Полина Саймонс – Tully (страница 32)
They walked outside to the garage. Lynn turned the key and Tully closed her eyes, wanting not to see. She heard the garage door pull slowly up. When Tully opened her eyes, she saw a brand-new 1978 Camaro, shiny and baby-blue.
Tully did not move and neither did Lynn. Nothing moved except for the ash on Lynn’s cigarette, which broke off and fell to the floor.
‘Gee,’ said Lynn. ‘I wonder where she could be. Where do you think she could be, Tully?’
Tully did not hear her. She was holding on to a low tool shelf, keeping herself steady, and was stunned at the anger that swam over her. Yes. Anger. Fucking, naked anger. Goddamn it, Jennifer, goddamn it, couldn’t you at least go out on the open road, couldn’t you do at least that, to spare us all just a little? Just a fucking little?
‘Tully, where do you think she could be?’ said Lynn, a little more urgently.
Tully looked up at her, met her gaze head-on, and said as calmly as she could, ‘She is in the house, Mrs Mandolini.’ But when she let go of the shelf, her legs gave out under her, and she collapsed to the cement floor.
‘Tully! What’s the matter with you, are you sick?’ said Lynn, helping her up with one hand, the other one still holding on to the Marlboro. ‘You look so awful, why don’t you come in. I’ll have Jen drive you home.’
Tully struggled up. She thought wretchedly as she walked back into the house that if Jennifer wanted to drive, she would have already driven off somewhere. But the car! The car was in the garage.
‘Jennifer!’ yelled Lynn Mandolini at the foot of the stairs. ‘Come and have something to eat. Jenny Lynn!’
There was no answer. Lynn looked at Tully, who was clutching on to the banister. Lynn went up first. Tully trailed behind her. ‘I hope she is all right,’ said Lynn. ‘She hasn’t been feeling well these past couple of days. But it’s so strange. She seemed perfectly fine this morning. Very chipper and everything. Ate a big breakfast.’ Upstairs, the door to Jennifer’s room was shut and so were all the other doors upstairs, making the hallway a dark tunnel. Tully came to stand near Jennifer’s bedroom door.
‘Tully! Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to open the door?’ She walked past Tully and turned the knob.
Jennifer’s room was empty. They both walked in. It was not only empty, it was spotlessly clean. The bed was made, the floor was vacuumed, the window was halfway open. The books and records were in their places.
‘Wow, when did she do that?’ Lynn wondered. ‘Last night it was really messy.’
Tully sat down on Jennifer’s bed. Her hands were wet. ‘This morning. She did it this morning.’
‘What, instead of going to school?’ Lynn said. ‘Well, maybe. I thought you said she was in the house.’
Tully pressed her fingertips to her eyes so hard that when she stopped she saw red spots. ‘Mrs Mandolini. She is not in school and her car is in the garage.’
‘But she is not in the house, either, Tully,’ said Lynn, sounding slightly irritated. ‘Listen, my lunch hour is almost over.’
‘Mrs Mandolini,’ said Tully. ‘Jennifer is in the house.’
‘Tully, the house is completely quiet except for you and me. She can’t be in the house. Where could she be?’
‘Did you try the bathroom?’ Tully said faintly, hating Jennifer at that moment.
Lynn Mandolini started to breathe very hard. ‘There is no noise in the bathroom,’ she said. ‘Why would she be in the bathroom?’
Tully carefully got off the bed, slowly walked past Mrs Mandolini across the hall, and put her hand on the bathroom doorknob.
The door was locked.
Tully stepped away and sank to her knees. ‘She is in the bathroom,’ said Tully, putting her hands to her face.
‘Don’t be absurd,’ said Lynn. ‘Here, let me try. It’s probably just stuck, it sticks sometimes.’
The bathroom door was locked.
‘Jenny?’ said Lynn.
Tully bit down on her lip until she tasted salt and metal.
‘Jenny Lynn,’ said Mrs Mandolini, knocking on the door. ‘Jenny Lynn, honey, open the door, what’s the matter? Honey, please open the door, Jenny Lynn. Jenny Lynn? Jennifer! Open the door! Open the door, Jennifer! Open the goddamn door!’
Tully knelt with her eyes closed, her hands to her ears, mumbling incoherently to herself,
Mrs Mandolini ran stumbling downstairs, got a screwdriver, ran back up, knelt down in front of the door handle, and started to frantically unscrew the lock, her right hand on the screwdriver, her left wiping her face, and all the while muttering, ‘Jenny Lynn, Jenny, it will be all right, honey, it will be all right.’
Behind her, Tully clasped her hands. ‘…
Lynn got one screw out and before the other one was out she shoved the door open with her shoulder as Tully lowered her head and clenched her trembling hands. ‘…
Tully’s eyes were shut tight, but she was not deaf, and only the deaf and the dead did not hear Lynn Mandolini scream and scream and scream when she pushed open the bathroom door and found her daughter.
Be still my soul; be still
A.E. Housman
SIX A House of Little Illusion
May 1979
Shortly before Tully’s high school graduation, a woman named Tracy Scott approached Tully at the Washburn Day Care Center where Tully continued to work on Thursday afternoons. Tracy Scott was a large-boned woman of about twenty-five whose skirts were short, exposing a good deal more of the fleshy white thigh than Tully cared to see.
Tracy’s three-year-old son Damien attended the Washburn nursery. Tully wasn’t sure how many credits the parents actually needed to take at Washburn University to enroll their kids in Washburn Day Care. Tully guessed by listening to Tracy that it couldn’t have been many.
Tracy Scott wanted to know if Tully would mind looking after her little Damien for the summer, five or six nights a week.
‘My new boyfriend’s a musician,’ Tracy Scott told Tully. ‘And me, I wanna be with him to support him, you know, while he plays. He’s real good. He sure is. You’d think so, too, if you saw him. Maybe you can come sometime.’
Tully was uncertain. Where did Tracy live?
‘Right across from White Lakes Mall. On Kansas. Well, really, it’s right behind Kansas. There may be one or two late nights. Dependin’ on where we gotta go for a gig. I used to take Damien with me, but I don’t think Billy likes that too much, Damien gets cranky. Besides, Dami needs a little…what d’ya call it? Peace. He’s just a little kid. Maybe staying out so late isn’t so good for Damien, don’t you agree?’
Tully couldn’t have agreed more.
‘I can’t pay a lot, Tully,’ said Tracy. ‘But Damien sure likes you, he talks about you at home. I’ll be able to make up what I can’t pay you with room and board, how’s that? I have a spare room you can use, you’re still livin’ at home, right? So what do you say? Will you think about it?’
Tully said she would.
A few days later, Hedda was walking home from work when she was accosted by a thin girl in cutoffs and a tank top. The girl walked behind Hedda for a little while, but finally got the courage to approach her.
‘Are you Hedda Makker?’ she asked.
Hedda looked the girl over and said, ‘Who are you?’
‘You don’t know me,’ the girl answered. ‘But I know your daughter.’
Hedda immediately sharpened up.
‘What’s your name?’ Hedda asked the girl.
‘Gail,’ the girl answered, trying to keep up with Hedda. ‘Gail Hoven.’
‘Gail, is there something you want to tell me?’
‘Hmm, yes, hmm, well.’ Gail seemed extremely nervous. ‘Did you get my letter?’
‘What letter? I’m really tired, Gail,’ said Hedda. ‘I’d like to go home now.’
That seemed to encourage the girl. ‘Mrs Makker,’ she said. ‘I think you should know that your daughter has been going out with my boyfriend since September.’
‘Ahh,’ said Hedda.
‘At Jennifer’s eighteenth birthday party she met him and they’ve been meeting, like, two or three days a week ever since!’
‘Three days a week, huh?’
‘Yes, ma’am, uh-huh,’ Gail said. ‘She’s been lying to you. I just thought you might like to know.’
‘Well, thank you, Gail,’ replied Hedda. ‘But I already knew that.’
Gail seemed baffled by this. ‘Oh, oh,’ she stammered.