The Fifth Circle (9 page)

“You’re right. It’s perfect,” Mom decided. “Sean, carry those boxes over here and help Alex decorate the tree. I’ll make some hot cocoa.” She left the room, and Alex and I dug through the boxes. I found a sprig of fake mistletoe and chased her with it. She squealed when I caught her and kissed her passionately. 

“Sean,” she whispered. “Not now. We can do this later.”

Damn right we would. I released her and watched in awe while she placed one ornament after the other on the tree. I admired the graceful outline of her body as she reached up to place a snowflake on a high branch, the way the multi-colored lights flickered across her pale skin, and the way she caught the corner of her lip between her teeth when she was trying to concentrate. 

“You’re so beautiful,” I said softly, and she turned and smiled at me. It was the first time she didn’t look away in disbelief or stammer a denial. “Alex, I…” I trailed off when
Mom came into the room. I sighed in frustration. It was probably for the best, though. We should be in the privacy of my bedroom when I proposed.

“The tree looks great, kids. Come on
into the kitchen while the cocoa is still hot.”

I placed my hand on Alex’s back protectively and led her to the kitchen.
We sat at the table and chatted with my mom until she yawned and announced her intent to turn in for the night. When she disappeared into her bedroom, I grabbed Alex’s hand and gently pulled her down the hall.

After
shutting the door and locking it, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her until all my pent up desperation evaporated. I was just getting ready to make my move when her cell phone rang. She fumbled to answer the call and her hands began shaking when she looked at the caller ID. I already knew who it was by the expression of fear on her face.

“Hi, Dad,” she said. Her voice trembled.

I could hear his response through the speaker on her phone. He was so loud, it would have been impossible not to. “Where the hell are you?”

“Next door. I told you,” she replied.

“Well, get your ass home. I’m tired and I want to go to bed. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna wait up all night while you screw that loser you spend all your time with,” he yelled.

Alex glanced at me warily, apologetically. “I’m coming. I’ll be right there
.” She almost dropped her phone. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I have to go home. I… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s
okay, baby,” I said softly. “Are you alright?” It was hard to be sympathetic and calm when all I wanted to do was to go next door and beat the living shit out of that man.  

“I’m fine,” she lied.

I gave her a brief kiss.
From the front porch, I watched until she let herself inside. A sense of deep foreboding followed me back to my room. I started to sign on to the game, but decided against it and instead sat on the edge of my bed and waited for her to call. No way would I be able to relax until I heard from her. Several minutes passed and I checked my phone to make sure it was on. 

At last, a
tentative knock sounded on the front door. I rushed down the hall and opened the door.
Alex
. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. A dark, red blotch marked the side of her face—it would be a bruise tomorrow. When I took her into my arms, she smelled like beer and despair. We’d been through this before. In the past, I’d held her while she cried, dried her tears, and sent her back to her abusive father. This time it would be different. This time she was eighteen and so was I. This time she would stay with me and I would take care of her.

“Everything
okay?” my mom asked, coming down the hallway, clutching her bathrobe tightly.

“The usual,” I said. My mom knew
Mr. Elmwood was a drunken asshole. “He hit her.”

“No. He threw a full can of beer at me,” she wept. I rubbed her back. 

“Well, why don’t you just stay here tonight?” my mom offered. “I’ll find something you can wear to sleep in.”

She disappeared down the hallway and I led Alex to the kitchen. I sat her down at the table and offered her a glass of water. She hiccoughed loudly and took a sip. My mother returned with sweat pants and a tee-shirt. I was relieved she didn’t tell Alex to sleep on the couch.

Alex went to the bathroom and changed. When she emerged, she was swimming in my mom’s oversized clothing. She’d never looked more fragile. I tucked her into bed and stretched out next to her, morphing effortlessly from lover to friend. She didn’t need a boyfriend tonight. She needed her best friend. 

She had just fallen asleep when her phone rang. The caller ID said ‘Mom.’
I answered it before Alex could awaken.

“It’s Sean,” I
said.

“Is she
okay?” Mrs. Elmwood asked tearfully.

I hated her as much as I hated her husband.
Alex was okay, but only because I was with her. Maybe she wouldn’t have to flee to a neighbor’s house if she felt safe at home.

“She’s fine. She’s sleeping here tonight,” I said.

“Good. That’ll give her dad time to calm down. They’ll work things out tomorrow. They always do,” she said, sounding resigned. “Thanks Sean.”

I hung up without saying anything else. What a stupid bitch. If it were up to me, I’d never let Alex go back there.

“Was that my mom?” Alex murmured.

“Yes. I told her you’re staying here. Go back to sleep
.” I stroked her hair until her eyes flickered closed and thanked God my dad had had the decency to leave his family. It was crazy because people felt sorry for me for not having a father. They blamed my problems on my dad—or lack of one. But Alex and I knew the truth—sometimes it was better when they left.

***

When I awoke the next morning, she was still asleep. Anger welled up inside me when I saw the purple stain on her cheek.

“Good morning,” I whispered when her eyes opened.

“Hey. Thanks for everything, Sean. You were so sweet to me last night. I swear I don’t deserve you.” Her eyes filled with tears.

“
Yes you do. I love you. You know, you don’t have to go back there. You could stay here permanently. If my mom knew everything…” 

“
No. She doesn’t need to know all that. That’s in the past.” Her voice took on a sharp, hysterical edge. She continued more reasonably, “Besides, it’s not like we live on the other side of town from each other. I’ll still run into my dad every day. It’ll make things really weird between my parents and your mom.”

“You’re not safe there,” I insisted.

“After something like this happens, he’s usually
calm for a few months. Maybe he’ll hold off until graduation. Then we can move in together.”

I’d made hints about us moving in together for weeks. This was the first time she acknowledged it could be a possibility. I wanted to ask her to marry me, but no
w wasn’t the time.

“If it happens again, you’re moving in here
. You keep your door locked?”

She nodded
and brushed at the tears on her cheeks. I was rendered speechless by her innocent beauty. Her dark hair was spread out across the pillow—my pillow. Her legs just barely touched mine. I reached out to touch her face and kissed her gently, but stopped when we heard the knock at my front door. “Oh, shit. What if that’s my mom? Or, my dad?” Alex hissed.

“Who cares?
They’re the ones who are messed up. Not you,” I reminded her. In a sick way, I almost hoped things would escalate between Alex and her parents. Then she could move in with me.  

Chapter
9 – Alex

Where now we cannot enter without anger

(Canto XI, line 33)

My
mom and Mrs. Droste faced each other, their arms folded and postures stiff. They looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Only Sean seemed unperturbed—of course, he’d never been one to adhere to social niceties. He tried to put his arm around me, but I eased away from him. I tried to keep an appropriate distance in front of our mothers. Eventually, he got the hint, stopped trying to claim me with his overzealous groping, and stood stiffly by the refrigerator.

“Coffee?” Mrs. Dro
ste asked.

“No thanks. I can only stay for a few minutes,” my mom replied hesitantly. “I appreciate you taking her in last night, Susan. You know how things can get with teenagers.” She
giggled nervously and tried to gloss over the fact that my father was an abusive, drunken jerk.

“Oh yes. I know,” Susan
said with a half-smile.

Whatever
, I thought, rolling my eyes. My mom, encouraged by Susan’s seeming acceptance of the situation, continued talking.

“Men are stupid. Dan’s still upset and unreasonable, so I thought Alex could probably stay with her aunt or over at Chelsea’s
for a couple of days,” she said, shooting a bright smile my way.

Seriously? It wasn’t a vacation or special treat. I was being booted from my home because my dad was pissed off for no reason.
How was it fair that I was being sloughed off on a relative or friend until the jerk calmed down? As always, my mom preferred to pretend nothing happened. She ignored the real problem—my dad.

“She can stay here,” Sean
said.

“Sean…” Susan
glanced sideways at him. Susan didn’t care one way or the other. She would do or say anything to keep her son happy and normal. For my mom’s sake, she tried to pretend she would never allow us to sleep together under her roof.

“I don’t know…” my mom
said with a shrug. She wouldn’t want me sleeping with Sean, but if there was a chance for her to pretend it wasn’t happening, she’d do it. Of course, my dad would flip out if he found out I was staying the night here, and for that reason, she would say no.

“Mom?” Sean appealed to
his mother once again. Susan blushed and shifted her feet at being put on the spot.

“Well…you know Alex is always welcome… and she can sleep on the co
uch again,” she lied. “But, of course, I can understand if her mom…” she trailed off, flailing her hands uselessly.

“I don’t know…if your dad…well, I guess…no, he’ll kill me. Oh, Alex, why can’t you stay with Chelsea?”
My mom rubbed her temples as if the strain of making such a huge decision was too much.

“I don’t know
if Chelsea’s even home…”

“Come on,” Sean
said, trying to catch his mom’s eye.

“If your dad finds out, I’ll tell him I thought you were
with Chelsea,” Mom told me. She looked at Susan. “Are you sure it’s okay? I mean, they
are
eighteen, and if she’s on the couch…”

“It’s fine. I mean, you’re right, they’re technically adults, and they’re just friends, really…” she trailed off.

And, so it was decided. With no one really communicating, telling the truth, or speaking in complete or coherent sentences, I was left at Sean’s house to spend the weekend. My mom would go home, lie to my dad about my whereabouts, pretend I wasn’t sleeping with Sean, and drift off into the oblivion of Lifetime Television movies. My dad would drink himself into a stupor while watching football, secure in the knowledge that my mother would neither deceive nor defy him. Susan would turn up the television so she wouldn’t hear the sounds of her son’s pleasured cries when he bedded me in the next room and I would pretend I didn’t know she could hear us.

O
ur lives were built on a foundation of half-truths, blatant lies, and mutual agreements to avoid speaking of anything that might shake our precarious tower of bullshit. Only Sean seemed satisfied by the way things worked out. I was fine staying with him, but would worry about my dad finding out. Tomorrow, I’d have to look my father in the eye and tell him I had a nice time at Chelsea’s house. But first, I’d have to call Chelsea and tell her not to call my parents’ landline, lie to her when she asked me where I was, and evade the intrusive questions she would inevitably ask on Monday at school.

I felt very tired all of a sudden. The dishonesty seemed pointless and pathetic. Sean steered me back to his bedroom.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” he asked, easing his hand under my shirt.

“Sure
.” What the hell? What was one more lie?

My mind was far away when he removed my clothes. I thought about the sad state of affairs at my house even as he nibbled my neck and groped my breast.
When he slipped inside me, all I could think about was how my hair still smelled like beer from my dad’s temper tantrum the night before. I wondered if I should ask my mom to bring me some clothes and a hairbrush even as Sean cried out and collapsed against me. When I felt something unusually damp between my legs, I tried to act like it didn’t matter that Sean failed to put on a condom that time.

H
e said it was an accident. “Oh, shit, Alex. I can’t believe I forgot to put on a glove,” he insisted. “I’m so sorry. I mean, we’re probably okay, right?”

“I don’t know. Probably,” I said. How should I know? I probably wouldn’t get pregnant. Oh, well. It was too late to think about it now.