“You should probably get going now,” Mae said to her hormonal neighbor. “Maybe I’ll stop by later or something.”
After he left, Mae waited until the end of the broadcast before demanding that Breuer explain himself.
“Could you not look at me like I’m the pedophile, please? What are you upset about? This has nothing to do with you helping Father Stadt the other day.”
I find that hard to believe. When you and I went to that church, there were only two priests there. Fathers Stadt and Imhoff. When I had Stadt drive me home, that left Imhoff alone with those boys. How is that not related? Remember, you can’t lie to me!
“First of all, I can lie to you but choose not to. I respect you too much to lie. Maeve, I don’t know the future. I know you think I do, but honestly I don’t. That would be magic, and what I do is use my mind. All I know is from observing the present and guessing, predicting. Father Stadt needed to help a kid in crisis. He was questioning his usefulness to the church and considered leaving. He’s a good man. The church needs people like Father Stadt. By you telling him that you ran away and that you are godless, that gave him a chance to share the Word of God with you and convince you to go back to your parents. He needed that, just like Michael needed a reason to live. I can’t help it if some sick pervert took advantage of the situation. I’m just as appalled as you. If I’d have known, I never would have asked you to do what you did. Okay?”
You swear?
Breuer crossed his heart and nodded.
Then why didn’t you tell me the other day that this happened? Why did you stand in front of the TV? You didn’t want me to know.
“That’s right. I didn’t want you to know. I knew you’d be mad at me. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided you didn’t want me around anymore.”
Not possible. You know I love you no matter what. You’re my guardian angel.
“What did I tell you about calling me that?”
You said you loved it. She smiled playfully. You said you’re my guardian angel forever.
“It doesn’t bother me, as long as you know it isn’t true.”
Read the definition of guardian angel and tell me that’s not you. Until you properly explain yourself to me, I don’t know what else to think.
“I have properly explained myself. I’m a person like anyone else. Just because I’m not human doesn’t make me a guardian angel.”
Breuer? She had a contemplative frown. How did you know that we’d hit head-on with that rig? How did you know that I wouldn’t die?
“Wow. I never thought I’d hear you ask that. Like the wand, it’s a magic trick, Minnow, nothing more. Well, a little more. I know things. Can read thoughts. But I can’t see the future any more than you can see it. So I hope you won’t be upset with me when I confess that I took a chance with the station wagon accident. The way I saw it, if you’d have died you wouldn’t have been any worse off than you were with those monsters. I thank God every day that you did live. You’re the world to me.”
Chapter 14
A few weeks after the church scandal, Mae was walking home from school and called out to Breuer, hoping he’d appear skipping beside her. He didn’t, and hadn’t for five days running. I’m sure he’ll have a good reason, she told herself.
When she got home, her mom called her into the kitchen and asked if she wanted to help her whip up a batch of peanut butter cookies. Mae agreed, but only if she could lick the rubber spatula afterward. As her mom measured out the flour, she said, “What’s the deal with you and Michael? You haven’t been going over there lately and I haven’t seen him here.”
“I know. We did some kissing and stuff,” she said thoughtlessly, “he’s not depressed anymore.”
She dumped the flour in the mixing bowl. “That’s a peculiar thing to say. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. He felt unwanted or ugly or something. I made him feel attractive, while making sure that he knew that I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. We’re friends now.” She gave her mom an exaggerated smile and pinched her cheek.
“In a weird mood, are we? Speaking of you and Michael, and kissing and stuff—whatever that entails—we haven’t had the big talk yet, and since your father is working overtime today, I was hoping we could chat a little.”
“The big talk? Oh no. Please tell me you aren’t referring to the birds and the bees.”
“I know you’re a little old for it, but since you’ve been spending time with Michael, I wanted to be sure that you didn’t have any questions about it, and tell you the pros and cons of love-making, specifically the cons, so you’ll be safe and hopefully make the right decisions.”
“Mom, seriously? I’m fourteen years old. Almost fifteen. I could have a three-year-old kid already.”
“I should have brought this up years ago. You’re right.”
“Lisa already told me everything about it. But you got me wondering now. What do you consider to be a pro of having sex. I have no doubt you can give me a dozen cons.”
“The pros?—it’s wonderful when you find someone you love and marry. If it wasn’t for sex, I wouldn’t have my precious little Mae.” She touched the top of Mae’s head.
“That’s it? You missed two that I can think of: if you get pregnant, no periods for nine months. And the biggest one?—feels good.”
Rebecca dropped her spoon and with a hand on her hip faced her daughter. “Don’t tell me. Please don’t tell me that you’ve—”
“No, mom. I’m not sexually active. Geez. Not anymore, anyway.”
Impulsively Rebecca slapped Mae across the face. Before Mae could react to it, she was enveloped in her mother’s arms and being issued apology after apology. Rebecca waited for the torrent of tears that was undoubtedly on the way. She was a Clark, after all, and Clark’s love a good cry.
“I was joking, Mom,” Mae said through the fabric of her mom’s shirt. “I haven’t hooked-up with anyone.” They pulled apart; Rebecca saw that there were no tears. A big pink blotch on her cheek from the slap, but no signs of distress or dismay.
“There is no excuse for what I just did. Please forgive me. Your father and I swore we’d never raise a hand against you.”
“It’s okay, I forgive you. I won’t tell dad, all right? He’d probably get mad at you.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? It was a fluke thing.”
She hugged her daughter again. “I’m so lucky to have you, sweetheart, and I love you more than life.” After the hug Rebecca said, “Slap me. Go ahead, slap me as hard as you can. I deserve it and I’ll feel a lot bet—”
Thwack!
Rebecca stared dumbfounded at Mae for a moment, then cracked up. Mae wasn’t so quick to make light of what she’d just done on a whim. She wondered what her punishment might have been with her last set of parents, and decided it would surely mean old blacky, mostly her face, and a week off of school as her flesh healed. My how things changed. Mae allowed herself to laugh.
“I deserved it,” her mother said. “And thank you for keeping it in your pants. Michael’s a handsome boy.”
“My pleasure,” Mae said. Then tried her luck at humor: “Or lack thereof.”
Rebecca checked her recipe while muttering, “You’re not missing out on much.”
“Eww, Mom. I don’t want to picture you and dad.”
“I just meant that you’ll be enjoying your time alone—if you know what I mean—a good deal more than with your future husband. That’s all.”
“Oh... my... God. Gross. Stop it. How about them Giants?”
“Okay, new subject. Actually, no, let’s go back to the no periods for nine months comment. Not everyone has cramps as badly as you.”
“Lucky me. I hate it, it feels like someone’s stabbing me in the guts with an ice pick.”
“It’s not fair, I know. I used to have them really bad, too. But I take something that helps a lot. Your father and I decided that we’re going to let y
ou take what I take. Don’t get the wrong idea, booger, but it’s birth-control pills.”
“You’re putting me on the pill?”
“It’s for reducing the effects of PMS, not licensing you to have intercourse at will.”
“Thanks for thinking I’m a tramp.”
“Shush. I know you wouldn’t take advantage of the situation. I’m just saying, a lot of women take them for that reason. Cramps. They’ll be mailed to me every three months and I’ll give them to you daily. Sound good?”
“If they work, heck yeah. Don’t I need to see the gynecologist first?”
“Nah. Being that your uncle is a doctor, we don’t have to worry about things like that. But you’ll still be going to the lady doctor yearly. And you’re going to have to lie about being on the pill. Doctors aren’t fond of medicine being prescribed behind their backs by family members.”
“Okay.” She reflected on what she’d just been told. “Why give them to me daily? Just give me all of them and I’ll do it right. I’m not a dumb kid. I’m a woman, you know.”
“Because I said so. End of story. New subject: curfew. Be home before dark from now on.”
“What?”
“Watch the news, you’ll see why. Another murder. Two actually—husband and wife. This time on Alvarado Street. Couldn’t be more than two miles down the road.”
“Really? Not from the same guy, or were they?”
“They think it’s the same guy. And since there are no ties between the victims of the two attacks, it might be a serial killer.”
Chapter 15
Mae sat at her desk with the bedroom door closed. She opened her math book. Breuer manifested and hopped up on the desk corner. “We need to talk,” he said gravely.
“Where the heck have you been?”
“No more speaking to me, Maeve. All thinking from now on. Do you know what your folks went and did?” She shook her head. “They aren’t getting you birth control pills. That was a lie. They think you’re crazy. The pills that your mom will be giving you are for crazies.”
Nuh-uh. Really?
“Really. Your dumb-ass uncle already wrote the prescription. Well, to his credit, he told your mom that it wasn’t a good idea, but she is a persistent one. These pills are a problem. They are mind altering. The Minnow whom I’ve come to know and love will become someone else. Ever watch a zombie movie? Yes, I know you have. Night of the Living Dead. You’re going to be like that. A zombie. No thinking for yourself, just a mind-numbed girl who does as she’s told. You don’t want that, do you?”
Of course not! I won’t take them!
“Atta girl. You promise me you won’t take them?”
Duh! Why would I want to?
“They aren’t going to like you refusing to take them, that’s why. They’ll make you. You’re going to have to act. Pretend that you think they’re birth control pills and when your mom gives you a pill, put it in your mouth and pretend to swallow it. Then go to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet. Don’t hide them, they’ll probably find the stash. Sound like a plan?”
She gazed vacantly at the wall before her, shook her head in disgust. She lied to me about the pill? Why can’t they be honest with me? If it wasn’t for you, I’d be taking zombie pills. It’s like I’d be dead; someone else would replace me. Sort of. Isn’t it?
“Very perceptive of you. That’s exactly what it would be like.”
She got out of her seat and stepped to Breuer on the ledge of the desk and hugged him. What on earth would I do without you, Breuer? Thank you so much for watching out for me. If I ever find a husband who cares for me half as much as you do, I’ll be the luckiest woman alive.
“You’re too kind, Mae-Vee. I’ll tell you what, I’ll keep an eye open for a good suitor for my little Minnow. I’ll scout for you. Only the best, too.”
Chapter 16
Tag poured himself a cup of coffee and looked up to a another new face. This one was hard on the eyes. She flashed a coquettish grin at Tag and ordered “whatever’s good.” He began mixing a strawberry margarita and said, “What sounds good right now is bed.”
“Oh yeah? Is that the house special? Maybe I’ll have that.” She giggled, sounded like a pig in heat.
Tag felt his gorge rise. He placed a drink in front of her and asked for I.D. She handed it to him: Ingrid Dechesne, twenty-one, organ donor. I bet she is, Tag thought. He handed it back and said, “That’ll be four bucks.”
“I hope you charge less for the house special.” Another bleating squeal from the pig. No shame. Why’d I have to open my big mouth?
“So now that you know my name, what’s yours?”
“Tag.”
“Is there a Misses Tag?”
“God yes.”
She stared dubiously at him before engaging in Chico tradition. “You’re just saying that.”
“Even if I was, wouldn’t that be hint enough to stop flirting?”
She laughed, a pig with mule spliced in. “You’re funny.”
He took her money, opened the register and muttered, “Not trying to be funny.”
“If you have a girlfriend, what’s her name?”
“Molly.” He quickly amended, “ I mean Mae.”
She cackled like a hyena. She was a weeks worth of National Geographic television. “I knew you were lying.” She took the seat closest to Tag and settled in with every intention of making this night as long as possible for him.
“Molly’s my ex. You know how that goes.” Her face said she didn’t. Her smirk said he was full of shit. “You want to know the God’s-honest? I’m in love with Mae.” Under his breath: “Now fuck off.”
“Uh-huh, I bet. I’m sure she’s real.”
“She’s twenty, five-six, dark hair, blue eyes with a fringe of amber, pale complexion; Mae’s the most beautiful woman imaginable.”
“Imaginable sounds about right. You have a good imagination, don’t you?”
“Not a day has gone by in the last two years that I haven’t spent time with her. I’d marry her if I could.”
“So then why don’t you?”
“It’s complicated.”
Understatement of the century.
Chapter 17
Rebecca listened at her daughter’s bedroom door. She was certain she had heard Mae giggle. She thought it may have been the TV, but now she knew that the TV wasn’t on—or the volume was all the way down. She waited another moment and was startled when the door opened and a suspecting Mae was glowering at her. “Listening at the door, Mom?”
“I heard laughter.” She barged in and looked at the TV: off. Stereo: off. “Why were you laughing, Mae?”
“I wasn’t. You must have hallucinated it,” she said mockingly.
“Don’t take that tone with me. You’ve been taking your birth-control pills, right?”
“What do birth-control pills have to do with the price of tea in Tennessee? Or me laughing? And you watch me take the pills. Every day. Because I’m a stupid little kid who can’t be trusted with big-girl pills.”
“Watch your mouth. You’re getting lippy. Are you still seeing your imaginary friend?”
“No. I gave him up.”
“Good.” Rebecca turned away.
* * *
The following morning at the table Rebecca placed a pink pill beside Mae’s bowl of oatmeal, as had become the routine. Mae dug into her oatmeal. Mom sat pretending to read the paper. When Mae finished eating she put the bowl in the sink and ran water in it. Then returned for the pill, popped it in her mouth, sipped juice, walked away. She went to the bathroom where she found Breuer waiting. “Don’t flush it,” he warned. Mae spit it in the toilet and asked why. “Guess who followed you? She suspects that you aren’t taking your pills.” Mae flushed the toilet anyway and shrugged. “You better care. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Mae-Vee.”
Mae opened the bathroom door to her mom, arms crossed. “Why?” Rebecca sounded hurt or offended; probably both. “Why wo
uld you do that?”
“Don’t tell her that you know what they are,” Breuer cautioned. “She’ll wonder how you know and press you with questions.”
“Do what? I didn’t do anything.”
“You flushed your pill. Don’t lie to me.”
“Ha! Why don’t you try leading by example?” Mae said thickly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Shit, why did you have to go and say that?” Breuer said. “Watch what you say.”
“Nothing. I didn’t flush the pill. I swallowed it. I just had to pee.”
“That was an awfully quick pee. So you’re sticking with that? That you swallowed the pill?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have any issues with taking the pill?”
“None.”
“Okay. Follow me.” She was kitchen bound.
Mae looked to Breuer for answers. Breuer had a look: the world is falling apart at the seams, it said. She followed her mother to the kitchen. Rebecca opened her purse and produced another pink pill, handed it to her daughter. “Take it.”
“But I already took one. Isn’t it bad to take two? Maybe I’ll overdose.”
“No, doesn’t work that way. You can take two. And I think we both know you didn’t take the other one, so that doesn’t matter anyway. Swallow it.”
“Put it under your tongue and pretend to swallow it,” Breuer suggested.
She popped it in her mouth, rolled it under her tongue and took the glass of orange juice, mostly empty, and drank it. “There. Happy?”
“Did you swallow it?” she asked.
“Duh.”
“Open your mouth.”
“You don’t trust me? That hurts my feelings.”
“I could say the same thing to you. Open your mouth.”
“Don’t do it.” Breuer sounded desperate. “Cause a scene. Anything.”
It was too late. Mae swallowed the pill. She opened her mouth to show her mom.
She probed her mouth. “I saw you just swallow it, but I need to be sure you didn’t fake that, too.”
Mae’s mouth was still being searched when she began crying, taking her mom by surprise. “Don’t cry. I’m not mad at you.” Under her breath: “A little frustrated, maybe.”
She closed her mouth and looked up at her mother. “I don’t want to be a zombie.”