Part 3 (1/2)

Years ago I used to love charity galas. The ball gowns, the fancy hors d'oeuvres, the way everyone treated my family like royalty. But at the Care for Kids Charity Gala in July, I was sitting at a table in a stupid chiffon dress that made me look like a chubby sorbet, wis.h.i.+ng I were with Shane, at her apartment, smoking dope and watching Three's Company reruns. But I didn't have a choice. Apparently Ash didn't either because she was there too, as was Father. We were all together like old times, like we were a family, we were there watching my stepmonster receive an award for her charity work, aka spending Father's money to do good. I didn't know what the big deal was. It's not like she had to do anything except write a check, but apparently that check was big enough to earn top nods for saving the children or feeding the children or some sort of verbiage about children. I wondered if the people who actually did the labor involved with the charity's work resented her getting this award when they toiled in anonymity. G.o.d forbid the wealthy dirty more than their index finger.

Tabitha was flitting around the place, shaking hands and smiling at everyone, and Ash was at her side. They kept exchanging glances like they shared some kind of secret. The thought affected me. What kind of secrets could Ash and Tabitha share? I wanted to march over there and interrupt their reverie with my presence so that I stopped feeling like I was outside looking in. But they looked too insular, too serene and self-protected. This was clearly their element, not mine and not Father's. Just what kind of secret did the two share? What did they know that I didn't?

Father was in the corner, but I could see he was watching them too, scowling as well. He looked as unhappy as Tabitha and Ash looked happy. And me, well, I'll bet I had a scowl too, though I was trying to suck it up and get the night over with.

From my corner of the room I could see Ash go back to the bar again and again. She'd had at least half a dozen martinis, best that I could tell, a quant.i.ty that would have me under the table by then. But for Ash, she just seemed louder and happier than she was at the outset. When toasts started ringing out from friends and well-wishers, I was hoping it meant the gala was starting to wind down. The silent auction was over. They were clearing the bar. The awards had been had. The deejay had shut down. Soon I could go home and call Shane.

But instead, Ash decided to toast the stepmonster, this time offering accolades at the top of her lungs. ”You have an amazing fundraising ac.u.men,” Ash said, way too loudly as Tabitha tugged on her dress and smiled at the ground. ”Congratulations on being such a ball-breaker when it comes to money.”

The crowd offered up nervous laughter. Was it a joke? Should they laugh? n.o.body knew. Not even me.

”And for marrying well. And for loving all us perverts out there. Right, Daddy-O?”

The crowd was astounded by Ash's proclamations and all eyes turned from her and Tabitha to Father, whose fists were balled in anger as he stormed off. Ash walked off in a different direction, leaving me standing next to Tabitha, who attempted to regain some dignity in the moment.

”Well, who said booze and speeches don't mix?” The crowd around her laughed, partly out of anxiety, partly due to their alcohol consumption, but mostly just for the chance to wash themselves of the very public private spectacle of my family.

Tabitha grabbed my elbow gently and whispered in my ear. ”Megan, I'm worried about your sister. I think she's using drugs, real drugs, not just marijuana. I think it's all Cynthia's fault. That girl is trouble.”

Suddenly, I was less angry at Ash and more worried about her. What on earth would make her lose it in a crowd like this? The old Ash, the person I knew years ago, before I went off to college, she used to worry about what people thought of her, what others said about her. She worried about where she was going in life and who she would become. And as stupid as our stepmother was, this seemed like something Tabitha got right. Ash did seem more and more troubled lately. She seemed to have no compa.s.s in life-moral or otherwise-and she was floundering.

Some sick part of me was secretly pleased.

”Can you talk with her?” Tabitha was teary eyed.

”Of course.” I meant it too. I loved my sister. I did. I just hated who she'd become as of late. And while I felt like it was she who owed me an apology and should reach out first, I was willing to be the bigger person and offer her an olive branch. Maybe if I could put an end to this sibling feud we could bridge the chasm between us and relate to one another like normal sisters.

Since Tabitha was the night's woman of honor, she and I were stuck at the party another few hours. How Father and Ash got home I'm not sure, but when it was time to go, the two of us rode back in the Bentley alone.

”You looked happy there tonight,” I said, hoping to find out what was really going on behind the scenes. When Tabitha only smiled I tried a different tack. ”You and Father didn't seem to spend much time together, though.”

She turned, c.o.c.king her head as if she were evaluating how frank she could be, and smiled again. ”You know your father doesn't enjoy these types of outings. Just because I'm happy doing charity work doesn't mean he is.”

It was a simple statement but one that felt loaded with emotional information.

”Why do you stay?” I prodded. Maybe she was sad and drunk enough to answer honestly.

”What?”

”Why do you stay married to Father? Is it the money?”

Tabitha paused, reflectively, her eyes glistening again like they did after Ash's outburst. She was pensive and thoughtful and though she was crying now, she was still quite beautiful. What did she see in Father, a man thirty years her senior?

”Megan, I'm not sure you could understand the nuances of my marriage.” She looked faint and stricken. Perhaps I touched a nerve. ”It's hard to explain why we do the things we do, but you must know I'm not some simple ninny pining away for a cold and distant workaholic husband.”

I wanted to be frank with her, too. ”Well, that's certainly how it looks from the outside sometimes.”

”You of all people should know looks can be deceiving.”

”What's that supposed to mean?” I felt confrontational and defensive.

”Nothing, dear, I just mean, what you see isn't all there is in any situation.”

As soon as we arrived home I rushed straight to the pool house to talk with Ash about this strange conversation. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Shane's bike and immediately felt flush with antic.i.p.ation. Being with Shane would make this whole night so much more palatable. I hastened toward the bike to find her first. She was probably waiting by the pool for me, I figured. But when I couldn't find her there I continued on to the pool house in case she was chatting with Ash.

I didn't even stop to knock in my rush of excitement, but I'll forever wish that I did. Inside, Ash lay supine, her undulating legs wrapped around Cynthia's neck, while Shane was nuzzled up against Ash. It's hard to say which is worse: finding your girlfriend making it with your sister or finding your girlfriend in a threesome. But certainly finding both of those things at once when you spent the whole night dreaming about the b.i.t.c.h is among life's worst moments.

I was instantly enraged and violently nauseous, and while Cynthia barely recognized my presence, Ash sat up and said, ”Come in, little sister,” in her most flirtatious tone.

The whole sight of it made me sick to my stomach. I stood there, an exclamation barely forcing its way up my throat and out my mouth, as I registered real disbelief.

”Wait, Megan, I can explain,” Shane began as I shook my head violently.

At that moment I didn't know whether to be angry or disgusted, and if it was anger I should feel, who deserved my wrath the most. Was my sister right all along? Was this her f.u.c.ked-up way of showing me that Shane was just using me to get to her? Or did Ash declare war, seducing Shane just to hurt me? What had I ever done to deserve this?

The moment seemed frozen in time, but silent admonition turned to pure bile.

”I hate you. I hate all of you!” I cried as Shane rushed toward me. ”Don't you ever f.u.c.king touch me again! And you, you...” I pointed at Ash, who seemed too drugged up to even care that I was yelling at her. G.o.d, what was wrong with her? What a horrible human being. ”I wish I could be like you, Ashley-all t.i.ts and a.s.s and cold and dead inside. I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're toxic. I don't want anything to do with either of you ever again. You deserve each other.”

As I ran out the door I could hear Ash say something but couldn't decipher it. For all I know she was laughing.

Chapter Six.

I spent the next two weeks inside the house where tensions seemed to escalate as well. My father and Tabitha seemed to be yelling at each other constantly, both of them drunk off their a.s.ses. The air around the whole estate felt pregnant with disaster. I didn't know what was going to happen, I just had that terribly foreboding sense that something had to give. I just hoped I would be okay in the wake of whatever storm was brewing.

Tabitha and Father lived in different rooms now, the three of us eating solo in the kitchen by turn. Maria had learned to make my favorite comfort foods: grilled cheese, mac and cheese, cheesecake. Without Shane, I turned into a pudgy cheese-freak. We hadn't talked since that horrible night in the pool house. She never called me again, not even an attempt at an apology. Even worse, I'd seen her out at the pool with Ash and Cynthia. The three of them, s.k.a.n.king around like wh.o.r.es.

I couldn't bear to watch it anymore. I kept my shades drawn at all times, squirreling myself away in my novels, reading one after another, cramming my head full of words and other people's lives so I wouldn't have even a second to dwell on my own miserable one.

I desperately needed to get out of this place. Maybe I'd go to grad school or spend a year backpacking across Europe like my college roommate. I didn't know, maybe getting a job and moving to the city would be good. I just wanted to do something to get away from my whole family. They were all nuts.

The only problem with the options I came up with was that they all required some kind of planning. And I couldn't find the energy to do any of it-not searching job ads, not filling out graduate school admission applications, not even shopping for backpacking gear. I felt tired all the time; I ached all over; I burst into tears every few minutes.

Maybe I should just go on vacation somewhere far away, somewhere like Florida or the Cayman Islands, somewhere with frozen tropical drinks that could help me forget-everything. Somewhere I could get my head together and figure out what to do with my life. If only I could get Daddy dearest to loosen the purse strings so I could book a flight immediately.

In all these years I'd never even had a credit card in my own name. I wasn't an adult. I was a child. A foolish, gullible child so desperate for love she couldn't even tell when she was being used. I thought Tabitha was stupid, but at least she seemed to know exactly what she was exchanging for what.

The putter of a small engine pulled me from my thoughts. I envisioned Shane's motorcycle coming up our drive, and I couldn't help but reminisce about her touch on me, her whole effect on me. Shane was my first real lover-not just those college kids and the few tumbles in dorm room beds. She was the first person I'd ever said the L-word to. But now I couldn't stop imagining Ash and Shane together. Every time we were together, was Shane imagining I was Ash? Ash was probably right. It was better to use people than to be used by them.

I was going to change my life. I was never going to let someone get that close to me again. I resolved to begin my new sentimentality-free life in the morning. I dozed off fantasizing about how great it would be to be aloof and in control.

Although I was never much of a television junkie, my secret vice was falling asleep to the sound of crime shows playing in the background. Law & Order, CSI, if it had cops, I could fall asleep to it. I'm not sure what it said about me that nothing lulled me to sleep like the noise of sirens, running feet, and gunfire. I think I can blame it on Mother, who used to read Edgar Allan Poe aloud as bedtime stories: ”The Tell-Tale Heart,” ”The Pit and the Pendulum.” I don't know why. I guess there's something twisted in our genes.

So it didn't shock me when I heard the scream. I a.s.sumed it was the television, that the sleep timer hadn't clicked in and turned it off yet, but then, just before I closed my eyes again, I realized that the room was dark. Pitch black. There was no telltale glow from the television. I looked up and discovered the set wasn't on. Something was wrong.