Connection, page 14
“Can’t even do that right, can you?” she whispered. “God rejected you long ago for leaving your mother.”
Sergio didn’t rise to the bait; it wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he dipped the spoon into the bowl again, gathering another mouthful for his mother.
He shook himself free of the memory, looking instead into the clear green eyes that gazed out toward the window as Julie silently chewed the meat and potatoes that had been in the last bite.
Julie savored the warmth that slid down her throat and into her stomach. She was amazed she hadn’t gotten sick, wandering around in only her birthday suit. He kept the house reasonably warm—upstairs, anyway—which helped. She had never imagined she would ever feel so blasé about nakedness. She was amused at that, as she freely admitted to being a shy, self-conscious person. Even living alone, she never walked around naked, or even half-naked.
She knew it was silly, but a naked body was always something she equated with the sexual, sensual side of life, and she didn’t reveal hers to just anyone. The human body, she felt, was a sacred, beautiful thing, not to be on display. Never again would she see her body the same way. Never again would she be able to give the gift of it to someone. For one thing, she was probably going to live out the rest of her days in her prison. For a second, the human body had forever lost its beauty and specialness for her.
Julie looked at the man who was busy stirring the remaining soup, gathering more of the hearty chunks. She examined him, and for a brief moment allowed the anger she felt to enter her eyes. How dare he take that from her? How dare he steal something so precious?
She hated him.
Chapter Nineteen
Roman’s hand snapped out, fingers grabbing onto the “oh, shit” handle. He watched as the scenery whirled by in a circular blur, the engine of his car roaring as the car once again righted in response to the driver’s hand.
“Holy shit!” he howled, unable to keep the smile from his face. “How do you know how to do this?”
Remmy grinned, gunning the engine. “Can’t tell ya,” she said, sending them into another doughnut. How could she possibly tell him that stealing cars over the years had taught her how to be one hell of a driver?
“Well, I don’t care how you learned this, you’re a blast, Remmy.”
She grinned over at him, amused at the child-like glee in his eyes. Remmy slid the car into a perfect parallel to the curb, the car rocking to a stop, a whoop of joy coming from Roman. It was a weekend, so the large, empty parking lot at the school made for the perfect place for fun on four wheels.
Remmy was about to relinquish the wheel to the car’s owner when suddenly she was hit with something, a very strong something. For the past two weeks, since Grace had come to see her at work, Remmy had been trying her best to force a connection with Julie. Previously, other than the dreaming, she had only gotten images when Julie had inadvertently sent them her way. Remmy was never able to initiate contact. Only once had she been able to discern quick, very blurry images, then they were gone. It had been frustrating, but she was trying her hardest.
Sitting at the wheel of Roman’s car, she suddenly felt her body infused with warmth, her stomach full, content. Even so, she could feel the cold tendrils of the most intense anger and hatred she’d ever felt. She saw nothing. There was no vision to go along with the sensations, only a feeling.
Roman, who had opened his door, cried out in surprise as the car lurched to life. He slammed the door shut, glancing over at her. “Uh, Remmy,” he said, “don’t you need to go to work?”
Remmy didn’t even hear the words spoken from a mere two feet away. She drove out of the parking lot, idling at the corner, not sure whether to go left or right. Or straight ahead, maybe. She concentrated, trying to get a handle on the feelings she was experiencing, trying to feel the strength of that anger. She felt a strong pull toward the left. Hitting the turn signal, she headed south.
As the neighborhoods flew by, Remmy hadn’t said a word, but the white-knuckled grip she had on the steering wheel was evidence of her emotions.
Remmy turned right at the stop sign, the anger inside her feeling stronger, burning hotter in her gut. Her jaw clenched as emotion tried to consume her. She was heading toward the highway, the need to be there so strong, she could think of nothing else. She put her foot to the gas, the car speeding along toward an unknown destination. Remmy’s jaw muscles clenching and unclenching, she growled at the yellow traffic light ahead, knowing she would never make it.
Pulling the car to a sudden stop—Roman cushioning the sharp forward motion by putting a hand on the dashboard—she seethed. Fingertips tapped steadily on the wheel as the red of the traffic light seemed to mock her. “Come on, fucker!” she yelled, startling her passenger.
The light turned green, but the urge to rocket through the intersection had died. Remmy blinked several times, looking around her in confusion and mild fear. A honking horn behind her alerted her to the fact that she needed to move.
“Remmy, it’s green,” Roman said, looking over at her.
She blinked rapidly as she got the car moving again, only to pull off onto a side street, then into the parking lot of a hardware store. “Holy shit,” she said, hands trembling. She felt empty and cold, the gentle hand on her shoulder making her start. She met Roman’s concerned gaze.
“You okay?” he asked tentatively.
Remmy nodded. “Yeah. Fine.” She climbed out of the car, walking around the front and waiting at the passenger door for Roman to get out. When he did, she claimed his seat, pushing far down in it, resting her head against the seatback. She had a pounding headache and felt nauseous. What’s happening to me? Do I have a brain tumor?
****
Remmy pushed through the glass door of the store, ignoring Josh’s glare as she made her way toward the back room, where she grabbed her apron from the peg just outside Joan’s office door.
“Where were you?” Joan asked, stepping to the doorway of the small room.
Remmy glanced briefly at her as she pinned her nametag to the apron.
“Sorry. Got...held up.”
“Josh needed to leave a half hour ago, Remmy.”
“I said I’m sorry!” Remmy snapped, surprising both of them. The events of that afternoon had left her feeling confused and disturbed. She felt as though she’d lost total control of herself during that period of time. She remembered very little of it, other than staring up at the stoplight and wondering how the hell she got there. Her fears had not eased when Roman told her what happened.
Nodding, Joan turned to head back into the office. “We’ll talk about this later, Remmy,” she said, hurt in her voice. “For right now, we just need to get Josh out of here.”
Remmy felt bad as she made her way out to the bullpen. She would apologize later, but for the moment she needed to try and sort things out in her own head.
“’Bout time you showed up,” Josh grumbled, handing her the register keys and slipping past her before slamming out the front door, not even bothering to remove his apron first.
Remmy got herself settled in, checking to see what Josh had done during his shift and what would need to be completed during her late shift. It was already after six, and she had until two a.m. She was grateful for the hours that Joan was giving her, but she hated to work nights.
It was already ten, and slow, and Remmy was re-stocking the soda, bringing it up from the back. The Coke or Pepsi guy would come and stock the back room, the employees of the convenience store re-stocking the front as was needed. They were having a good sale on Coke products, so the twelve-packs had sold down to next to nothing. Josh hadn’t bothered to refill them. She was grumbling under her breath as she carted out a dolly of the red and white boxes when Joan caught up to her.
“So, you wanna tell me what that was about earlier?”
Remmy didn’t look at her as she continued to work. “Not really, honestly.”
“And why not? It’s not like you to be late, then to be a bitch about it, Rem.” Joan helped, moving a twelve-pack of Mountain Dew that someone had set down, probably after noticing that the Coke was cheaper. She opened a nearby cooler, put the soda where it belonged, then turned back to Remmy. She studied her. “Does this have to do with Julie?” Joan asked. “I can’t think of anything else that would bother you so much. Never in all my life have I known anyone who can just shrug off the problems of the world like you can.” Her gaze bored into Remmy. “Except when it comes to Julie Wilson.”
Remmy nodded. She thought she might dissolve into tears right there if she tried to speak. Instead she continued working, building the display, something that had become her specialty in the store. She tried to make each one more creative than the previous. The Coke display was no exception.
Joan stood back and watched. “Maybe you should talk about it, Remmy. You look upset. I don’t mean to push—”
“Then please don’t,” Remmy said softly, getting to her feet and standing directly in front of Joan. Tortured blue eyes looked deeply into Joan’s.
Joan sighed. “Okay. I’ll leave it be.” She held Remmy’s gaze. “I don’t want to be insensitive to what’s going on with you, Remmy, or about your abilities, but understand that this is still a business. I can’t afford to give you special privileges or schedules. Okay?”
Remmy nodded, irritated that Joan felt she had to tell her that, but she understood why she had. She watched her walk away, only to return a moment later with her purse and keys in hand.
“Have a good night, Remmy. Call if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” Remmy turned back to her work.
Chapter Twenty
Sergio rubbed his hands together, warming the lotion between them. His newest prize lay on his bed, still unconscious. He gazed at her firm, perfect flesh, freshly bathed by his own hands. He began his ministrations at her feet, rubbing the lotion into the pads of her toes then working it into the hardened, calloused undersides. He figured she must enjoy being barefoot. His gaze settled on her three tattoos—a mermaid perched atop her right collarbone, a unicorn on her ankle, and the image of an astrological Scorpio sign on her pubic bone just above neatly trimmed pubic hair, which had started to grow back over the past week that she had been his. Sergio couldn’t help but wince at the last tattoo—must’ve hurt, considering there was no fat there, only bone.
He slid his hands up soft calves, squirting more lotion into the palms of his hands as needed. The thighs were thin, very little muscle or definition. Not like Julie’s. It didn’t matter. He loved all types, shapes, and sizes. He remembered when his first had arrived. She’d been plump, with the belly and sagging breasts of a woman who had left youth behind and hadn’t prepared or taken care of herself for middle age. He had quickly taken care of that. She was now thin and streamlined.
Gentle, firm hands made their way up over narrow hips, the hip bones jutting a bit too much. He wondered why the girl was so thin. He would have to feed her a little extra, perhaps. Squirting more lotion, he ran his hands over the concave belly, thumbs caressing the bellybutton and noting the gold ring that hooked into the flesh, then his gaze moved up to her breasts. They were small, the nipples dark and puckered in the cool confines of his bedroom.
As he massaged them, he realized that this one reminded him of her, from very long ago. She had been built much the same way, with similar features, though her skin wasn’t quite the tanned shade of this girl’s. She was slender, with slightly larger breasts. She had only allowed him to marvel at those breasts just the once, and that was because he had given her all his milk money for a quick peek. At thirteen years old, that’s all he’d had, seventy-five cents. She had lifted her shirt, giving him the tiniest flash before turning and sauntering away.
Tossing the memory away, he returned to the prize lying on his bed. Her nipples were responding nicely to his hands, and he liked that. She sighed quietly in her semi-conscious state, but didn’t move. He used a thumb to roll over the hardened bud, eyes quickly glancing up at her expressionless face. He noted with mild excitement that her hips moved a bit, readjusting on the bed.
He left her nipples—there would be plenty of time for them later—and continued massaging the lotion into the skin of her shoulders and upper chest, and then her neck. After he finished, he would have to leave her for a bit. He was running low on supplies and would have to go into town. At least shopping on a Sunday morning wouldn’t be bad; everyone was in church. He hated to leave her, and just when they were becoming acquainted. With a sigh, Sergio squirted more lotion onto his hands.
****
The school gymnasium was decorated with flowers, the pull-out bleachers on either side filled with students, community members, family, and friends. A podium had been set up underneath the basketball net on the north side of the large room, the floors polished to a shine. Those that were going to be speaking sat in chairs that were set up along the free-throw line.
Dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweater, Matt Wilson stood behind the microphone, waiting for nine-thirty before beginning, giving everyone a chance to get settled. He smiled at Skylar, who sat at the end of the bleachers. Every seat was taken, and there were also people standing all along the back wall of the gym.
“Everyone,” he said into the microphone, voice echoing off the walls in the large space, “if we can get started, please.” The quiet murmuring faded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He stood back, giving them another minute, then he stepped up to the podium. “I want to thank everyone for coming. I know Julie would be extremely pleased and proud that all of you came to rejoice in her memory. This is truly a testament to the kind of person she is. I also want to thank those who have given Skylar and me their best wishes, and Mrs. Hinkle for her sinfully good dinners.” Chuckles rippled through the crowd.
Deloris Hinkle stood from her seat in the fourth row. “Anytime, Matty,” she called out, favoring him with a nod and an understanding smile.
Matt sighed. “The last few months have been the most difficult I’ve ever had to face. You’ve all helped my son and me to stay strong, and for that I’ll be forever grateful. Julie touched a lot of lives, not only as a sixth grade teacher, but as a friend, sister, and aunt,” he indicated Skylar, “and as an all-around great human being. Julie always stood for what is right in the world, and fought hard to make sure those in her care, her beloved students, had a wonderful teacher, a friend to talk to, someone who cared.”
He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. A few coughs sounded in the crowd as he removed the microphone from its stand. He stepped away from the podium, mindful of the long electrical cord that was strung across the gym floor.
“Julie went into teaching,” he continued, “because she loved children. I didn’t think she quite knew what she was getting into by going into middle school.” Matt grinned at the round of laughter that garnered. “But, she loved it. The other day I was in her house, watering plants, cleaning, keeping it fresh…” He cleared his throat when his voice broke slightly. Hold it together, Wilson. “I noticed in her study upstairs, all the pictures she had on the walls—pictures of her former students. And there were framed letters of thanks from those she has taught over the years. And some small gifts. She kept them all, because each and every one of them was special to her, just like each and every student was special to her.”
Many of the young faces in the bleachers were tear-streaked. Memories of the kind, beautiful, and sometimes playful teacher filtered through their minds. Julie’s disappearance was heavily felt by all.
Chapter Twenty-one
Julie adjusted her arms, trying to bend them just the tiniest little bit further to make herself more comfortable. She was back down in the pit, darkness and quiet all around her and Pamela. The dark seemed even darker than usual, especially since she hadn’t been downstairs in…she wasn’t sure how many days.
Pam had been less than welcoming when she was brought in and the new girl taken out. Julie felt bad. It had been a very long time since Pam had escaped from the darkness. Figuring her silence meant Pam was angry, Julie left her to her silent protest. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax. She needed to escape.
****
Remmy worked Josh’s morning shift to try and appease him for her lateness the other day. He was such a woman when it came to holding grudges. Remmy had learned that Sunday mornings in Woodland were dead. Everyone was either at church, still in bed, or—that particular Sunday morning—at Julie’s memorial service. She’d been invited, but declined. There was no way she was going to celebrate Julie’s life when it wasn’t over yet, though she was the only one who believed that; the only one other than Grace Cowan.
Remmy bent over the bullpen counter, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. She automatically turned on the pump for tank number 4, the customer using his credit card to pre-pay at the pump. She turned her thoughts inward, focusing on nothing in particular. Suddenly her vision began to fade, the sounds of birds chirping filling her ears, along with the sound of lapping water, and a gentle breeze wafting over her skin.
****
The sun was so bright and high in the sky, which was the most beautiful color of blue that Julie had ever seen. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face, turning it to the heat of the sun, almost able to see the ball of fire blazing through the thin covering of her eyelids.
Opening them, she saw the familiar figure walking toward her, arms out in invitation. Julie didn’t hesitate; she wrapped herself in the strength of her dream friend. “Remmy,” she murmured, and the embrace tightened.
“I brought a friend,” Remmy said into her neck before gently pulling away.
