Authors: John Saul
“And you
believe
him?” Teri asked, her tone freighted with an incredulity that Cora almost found herself accepting. Teri turned to Phyllis, her eyes glistening with sudden tears. “Phyllis, you don’t believe that, do you? I couldn’t—I
liked
Blackie! I—”
Phyllis held out her arms to the suddenly crying girl, and Teri buried her head against her stepmother’s breast. “It’s all right, darling,” Phyllis crooned. “Of course I don’t believe it, and no one else will, either.” Her voice hardened again as her eyes shifted back to Cora. “I don’t want to hear another word about this, Cora. I think you’d better tell Tag that it’s time for him to get back to work and accept the fact that dogs sometimes just run away. And if you can’t do that,” she added, “perhaps you’d better think about whether you and Tag want to stay on here. I don’t see how we can tolerate keeping you if Tag is going to start spreading rumors about my stepdaughter.”
The color drained out of Cora’s cheeks, and for a moment she thought her legs might buckle beneath her. But then she took another deep breath and nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, almost inaudibly. “I’ll talk to Tag.” Turning away, she hurried out through the French doors, leaving Phyllis and Teri alone together.
Teri, wiping her tears away, looked beseechingly at her stepmother. “Y-You don’t believe him, do you?” she pleaded.
Phyllis gave her one more reassuring squeeze. “Don’t be silly. I’d hardly take the word of a servant over yours, would I? Besides, I think I know you a lot better than Tag, and I can’t imagine you harming anything.” Her tone changed slightly and her eyes moved toward the stairs, up which Melissa had fled a few moments ago. “Now, what happened on the boat?” she went on.
Teri shook her head sadly. “It was awful. It’s all my fault, really. She didn’t want to go, and—”
Phyllis held up a hand. “That’s very generous of you,
dear, but there’s no need to make excuses for Melissa. Just tell me what happened.”
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Teri told the story. “I don’t know why she went down into the cabin,” she finished. “If she’d stayed up on deck, she probably would have felt better.”
But Phyllis had already turned away, quivering with anger. Now, because of her daughter’s weak stomach, she was going to have to miss her committee meeting. She could already see the patronizing look in Kay Fielding’s eyes when she tried to apologize for the mess Melissa had made on the boat. Well, this was the last time Melissa would make a fool of herself in public. Her anger growing steadily, she stormed up the stairs.
Teri, feeling a tingle of excitement run through her body, let her voice trail off, and silently followed her stepmother.
Melissa sat on the toilet in the little bathroom she shared with Teri, her head bent down almost to her knees. The sour smell of her own vomit filled her nostrils, and sobs racked her body.
Why had she gone on the boat? She’d known what was going to happen, known it right from the very beginning. And it had happened, just the way she’d known it would.
Just the memory of it seemed to trigger the nausea again, and she slid off the toilet, crouching on the floor, her head above the toilet bowl as the retching started again. As the water in the bowl turned brown with the last of the Coke she’d drunk, she reached up and groped for the handle, then felt a cool draft on her face as fresh water surged into the bowl from the tank above.
Another spasm struck her, and she retched once more, but this time only a thin dribble of foul-tasting spittle ran down her chin. And then she heard her mother’s voice as the doorknob rattled loudly.
“Melissa? Melissa, unlock this door and let me in!”
Melissa coughed, spat into the toilet, then raised her head slightly. “Leave me alone,” she wailed.
Outside, Phyllis’s lips tightened and she rapped loudly on the door. “Didn’t you hear me?” she demanded. “I told
you to open this door!” She grasped the handle once more, jerking on the door so hard it rattled on its hinges.
“I’m all right,” Melissa called, her voice muffled by the heavy door. “Just go away and leave me alone.”
Her anger inflamed into fury by her daughter’s words, Phyllis turned to Teri. “You have a key to this door, haven’t you?” she demanded.
Teri hesitated. Why didn’t Phyllis just go around to the other door? But even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer—Phyllis’s fury had robbed her of reason. Teri shrank away from her stepmother’s anger and hurried to her room. A moment later she was back. Wordlessly, she handed Phyllis the key.
Phyllis, hands trembling with anger, fumbled for a moment, then got the key into the lock and twisted it. Turning the knob once more, she jerked the door open to find her daughter curled up on the floor, her hands clutching her stomach, staring up at her.
“Get up!” she demanded. Reaching down, she grasped Melissa’s arm and yanked her to her feet. “My God, just look at you!” Phyllis hissed. Melissa shrank away from her mother, but Phyllis twisted her arm, spinning her around to face the mirror.
Melissa stared at herself, her eyes red and puffy, her blouse stained with vomit, her hair damp with the perspiration that had accompanied the nausea, plastered to her scalp.
“How could you do such a thing?” Phyllis hissed. “If you knew you were going to get sick, why did you get on that boat?”
Melissa’s eyes widened with fear. “I didn’t want to—” she began.
But her mother squeezed her arm so hard her words dissolved into an incoherent squeal of pain. “Didn’t want to?” Phyllis repeated, her voice harsh and mocking. “Didn’t want to? If you didn’t want to, then why
did
you?”
“I—Teri said—”
“Stop it!” Phyllis screeched. “Stop trying to blame Teri! I won’t have it! Do you hear? I won’t have you blaming anyone else for your own failings!”
Melissa gasped as her mother’s hand clamped down on her arm once again, then felt a wrenching pain in her back
as Phyllis spun her around. Suddenly, her mother’s hand released her arm and reached for her blouse.
“Look at your clothes,” Phyllis hissed. “They’re ruined! Take them off!”
Grasping the front of Melissa’s blouse with both hands, Phyllis jerked at the material and the buttons ripped loose, scattering over the floor. With another jerk, Phyllis spun Melissa around again and stripped the blouse off, hurling it into the far corner of the bathroom. “Now take off those pants,” she ordered, suddenly letting go of Melissa to turn the water on in the shower. “Do you hear me?” she shouted when Melissa, apparently rooted to the floor, didn’t move.
Teri, who had been standing in the open doorway, watching the scene in silence, took a step toward Melissa, but Phyllis shook her head. “Don’t help her,” she snapped. “She has to learn to take responsibility for the things she does.” Her hands dropping to her sides, Teri stepped back again.
The bathroom began to fill with steam as the stream of water pouring from the shower head turned hot. Phyllis glared angrily at her recalcitrant daughter. “Take off those pants,” she repeated, her voice quivering with anger.
Numbly, Melissa fumbled with the button at the waistband of her pants, and a moment later they dropped to the floor. She kicked her feet loose from them, then stripped off her underwear.
“Get in the shower,” her mother commanded.
Melissa stared at the billowing cloud of steam filling up the bathroom. “I-It’s too hot,” she whimpered.
Phyllis ignored her words, grabbing her daughter’s arm again, then twisting it around her back into a clumsy hammerlock. “I said, get in the shower!” Tightening her grip on Melissa’s arm, Phyllis pushed the girl forward. Melissa reached out to brace herself against the wall, but Phyllis knocked her arm aside and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back.
“No!” Melissa cried out. “Please, Mama, no—”
But it was as if her mother didn’t even hear her words, and Melissa stared at the steam, wide-eyed, as her mother forced her into the shower. The first drops of the scalding water struck her skin and she gasped.
Then, in her mind, she screamed out one more time.
D’Arcy! D’Arcy, help me!
And out of the mists of steam she saw a face coming toward her, smiling at her. Then she felt the presence of her friend and heard her voice.
It’s all right, Melissa. I’m here, and it’s all right. Just go to sleep.
She let the comforting blackness close around her, and listened only to D’Arcy’s gentle voice.
That’s right … go to sleep … just go to sleep …
As Phyllis forced Melissa’s head under the shower a moment later and the scalding water struck her daughter’s face, she felt her child relax in her grip. “Stay there,” she said. She reached for a rough washcloth and a bar of soap, and a moment later began scrubbing furiously at Melissa’s skin.
Melissa stood still, oblivious to it all, lost in the strange sleep to which she had retreated.
Teri, still watching the macabre spectacle from the bathroom door, saw the change come over Melissa’s face, saw her features suddenly relax, saw her eyes go oddly blank.
At last, as Phyllis continued to scour Melissa’s skin, Teri turned away.
She smiled to herself as she started down the stairs to spend the rest of the afternoon lying in the sun by the pool. It had been fun watching Phyllis torture Melissa.
Almost as much fun as it was torturing Melissa herself.
“What do you think?” Teri asked. It was Saturday afternoon, and she was in Melissa’s room, staring critically at her reflected image in the mirror on the closet door. The two of them had spent most of the morning attaching rhinestones to the tulle netting on the pink dress—hundreds of them, it seemed, which their father had brought with him when he’d flown up from New York the night before—and now, as the sun streamed through the window, the whole dress sparkled with myriad colors as the tiny prisms refracted the light.
“It’s fabulous,” Melissa breathed. “Put on the tiara, too.”
Teri picked up the tiara from Melissa’s vanity and carefully placed it on her head. Finally she picked up the “magic wand,” a piece of wood cut from an old broom Cora had found in her cleaning closet, which they’d wound with pink ribbon and capped with a tinsel-covered Christmas tree finial that had been Phyllis’s contribution to the costume.
“Well?” Teri asked, pirouetting in front of the mirror, then touching Melissa’s shoulder with the “wand.”
“It’s perfect,” Melissa breathed, smiling at her half sister. “You’re going to be the most beautiful girl there.”
“Who is?” her father asked from the door to the hall.
Melissa turned. “Look,” she said proudly. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Charles uttered a soft whistle of approval. “That’s some tiara,” he said. “Where’d it come from?”
“The thrift shop,” Teri replied. “Melissa bought it for me. I told her not to, but—”
“But it’s perfect,” Melissa broke in. “Without the tiara, it’s just an old dress. Nobody’d know what you were supposed to be.”
Charles cocked his head at his younger daughter. “So we know Teri’s going as a fairy godmother. What about you?”
Melissa’s grin faded. “I—I don’t think I’m going to go,” she said.
Charles frowned. “What do you mean, not go? Why not?”
What could she tell him? That she was sure Jeff Barnstable wouldn’t show up tonight? But why would he, after what had happened on the Fieldings’ boat Wednesday afternoon?
Even now she could still feel the embarrassment of it. She’d stayed home yesterday and the day before, unwilling to risk the stares she was sure she’d get from anyone she might run into. She could picture the kids playing volleyball on the beach. They’d start laughing at her, bending over with their fingers down their throats, making gagging sounds and pretending to throw up on the sand.
“No they won’t,” Teri had insisted when Melissa had told her why she wouldn’t go to the club, or even the beach. “It wasn’t your fault you got sick. Why would anyone laugh at you?”
Melissa hadn’t been able to answer her. How could she explain it to Teri? Teri was beautiful, and everyone liked her, and no one ever laughed at her. How could she explain what it felt like to know people were talking about you behind your back, and making fun of you? If it had never happened to you, you
couldn’t
know how it felt.
“I—I just don’t want to go,” she said now. “Can’t I stay home? Please?”
Charles’s shoulders rose in a small shrug. “Well, I think you’d better see what your mother has to say,” he suggested. “After all, you
did
tell Jeff Barnstable you’d go with him.”
“And she most certainly
will
go,” Phyllis declared, appearing in the doorway, frowning at Melissa. “There isn’t a problem, is there?” she asked.
Melissa felt suddenly weak under her mother’s icy gaze. “But I don’t have anything to wear,” she pleaded.
Phyllis brushed the objection aside. “I’m sure Teri can figure out something for you,” she said.
Teri nodded, taking off the tiara and reaching up to pull the zipper of the dress down her back. “Help me get out of this,” she told Melissa. “Then we’ll go up to the attic. There’s got to be all kinds of neat things up there.”
But in her own mind, she’d long ago chosen the costume Melissa would wear that night.
A few minutes later, as Teri led the way up the stairs to the attic, Melissa found herself hanging back. In her mind’s eye she still had a vivid image of coming up these stairs when she’d seen Blackie, a rope around his neck, hanging from one of the rafters.
But it hadn’t been real—it had only been a dream.
All week she’d been repeating the words, trying to convince herself that what she’d seen hadn’t been real. But the image was so vivid …
And Blackie was still gone. Even Tag had finally given up looking for him yesterday. “I don’t know what happened to him,” he’d said. “I guess maybe your mom’s right. He must have just run away.”
Her reverie was broken by Teri’s voice. “Come on,” her half sister was urging her. Then, smiling as if she understood what was going through Melissa’s mind, she reached out and took the other girl’s hand in her own. “It’s okay,” she said. “Remember when we were up here the other day? There’s nothing here but a bunch of old junk.”