The Mill River Redemption (26 page)

With his vision watery and distorted, it was easier to just close his eyes for a moment. It helped ease his worry, too. In his mind, he could go anywhere, to any happy place he wished. He decided to revisit his last birthday, when his mother had awakened him in the morning with a huge smile on her face.

“Happy birthday, baby!” she’d said, hugging him. “You’re nine! I can’t believe it, can you? I love you so much! Hurry and get dressed. Clara’s got your breakfast ready, and I’ve got something special planned for today. A surprise!”

Even though it had been a school day in early May, she’d taken him on his very first visit to Coney Island. It was extra-special, just the two of them spending all day in a kid’s paradise. Better yet, his mother had been so happy and carefree. She hadn’t made any snide comments about the filthy sidewalks. She hadn’t said a word about his father or complained about how the sun gave her a headache.
She bought cotton candy and funnel cakes and laughed when he pointed out that mustard from her hot dog had fallen in a yellow glob on the front of her shirt.

He’d ridden everything in the kiddie park. Next, on the bumper cars, he’d held on for dear life, alternately giggling and screaming, as his mother steered around the ring. They careened into walls and bashed other cars. After their third ride, with their sides aching and their heads spinning, they’d linked arms and walked to the Wonder Wheel.

They had definitely saved the best for last. In the soaring outer car of the famous Ferris wheel, a hundred and fifty feet up, he’d been able to see for miles—the waves rolling in across the vast ocean, the city stretched out on the other three sides, the sun starting to sink down behind the skyscrapers in the distance. The fresh, salty air skimmed their faces and whipped through their hair. He felt buoyant, almost overcome by the exhilaration of it.

“It feels like we’re birds. Like we’re flying!” he’d said to his mother.

“It does,” she’d agreed, her voice calm and wistful. “Like we’re flying away.” He wondered after the fact why his mother hadn’t grimaced at his comment, since she disliked birds. But, she’d only touched his cheek, smiled a little, and gazed out at the view.

The memory of salt water and sunshine faded, replaced by the lingering odor of microwave dinners. Through the ceiling, Alex listened to the squeaks of his mother’s steps heading toward the bathroom and then heard the muffled roar of water rushing into the bathtub. Only then did he seize the half-empty bottle of wine that still sat on the table and pour it down the kitchen sink.

C
ARRYING A PLASTIC GROCERY SACK
, E
MILY STEPPED OUT ONTO
her front porch. The moon had risen, and the street was quiet. She
looked over at Rose’s house and was pleased to see that even the upstairs lights were out. Quietly, she went to her car to retrieve the last shopping bag she’d brought home from work. That bag was heavier than the one she had brought from her house because it contained birdseed.

Using one of her car keys, she punctured the plastic birdseed bag and then slipped her fingers into the hole, pulling the plastic apart to widen the opening. A couple of times, she scooped up a handful and then let the tiny round grains run through her fingers. At first, it was a pleasant sensation, one that brought back childhood memories of reaching into the bag her mother had always kept to refill the feeder in their yard. One memory led to another, though, and soon she was a fourth-grader again, waiting for the bus on a dreary, rainy morning just a few feet from where she currently stood.

It had been her turn to bring in something for show-and-tell. Aunt Ivy had helped her make a bird feeder out of Popsicle sticks, and her mother had allowed her to take some of their birdseed to school with it, in case her teacher allowed her to fill and place it outside the window of her classroom.

As she had stood holding the feeder and birdseed carefully in a shoe box, an older boy she didn’t recognize approached her.

“What’s in the box?” he’d demanded to know.

Emily hadn’t answered him immediately. She’d been so shy back then. Instead, she’d taken a step backward, moving further under the large umbrella Rose held over both of them.

“I said,
what’s in the box?

“A bird feeder, for show-and-tell,” she’d whispered.

“Well, if it’s for showing, let’s see it, then,” the boy had said, grabbing the box roughly from her. He’d opened the shoe box and removed the bird feeder.

“Please, give it back,” Emily had said. She’d glanced across the
street, at her own house, but her mother had already left for work. The Bookstop next door wasn’t open yet, and its front windows were still dark. She also noticed how, by that point, the other children clustered at the bus stop were staring at what was going on.

Apparently seeking to make the most of his audience, the new boy had smirked and dropped her bird feeder onto the sidewalk.

“Oops,” the boy had said.

Emily remembered her face getting hot as she’d stared at chunks of glued Popsicle sticks on the wet concrete.

“That was my sister’s project for school,” Rose had yelled, stepping in front of her. “She didn’t do anything to you. Why would you be so mean?”

“Aw, it was just an accident,” the boy had said. “But, since it’s broken, I guess she won’t be needing this anymore.” The bully had opened the small container of birdseed in the box. With another smirk, he’d lunged at them, hurling the contents forward. Rose’s attempt to shield them with the umbrella came a second too late. Emily could still feel the tiny seeds spraying against her face, lodging in her curly red hair.

She remembered the look on Rose’s face then. With her eyes squinted and her nostrils flaring, Rose had brushed the birdseed from her long, blonde ponytail. “You’d better apologize,” she’d said to him through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” he’d laughed, looking down at Rose. “You’re just a
girl
. You know, though, I wouldn’t mind having a nice umbrella like that.”

Rose had stared at him for a moment before she closed the umbrella and held it out to him. “All right,” she said. “Here.”

Apparently thinking he’d scored another win, the boy had stepped forward for the umbrella. When he was within range, before he or anyone else realized what she was doing, Rose lowered the pointed end to the ground and then snapped it upward. The
firm center pole struck squarely between the bully’s legs, and he cursed and dropped to his knees. Emily remembered staring at Rose, at once horrified, awestruck, and proud, as the boy groaned with his hands clasped over his crotch.

“You owe
my sister
an apology,” Rose had said, smacking him on the backside with the umbrella. “And yes, I
am
a girl. Don’t you forget it.”

Still standing on her front porch, Emily could see Rose’s freshly washed BMW gleaming in the moonlight. Part of her, the shy fourth-grader cowering before the bully from her youth, argued against doing what she had planned. It went against her character. It just wasn’t nice. And yet … her gaze traveled back to her own car, where the tiny spare tire was still mounted on the front right wheel. So much had changed. She didn’t know or understand the Rose of today, the once-protective sister who couldn’t face reality and who had ruined her future.

Emily glanced around again and then carried the birdseed and the smaller grocery sack a few steps up the sidewalk to Rose’s car. Carefully, because she didn’t know whether the BMW had a touch-sensitive alarm, she lifted a handful of birdseed and sprinkled it across the black trunk. She worked her way around the car, dribbling the birdseed on the hood, the roof, and anyplace else that was flat enough to keep it from rolling onto the ground. When she was satisfied with her application, she took the lighter grocery sack and dumped the contents, which were courtesy of Gus, on the ground right outside the driver’s side door.

If her dog-and-bird-hating sister wanted to play the vandalism game, she was more than happy to give Rose an
au naturel
taste of her own medicine.

CHAPTER 22

1995

“C’
MON
, E
M, PLEASE
? M
OM

S GOT A LATE MEETING, AND
she’s being stubborn. She won’t let me take the car unless you go, too. Now that I’ve got my license, I’ll look like a total loser if Mom drops me off.”

Emily rolled her eyes. Unlike Rose, she rarely went to football games and never went to school dances afterward. The music was always so loud, and even if she had known how to dance, she didn’t have a boyfriend to dance with.

“Why can’t you get a ride with one of the other cheerleaders? They’ll all be going, too.”

“I’m always bumming rides,” Rose complained. She was adjusting her red, white, and blue uniform with the school’s Minutemen logo. “It gets old after a while. Can you just come with me, this once? You can bring a book or your sketchpad or something and hang out in an empty classroom. You don’t have to dance. We can meet up when it’s over.”

Emily sighed. Trying to deny her sister was always a losing battle.

She ended up bringing her homework for English class. After the football game, as Rose disappeared into the darkened gymnasium, Emily slipped into an unlocked classroom. To her surprise, she was able to block out most of the pulsing rock music coming from the gym and focus on her reading.

When the music stopped, Emily looked at the clock on the wall and gathered up her things. It was almost eleven. Sure enough, the other students were filing out of the gym. She watched for Rose, waiting until the last of the kids cleared out, but her sister wasn’t among them.

She joined the other students walking toward the parking lot. Her mother’s old station wagon was in the same space where they’d left it before the game. Emily leaned against the back end, assuming that Rose would soon show up, but after another fifteen minutes had passed, the wagon was the only car left in the lot.

Emily placed her books on the hood of the car and walked back to the school. Already, the lights inside were turned off and the outer doors were locked. The chaperones at the dance must have made sure before they’d gone home that nobody was left in the school. But, if Rose wasn’t inside, where was she?

A fluttering, panicky feeling started to build in her stomach.

Maybe she left with some friends
. Of course, after Rose had made such a big deal about driving to the game herself, that was unlikely.
Maybe she really did get locked inside the building
. Trying to ignore the chilly autumn air, Emily started to walk the perimeter of the high school, looking in through the main glass doors and tugging on the handles in the hope of finding one that was still open.

The back of the school faced the football field. As she rounded the building’s corner, a movement near the bleachers in the distance caught her eye. Someone had stepped out from behind them just for a moment. At about that time, she heard an angry female voice, followed by a scream that was cut short.

Rose
.

Emily ran toward the bleachers. The sounds of struggle became audible—the scraping of shoes on the ground intermingled with deep laughter and muffled screams.

There were two tall, well-built young men. One of them was trying to keep Rose’s arms pinned behind her and a hand over her mouth, but she was twisting and kicking with all her strength to break free from his grasp. The other man was reaching under her cheerleading uniform as he laughed. Neither one of them heard Emily approach.

“That’s my sister! Get your hands off her!” Emily screamed as loud as she could. The men whirled around in surprise. For a moment, no one spoke.

“Well, would you look at that,” one of the men finally said. “Now we don’t have to share.”

“And she’s a
redhead
,” the other man replied. He leered at Emily and started toward her.

I’ll never outrun him
, Emily thought, and even if she ran, there was no one around. Besides, she wouldn’t, couldn’t leave Rose. She felt her legs start to shake. For a split second, her eyes locked with her sister’s, but it was long enough. A great wave of energy seemed to flow from Rose’s green eyes into her blue ones, infusing her with newfound courage. Her trembling subsided.

“You get your hands off my sister!” she screamed again. She didn’t run or even flinch. She glowered at the man advancing on her and pointed in the direction of the school parking lot. “Our mother is waiting in the car over there, and her best friend is married to the chief of police. If we’re not down there in thirty seconds, and maybe even if we are, you’re gonna have every cop in Rutland County after you. I’d start running now, if I were you.”

The man advancing on her stopped cold and looked over his shoulder at his companion. At exactly that moment, Rose managed to bite down on her captor’s hand.

“Ow! Goddamnit, she bit me,” he said. He released Rose roughly, shoving her to the ground, so that he could cradle his bleeding hand.

“Aw, fuck this,” the other one said. Together, the men took off into the trees behind the athletic field.

“Rose!” Emily rushed to her sister and helped her up. “Are you hurt? Did they—”

“No, they didn’t. I’m fine,” Rose said.

“We’ve got to get to the car, in case they come back. Where’s your purse?” Her sister seemed rooted to one spot, so Emily searched around the bleachers until she found Rose’s purse on the ground. Quickly, she returned to her sister. “C’mon.”

“Oh, God, Em.” Rose took a step forward and stumbled as she started to cry uncontrollably. Emily wrapped her arm around her sister’s waist for support. Rose smelled like sweat, their mother’s expensive perfume, and booze.

When they reached the car, Emily pulled the keys out of the purse and helped Rose into the passenger’s seat.

“You’re fourteen. You can’t drive,” Rose objected when she realized what Emily was doing.

“I can tell that you’ve been drinking, and you’re still messed up from what those guys did,” she replied. “And I
can
drive. I’ve practiced on the back roads with Mom. Better to drive sober without a license than drive drunk and kill someone. Unless you’d prefer to call Mom to come get us.”

Other books

The Darkest Embrace by Hart, Megan
The Appointment by Herta Müller
Freewill by Chris Lynch
The MacNaughton Bride by Desconhecido(a)