She heaved out a sigh. “Just ask it.”
“Roll onto your stomach,” I said. “I’ll rub your back.”
She did as I wanted, but she pretended not to like it. “That feels nice,” she said quietly as I got up on my knees and began to gently rub her back. “You want to know about how Lynn and I met.”
“Yes, please.” I moved to straddle her back. I didn’t want her to see my face as she talked. I wanted her to be totally relaxed and at ease, and I didn’t want the emotions she could probably see in my eyes to affect the way she might or might not censor her memories.
“A little harder,” she said, as I worked her shoulders. I applied more pressure with my thumbs and she purred.
“How did you meet Lynn, Ash?” I asked.
“We met at school, and she asked her mom if I could come over and play. The first couple of times, it was okay. Her mom made sure no one else would be there but us. Then her dad came home early one day…”
“And what happened?”
“We were playing in her room after school,” Ash said, like she was anchoring herself in the memory.
“How old were you?” I worked my way down her spine.
“Five or six?” she replied. “I can’t remember.”
“What were you playing?”
“Dress up. Her mom had given Lynn a few of her old dresses and she kept them in a trunk in her room. She had some shoes and some hats in there too. My favorite was the business suit with the black belt. And leather shoes. A white blouse.”
My hands stopped moving. “Seriously? You?”
“Don’t stop,” she said, waving her hand over her shoulder to get me moving again. “And yes, there was a time when I was all about conformity. I wanted to be just like Lynn’s mom. She was so sophisticated and worldly.” Her muscles tensed under my fingers and I could tell she was angry. “Then that day happened, and I didn’t want to be like her anymore.”
“What happened?”
“Her mom was usually really kind, but that day, she rushed into the room and told Lynn she had to hide in the closet, that her daddy was home early. ‘He smells bad,’ she said. I didn’t learn until years later that ‘he smells bad’ was code for ‘he’s piss-drunk.’”
“He came home drunk in the middle of the day?”
She nodded her face against the pillow. “Yeah. He’d done it before, Lynn said, but that day, he’d also lost his job. He was in a terrible mood, and I could hear him throwing things and screaming downstairs. Lynn took me into the closet with her and shut the door. We stared out of the dark space through the slats in the closet door.”
I continued to rub her back like this didn’t affect me, taking great care not to press hard in anger, or soften in sympathy. “What happened next?”
“Her dad busted into the room, and we could see him through the slats. ‘Lynn,’ he called, his voice so soft and pretty. I almost expected him to tell her to come out so he could take her for ice cream, but I was wrong.”
She turns her face so she can bury it in the crook of her arm.
Her voice takes on a lilt, but it’s muffled by her arm. “‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ he sang so softly. He tiptoed around the room, pretending to look for her. I almost opened the door and told him where she was, he was that nice. He had me fooled.”
“You were a child,” I remind her softly.
“So was Lynn.”
“What happened next?” I whispered.
“Finally, he got about ten feet from the closet. Lynn turned to me and whispered, ‘No matter what you hear, don’t come out.’ So I didn’t. I didn’t go out, and I’ll always regret that.” Her voice broke and she wiped her eyes. “I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Did she go out alone?”
She shook her head. “No, he came in and got her. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the closet. She flailed around, trying to stand, but he just dragged her. He dragged her all the way out of the room by her hair. She barely made a sound, aside from the scrambling.”
Ash started to shake.