It was someone else who did those things.
It was Anna.
I had a reason for choosing her.
One night, a night I wasn’t summoned to Mr. Maples’s room, Missy woke me, needing to make a trip to the second-floor bathroom. As we left the bathroom, we heard something odd coming from Anna’s room. We both stilled, scared if Anna saw us, she’d tell Mr. Maples.
“Is she jumping on her bed?” Missy asked in a whisper.
Why would she do that late at night?
“I don’t know.”
“If her dad wakes up, he’ll be mad.”
He would. Hearing those words from my little sister, I knew she was right.
Yes, Anna was older than me, three years older, and mean. She and Zella belittled and made fun of me and my siblings any chance they had, but this night, she sounded...I didn’t know—upset. Maybe she was having a nightmare. Missy had them. Sometimes, while totally asleep, she’d thrash about. I had learned how to calm Missy.
“Maybe she’s having a nightmare,” I said to Missy.
“Wake her up. It’s always better when you wake me up.”
My sister’s large brown eyes stared up at me with more faith than I deserved.
I nodded, not because I wanted to help Anna, but because Missy believed I could.
My heart pounded as the squeaks of the bed and Anna’s cries grew louder.
“Please,” Missy pleaded in her little-girl whisper, “Lorna, help her.”
Taking a deep breath, I walked Missy to the stairs. “Go up to bed. I’ll help Anna and be up in a minute.”
My sister nodded, her smooth long dark hair moving in a wave over her slender shoulders. “She needs you.”
I kissed Missy’s head as I sent her up to the cold attic. “Cover up.”
She smiled down at me as she opened the door at the top of the stairs.
In the dim hallway, I walked as quiet as a mouse to Anna’s bedroom door. With each step, my hearing listened to the noises behind her door. I tried to match them with what I knew. I couldn’t.
The doorknob creaked as I turned it. Her cries were louder as were the groans of her bedsprings. I was about to speak, to tell her I’d help, but once I had the door open and the dim light from the hallway shone over her bed, I couldn’t move.
Much like during my times in Mr. Maples’s room, I was unable to move. The sounds I couldn’t identify mixed with my rapid heartbeat, echoing in my ears. I held my breath as Mr. Maples spoke. It wasn’t to me but to Anna.
The bed continued to bounce as she cried. He used the voice he sometimes did with me. “It’s okay. You’re my special girl.”
I thought I was your special friend?
It was an irrational thought, but at ten, it was there.
Mr. Maples and I may be friends, but he’d never done to me whatever he was doing to Anna. His hairy butt was out of his pants. He was lying on top of her as they bounced.
“Stop, Daddy.” Anna’s voice was filled with tears. “It hurts.”
“No, Anna. This is what grown-up girls do. It’s my job to teach you. You want to be a good grown-up girl, right?”
My stomach twisted in knots. I didn’t want to know her answer. Quietly, I shut the door. For a moment I hesitated at the bathroom, wondering if I’d be sick. The noises continued. If I stayed I might be caught.
What would happen then?
Swallowing back the yucky taste in my mouth, I made my way back up to the attic. As I climbed the steps, I decided that I was a better friend. Sometimes I cried, but not as loud as Anna.
After that, whenever Mr. Maples would tell me to kiss or lick, I pretended to be Anna. I was better at it than her, but I was her. It made it easier to wash and go upstairs. Instead of it being me, I’d watched him again with her. He’d told her to kiss. He’d made her lick him. He’d told her to wrap her lips around the end.
As much as I hated what Anna did, when I was called to his room, I still didn’t tell. It was more than that I’d given my word. I also watched the way Mr. Maples looked at Missy. How sometimes he’d run his dirty hand over her long brown hair or ask her to sit on his lap.
I told myself I could do what he asked. I could be a good friend. I could be better than Anna and Mr. Maples would stay away from Missy.
Almost another month passed without him coming to the attic. Maybe he was busy with the real Anna. I could pretend that was all he’d done. I was beginning to believe I never did those things. I never made promises I didn’t want to keep. I never touched, kissed, licked, or sucked on a grown man’s penis. I never left Missy’s side. The lies I told myself convinced me that it never happened. It wasn’t me. And then one night, later than usual, the door opened.
Lorna
Twenty-six years ago
Five months and seventeen days we’d spent in Mr. Maples’s house. I knew the date because six months ago, exactly, the lady had come to Grandma’s house and taken us away. She’d given us ice cream and promised us that everything would be all right. Missy and I had gone to one house and Mason went somewhere else. It was almost two weeks later when the lady returned, not alone but with our mother. That was the day we came here.
My breathing caught as the door to the attic opened wider. Mr. Maples’s shadow stood in the doorframe as the dim hallway light from the second floor shone around him. He rubbed his hand over the front of his pants before calling my name.
“Lorna.”
Without a word, I climbed out from under our pile of material and left Missy and Mason behind. Neither Mr. Maples nor I uttered a word as I followed him through the house. He seemed different, gripping the banisters tighter, unsteady on his feet, and swaying from one side of the hallway to the other. As we went down the stairs to the living room he missed a step and cursed loudly. Once we got to the light, his clothes looked dirtier than normal. His shirt was stained and he had spots on his pants. Maybe he had an accident or he came with them on.
That wasn’t a normal thought for a ten-year-old, but I had it.
“Bitch,” he muttered as we walked past my sleeping mother.
Once the door to his bedroom was closed, a stronger odor hit my nose. I didn’t recognize the strong smell. It was different than beer. I held my breath as I tried to get used to it. He didn’t seem to notice the smell as he began the same questions. His words slid together, but I knew the routine.
Are we still special friends?
Have I kept our secret?
Do I like touching him?
And then the questions stopped.
He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the button on his pants, and lowered the zipper. He held on to the dresser as he kicked off his shoes and pants. Though I wasn’t used to him taking them completely off, I was no longer shocked by the way he looked. His hand moved up and down his penis, making it stick out. His glassy eyes focused, perhaps really seeing me for the first time in the light. “Why are you in clothes? Where’s your nightgown?”
“It’s so cold up there.”
His head shook as his gray gaze narrowed. “You’re a tease. Just like your momma.”
I didn’t know what that meant.
Did I tell jokes?
I’d never told Mr. Maples a joke.
He took a wobbly step toward me and reached for my chin. “Is that what you are, Lorna, a tease?”