Chapter Eighteen

When her father had pulled her dress over her head that night, he’d kissed the band of red marks that encircled her upper arms where the sleeves had pinched. He moved away from her arms, but kept kissing her. Not like a father is supposed to kiss his daughter. But she didn’t know that then. Not for sure. Mac never saw her father kiss anyone this way, so ha ha he likes me best, she’d thought.

Mackenzie jumped out of bed, and ran to the bathroom to vomit again.

How could I have let him do that?

But I was so young. When you’re that little you don’t know. Should I have known?

After, her father had gone to sleep in his own room. Deep into the night she had lain in bed, awake and shivering.

But not crying. She couldn’t let herself cry. What if he heard her and came back?

She had wanted to go back in time, to the before time. Before it happened. To when Mama had her try the dress on, when it still fit her and looked so pretty. To before, when it was new, and not crumpled in a wrinkled heap on the floor. She wanted to go back and parade around in her beautiful princess dress, modeling it in front of her mom’s sick bed. Go back to when it fit her, and she was little. She wanted to be little again. She had crawled out of bed and picked the dress up off the floor, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. She started to put the dress on again all by herself, but got tangled up. Instead, all she could do was hug it tight, wrapping her whole body around it.

Finally, Mackenzie remembered the first time. She remembered all the blood. Her dress got ruined that night but it wasn’t because dropped her food in her lap.

She remembered the Father-Daughter dance.

She had been barely six.

Mackenzie felt the bile rise, but she swallowed hard, and didn’t allow herself to get sick again. Getting sick was for weaklings. For victims. She was a survivor, strong now. So what if she couldn’t rescue herself when she was little? She was six-freakin’-years-old, for crying out loud. She couldn’t have. And anyway, if you count a 35-pound girl banging her fists against a big hairy 190-pound man, then at least she’d put up a fight.

What if Barb hadn’t moved away before the dance? Maybe they would’ve married sooner, and he never would’ve begun their “special club”. What if he hadn’t helped her out of her dress that night? Would he have started up with her anyway? Or did it just happen to happen?

No, if that were the case, it wouldn’t have continued. But it did end. As soon as he married Barb.

Thank God for Barb.

He got himself a wife and did her instead. Plus, maybe he was scared Barb would catch him doing that. But why would he be scared of her? She was hardly bigger than a kid herself. And anyway, if he didn’t want to get caught, he would’ve just made his visits when Barb was out of town. And, Mackenzie reminded herself, it was exactly then, the first time Barb left them alone after their engagement that it ended. It ended that same night she got her wedding outfit. So wait. Why didn’t he go on that night? She was out of town then.

Did it end? Or did he stop?

He stopped. But why? What was different about that time, that night?

He was getting married, okay, but he wasn’t married yet. Barb was gone so it wasn’t as though he could get caught, not that he thought he was doing anything wrong. He came in to her room, and started up with her, as usual. Then he kissed her goodnight and left.

He stopped.

Why?

Maybe there was a better question. And Mackenzie knew what it was.

Maybe the better question was why did he stop when he did? He’d stopped when he touched her chest. That couldn’t be it, could it? She grew breasts and TA-DA, it’s over? But that would mean it was never because he got married. That would mean he only liked her when she was little.

Thank God for Barb? More like, thank God for breasts, she thought.

Mac laughed. She laughed until she was wheezing and tears rolled down her cheeks. The wheezing became hiccupping, and the hiccupping became sobs.

The tears kept coming, and for the first time since she was six-years-old, Mackenzie let them.

* * *

She awoke with a start, and squinted against the bright sunshine spilling into the room.

“Oh, Dude, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

Mac shielded her eyes, trying to see who was talking to her. It was Frankie. “No, it’s okay,” she croaked. Her voice was ragged and she felt as though every drop of water had been squeezed from her body. Her mouth was so dry it clicked when she spoke.

“What time is it, anyway? Where is everyone?”

“We just ate lunch. There’s a sandwich saved for you, but we’re all about to head to this farm where you can pick your own strawberries. Charlie’s being an asshole again, making lame jokes to Dante about fruit and whatnot. Like that’s original.” She shook her head. “We’re thinking about losing him in the strawberry fields.” She pulled her hand out of her pack, palming the forbidden iPod. “You coming?”

“No, you guys go ahead. I think I’ll rest up. Hey, Franks?” Mac wasn’t sure she wanted to do this, but she was starting to think that the only way to be as strong as possible was to deal. She’d avoided it for so long, and maybe if she hadn’t, it wouldn’t have happened. Or she could’ve stopped it. The least she could do for herself was face what happened.

“You mind if I borrow your iPod? I won’t kill the battery, I promise.”

Frankie looked at the player in her hand, then back at Mackenzie, still sitting on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, why not? MaToya’s coming, so I couldn’t use it there anyway.” Before she let the screen door slam behind her, she added, “Besides, D wants me to be a part of the group and to like, talk. What is that about?”

Mackenzie lay back down, scrunching the pillow under her head for support. She shoved her shampoo, toothpaste and other stuff to the side, and put on the headset.

Clickety, clickety went the scroll wheel as she thumbed through Frankie’s playlists. She took a deep breath and pressed the button down when she got to the song she was looking for.

The guitar strummed sadly with the organ accompanying, matched and comfortable, like a pair of old shoes. No rushing. Just together, shuffling across the dance floor. Then the singing began, questioning, pleading; Mackenzie swallowed, and remembered.

If you can fly away, fly away,

The music was so evocative; she could practically smell the barbecue. They’d been sitting on the patio, the scent of burgers and hotdogs making her stomach growl. Mackenzie refused to eat, scared she might spill something on her beautiful party dress.

“Is my princess hungry?” her father had asked. “Is that your stomach making all that noise, or is the drummer giving us a beat to dance to?”

She had giggled, loving his attention. His friend Barb had just moved away, and Mackenzie finally had him all to herself again.

Her dad brought over two hotdogs. Leaning way over the table to protect her precious dress, she gobbled hers the minute he set it down.

Mac thought it was really neat that the paper plates had flags printed on them and said she would be all ready for kindergarten because she already knew the pledge of allegiance. She recited it through her full mouth, making her father laugh.

Little princess

Dream a dream with any scene,

My little princess

As soon as they finished eating, a sudden wind caught their plates and spun them into the air where they flew like real flags. It also brought the smoke to where they were sitting and Mackenzie coughed, so her father took her in, they started to dance to this song. Mac remembered thinking it was funny because the man was singing about his little princess and that’s what her daddy called her, too.

After the fireworks, they went home, but Mac was too excited to sleep, so her father said they could have an extra long cuddle once he helped her into her PJs.

You can go anywhere you want to go

Above the rain, beyond the snow

Below the sea, just come with me

And we can be our own royalty

My little princess.

She didn’t need to hear the rest and powered off the iPod. Mackenzie didn’t move for a very long time. She lay on her bed, one arm under her head, the other resting over her stomach, looking into the distance.

For ten years she couldn’t remember that first time. Now she remembered it as clearly as if it’d been last night. And tomorrow night The Brat would be going to her first Father-Daughter dance. Thank God Lily got to have a carefree childhood, and was spared the nightmare Mac had endured. It was almost like they had different fathers. Lily was blessed that she’d be able to remember the dance, and have them be good memories. Happy ones.

She snorted and shook her head as she remembered thinking thank God for breasts. What if she hadn’t developed until later? Or if she’d been flat chested? Her father would’ve kept on her, she felt sure.

“Yeah, but I bet he’ll stop now!”

Mackenzie was jolted out of her thoughts. She was stiff from being in the same position for so long, and stretched her arms and legs. She heard Frankie’s voice again, closer now. “I said Charlie’ll have to stop now, Dante!”

“Yeah, we showed him, D! See you at dinner!” Frankie clomped in, slamming the screen door. “Sorry, Mac,” and added, “Dude, you are in the exact same position you were when I left. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, fine,” Mackenzie assured her. “How was the picking? Where are all the berries?”

“Charlie kept up with these stupid fruit jokes, so we took like, all of our buckets and dumped them on his head,” Frankie said.

Frankie grinned. “We saved a few, but I doubt Charlie will want any. I think he’s had enough to last him awhile.”

After everyone got cleaned up, they had dinner and dessert, sharing a meager helping of strawberries with whipped cream. Charlie ate without saying one word. When MaToya and Otis went off to plan the next day’s activities, he grabbed the whipped cream can and sprayed it straight into his mouth.

“Gross,” Frankie said.

Dante just scoffed and turned away. Mac got up to clear the table.

By the time they all traipsed down to the lake to watch the fireworks, Charlie looked as though he was ready for some payback, but still, he didn’t say a word.

Everyone spread towels down and settled in on the private dock in front of the main house. Dante sat and let his legs dangle over the water, while Frankie lay down near the edge and used his lap for a pillow.

Mackenzie was on all fours trying to smooth out her towel as Charlie passed her on the way to the end of the dock. He crouched down and began to crawl toward Frankie, silent as an evening breeze. She turned her head at the last minute and said, “Not even close, Dude.”

Charlie acted all innocent, but crawled away, and turning around, came head to head with Mac. “We look like a couple of dogs about to sniff some interesting places,” he joked. His eyes wandered down from her face to her V-neck tee and said, “I think I just got my own private fireworks show. Thanks, Skater.”

Mackenzie slapped her hand to the loose cotton fabric, closing the gap, destroying his view. Her face burned. “Frankie’s right. You are a total asshole, Charlie. Don’t talk to me anymore,” Mackenzie hissed, and lay down on her towel. Despite his attempt to humiliate her, she felt good. All this time she thought of herself as strong, but pretending everything away wasn’t a show of strength. If her back was turned because she was running in the other direction, she wasn’t facing her problems, and the only way to get past them, she was sure now, was to deal – head on.

That might not have been the first time he trashed her, but it’s going to be the last, Mac thought. Fuck that victim shit.

The first explosions blossomed in the sky, but Mac was barely aware of the show. Her memories were creating more questions than answers.

Why did her father bother to marry Barb? More to the point, why would Barb marry him? They had been co-workers and friends when Mac was little, but they had never seemed like they were in love. Did they even have a relationship at all? They must’ve at some point, though, since they managed to conceive The Brat.

She’s going to love that present I got her for keeping quiet. But I have to remember to get something for her birthday, too. She smiled, thinking about how Barb always teased Lily that she was always in a rush, even to join the world early by two whole months.

It was hard to believe she was already going to be six. Mac remembered making Lily’s baby blanket on her mother’s old sewing machine and wrapping it around her the day she was born. Lily still carried that ratty old thing with her everywhere. Mac wondered if she’d have to leave it at home when it was time to go to kindergarten.

Wait – six? Mackenzie tapped her fingers on the dock, counting the months from the wedding.

I am such an idiot … the rushed plan to wed, Lily’s “early” birth … Barb had gotten pregnant and that’s when her father decided to actually do the right thing?

Poor Barb. She could’ve done a lot better than Stan. Mac could see how a guy would think Barb was attractive, even though she was pretty old. Not standard beautiful, cute was more like it. Almost boyish, fitting into those kid-sized clothes. When she bought Mac those bras, it was embarrassing, but Barb had tried to make her feel more comfortable, making lame jokes about how Mackenzie should be happy she didn’t take after her.

Barb was pretty small up top, Mac thought, so Lily might grow up to be the same.

Mackenzie sat up so fast she got dizzy. She looked around, not seeing the fireworks, or the lake, or her friends. There was another question she hadn’t asked herself. She didn’t even want to now, but had to, knowing Lily could be alone with him at this very minute.

Why not Lily?

Mac lay back down on her towel. The situation was totally different. Probably nothing would happen. For one thing, her father always said it was just for them. It was a club with only two members. He made that very clear. He’d never do that with anyone else. He wouldn’t do that to her Lily.

And anyway, Lily’s mom was alive. Mackenzie’s mother had died, so it was not the same thing at all. Barb would protect Lily. That’s what mothers do. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Right?

But what if Barb didn’t know? What if Barb wasn’t there?