Marionette Read online

  After a quick introduction to the rest of the parents, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see Mr. Cooper. “I’m so glad you know how to do this. I’ve never been very handy.” He laughed self-consciously and peeked out of the corner of his eyes at Jenna’s father, a manly giant wearing a tool belt.

  All of us got to work. It was difficult working in such a confined space with eight people. But I loved that no one spoke, except to say, “Pass the hammer,” or “Can you hand me the screwdriver?” Those were the type of conversations I excelled at. Actions, not words. Not one personal detail was exchanged. Not one intimate detail about my life or my family was asked. They knew my first name, and that was all. Once, when applying for college, I thought about changing my last name because it had occasionally appeared in the papers when I was forced to pose for photo ops with my parents. However, I had learned, over the years, that no one really looked at the names under those photos—‌well, except for the people in the photos.

  They might have suspected that I lived with a nut job. But so what, I was fucking surrounded by kooks. How did I get a Mouseketeer as a roommate?

  I sighed. It was going to be a long year. Maybe if I got a job I could afford a private room after the first semester. I knew, for a fact, that Abbie had a room to herself. But not me. I had to suffer. I looked at Minnie. She just smiled at me. Jesus! It wasn’t fair!

  Chapter Four

  I soon learned that I was the shyest person out of the four of us. On many occasions, my three roommates made me uncomfortable by getting undressed in front of me. Growing up, I always had my own room. My sister and I never shared a room, a bathtub, or anything. It was almost like we were raised in separate households. Strangers. I learned to love my isolation.

  I think my desire for privacy offended Karen, a free spirit who didn’t understand why I was so uptight.

  But I was uptight, and I couldn’t change that. When I used the bathroom, I locked both doors so no one could barge in on me. The day after meeting Jenna and Karen, I was changing my clothes behind locked doors when Karen shouted that the phone was for me.

  I opened the door, shoved the last bit of my shirt into my jeans, and mumbled a thank you.

  “Hello?” I said into the receiver.

  “How did it go?” My friend Mel always dismissed pleasantries and got right to business.

  “Hi, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. How did what go?” I hunched the phone into my shoulder while I pulled my shirt out so I wouldn’t look too uptight. Karen looked relieved. Mel, of course, was asking about meeting my therapist, and I didn’t want Minnie and group to know about that.

  “That good, huh?”

  “That about sums it up.” I grabbed the phone in my hand again and turned to see a curious audience.

  “I really can’t talk right now. I wanted to call and check in before you started your classes.” Mel sounded tired. She had probably worked ten hours at the mall for the back-to-school crowd.

  “Never better.”

  “It was that bad? Jesus, I’m sorry, but I really have to go. I’ll call you later and we’ll talk.” She rushed through the words.

  “Okay. And Mel, tell Wesley I said hi.” I hung up. I grinned mischievously, assuming that would get a rise out her. Her boyfriend and I didn’t get along, to say the least. I knew she had to get off the phone because Wesley didn’t want her talking to me. He despised me, not just because I was gay, but because I was a rich bitch. Two no-nos in his book.

  The three stooges stared with their mouths slightly agape. “Are we ready to go?” I asked.

  “W-who…‌who was that?” stammered Minnie.

  “That was my friend Mel.”

  “Who’s Wesley?” she asked.

  Oh, so that was it: not only was I living with a Catholic, but with a homophobe. Perfect! Could this living situation improve at all? Stupid questionnaire for roommates. I was utterly convinced they lost mine and just stuck me in this situation.

  “Wesley is Mel’s boyfriend.” I didn’t mention that Mel was short for Melanie. Let them sweat it out some. Serves them right for eavesdropping on my phone call. They could have been polite and gone into Karen’s and Jenna’s room to give me some privacy.

  “Anyhoos, are you all ready to go?” I asked.

  Jenna started for her room. “Almost.” She returned with her keys.

  As we left the dorms, I realized that every stereo was blaring. It was the first weekend at college for most of us and classes started on Monday. Obviously, the plan for the weekend was to live it up.

  The four of us decided to break in the new town together, which involved going to a fraternity party. I wasn’t too keen on the idea, for obvious reasons. However, I never voiced my opinion. I usually kept it pretty quiet that I was dating a woman. My silence on the matter didn’t go over all that well with Jess. She was older and was out to everyone, including her work colleagues, friends, family, and the random grocery store clerk. Jess was not shy. I had no desire to let people into my life. It was not that I felt ashamed. I just didn’t care enough about people to get close to them. I had few friends in high school and I didn’t like my family, so telling them was never an option.

  Keeping Jess out of the picture in my college town wouldn’t be too difficult. She lived two hours away, and she was four years older. We associated with different groups of people. We decided that when we saw each other, I would head to her town. My parents lived two towns over from Jess. In each city, I lived a different life. At Jess’s, I was me. At my parents’ place, I was the dutiful daughter. And now, in college, I was the wild college student. Wild, please! But I was a college student, at least.

  We arrived at the first frat house after 10 p.m. Music blared, the air was filled with smoke—‌not just from cigarettes—‌drunk people lay sprawled in an inch of beer on the ground, and others danced, trying not to spill their beers. No one was older than twenty-five. To the normal college student, this was paradise. Heck, most of the guests weren’t of drinking age yet. Throughout my senior year, I heard countless people talk about the allure of college life: beer, parties, sex, independence, and no parents.

  But now I was hesitant. I liked the “no parents” part. I liked the freedom part. I just wasn’t too keen about the rest. It wasn’t that I didn’t drink. I drank, but sometimes it made me nervous. I grew up surrounded by alcoholics and drug addicts. I didn’t see the appeal of getting wasted all the time. I liked to stay in control. The scene before me was definitely out of control. It made me uncomfortable.

  Several frat guys darted towards us as soon as we entered. They wore typical fraternity garb: Ralph Lauren or Eddie Bauer shirts and shorts. Even after the introductions, I didn’t remember their names, and I wasn’t going to try to find out either. They immediately offered us beer, proving one rumor true: a frattie will give you as much beer as you want in the hopes that it will pay off in the long run. I wasn’t falling for it.

  It seemed I was alone on this count. One guy said, “What are four beautiful ladies doing in a place like this?”

  I rolled my eyes. We’d heard the line before. Hell, it’d been in every girl-chasing college-type movie. No originality at all. Did he think it would work?

  Minnie chirped, “Just to have fun.”

  Seriously, was I doomed to live the next four years in a John Hughes flick? Did no one think for themselves? Did they just spout stuff they saw in movies? Granted, I liked the films. Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles—‌the list goes on. But they’re movies, not guidelines on how to live. Come on, people! Smarten up.

  The dude responded, “That’s what I like to hear.” He had his arm around Minnie’s waist already. Shoving a beer into her hand, he whisked her away in a cloud of smoke. I had to give him credit for being fast. I hoped Minnie was just as quick later in the night when it was time to go, but I had my doubts. Maybe she would locate a hole with cheese in it and curl up in it for the night like a good little mousey.

  One down, t
wo more to go. It didn’t take long. Jenna and Karen found love interests for the night within a few minutes, leaving me alone at a party with hundreds of people. Now that’s an impressive feat, but a normal one for me. It’s easy to disappear in a crowd.

  I stood in a corner, a drink in hand. I wasn’t drinking it; it was just for security. If I already had a drink, no guys would approach and ask if I wanted one. My thoughts returned to Liddy and her comment about having the weight of the world on my shoulders. What did she know? How had Jess even convinced me to go to therapy? I was not the opening-up type.

  Next time, I just needed to ensure I had more time. Step four, dammit!

  I watched a girl across the room who was stumbling drunk. She swatted at an imaginary bug and accidentally whacked her boyfriend in the face. They both giggled hysterically. He was just as drunk, and the two of them toppled over into the inch of beer on the ground. Actually, it was growing, so maybe two inches. Watching them rolling around in the beer—‌at least I hope it was just beer—‌made me shudder.

  That’s when I went back. I no longer saw the drunken college girl. I saw Alex, my best friend. We’d been born three days apart and had grown up together. She lived across the street from us, and right from the start, we were inseparable. I don’t have any pictures, but I can remember how beautiful she was. Alex was a knockout. People said we looked alike. But I knew she was more beautiful.

  Even when Alex first started to drink, at the age of thirteen, she was still a sweetheart. When she started snorting coke, even that didn’t change her heart. It transformed her personality, but not her heart.

  It didn’t take long for her to become hopelessly hooked. I still remember the night her parents called the cops to force her into rehab. She stood in the middle of the street in a torn T-shirt and jeans and she screamed bloody murder. Two police officers, one man and one woman, tried their best to calm her down. The male police officer seemed reluctant to approach her. Alex’s torn shirt exposed the top of one breast. She had started to develop in the fourth grade, and it was easy to mistake her for an adult, which a lot of people did that night. Her body ceased to be a little girl’s body far too soon for any child to handle. Grown-ups didn’t know what to make of it either. The female cop tried for half an hour, unsuccessfully, to get Alex into the car. The tee kept tearing, and more cleavage fell out. Alex had never liked wearing a bra since she was forced to wear one at such a young age.

  No one was outside—‌odd for a hot summer night—‌because no one wanted to witness Alex’s demise. That was the problem. No one understood her, and no one wanted to be there for her. Even her parents didn’t bother leaving their house to help. They had never helped before, so it wasn’t surprising to me. The cops kept peering back at Alex’s front door. Maybe they were praying one of her parents would help, too.

  Alex stood in the street, screaming for me. It had been a scorching July day—‌the hottest I can remember. Her hair was matted with sweat, her eyes bulged out of her skinny face, and she looked like death. She kept shouting for me. The longer she screamed, the more desperate she became. She started to pull her own hair out. She was in such a rage.

  “Why?” she kept screaming. “Why did this happen? Why won’t you come? Why?”

  My mom wouldn’t let me outside to help. Alex wanted me. She wanted me to run away with her. She didn’t want to go to some secluded rehabilitation center. Somehow, her parents had scrounged up enough money for a posh facility. They were in over their heads with their house, boat, swimming pool, and two Porsches. It was no secret that they were on the brink of economic ruin.

  I fought my mom, kicked and screamed, but she gripped me like I was a ragdoll. She would not let me out of her clutches. Each time I moved forward, she pulled me back, as if I were a marionette on a string.

  I can still hear Alex’s voice. The desperation. The sadness. The anger. I can still see the tears leaking from her eyes. Venomous tears. The hatred. By the time the cops got her into the back of their vehicle, Alex hated me for not coming. It was the first time I had ever let her down. Turned out to be the last time, as well.

  Then, I had hated myself too, for not breaking free. And now, I despised myself even more. I didn’t know it then, but that night was a turning point in our lives. Guilt festers inside me. There were times when I felt I could never look in the mirror again—‌all I saw was Alex. Not me, not Paige—‌just Alex. Alex’s eyes filled with hatred because I didn’t go to her when she needed me the most. Smoldering hatred.

  She had stared at our front door the entire time she screamed. Could she see my mother holding me back? Did she see how much I struggled to break free? For a brief moment, I thought I’d noticed her locking eyes with my captor. Did she know? Alex’s face had hardened and her eyes had blazed with such abhorrence that I had felt my knees give out. Her glare frightened me.

  “Why?” she had shouted.

  I didn’t understand her question at the time. For me, the answer was obvious: she was hooked on drugs and needed help. I didn’t know, back then, why she was hooked. If I had paid closer attention to the rambling she had done the day before, I would have put two and two together. I would have fought harder and escaped my mom, the evil bitch.

  Then we would have been free. Instead, now we were both trapped. Me in a living body; Alex, in a grave.

  “WHY?”

  The voice came from behind me. I didn’t turn around, trying to figure out whether the person was real or from my imagination. Maybe, if I ignored the question, it didn’t matter if it were real or not. I stood frozen. Why what?

  Someone tapped my shoulder.

  Plan A shot, now time for Plan B…‌think, Paige.

  “Why is the sky blue?” Yes, I admit, that wasn’t original. I’m just as bad as the rest of the people at this party. Hackneyed.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I was never good at science.”

  I turned and saw a guy holding a beer and swaying in a circle. How he was still standing mystified me. Would he topple over?

  “That’s okay. I study history.” I study history. Why did I say that?

  “I’m in the businessh program. But I hate mathh,” he slurred.

  I put my hand on his shoulder to steady him. You might think I was being kind. Maybe I was, but I was more afraid he was going to collapse on top of me. His foul breath invaded my nostrils. Had he just grabbed a fresh beer after puking?

  Two more men approached, placed an arm under each of the drunk’s arms, and hotfooted him out of the party.

  Again, I was alone. I focused on the partygoers, anything to avoid going back to that night. Fuck, that night tormented me. Alex’s eyes, her screaming, and that final look before the cops grabbed her—‌oh, that final terrifying look. Even now it gives me gooseflesh.

  Stop it, Paige!

  My roommates stumbled out the back door and discovered me by collapsing on top of me. I struggled to hold all three of them up, but unfortunately, Minnie toppled to the ground. What a shame.

  They demanded that we stay at the party. I was the designated driver for the night, and I insisted that we leave. I was victorious.

  Minnie and Karen leaned on each other to stagger out to my car. I supported Jenna the entire way, her head resting on top of mine. For someone so slender, she still weighed a ton! I wondered if my muscles would be sore the next day.

  Campus police swarmed around our dorm like rattlesnakes—‌ready to strike at any moment. How was I going to get three extremely inebriated girls up to our room without being noticed?

  It didn’t help that Minnie and Karen both had the giggles. Putting my finger to my lips to shush them, I motioned for us to take the back stairs. It wasn’t a brilliant plan, but it was the only option available.

  The first two doors were uneventful, but right when I thought we had made it to our room undetected, two cops popped into sight in our hallway. Just like in the movies.

  “Good evening, or shall I say good morning?” said the taller of th
e two.

  “Top of the morning to you.” I tried to be cute—‌sometimes it worked for me.

  Karen and Minnie burst into giggles again and Jenna stumbled, almost pulling me down with her. She landed on her ass, propped against her door.

  The shorter cop sighed. “How much further do you have to go?”

  I pointed to the door Jenna was smashed up against.

  The two officers studied all four of us, and then looked at each other. Their haggard faces told me that it had been a long night.

  “Take care, girls. And don’t forget to drink lots of water.”

  “Thanks, bye,” I said, sure my eyes conveyed my thanks. I yanked Jenna’s keys out of her pocket and ushered all three of them inside before the snakes changed their minds.

  That night, I lay in bed and listened to Jenna purge her body of the alcohol. Yes, it was going to be a long year. I rolled on my side and pulled my pillow over my head. All I wanted was sleep. Peaceful, dream-free sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Monday morning came too fast for all of us. I was the first one up, showered, and off to class. I’d registered late and was stuck with all the early bird classes. Who could speak French at eight in the morning? Maybe the French. I could barely grunt in the morning, let alone conjugate irregular verbs.

  The plus side to the crappy schedule was I had my afternoons all to myself. Jess proclaimed cheerily that it gave me time for therapy. Why did she have to throw a wet blanket on everything? However, I was bolstered by the fact that my therapy was only once a week, every Friday afternoon, as a matter of fact. The best way to start any weekend—‌baring my soul to a complete stranger who fed on the weak like a lion ripping chunks from a dead gazelle. How’s that for staying positive.

  Mind you, on this particular Monday, I had an appointment with Liddy to get a jumpstart on therapy. Had Jess tipped off Liddy? Had she put a rush order on my happiness? What next? Would Jess start to buy me yellow shirts?

  After attending three classes in the morning and listening to introductions about the courses and instructors, I found myself entering the staircase to doom. What a bunch of hypocrites. Mental health professionals spouted that there was no shame in therapy and yet they stuck their offices in the basement. Were they shielding us from the rest of the student populace? Did they think one of us might bite someone, like a rabid dog? Maybe I should stop at the bookstore and purchase a copy of Cujo. Get a few pointers.