the dad spot
better than he did.
No one could fill the Chris spot better, though.
That’s for sure.
Testing
Dale and I
watch the news.
They are doing DNA testing
on the shirt.
But that takes a while.
The shoe prints
matched another pair
in Chris’s closet.
He has a pair
for basketball practice and school
and another one for games.
”Man, it seems so obvious,” I say.
”What, Es?”
Dale looks over.
”The whole stupid investigation.
It’s obvious that’s Chris’s shirt
and his shoe prints.”
I bang the couch cushion.
”Why don’t they use everyone
to go looking for him instead?”
”Yeah,” says Dale, and he grimaces at the TV.
No!
”It’s time to go to bed,” says Mom.
”But I don’t want to,” Dale whines.
”I want to stay up with Mr. Paul.”
”I’ll be back in a minute,” Mom says,
and she pushes Dale down the hall to his room.
”Come here, Estele,”
Mr. Paul whispers
and pats the couch.
”I, uh, was reading.”
”Oh, come on.
Just for a minute.”
I sit down next to him.
”Don’t you have a kiss
for your old friend?” he says.
What?
I half shake my head no
and scootch away.
He’s faster.
He leans forward.
His hot, big hand
grasps my neck.
He pulls my face
to his
and presses his lips
to mine.
His big, fat tongue
rams into my mouth
and slides against
my clenched teeth.
I feel his taste
buds bump along.
”No!” I try to say,
but only a muffled choking sound
gets out.
I push as hard as I can
against his chest.
But he’s giant.
”No!” I try to scream,
but he presses harder.
I kick and kick
until he throws one leg over both of mine.
I squirm and wiggle
to get away,
but he holds my head tight
and rubs his other hand
over and over my chest.
I don’t even
have my bra on!
His mouth crams.
His stubbly chin
rakes mine raw.
His coffee breath
gasses into my nose
and rushes down
into my lungs.
My whimpers
are swallowed
down his throat.
Finally,
Mom’s footsteps
coming down the hall
break his suction.
I leap up,
my arms flying every which way,
and I smash past Mom.
”No!” I try to yell
as loud as I can,
but only a whisper
comes out.
I curl into a tight fist
on my bed.
”Don’t
do
that
to
me,” I sob.
What
What,
wh,
wha,
wh,
what,
was
he
doing
to me?
Sure?
Mom bursts into my room.
”What happened?
Did something happen?
Estele!”
She grabs my shoulders,
and I shrink back.
”Noooo,” I moan.
Her grip is super tight.
”Estele Leann,” she jiggles me.
It’s Mom.
Not him.
It’s Mom.
I focus on her face.
”He hurt me bad,” I whisper.
Her eyebrows squinch up.
”What?”
I nod.
”Tell me, Estele.
How could Mr. Paul have hurt you?”
My shivers shake me so much
I can’t answer.
”Did Mr. Paul say something
that hurt your feelings?”
”No” bursts out of me.
Her eyes squint.
”Did he …
he wouldn’t have touched you?”
She blows out hot breath.
”It was a pat on the shoulder, right?”
”No.”
”Did he give you a good-night kiss, Estele? A peck on the cheek?”
”Uh-uh.”
”A grown-up kiss
on the mouth?” she says super quietly.
Is that what he was doing to me?
”Mm-hm.”
Mom’s face goes white
and looks like it’s
going to slide off.
”But Paul wouldn’t—”
She drifts away
and leaves me sitting there.
”Mom?”
She zaps back to me.
”So he gave you a kiss on the mouth.
Maybe you both turned your faces
at the wrong time
and it happened by accident.
That’s all that happened. Right?”
”No.”
”Oh, sweetheart.”
I stare at her.
Her eyes get full of tears too.
”I … I need to know
exactly what he did.
I need to know exactly how
Mr. Paul hurt you
to know what we need to do.
Did he touch your privates?”
I nod.
He rubbed
my chest
while he was
kissing me.
The spots
are on fire.
”Did he touch your privates
under your clothes?”
”No.”
”Are you sure?”
”I’m sure,” I whisper.
”Did he show you his privates
or touch you with them?”
”No!” I say.
Mom storms out.
I crawl to the corner of my bed,
and press my back against the wall.
Is he coming down the hall
to get me?
Is his face coming
any second?
I ball my pillow up,
hug it to my chest,
and keep right on shaking.
Screaming
”!didn’t!”
‘Out of my house!”
”I wouldn’t—”
”Get out!”
”She misundersto—”
Mom curses him
worse than anything.
Slam!
His car peels away.
Mom
Mom rushes down the hall
to me.
Not him.
Mom.
She’s crying.
”I’m so sorry, Estele.”
She clumsily climbs over to me.
Mom holds my stiff body
until the tightness loosens,
and I gush all my tears out.
She asked me everything.
I didn’t have to think around her words.
She believed me
and came back.
Baby
”Oh, baby.
My sweet baby.”
Mom rocks m
e
and smoothes my hair.
I breathe in,
all raggedy.
And sigh out.
”You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.
I want you to know that.
Look at me.”
I sit up.
”You did nothing wrong.
Say it.”
”I … did … nothing … wrong.”
Friends
”But he was our friend, Mom.”
”I know.”
”How can an old friend hurt
a friend’s kid like that?”
”I-I don’t know, sweetheart.
I can’t figure it out.” She wipes her eyes.
”Why wasn’t Dad here to stop him
when you were putting Dale to bed?”
She doesn’t answer.
That’s two friends
Mom’s lost.
All Right?
”What’s wrong?”
Dale peeks into my room.
I hide my face
against Mom’s shoulder.
”Is Es all right, Mom?”
”She’s going to be fine, Dale-o.
Go back to bed.”
He doesn’t.
He comes in
and climbs up on my bed.
I try not to flinch
when his little hand
pats my back.
”It’s okay, Es,”
he says.
”It’s okay.”
To Bed
“Back to bed, now,”
Mom takes Dale to his room.
I go brush my teeth,
over,
and
over,
and
over.
And then
lock the door
and shower
till
the hot water
runs out.
Alone
I quick put on my jammies.
I’m a misty blur
in front of the mirror.
I touch my lips
then pinch
and bite them.
Metally blood
and tears
run down
the back of my throat.
I cram my towel
against my face
and scream
till my belly’s
hollowed out.
Garbage
“Estele?” says Mom.
Knock, knock.
“Estele Leann?”
I pull the towel away.
My lip sticks a second
to the blood-spotted cloth,
then unhooks.
I unlock the bathroom door,
and Mom peeks in at me.
I look at her in the unfogging mirror.
“Mommy,”
I hug the towel tight.
“I-I …
I feel
like rotten garbage,”
“Oh, sweetheart!”
She wraps her arms
tight around me.
“Why—”
“Daddy left me.
Mr. Paul did that stuff to me.
Why do people do such bad things to me?”
I stare at my blotched-up,
squished face.
“Estele!”
Mom spins me around.
“Estele, your lip!
Did Mr. Paul—”
“No, I just hurt it.”
“On what?”
“I bit it by accident.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She runs a washcloth
under cool water
and gently presses
it to my mouth.
“Young lady,
you are God’s creation,
beautiful and precious.
When people hurt you,
it’s not because you
should be hurt
or you deserve it.
They are the ones
who have done
wrong,”
She dabs my lip.
“There. The bleeding’s stopped.”
“Are—are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
She pulls me tight.
Beautiful?
Precious?
Sleep Tight
“You’re positive you don’t want
to sleep with me?”
Mom straightens my sheet.
“No, I’m all right.”
“You sure you’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
I snuggle down.
She kisses my forehead.
“Could you leave my door open
and the hall light on?”
“Sure.”
“Good night, Mom.”
“I. L. Y., precious daughter.”
“I. L. Y.”
Hours
I stare down the hall
from my bed.
I stare at it
for hours.
I can’t close the door
and lock it.
I have to see
to know
he’s not there.
He’s gone.
He’s not coming back.
I can close my eyes.
I can’t.
Abuse
Please, God,
let no one
touch Chris
that wrong way.
Let no one else bad
find him
now that
he might be all alone.
Oh, God,
please protect Chris.
And punish
Mr. Paul.
Maybe you could
never let him
kiss
anyone else
the whole entire
rest
of his life.
And One More Thing
Am I really
beautiful and precious, God?
You made me.
That makes me
a whole lot of something,
doesn’t it?
And One More
Please, help Mom
not feel so bad.
She’s got that giant belly,
and Dad left her,
besides me and Dale,
and now her friend turned out
to be a rotten stinking egg.
But really,
Mom is beautiful God,
the way she stays with us,
and she even looks prettier
than Dad’s naked magazine ladies.
In case she’s wondering,
make her know
she’s beautiful and precious too.
Him
Because Dad’s gone,
Mr. Paul did that
to me.
Because Dad’s gone,
he wasn’t here
to protect me
when Mom was busy.
Because Dad’s gone,
Mom had to save me
before it got worse.
All of that
is because of Dad.
Midnight Imaginings
“Why didn’t you bite his tongue?”
the policeman asks me.
“I don’t know,”
“Why didn’t you knee him in the crotch?”
“I-I think I tried.”
“So you basically did nothing?”
“Yes—No! I fought as hard as I could.”
…
“And I pushed and shoved and kicked.”
…
“And it could have been worse
from all the stuff Mom asked me.
She’s the one who came and saved me.”
…
“So where were you, Mr. Policeman?
Huh? Where were you?
You better have been looking for Chris Crow
is all I’m saying, cop.
That’s all
I’m sayi
ng to you.”
Staying in Bed
It may not be good for you,
but Mom lets me stay in bed
Saturday and Sunday.
She brings me food,
and I doze off and on
through the day and night.
Sunday evening, though,
she says we need to go to church.
That’s the best place for all of us.
But
there will be people there.
Who will look at me
and know.
Covered Up
I wear a bra and dress
that covers me up
all over.
I don’t look at anyone
when we go in and sit down.
I cross my braids over my face.
The bumps feel good over my eyes
and make everything dark.
Dale giggles
until Mom pushes my hand down
and the braids swing free.
But then she snuggles me up
while we sing and listen to the preaching.
“We are made in the image of God,”
says Pastor Lyon.
Mom leans into me.
When we leave,
I force my hand out
to shake Pastor Lyon’s.
He’s not Mr. Paul,
that icko man
who might not even
be made in God’s image.
He sure didn’t act like it.
Not a Clue
Mom flips on the radio
on our drive home.
The dark,
the breeze,
and the song
are destroyed
when Doozerdude says,
“When is Mr. Paul
coming over again, Mommy?”
She drives around the bend.
“He won’t ever
be visiting again.”
“But Mommy,” Dale whines,
“he’s the best, Mommy,”
“Quiet,” she says sharply.
Doozerdude shuts up.
Poor guy
doesn’t have a clue,
and Mom and I
aren’t going to tell him.
Already Happened
The nightmare
chokes me awake.
I can’t remember everything,
but I don’t need to.
It already really happened.
I climb out of bed
and change my pillowcase.
It’s too wet
to try to sleep on.
Morning
“Estele, wake up, sweetheart.”
“Huh!”
“It’s okay, Estele.
It’s time for school.”
Mom pats my cheek.
School.
It’s time for school.
Ugh. My mouth tastes awful.
I need to really brush my teeth.
My mouth still tastes
like Mr. Paul.
In Front of the Mirror
I hear Mom’s words in my mind
about being
beautiful and precious.
But the filthy, dirty garbage feeling
sneaks around
and chokes me.
Picking Out Clothes
Jeans,
a dark T-shirt
no one can see through,
and a bra.
I’m going to wear a bra
every day
for forever.
Okay
“Hi,” says Wally.
“Hi,”
We walk away from the parking lot