Author's Note: Sorry for taking soooooooo long, it's just things are ker-azy all the time. We're almost to the end and don't worry, we've got a really great ending that will tie everything together and answer all of those pressing mysteries! REVIEW PLEASE WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU 3 3 3 3 xoxoxo
Happy Birthday, Claudia!
Cam always calls me from the limo when he picks me up at Janine's. It's nothing personal, he says, it's just my sister's a slut and the neighborhood isn't safe for a star like him. It's not that he doesn't like Janine, it's just, what would the press say if they saw him with a girl with her reputation? He doesn't need another paternity claim. He's right. He's so smart. I just wish... now that I knew my sister's secret, I wish she could share in the glam and bright lights that he provides for me. It's so unfair. How could my sister have hidden this? Why did her life go so terribly wrong when she was so good and I, Claudia Kishi, the girl who failed eighth grade, never read anything but Nancy Drew, and snorts coke like it's my motherucking job, get all the perks in life?
I met Cam Geary when I was 14, hanging out in some artist's studio in SoHo. The artist told me I was his muse. He gave me coke and, even harder for a fourteen year old to get without her parents finding out, birth control. It all worked out. Then Cam came in one night for a party. Cam was older and famous and still so sexy. And he always knows what's going on. He knows about the world. He's been working in Hollywood since he was 12 and he's 23 now. Still famous. Still acting as those pretty frat boys who chug beers. But he says he's going to go into theater soon. Cam knows what he wants and how to get it. That's why I let him call me from the limo.
We've been together ever since. He spoils me. I take the train up every day from Stoneybrook and he makes his limo take me home. It's perfect. We're in love. He's going to get me my big break. And now, the night of my birthday, he's throwing me the biggest bash in history. He's rented out the Metropolitan Museum of Art, he's invited all sorts of cultured people I need to meet. There's a small exhibit of my work. Hostess is catering. I'm in love. I'm in heaven. I... I... my sister was raped.
I never thought she would be. Janine was always the good girl. She never went anywhere that you would think would be conducive to a rape. Not like me. I'm seventeen and I can't count really remember how many strange beds I've woken up in. Being raped wouldn't have changed me so much. I could deal, do a little more coke, find a couple other drugs. But Janine? I can't imagine how she was feeling.
It would've changed me, yes. But not as much as it hurt Janine.
Cam keeps grabbing at me in the limo, unable to see (or care) that I'm upset. I push him away and he moves to the mini bar to make drinks. I can't wait for the party. I'll forget everything at the party. And as Cam hands me a drink, I start forgetting in the limo.
I was always this way, addictions and secrets. Back then it was binge eating and trashy books. Trying to shock people with my clothes. Everyone should have known that binge-eating would give way to alcohol, secrets would become sex romps, and hey, a better way to shock my parents is to show up strung out after a three day heroin binge.
To cheer myself up, I look down at the dress sitting on the seat next to me. Cam has, once again, helped me to raid Stella McCartney's newest show. It's just a simple black dress, worn with my hair loose and long and lots of makeup. Whoever said heroin chic was out was wrong, in my opinion. I'll add a couple of necklaces and some high heels and be ready for the paparazzi.
...Janine doesn't need make up to make her eyes dark and sorrowful.
Cam put a stop to my crazy dressing. It was a requirement of our relationship. He has a lot of rules. Most are sexual. Whatever. With the perks, who misses anything?
The cameras flash as Cam leads me in. Let's face it, I'm stumbling already. I thought I'd gotten over my bender at Janine's, but the stuff Cam gave me in the limo was just what I needed to get back on track. Once inside, I immediately beeline to the open bar. Well, not immediately. First I snort another line in the corner, but after that, it's all gin for me. Cam always wonders why I pick gin over vodka for all my drinks. I've never told him the whole story of my past. Vodka takes me back. Back to the night. The night Mallory. Mallory died.
No, no, no! I'm not going to think of it now! I'm going to drink gin and tonics. Lots of gin and tonics. Then when I'm sick of tonic, I'll just drink straight gin. Either way, I'm not going to think about it.
I smile for the cameras and nod at Cam's artist friends. I stand up straight when he pinches my neck, hard, to remind me. I examine the work of all the artists and look at mine. I consider eating a Twinkie but don't really feel hungry. I try to remember the last time I ate but get another drink instead. Then I look across the room.
I see something... a flash... out of the corner of my eye, but Cam won't move his hand, still pinching me hard. He asks if I want to go see the classic art, no one's there, he tells me, he'll fuck me so hard under the Monet. I giggle slightly and tell him later. I think I saw something crazy. Something I can't tell anyone about, not even Cam. I tell him I need a moment and motion to my nose. He nods and says to hurry back, I have people to meet. Happy birthday, he says. Sometimes he looks like a wolf bearing all of this teeth. Too bad I don't talk to that slut Mary Anne anymore, or I'd tell her about her dream boat.
Instead of going to the bathroom, I just pop a pill from my box in my purse...I made this box. I covered it in jewels and it looks good, if I say so myself. I was going to make one for each of the BSC, before that night happened. I look again for the flash across the room and I see it in a person. It's a girl, she's with some guy that Cam knows. He's a poet or some crap like that. She reminds me of someone I used to know, so very long ago.
I'm momentarily distracted by my box again. I'm not gone enough. I'm not enough of a star yet. I deliberate. Perkaside, Vicodin? Perkaside? Vicodin? Adderall! I pop the pill and return to Cam. He takes my hand and holds it gently. A camera flashes. He starts leading me over to the guy I saw earlier, the one with the girl, who's fuzzy to me, like a black and white memory, in the film projector of my mind, like old family photos, like days I'll never reclaim and then I remember and before I can even put it together, I hear my voice shrieking, as if out of body. "MALLORY!"
After I shriek, I stop, falling to the ground. When Cam drags me out, trying to make it look as I'm walking, the girl disappears. We get into the hall and I fall to my knees. "What the fuck Claudia? I do this for you and this is how you repay me?" He's got my hair balled up in his hand and is forcing me to look into his eyes as he shouts at me. I shiver, remembering just how bad it can get when Cam gets mad.
A camera flashes and Cam straightens up. We are never alone. One of his bodyguard grabs the camera and breaks it. Suddenly Cam starts crying, big fake crocodile tears. "Are you all right, my darling?" he proclaims, cradling me. He leans in to my ear. "I'll deal with you later," he hisses, inaudible to others. He motions to his favorite bodyguard, a giant man named Sid. I like Sid. I'm his Christmas bonus. "Take my baby to the hospital," Cam orders.
Sid scoops me up and takes me outside. "IT WAS HER," I scream, hitting his chest until he sets me down on the stairs at the back of the Met. "I KNOW WHAT I SAW!"
Sid just stares at me, wordlessly offering me a cigarette. I take it and sit down heavily on the steps. Sid knows I'm not sick. He's seen me when I'm sick. I stub out the cigarette when it's not even half done. I need something stronger to convince me that I really didn't see her. That she wasn't here. I dig through my purse in search of the box but instead find a small package of sidewalk chalk. Little Lucy Newton and I were drawing last Sunday morning. She'd just gotten home from church. I hadn't been back in Stoneybrook in three days and hadn't been to bed in two.
"I'm not crazy," I slur at Sid. "You don't know what it was like. I saw it all. That fucking bitch Abby. I saw it all."
Sid gazes at me with the same disapproval, fond but disapointed, my parents gave me all those years. "I'm sure, Miss," and he even sounds sincere.
"It was fucking her."
"Abby?"
"No... Mallory. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead."
I look at the chalk. The moon shines on the sidewalk, illuminating it. Sid is staring. I try to remember Mallory's favorite color. I can't. The past is too gray, too fuzzy. I don't remember anything. What was her favorite book? Animal? I think it was a pony. I think she wanted to be a writer. But it's too risky. I have only one chance to reach her. I can't risk a mistake. I grab a piece of blood red chalk and raise it in the air, like a sword. I bring it down on the concrte.
MALLERY WE'VE BEEN WEIGHTING
I feel Sid's hand on my shoulder. "Let's go, Miss." Before he can drag me away, I add.
MALLORIE CUM HOME
And then I let him lead me off, sobs wracking my body.
