Heart Of Marley (8 page)

A
FTER
FINALLY
GETTING
BACK
from our weekly visitation with Mama, I dragged myself into my room, thinking that it was probably time to start going through the stack of college applications that were sitting on my desk. Just as I was about to print my name on the first one, I heard a gentle knock on the wall, followed by the sound of Marley opening the window in her room. Shaking my head, I knew what she wanted.

Opening my own window, I climbed onto the roof and made my way toward Marley as she lay on her back, gazing at the night sky. After lying there in silence for over twenty minutes, I could tell she wanted to talk, but didn’t know where to start.

“So it looks like you and Mama reached a turning point today,” I said, breaking the ice.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her wipe her cheek.

“Are you okay, Mar?” I inched toward her, grabbing her hand in mine. Nothing would prepare me for the words that were about to leave her mouth.

“Buck’s out,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shock and confusion covered my expression. “What do you mean?” I asked with a raised voice.

“Shhh…” she said, sitting up and looking at me. “Quiet or they’ll hear us.” She gestured down below to the lower level of our house.

“Who cares? They’re both more than aware that we sit out here.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not that, Cam.” She lowered her voice and her eyes had a fury and magnitude that I had never seen before. “Mama told me. She said that Aunt Terryn and Uncle Graham didn’t want us to know…didn’t want
me
to know. Mama listened at first, but she told me today while you were in the bathroom. She said she had a bad feeling in her gut that something horrible would happen if she listened to them and didn’t say anything.”

Sitting up, I pulled Marley’s body into mine as I processed what it meant. “He’s not allowed to come near you. You don’t have to worry about him hurting you again, Mar. I swear to you.”

“I know,” she said calmly, her lack of emotion somewhat surprising. “I get what you were telling me about forgiveness now. I don’t forgive him for what he did and I never will, but I
can
accept it for what it was and move on from it. I can stop carrying the burden of hate I had toward Mama for her lack of judgment. I felt normal last night and I want more of that. I felt normal today, too. I like that Mama and I have turned a corner.”

“Good. I’m glad. It’s been a long time coming, if you ask me.”

It was silent for a moment while we stared at the ocean.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked a few minutes later. “Buck… Did Mama say where he was or what happened?”

“No. All she said was that he was granted parole about six months ago, even though he shouldn’t have been up for another fifteen years or so.”

“That sucks. If you ask me, our parole board shouldn’t be elected officials.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You really should have taken Governments with me this past year.”

She laughed. “The only reason you took that was to suck up to Brianna’s father because he teaches it.”

“Maybe.” My eyes went wide. “Mar…” I turned to face her. “Her step-dad… He’s a former judge! Surely he would be able to access that information and could tell us what happened! Hell, maybe he could even get it revoked!”

“Cam, I’m not supposed to know. Mama will be in the doghouse with Aunt Terryn and Uncle Graham if they find out she said anything. And you know that the first person Mr. Grayson will call is Uncle Graham. It’s not worth it.”

“I guess you’re right,” I replied dejectedly, lying back down on the roof, Marley following my lead, the sound of Guns N’ Roses blaring from a car as it zoomed toward the shore. “Do you think you could at least find out where he lives? That way we’ll know whether he’s nearby or not.”

“I’ll ask Mama next weekend and see if she knows. I’m certain that the court would have sent notice to Uncle Graham, so there’s got to be an official document in this house somewhere, unless they got rid of it.”

“I’ll try to snoop around some time after school this week when Aunt Terryn takes the girls to dance class,” I offered.

She groaned in irritation. “Freaking dance class. They’ll just be put through the wringer like the rest of us. I wish I could stop it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Nothing, Cam,” she exhaled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If something’s bothering you, I
do
worry about it, Mar. You know that.”

“I know. It’s just the amount of pressure that these families put on girls. Look at little Julianne. She’s not even five and she’s already in dance class. Did you see the costume she wore at the recital a few weeks ago? And all the makeup that was plastered on her face? There’s this horrible expectation placed on girls to look pretty and act in a certain manner. They’ll go through it, too, Cam. And it breaks my heart to think that Meg and Jules won’t be able to do anything to stop it. They’ll get suckered into the limelight and the pageantry, not wanting to look at Aunt Terryn’s disappointed face if you say that you don’t want to compete anymore. And she’ll say that so-and-so’s daughter, your friend, loves the competitions and the pageants. So you feel guilt. Guilt at the thought of letting her down because this is what she did when she was growing up. And guilt for thinking that you’re not the perfect little girl you’re supposed to be. I just wish I could stop it. But I can’t.”

I had no idea how to respond to this. Marley was one of the smartest and most observant girls in school. She saw the spectacle of the pageants and competitions that girls begged to participate in as what they really were…a contest between the moms to gain bragging rights among their close-minded circle of friends.

“You could quit, Mar. Tell people how you really feel about it all.”

She shook her head. “If I pull out of the Jessamine Court, they’ll just replace me with someone else. My opinion won’t stop it. We’re all powerless to change anything. I’ll suffer through this last year of high school knowing that I can leave this all behind me in college and start over again…with you.”

“Mar…” I said in a cautioning tone. “We’ve talked about this. You need to go where you need to go, and I need to go where I do.”

She grabbed my hand in hers and turned to meet my eyes. “I
will
go where I need to go. Wherever you are and are happy is where I need to be.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her words. Marley and I had been through everything together. We had held each other’s hands through all the turmoil and dysfunction of the early years of our lives. We supported each other and laughed together as we blossomed into our teenage years. I was more than aware we had a bond that most kids my age would think was strange. I wouldn’t give this connection up for anything. Marley was my other half. She was my heart. She was my light. She was my best friend. She was my voice of reason. She was my everything. And I knew I was all those things to her, too.

“To the moon and back, Mar.”

“From the stars to the ocean, Cam.”

T
HIS
TOWN
EMBODIES
HYPOCRISY
. I can smell it in the air. I can feel it as the wind brushes my skin. I can taste it in the water. And I can see it when I look around at the people of my uncle’s church every Sunday. Hypocrites. “Pray to God,” they say. “And he’ll free you of your sins.” What about other peoples’ sins? And what if their sins still haunt me? What do I do about that?

I’ll tell you what you do, Marley. You go to church. You sit in the front pew with your aunt, the pastor’s wife, their two kids, and your brother. You smile. You shake hands with your fellow parishioners. You nod when they say how far you’ve come since you first stepped foot in this town, beaten, bruised, and tormented. Of course they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know you were abused every day. Such dignified people don’t talk about such things. No. They simply thought our drug-addicted mother could no longer take care of us. You bite your tongue when they say that they prayed for you to find your way. Little do they know that I’m still as lost as I ever was.

I had never gone to church when I was growing up. As far as I could remember, it wasn’t until Cam and I came to live with our aunt and uncle that we had ever stepped foot in a house of God. They both tried to infuse religion into our lives, but I don’t think it’s worked. I’m not saying I don’t believe in God. I just wonder how this all-loving, all-forgiving being could possibly allow a man to harm a little girl. Where was God when that was happening?

Listening to my uncle preach from his pulpit today, my body was in the poised position that I had mastered over the last six years…back straight; legs crossed at the ankles; small, yet pleasant smile on my face. All eyes of the church were not only on my uncle, but also on us. Any bad behavior on our part reflected poorly on him. Be well-behaved. Be gentile. Be perfect. Be anything but what you truly are. It wasn’t just me, either. Looking around the church, every last person was pretending to be someone they weren’t. Jessica Harper, the school slut, sat across the aisle from me, praying and nodding in agreement with my uncle as he spoke of saving yourself for marriage. She couldn’t even save herself for a week! But there she sat, her body in the same position as mine, her legs crossed at the ankles…even though we all knew they were spread wide open the night before.

We were all puppets. Every single one of us. The cycle had been going on for years and we’d all been powerless to stop it.

A loud grunting sound brought me back from my thoughts and my entire body stiffened, the air sucked from my lungs.

I felt a hand grab mine and looked to my left, meeting my brother’s silver-blue eyes. He squeezed and gave me a reassuring nod. I hated the guttural sound of a man clearing his throat. That’s what
he
always did. It brought me back there…to that horrible time in my life when all these peoples’ God was nowhere to be found. My uncle always told me that He has a purpose for everything, even in horrific events. I wonder what His purpose was in allowing a grown man to molest and beat me every night. I don’t see what it could possibly be. I don’t think I ever will.

I heard the sound again and all I could see was a sweaty body on top of mine. All I could hear were my screams echoing in my head. All I could smell was the scent of nicotine and stale beer. My chin quivered and I felt as if I was losing control of everything. All it took was one sound, one vocalization from a human throat, and I was back in that dingy apartment.

As my uncle spoke of God’s plan, I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted from the pew and ran down the aisle, gossiping eyes glued to me as I retreated from the sanctuary and into the church basement, locking myself in the ladies’ room. I could feel the whispers of the congregation on my skin as I splashed water on my face, trying to shake the memories.

I hated how the smallest things set me off, forcing me to return to that horrible time in my life. It always seemed to happen just when I thought I could move on and have a normal, teenage life. As much as I tried to convince myself that I was moving forward, it was almost like the world was reminding me that I was still living in the past…like someone was trying to keep the fear and torment inside of me.

A gentle knock sounded as I peered at my reflection in the mirror, the image of a degraded eleven-year-old girl staring back at me regardless of the fact that I hadn’t seen that person in over six years.

“Mar? It’s me. Are you okay? Wait. Let me rephrase that because I know you’re
not
okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

Taking a deep breath, I tried to pull myself together so that Cam didn’t see me so unsettled. It always worried him when I freaked out because of a memory. I hated the thought of constantly dragging him down because of my relapses. How much longer could he possibly be my life-guard?

I opened the door and met his concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Cam. I just needed a minute. I’m sure Aunt Terryn is already on damage control, telling everyone that I have my period or something to explain why I left…other than the truth. God forbid anyone actually knew the truth!”