Jackie's first kiss was exciting, and dangerous, but no secret. Laura told everyone, when they let the two girls out, and Jackie just laughed. Kelly was going to tease her? She planned to taunt Jackie and call her a lesbian? Well, Jackie kissed her little sister. What would Kelly say at school, then? Jackie is a lesbian? Yes, Kelly, Jackie and your little sister Laura are lesbians together.

She wants to tell Ann about the look on Laura's face after their kiss, half shocked, but half dreamy. Or about the letter that Laura wrote her years later, from the far-off city where she was living now. She wants Ann to have that dreamy look on her face now, too, but Ann hasn't got any look at all.

Ann gets up, grabs her backpack, and runs out of the room.

Margaret is at the bathroom sink, trying to be quiet. Ann is going to hear her if she doesn't stop coughing. Margaret coughs again and then again and something wet and red hits the porcelain. She doesn't look too closely. She washes it down the drain, and then she fills her hands with the cool water and splashes her face. She can breathe again. It was nothing. Ann would only worry./

IF

It's a school day, but that doesn't really mean anything anymore. There's work to be done. In the back of the paper, someone is giving away kittens. Free to a good home. Some days Ann had to go all the way downtown, but today there's a whole litter just over by the mall. On the phone, she tries not to ask if the kittens are plump.

Then she puts on one of her mother's dress shirts, and clean pants. She puts on her nice shoes. In the mirror she sure looks like she comes from a good home. A decent sort of country girl. Her sister Margaret starts howling downstairs in her locked room when she hears Ann at the front door. She hasn't eaten, and she recognizes the sound of the locks. Margaret knows where Ann is going, even if she doesn't understand anymore that it's her sister. Food. Locks mean food. The door means food. Everything is connected with food.

Sometimes Ann tells herself that there's a moral difference between killing kittens for no reason and what she does. Killing kittens just to kill kittens would be evil. That would be cruel for cruelty's sake. But Margaret needs to be fed. This is the sort of thing that a real country girl would have to do. It's practical, not evil. People kill animals for food all the time.

And Ann can't stand the way Margaret gets when she hasn't eaten. Most of the time, it's easy to remember that she isn't really Ann's sister anymore. She's something else. She grunts and howls and makes animal sounds. But after a few days without food, she starts finding words. Always random words, like accidents, but they come out in Margaret's voice.

The mall is down near the water. Ann forgot they were doing construction. She doesn't get out enough. This is all going to be a parking lot soon. That's what the big sign says.

The yacht club is right there. She could just take a boat and go. There's something about the smell of the salt air that makes a person feel free. But her sister needs to be fed, and she has an address scribbled down. So, Ann is practical. She's a good country girl. She does what needs doing.

When the stranger opens the door Ann sees a baby gate across the doorway. There's a formula bottle on the counter, and a blanket on the floor. The woman's got a kid in one arm, and you can bet there are more in the house somewhere, in behind the walls maybe.

Ann fakes a lovely smile for the woman and she gets into character. Oh my goodness what an adorable baby. Oh my goodness look at these kittens. Have you ever seen anything so adorable? Couldn't you just eat them up?

“We didn't think we'd find someone willing to take them,” The woman with the baby says. “Not this quickly, anyway.” Her baby is spitting up on her. “Are you sure your mother's okay with this?” she says. Ann smiles. The woman wipes at the vomit a bit, but misses half of it. It just sits there on her shoulder.

“We're in town today to see my uncle,” Ann says. The trick is to keep touching the kittens. Keep your hands on them all the time, like you can't get enough. Aren't they wonderful? It makes you look tender. “My mom and I have a place out in the country. There's mice in the house at this time of year, and these guys will have plenty to keep themselves busy.” It's important to talk to the kittens, too. “Won't you?” Ann says. “Won't you be busy? Chasing little mousies!”

“They're great, aren't they?” the woman says.

“Is this all of them?” Ann asks.

The black kitten doesn't like Ann at all. All the other ones are as stupid as this woman, rolling around like they can't even remember to stand up. But this black kitten is looking at Ann like he's heard about her.

“That sounds really nice,” the woman says. “Living on a farm like that. Do you want a glass of juice or something?”

Ann brought a carrier with her, and she starts dropping the kittens inside, one by one. The black kitten tries to escape, to climb out of the cardboard box. When she gets her hand around him, he bites her. This is not going to be enough. They're so scrawny. The woman is still smiling at Ann from the doorway, bouncing her plump little baby on her shoulder.

“Maybe a glass of lemonade,” Ann says. They go into the kitchen, and Ann feels right at home. It is time to be practical here. You have to put food on the table, and these kittens are too small. That baby has got way more meat.

There's a knife on the counter, laid on the cutting board, like farm equipment.

I

Ann gets back outside and everything is so bright and open. Everyone is busy going to work. Coming home from work. The carrier is heavy in her hand, and the kittens are mewling. The baby, too. They don't like the sound of the cars. And when she peeks inside, the black kitten is just looking back at her. She likes him, she realizes. He doesn't trust her at all, and it makes her like him.

Back at the house, Ann locks the door behind her, and the kittens and the baby are still making noise. Margaret can hear them from her room, and it drives her crazy. She can hear them and now she is pounding on the wall. Ann looks through the peephole, into her sister's room. The chains look solid. So she opens the door and goes in.

The kittens are quiet now. They can hear Margaret, and have no idea what to make of those sounds. The baby keeps crying, of course. It isn't as smart as the animals. It doesn't have the instincts. Margaret hasn't eaten in two days, and she is desperate. The words are coming.

“Homework lonely makeup mother ice cream,” she says, and the words sound wrong. Ann doesn't look at her. Right beside the door is a
CD
player, ready with Margaret's shitty music, and Ann presses play. The volume is up full blast.

Then Ann opens the top of the carrier, and reaches in for the fat arms of that woman's baby. She sets him down on the floor, and pushes him with her foot to where her sister can reach. She pulls out the mewling white kitten, then the grey. The other white one.

Outside in the hall, she leans her back against the door. The music is so loud that it drowns everything else out. The kitten carrier is on the floor beside her, and inside it, the black kitten is still sitting. He looks like he expects her to pull him out, too, and toss him into that room, but she doesn't.

He's wrong about her. He ought to look grateful. Inside the room, though, Margaret is getting louder. You can hear her over the music now. More words.

There's blood on her shoes and Ann feels a bit sick. She doesn't like the words, but after a while Margaret calms down and the music is the only noise again. The little black kitten is mewling and Ann closes her eyes and pretends she is just home from school. Her sister Margaret has the music up too loud, even though she knows Ann has to study. As soon as Mom gets home, Margaret'll turn it down. Of course.

But what can you do? You can't just tell on her, she'll deny it. She's so aggravating. Look at her, look at the look on her face, behind Mom's back. Smug and self-satisfied. Human.

had

In the morning, Ann wakes up on the couch thinking that she's just fallen asleep. She thinks it's late afternoon. She's had a nap after school. Her mother is in the kitchen, cooking macaroni and cheese for her and Margaret. Everything is right for a few seconds, but dreams don't last. Their mother hasn't come back to them.

The morning newspaper has a picture of that woman on the cover. Ann sits down to read it on the front step, with the kitten on her lap. It's the cover story and they are aghast, downtown in newspaperland. Aghast! A young single mother, murdered! And her baby has been kidnapped. It doesn't mention the kittens at all.

“They don't mention you at all, Jackie,” she tells him, but he doesn't seem offended. What does he care? In the kitchen she opens a can of wet food for him, and he perks up when he hears the sound, like Margaret when she hears the door. Ann wishes her sister would eat wet cat food. But they tried that with their mother, back before their mother got loose. They tried that first. Then they tried raw steaks. Bloody. It still wasn't fresh enough.

After breakfast, the kitten follows her down the stairs, padding along the hallway to Margaret's room. Darling little sister Margaret will still be sleeping. She was up all night, howling and upturning furniture. But it's quiet time, now. Ann unbolts the door, and pulls it open. She puts the bucket down, and she cleans up as best she can.

There's blood everywhere except a big half circle, where Margaret's chains let her reach to lick the floor. But out past where the chains extend, there is blood, and there are chunks of kitten. Chunks of the poor missing baby. Margaret is curled up in the corner, and she looks peaceful. Her shirt is ripped, and underneath it, you can see the holes, where their mother took her organs. She isn't breathing, either, but she is pawing at the floor, lost in some dream. The trick is not to look at her face.

Her face is bent out of shape, but still recognizable. There are too many teeth in her mouth, now. It is torn open at the sides. Split along her cheeks, so the weird, jagged stones of her teeth can breathe. It would be better if it was just a twisted mess of a face, but it still looks like Margaret. The mouth has split in a small twist on the left side, like her old smile.

When it was their mother chained in the corner like this, Margaret and Ann would argue. This was when she was still Margaret. But Ann didn't mind the arguing. At least, when they were fighting about it, they were sisters. It was just the two of them, taking care of the thing their mother had become. Only, they couldn't agree about how exactly they should care for her.

The first time they gave their mother a live animal to eat it was a dog they stole. Mitchie. He was from the apartment building down the street. They used to see him all the time, on their way to school and back. Every day, he went out for a walk with his old man owner, and every day Mitchie would run into the woods. He was old, and he couldn't run very fast. But he would run into the woods anyway.

Ann and Margaret would walk home from school, and that old man would be standing there at the edge of the woods, stooped over, hollering and hollering. “Mitchie, you get out here right now. God damn it, Mitchie.” And eventually Mitchie would come stumbling out of the woods. They were cranky, blind old men together.

When the two girls realized that their mother needed live food, Ann wanted to buy birds from the pet store. Or maybe they could try to trap pigeons, she said. They were animals but they weren't pets, you know? They weren't a part of someone's family.

“Do you know how hard it would be to catch a pigeon?” Margaret said.

So they came home with Mitchie, and they put him in the room with their mother and ran upstairs to get away from the sounds. Ann turned on the
TV
, as loud as it would go.

They didn't talk about it until late that night when Margaret knocked on her sister's door and climbed into the bed. She put her head on Ann's shoulder and she said, real quiet, “Do you think he's still out there calling for Mitchie?” And in the morning, Ann woke up early to clean up what was left of Mitchie so that Margaret wouldn't have to see.

Now there's no arguing. There's nobody to argue with. Margaret will wake up when the sun goes down, and soon Ann will have to feed her again. Right now, Ann just wants to sleep some more, but there's always more work. She has to clean this up. The kitten sits in the doorway and watches as Ann cleans up drying chunks of baby, and he yawns.

just

Jackie puts her hand on the walrus and she can hear the warm, rushing blood. She doesn't know if it is a boy or a girl. A girl maybe. Her blood is warm. Her eyes are full of blood and she is pink pink pink. She's staring at Jackie with those eyes, and Jackie is smiling at the zoo security guard like she's not terrified. The guard is yelling something or other.

“
Blah blah blah
,” he yells. “
Blah blah blah blah
.” Jackie's classmates are crowded around him now, watching her. She looks crazy up here, but they're the ones who think that a little fence like that can stop them. Her teachers look tired, but they are always tired.

Well, Jackie has decided that she's not going back to school today. No prison can hold her! There is a whole entire world out there that she can see, but every day all she sees are the same classrooms and the same hallways, all day long. Her mother did just fine without high school. Jackie can get a tire iron, too.

The walrus is still looking.

She stands on the edge of the walrus pool and waves goodbye to her classmates; she will never see them again and it is polite to wish them well. But mostly they just stare at her blankly, like they're lined up in front of the sea cucumber tank. Jackie is not a sea cucumber, though. She waves to a mother and a little boy. She waves especially to a little pink girl. Pink hat. Pink dress. The little pink girl points her finger at Jackie, so Jackie makes a funny face just for her. The little girl shrieks with laughter. The boy laughs, too. For one second Jackie is a hero up here. For one second she feels like even crazy people can be heroes.

And Jackie jumps into the water. It goes up her nose and right into her brain and then everything is white. Her eyes hurt and she can hear people whispering. Jackie rolls onto her side and throws up on someone's feet. A man leans down next to her and puts his hand on her back.

“You're okay,” he says. “You swallowed a lot of water.”

Everyone is standing too close. Jackie throws up more water. The light is so bright. She is beside the walrus tank now, sitting in a puddle of thrown-up water. Everyone is crowded around her, but nobody good. She can't see the little pink girl or her family. She can't see Ann. The paramedic pats Jackie on the back again.

“I'm okay,” she tells him. “I'm okay. Go back to bed. I didn't mean to wake you.”

listened

Ms. Garcia can't keep still. She keeps asking, “Are you warm enough?” Jackie is wrapped in three blankets, sitting with her back against the wall in the security office. She's more than warm enough, but she likes when Ms. Garcia asks. They called Jackie's father more than an hour ago. They're waiting.