Fifteen Years Ago...

Bill is in his bedroom reading comics when the doorbell rings. He listens to Frank’s angry grunts as he hoists himself out of the tattered armchair stationed in front of the television.

“Get down here, Billie,” Frank shouts. “It’s Clarice.”

At the mention of her name, Bill tosses aside The Adventures of Spiderman and bolts downstairs. She is standing on the front porch, her silky brunette hair pulled back into a neat pony tail. She is wearing a pale blue tank top that shows off her tanned skin and budding breasts.

“Hey, Billie,” she says. “Want to hang out?”

Bill glances at Frank for approval and realizes his stepfather is also staring at her chest. Frank smirks. “You’re getting to be a big girl, honey. What are you sixteen now?”

“We’re fourteen,” Bill grunts, pushing past his stepfather onto the porch. “Come on,” Bill urges, taking her hand.

“Frank’s an asshole. I wish my mom would just leave him already,” Bill says. They are seated in the tall grass under the big oak tree in his backyard. They had wasted the past few precious weeks of their summer vacation trying to get to the top of that damn tree. But the old oak is ancient. Its twisted, entangled branches make the climb treacherous.

“At least your mom’s nice. My mom’s a total control freak,” Clarice says, glancing over her shoulder towards the direction of her house. She lives a few houses down, because of the property sizes, it’s about a ten-minute walk. “And my dad… well… it’s nothing.”

“What’s wrong with your dad?”

Clarice stares at the grass while twirling a blade around her finger. “It’s nothing really. He just always thinks I’m lying about things when I’m not. Like if I get sick he thinks I’m faking it. If tell him I finished my homework he says I’m just trying to get out of it. My mom told me once he was furious that I’d been girl. And, unfortunately, they never had any more kids so I’m all he’s got.”

“That sucks. But I suppose if you try to put it in perspective your parents aren’t that bad.”

“Yeah,” Clarice sighs. “I guess you’re right.”

Bill liked her parents, especially her mom. She brought them carrot sticks and fresh fruit when they were playing. Sometimes she made them homemade lemonade or hot chocolate when it was cold. Their house is clean and there is never any yelling, not like at his house anyway. Clarice’s dad even lets them watch HBO movies and stay up late. It’s how Bill watched The Exorcist for the first time: huddled beneath a blanket, Clarice snuggled by his side, a bowl of popcorn between them. Her grandmother lived with them too. She is a vivacious woman filled with wise cracks, opinions and advise. She allows them to call her by her first name: June. June passes on tidbits of advice whenever she sees fit. Like the time she told Billie breasts weren’t made for breastfeeding, they were made for looking good in a sweater.

On the other side of the spectrum there is his family. Bill’s mom does the best she can. He knows that deep down. She works nights at the bar and sleeps most of the day. They don’t have a lot of money. They don’t have carrot sticks or fresh fruit and they certainly don’t have homemade lemonade from fresh squeezed lemons. All that he can forgive. It is her decision to marry Frank that he cannot. He had begged her countless times to leave him. But she always refuses. “I’m getting old, Billie. I’d be lonely. Besides Frank takes care of us,” she’d say. Bill can’t wrap his mind around her outlook on their marriage. Did Frank take care of them by sitting on the couch all day collecting disability from an accident at the lumber yard that happened almost two years ago? Did he take care of them by calling him names and pushing his mother around? Bill thought not. And as soon as he turns eighteen he is out of there and he’d take her with him.

“What do you think high school will be like?” Clarice asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Probably more of the same,” he responds. They are starting high school this fall, an endeavor Bill is not excited about.

“At least we’ll have each other,” she says. Someone had to be optimistic.

“Dinner’s ready,” Frank yells from the doorway. “Get your ass inside, boy.”

Clarice rolls her eyes. “Ugh, he is horrible.”

Frank peers across the yard, rubbing his fat gut. “Your mother says Clarice is welcome to stay,” Frank says, then disappears into the house.

###

Bill’s mother is not known for her cooking. Most nights it is T.V. dinners in front of the television while trying to stay out of Frank’s way. Tonight, there is a feast of mashed potatoes, steak and steamed broccoli (probably from a bag). They even sit at the kitchen table perhaps assuming the activities of a normal family for Clarice’s benefit. Not that it matters. She already knows Frank is lousy drunk and his mother is hardly home. Bill’s brother is in town. He is nineteen, six years older than Billie. He moved out a few months back and visited seldom. Bill couldn’t blame him. Frank is piece of shit and had a way of making people feel unwelcome.

At the table, they participate in forced conversation when his mother opens with, “Are you two excited for high school?”

Clarice smiles and nods whereas each question gives Bill more anxiety. Do you guys have any classes together? Do you know any of the teachers? Do you think you’ll go to homecoming? Bill doesn’t know the answers to any of these things and he hates it.

“A pretty girl like you will have lots of guys wanting to take her to homecoming,” Frank interjects, licking mashed potatoes from his fingers.

Clarice smiles, a blush heating up her face. “Thanks, Mr. Dunne.”

Bill suppresses a grimace. Mr. Dunne is too formal of a title for his stepfather.

“If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll even take someone worthless like you, Billie.” Frank laughs at this, sending spittle into the air. He bats the top of Billie’s head. It is a gesture that appears playful, but Frank always does things just a little too hard.

“Screw you,” Bill mutters, smoothing his brown locks flat.

“Homecoming is lame anyway,” Fred adds. “Overrated if you ask me, and you kids will have plenty of time before senior prom.” He winks across the table at Bill.

“Anyone want something to drink?” His mother chimes in. “Freddy?”

“Freddy and Billie. Names for a bunch of pansies,” Frank mutters.

“What was that, dear? Would you like a beverage?” Eve asks.

Frank grunts and returns his attention to his plate stabbing at his steak with his fork.

“I’d love to go to homecoming with you, Billie,” she says.

Fred gives Bill’s leg a quick kick under the table. The brother’s lock eyes and grin.

After dinner, Bill’s mother offers for Frank to bring Clarice home. She agrees and begins putting her shoes on.

“Come on, missy. I’ll drive. It will be faster,” Frank says.

Clarice eyes the beer can in his hand.

“It’s only right down the street,” he scoffs.

She hesitates but goes with him.

Bill watches them go from the window before joining Fred on the couch to play Nintendo. Almost an hour later Frank returns, from a trip that should have only taken a few minutes, and explains he stopped by the liquor store. Bill glares at him.

“What are you looking at you little shit,” Frank slurs from the doorway. He grumbles and heads upstairs with a fresh beer.

Next Chapter: Chapter 7