Those Girls (3 page)

“Out.” Courtney usually shared more, so she was probably seeing someone she shouldn’t, like one of her friends’ boyfriends. Mom used to call Courtney her wild child, but she’d say it in a proud way. Dani was her worker bee, and I was her dreamer. I never felt like she had a favorite, more like she loved each of us for different things. She’d said we were all the best part of her, and that if anything ever happened to one of us, her heart would break.

Courtney smiled in the mirror. “Where’s
your
boyfriend?”

I rolled my eyes. Courtney knew perfectly well that Billy wasn’t my boyfriend—he was just the guy who lived down the road. We hung out sometimes, but it wasn’t like that, though he was always trying. I’d let him kiss me one time, just to see what it was like. He tasted gross, like barbecue chips, and his skin smelled like sweat. I didn’t tell Courtney or Dani about it, but I liked listening to their talk. Dani had only slept with Corey—they’d been together since the eighth grade—but Courtney slept around and had told me enough about sex and what boys like that I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to go through with it myself.

*   *   *

It was after midnight when Courtney finally stumbled home, smelling like cologne and cigarettes, giggling as she pulled on her nightgown in our room—we’d shared a bedroom since we were babies. Often we’d end up sleeping in the same bed, curled together like puppies, her long hair wrapping around us. On really cold nights Dani would pile in too. We’d talk about our mom, our dreams, Dani and her farm that would stretch for acres, Courtney and her music, the crowd screaming her name. I just wanted to take photos, of anything and everything. My sisters were my favorite subjects, but I liked it best when they didn’t know I was there. Dani fussing over the tomatoes, wandering among the cornfields, Courtney with no makeup and her hair messy, strumming her guitar.

Courtney pulled her blankets over her head and passed out. I drifted back to sleep.

Hours later, I woke to a crash downstairs.

I jerked up and fumbled for the lamp on my night table.

“The fuck was that?” Courtney said.

“Is it him?”

“I don’t know. Did you hear his truck?”

“I was asleep. I heard something downstairs.”

I found the light just as Dani slipped into our room, her face anxious. The three of us stared toward the door, not moving a muscle, listening. Was that the fridge opening? We heard something drop. Someone cursed.

Now heavy footsteps were coming up the stairs. I got out of bed, stood beside Dani. Courtney was sitting up, blankets pulled off, one foot on the floor, ready to run.

Dad pushed open the door. His white tank top was sweat-stained, blood or ketchup dotting the front, his shoulders covered in dark freckles and sunburn.

He gave us a big smile. “There’s my girls!”

I watched him, waiting to see if his smile would disappear and he’d start shouting insults. Dad started off happy when he was drinking, but it never lasted long.

“Well, come on, where’s my fucking hug?” He was still smiling, but anger simmered in his eyes.

Dani and I walked up to him, Courtney lagging behind. Dad crushed us to him in a hug, enveloping us in the smell of beer and sour sweat and cigarettes.

“Come on, let’s play cards,” he said when he let us go.

“It’s late, Dad,” Dani said. “Walter wants us up early, and—”

“I don’t give a shit what Walter wants,” Dad said. “I want to play cards.” Sometimes invoking Walter’s name would make Dad shut things down a little faster. He didn’t want to lose another place. But tonight he was too far gone, his blue eyes glassy, his sandy-colored hair damp on his forehead.

His eyes focused on Courtney. “Come on, Court. You’re always up for some fun—right, girl?” There was an edge to his voice, testing, like he knew something. Courtney looked terrified.

“Sure, Dad. Let’s play some cards.”

He was pissed at her. I could see that now. What had she done?

She started walking past him, but slowly, her body tense, like she was bracing for him to hit her. He pretended to lunge at her. She screamed and he laughed, his deep voice filling the room.

“You girls are a bunch of chickenshits.”

We followed him down the stairs, his broad back filling the space. He pulled one of the chairs out at the table, slapped his hand down on the wood.

“Sit your asses down.”

We all sat around him, and he gave me a grin. “How you been, Peanut? Miss me?”

“Yeah, Dad.” I felt like crying, hated the sound of drink in his voice, his phlegmy cough, his red-rimmed eyes.

He pulled a deck of cards out of his back pocket, started to deal them. When we all had a hand, he pulled a pack of smokes out of his other pocket, lit a cigarette, letting it dangle out of his mouth, one eye squinting from the smoke.

“We’ll play for cigarettes,” he said, throwing a few in front of each of us.

We all looked at each other.

“You think I don’t know you bitches steal my smokes?”

Dani said, “Dad, we don’t—”

“Save your bullshit.” He looked at me. “Get me a beer out of the fridge.”

I got up quickly, yanked a can free from the plastic ring. There were only two left.

I handed it to him and sat down. He opened the can with a loud pop, took a gulp, beer dribbling out the corner of his mouth. He didn’t wipe it off. Courtney and Dani were studying their cards. Dani’s forehead was shiny with sweat. Courtney’s eyes were still scared, flicking to Dad and back to her cards.

He caught her looking. “You trying to see my cards?”

“No.”

He slammed his fist down again, leaned over the table. “You trying to see my
fucking
cards?”

“No, Dad!” she cried out.

He leaned back, gave her an assessing look. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

She shook her head. “I’m not smart at all.”

He looked around at us. “Worthless—the whole lot of you. I work my ass off for you three, and all you do is embarrass the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” I didn’t know what I was apologizing for, but it didn’t matter.

His gaze settled back on Courtney. “Are
you
sorry?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m really sorry.”

“Then get your sorry ass over to the stove and make me a fried egg sandwich.” He laughed, then started coughing, choking on cigarette smoke.

Courtney got up and turned the stove on, set a frying pan on the burner, got eggs out of the fridge.

“We don’t have any bread,” Dani said, her voice calm, but her hand shaking slightly on the cards.

Dad snatched the cigarette away from his mouth. “You don’t have any
bread
?”

“We didn’t have any money.”

“Where’s the money I left you?” A hundred dollars. The three of us had stood in the store, studying the prices on the cans and boxes. Apples were on sale—we’d bought a big bag.

“We used it all,” Dani said. “We needed groceries.”

He was shaking his head now, a slow, dangerous movement. “You fucking useless bitches. A man comes home from working for weeks and he can’t even get a decent fried egg
sandwich
?”

Courtney was frozen next to the fridge, waiting.

“I can make you scrambled eggs, Dad,” she said. “I make good eggs.”

He turned and looked at her. “You make good eggs?” He laughed. “At least you can do something right.”

He was watching her now, staring as she cracked the eggs into the bowl with a shaking hand. She kept giving him nervous looks. He took another hard drink of his beer, sucked on the cigarette, almost biting it with his teeth.

“You better make sure that pan is good and hot.”

“It’s hot, Dad,” she said.

“Really hot?”

“Yeah.” She gave him another scared look.

My heart was up in my throat, and I was getting that sick feeling of dread. Something was going to happen. I could see it in my dad’s face, the way his hand was gripping the beer, his boot tapping under the table.

“What’ve you been up to, Courtney? You working hard?”

“Yeah, every day.”

“What about every night? What’ve you been doing then, Courtney?”

I saw the fear on her face.

“Just hanging out,” she said. Some of the eggs slopped out of the pan and hit the burner, filling the air with the smell of scorched eggs. She frantically tried to brush the crumbled egg away from the burner.

I looked at Dad, who was still watching Courtney. I waited for the explosion, but he was silent, just took another drag of his smoke. She turned the burner off, scraped the eggs onto a plate, then got a fork out of the drawer.

She walked over, carefully set the plate in front of him, and sat in her chair again. We all watched as he took a bite, pieces of egg falling off his fork and landing on the table. His cigarette was still burning in his other hand, the smoke drifting into Dani’s eyes. She didn’t move, didn’t cough.

Dad grunted, gave a nod, then took another bite.

I felt Courtney’s body relax a little beside me, heard her take a breath.

He stopped chewing, got a disgusted look on his face, then opened his mouth and let the whole mouthful slop back out onto his plate.

“These are fucking rotten!”

“We just collected the eggs yesterday!” Courtney said.

“It’s true!” Dani said.

“Maybe
you’re
the rotten egg,” Dad said, staring at Courtney, his eyes raging. “Everything you touch tastes like shit.” He picked up his plate and threw it at her. She jerked her body to the right, making the chair topple over, spilling her onto the floor. The plate shattered behind us. Dani and I leapt out of our chairs.

Dad took a lunging step toward Courtney, his huge body towering over her. Dani pushed me behind her as she reached for Courtney, but Dad was already grabbing her arm and hauling her off the floor.

Courtney screamed and tried to pull away. He dragged her toward the stove. I tried to go after them but Dani held me back.

“Do you know what it’s like hearing that shit about my kid?” he roared.

Courtney was begging, “What did I do?”

“Bob calls me in camp, tells me my good-for-nothing daughter’s screwing a married man!”

Dad had Courtney close to the stove. She was screaming. I was sobbing and yelling, “Dad, let her go!”

Dani released my arm and ran for the rifle, pulled it out from under the couch, grabbed the box of shells.

Dad picked up the frying pan, held it close to Courtney’s face. She squirmed, frantically trying to get away. I threw myself at his back, pounded against him, clawed his neck, any flesh I could find. He hit backward with his elbow, catching me in the jaw and sending me to the floor.

He gripped Courtney’s face tight in one fist, her eyes bulging.

“Dani!” I screamed. She had the gun up to her shoulder, aimed at Dad, but she was just staring, her face shocked and white.

Dad pressed the pan against Courtney’s jaw. She shrieked, the sound stabbing into me. Dani stood there, the gun quivering in the air.

I scrambled to my feet, yanked on Dad’s arm, pulling the frying pan away. He lashed out, smacking me hard across the face. I stumbled backward, crashed into the table. The pan slipped out of his grasp and thudded to floor.

“Fucking bitches!”

He wrapped his hand in Courtney’s hair and dragged her down the hall to the bathroom. Her back was sliding on the hardwood, legs kicking out uselessly.

I chased after them, grabbed on to his belt with both hands, pulled back. He swatted at me with his free hand but I didn’t let go. He was at the bathroom.

“I called the cops!” Dani yelled. “They’re coming!”

Our phone had been disconnected two weeks ago.

She was running after us, still carrying the gun. “Stop! Dad, stop!”

Dad flipped up the toilet lid, held Courtney’s face over the bowl. Plunged her down, brought her up so she could gasp at the air, then held her down again. Her legs kicked out.

I beat on his back, picked up the garbage can, slammed it down on his head, but he didn’t stop. Dani held the gun up again.

“Get out of the way!” she yelled, and I dropped the can, moved back to the doorway.

“Let go!” she screamed. “Let go!”

Dad laughed. Water streamed from Courtney’s face. She was gagging and gasping, clawing at his hands. He plunged her head down. The moment stretched out. I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Dani was screaming, but she wasn’t pulling the trigger. Courtney’s hand was loosening. Her legs stopped kicking out.

I grabbed the rifle out of Dani’s hands, aimed for the fleshy part of Dad’s shoulder, and pulled.

The shot echoed in the small space. Dani shrieked. A bloody gash opened on the side of Dad’s neck.

He let go of Courtney, who crumpled to the floor. He clasped his neck, looked at the blood. He turned and came at me, hands out, his face ugly with rage.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Desperate sobs coming out of my mouth, I pulled the trigger again. A small hole opened in his forehead and he dropped to his knees, fell forward. He made a couple of weird sounds, gasping breaths from his chest, then silence. Blood flowed onto the linoleum floor, pooled around his head.

“Oh, Jesus.” Dani ran over, checked his pulse. “He’s not breathing!”

My hands were shaking. I fell to my knees and stared at my dad’s body. Dani had flipped Dad over and was holding his face between her hands, blowing into his mouth, then pounding on his chest, but I knew it was too late. Courtney crawled past Dad, her face and hair wet. She got to me, and I dropped the gun. We gripped each other tight. Finally Dani stopped and sat up on her heels.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She turned to look at us, tears dripping down her face.

“You
killed
him,” she said, her voice stunned and shaky.

I’d killed Dad. I’d killed Dad
.
I couldn’t believe it. I swallowed hard.

“I had to. Courtney was
drowning
!”

She looked away then, a flash of shame in her face. She wiped at her nose, staring down at Dad’s body again. She put her hands to her head.

“What the fuck are we going to do now?”