The rest of the week felt like it dragged on forever.
I would get up, say my prayers, and then walk to school with Chris and Gordie feeling like a third wheel. It was another reminder that my actual best friend of late was missing. It didn't matter that whatever Ace and I had was purely dysfunctional. It was weird, it didn't make sense, but above all, it was real.
I knew it was real because I still wanted to see him despite all the dangers I would face, and also having nothing "to gain" from the friendship, as some might say. Actually, I stood to lose just as much by the association as I would get in return. The only thing I hadn't figured out yet was what I really wanted, and what I was willing to sacrifice to get it.
Ever since our little conversation early on in the week, Ace had been ignoring me in US History and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him anywhere else but school. He was making good on his promise, all right.
To some extent I ignored Jane and Bev, too, because I still felt like a rat fink. I must have broken some half a dozen codes of honor for friendship and human decency in general. They would invite me to lunch sometimes, but I was always afraid of the conversations I'd hear. Afraid of finding out the horrible truth about myself that no amount of 'Hail Marys' would fix.
In the afternoons, my father would pick me up in different, nondescript places and so far, word hadn't gotten back to my mother that Dad was in town. And my reputation (as far as I knew it) was still okay. We would then head to the Howard Johnson's motor lodge in Portland for a few awkward hours of "bonding." Sometimes I'd catch a bit of the World Series on the tv with Dad if I didn't have to work.
Then I'd go home and do my schoolwork, and some of Ace's, I'd do my hour of silent prayer and solitude, and eventually I'd go to bed early wishing I'd never come to Castle Rock.
I missed Ace like crazy. I missed hanging out with Gordie and Chris and the rest of the guys. Sometimes when I saw Teddy and Vern in the street, I would get crushed when they wouldn't wave back to me. It hadn't seemed like long ago that we were all joking around and I really felt like I belonged.
The truth was, I'd never felt like more of an outsider in my life.
And sometimes, I even missed my story about Sheriff Honor. It was like I'd forgotten him so long that he belonged to someone else. Like he was one of Gordie's characters or something. Rose's murder was going unsolved, just as the mystery of whatever happened to Ray Brower was going unsolved.
Ray Brower didn't even seem like a real kid to me, anymore. He was just a name. Just some body that my cousin and his friends found over the summer.
Time moves differently in a place like Castle Rock. In Chicago, things moved really fast and people stayed pretty busy. Stuff from a week ago felt like it happened months ago. But here...in Castle Rock...things moved so slowly that it was like moving through molasses. Things that happened to you a month ago may as well have happened in another lifetime to another person.
I wasn't the same girl who changed behind Charlie Hogan's washline, nor was I the girl who beaned Crybaby Joey in the face by accident. I guess I really didn't know who I was, anymore.
I'd done a lot of surprising stuff recently that made me feel like a stranger unto myself.
On Thursday night Pop turned on the radio long enough for us to find out that the Dodgers had won the World Series and I squeezed my mop somewhat angrily. Reggie Merrill had been right, after all. That baseball I'd given Vern would be worth twice what was in that jar of pennies.
Friday night before work, Mom, Betsey, and I had been invited over to Gordie's for dinner.
I glanced down at my plate a lot during the meal. Mom kept bragging about me like I was an angel or something, being so devout with prayers and all. Little did she know the real reason behind such devotion.
My uncle never really understood why my mom became a catholic, or why she married my dad. I think he was especially surprised that my mom remained a catholic after all that had happened. At least protestants could divorce, he'd said once. If only he knew Dad wasn't dead...
After dinner I followed Gordie upstairs so we could work on his new story together. This time it was about a time-traveler and I found myself feeling nothing but pride for Gordie. It surprised me to realize I was no longer jealous of him.
On the landing, I noticed Denny's door was slightly open. Without even thinking whether or not it would be a good idea, I slipped into his room.
"Marley?" Gordie called from his own doorway. He followed me over to Denny's room and the two of us stared around at everything numbly. Denny's room was still waiting for him to come back. Even the corner of his quilt was folded back as if he would be coming to bed soon.
A part of me wondered if Denny's ghost was around. After all, there were too many people he left behind who really wanted him back. Maybe there was a piece of him that couldn't move on.
"Sometimes..." Gordie began, his voice wavering slightly. I looked over at him and he lost his nerve to continue. I glanced over at the closet, following Gordie's line of vision. The closet was slightly ajar, revealing the sleeve of a letterman's jacket. I was surprised Dennis hadn't been buried in it.
"Sometimes I see him over there...head busted, covered in dirt...and then I wake up and feel like puking." Gordie said. I nodded slowly, not a bit surprised that Gordie's imagination would cause him to be haunted by the gruesome image of Denny coming back from the dead.
I wanted to tell Gordie the truth. About everything. He deserved that much from me after he'd gone out of his way to be my friend.
"Gordie, there's something I have to tell you. I don't think you're gonna like any of it." I said. I tried to prepare myself for his quiet anger and the fact that he might never speak to me again. Gordie looked at me expectantly, probably never dreaming for an instant I had been betraying him from the start.
"You might want to sit down." I said. Gordie's soft brown eyes sharpened with anxiety. He took a few steps over to Denny's bed and stared at it for a bit before sitting down very slowly. He looked around the room once again as if afraid that Denny would burst out of the closet like in his dreams.
"You know, he was always pretty impressed with you." I said. I didn't know where it came from, but the words popped out of my mouth just the same. One of my last conversations with Denny had been about Gordie, and how Denny kinda wished that he was as smart as Gordie. Dennis had been plenty smart, all right, but even back then before Gordie had gone to college or become a bigshot writer...Denny had known the kid was special.
"You think so?" Gordie asked, somewhat shocked at the very idea. It wasn't surprising, given that Denny had been immortalized as a legend.
"He said so himself. He told me once that you were going places." I said. In retrospect I wondered what would have happened if Denny had lived. Would he have gotten a beer belly and run a used car dealership? I think Denny must have known he had peaked pretty early, and that one day Gordie was going to have his moment in the sun.
Sometimes I wondered if he'd been waiting for the day when it was going to be Gordie's turn.
Gordie gave a half-smile, afraid to believe it. He touched the quilt on Denny's bed carefully.
"The thing is, Gordie...my dad is alive." I said before I had the chance to back out. Gordie's expression hardly changed. I blinked a few times.
"He's alive, and he's been here since Monday." I added. Still nothing. I wondered if he'd heard me at all.
"I know, Marley." He said. I was nearly too flabbergasted to speak.
"Wh- How? I mean..."
"I saw you with him the other day. I recognized him...I've seen him before, you know?" Gordie said, as if that neatly solved everything.
"Yeah, but, aren't you mad that I lied about it?" I asked. Gordie lifted his shoulders lightly in a casual shrug.
"It's your life." Gordie said. I had no idea what to do with this response. Of all the reactions I'd been preparing for, this was not among them. And, crazy or not, I felt saddened that Gordie wasn't wasting the energy on me to be mad.
"Yeah, but we're family. You're my friend, too. Friends shouldn't make a habit of lying to each other." I said. Gordie fixed me with a sympathetic glance and I felt warmed by the kindness in his eyes.
"I think I know why you did it, though." He said.
Something about the horribleness of this week and the comforting look on Gordie's face made me realize just how hard things had been, and just how hard I'd tried to pretend everything was normal.
I sighed heavily and put on my big-girl boots, realizing I had nothing to gain by continuing to play a part in my mother's drama.
"He's back. And only now do I get just how...fucked up everything is. And if I don't do something different - something major - then life is just going to keep on getting worse." I admitted.
Gordie was silent, but I could tell at least part of him agreed with me. He had his own demons that were just as fucked up, and he was probably coming to much the same realization himself.
"I've never really talked like this with you, Gordie. You're very easy to talk to, you know that?" I said. I was trying to fill in the emotional silence with words, any words, anything that would keep me from crying on my younger cousin's shoulder. He had enough to deal with.
Gordie smiled somewhat sheepishly and gave a few nods. Chris had probably mentioned it more than once. The very gifts that made Gordie a great writer were the same gifts that made him a very caring and sensitive person. He was pretty wise, in a way. And he had a special kind of vision about people. He could see things that most people could not.
"Thanks for making me feel better. I had no idea I'd been carrying this albatross on my neck for so long." I admitted. Once Dad had moved out and I cried that first week...I thought it was over. I thought nothing about this divorce would ever get to me again.
"Everybody's got one." Gordie said. I thought about him writing his stories once upon a time, knowing that Denny would be the first person to read it and tell him it was pretty good. He still had Chris and me, but I knew there was a part of him that would feel honored (and petrified) at the thought that his parents might read one of his works.
"Hey, listen, Gordie. About that story. The guy who keeps looking for the portal back to his own time...I think it's pretty good the way it is." I said. I was glad he respected my opinion enough to think I could help him improve it, but there was nothing I could add.
"I think you should send it Rod Serling." I said. Gordie crinkled his brows in amazement and confusion.
"The guy from "The Twilight Zone?" I couldn't do that. I heard Ray Bradbury and a lot of other famous authors help write episodes." Gordie said as if his own stories didn't deserve to be anywhere near them.
"Why not? This is exactly the kind of thing they're looking for." I told him. Gordie shook his head and gave a self-deprecating grin, like he was convincing himself that what he was doing was just a hobby and nothing more.
"Then at least make a few copies and send it out to some publishers. Heck, Mabelvale High has a school paper. Get your stuff circulating, man. Both of us need to make the effort to grab our destiny." I exclaimed.
As for my destiny, I was spending twice as much time on the books but there was something else I had in mind. I began to wonder if I could have both.
Before I left, I made sure Gordie was at least warming up to the idea of being published. If anyone deserved it, he did.
After I helped Mom give Betsey her bath, I spent my required hour of prayer at the foot of my bed.
I wondered why I felt so empty doing it. By all accounts, my parents were supposed to be catching the next train to hell for dissolving their marriage. What was so bad about wanting to feel the warm touch of someone I loved so well?
I cried a little when I realized I had been raised to think of God like some sort of Santa Claus. If you're a good girl, you'll be on the "nice list" to go to Heaven.
It was the first time I began to wonder if maybe that's not how it was supposed to be. But what did I know?
I knew enough to know that I knew nothing.
When it was time for lights out, I propped my pillows under my covers once again. I just had to see Ace.
I pulled a light jacket over a pink mesh nightgown and walked to Irby's Billiards after nine o' clock. Most everything was closing except for Irby's, Sukey's Tavern, and the Drunken Tiger. This should have told me that what I was doing was probably pretty stupid, but I only had one thought on my mind.
It was Friday night, and Irby's was as crowded as I'd ever seen it. The second I walked in, a lot of people looked in my direction and I wished I'd taken the extra few minutes to put on pants or something. I saw a scruffy guy who appeared to be coming toward me, smiling and gesturing toward me, but somebody pulled him aside and whispered something in his ear.
The guy took a look at me and went back over to where his friends were and suddenly ignored me.
"What are you doin' here? Not that anyone minds the view." I heard Eyeball's high-pitched laugh and I turned around, my eyes searching for Ace but not finding him. It was like getting clocked in the stomach.
"Where's Ace?" I asked. Eyeball was playing a round with Billy, Charlie, and Jack Mudgett, the unsung muscle of the Cobra gang. Beers were plentiful and the smoke was thick. I coughed and tried to get over my disappointment. I was afraid if I didn't see him that night, I'd never have the nerve to do what I had to do.
"Around. Maybe with Bev, maybe over at the Youth League with that Betty Malenfant. She's his new chick." He said, fully aware of the distress I was in at hearing such news. He grinned at me, trying to casually give me the once-over. Jack swatted him on the back of the head and muttered something I couldn't hear.
"He should share the wealth. You think there's any bitch in this town worth taking that he ain't fucked, yet?" Eyeball answered him loudly. I could feel the white hot shame of being in this place hit me like a thousand saws in a magician's box.
"Except the Virgin Mary over here." Eyeball added. I began to notice the slight strain of his speech. Eyeball Chambers was getting pretty drunk.
I never realized that Ace had protected my honor just by being beside me. As long as he was around, no one really threatened me in an overbearing or sexual way. But being alone in Irby's, I was starting to understand maybe what all Ace had been trying to tell me.
For all Ace's wolfishness and apparent promiscuity...he was kind of a rogue gentleman. He had rules, he was honest, even blunt, and as much as I hated to admit it, Ace was pretty fair (at least when it came to women). As if I needed another reason to admire him and be confused by him at the same time.
Now if he could only be fair to people like Gordie, I thought, wondering how I expected to make it home tonight. I was suddenly aware just how sheer the material of my nightdress was. My light jacket was a joke.
"I can give you a lift home, Marlene, if you want." Eyeball said in an overly polite way. He glanced over at Jack and held out his hand. Jack hesitated, and both Charlie and Billy seemed really nervous about the whole thing.
"Hey, come on, man." Eyeball said, shoving Jack into the pool table. Jack reached into his back pocket and handed Eyeball a set of keys. Eyeball grinned and looked at me, his eyes swimming.
"You ready?" He asked. Logic told me not to get into a car with a drunken person. But nothing of logic ever reached my brain after Eyeball grabbed my arm and started to pull me to his side. He yanked me out of Irby's and we walked out into the night.
I breathed in the fresh air and shivered at the dawning sense of a new danger I hadn't expected.
Eyeball pushed me into the side of what I assumed was Jack Mudgett's Studebaker, my stomach pressed against the window. I felt his fingers trying to find their way through the jungle of mesh and when he made contact with the skin of my thigh, I let out a loud yelp.
Eyeball turned me around and used his free hand to clamp over my mouth, looking me straight in the eye.
"Don't make a fuckin' sound, okay?" He said, like a question and then not like a question. Eyeball was drunk out of his mind, but he was still surprisingly strong and lacked nothing in coordination. Lucky me, I thought soberly.
A fleeting thought crossed my mind. Chris once told me he'd never once touched a sip of alcohol. He said it with a bit of pride and a lot of determination. I'd never made the connection before now. Chris' dad spent most of his time in a drunken stupor, beating the shit out of Chris. Alcohol turned Chambers' men into monsters.
I felt a heightened sense of panic as I tried to think...think of anything that would get me out of this. A plan.
If I could keep from getting into the car, I had a real shot at breaking free. My mantra became "don't get in the car." I said it over and over and over as I shifted my weight against the door, keeping Eyeball from opening it.
I pushed my foot against the curb for extra leverage while Eyeball blindly pulled at the door handle.
"Wait, not like this." I said. I tried to make my voice sound calm, like I wanted this to happen. Like we were on the same page.
"Please, let's wait until it's more romantic." I whispered in his ear. The smell of beer and something like hard liquor churned my stomach and I nearly retched from fear and shame.
Eyeball blinked, still pulling half-heartedly at the door handle. He leaned in closer to my face like he was going to kiss me. The thought filled me with loathing.
"And let Ace get the first crack at ya?" Eyeball said, half serious. It might have been a joke, but I heard the bitterness in his voice and knew this was about evening a score.
I could have been any random virgin, I thought. If I hadn't been so nauseated with worry, I would have been pissed off. I made a mental note to be pissed off the second I was safe in my bed. Alone.
"I want you to have me, Richie." I said. He blinked stupidly and then cocked his head to the side.
"Then why don't you get in the fucking car?" He said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Every second that passed by meant that I was falling deeper and deeper into the most serious trouble I'd ever been in.
This was no pretend, walking-home-alone, running-into-Reggie-Merrill type of scare. This was the kind of terror I might always see every single night as I closed my eyes. I couldn't laugh this off if I tried.
"If you wait until you're sober, I promise it'll be worth your while." I said.
Eyeball stopped for a minute, and I thought maybe I'd gotten through to him somehow. But a few seconds later, he was leaning over in the gutter to vomit. He had taken his hands off me to lean against the hood of the car, long enough for me to slip away and I certainly wasted no time in bolting.
I ran down the street with tears in my eyes. Tears of relief, tears of regret and self-loathing, tears of guilt and remaining fear and any other leftover emotions I was too exhausted to name.
I was in such a frightened trance that I didn't hear anyone shouting my name. I just wanted to escape and run as far away as possible.
My chest was heavy, and the air I breathed felt cold as ice, though it burned heavy in my lungs.
Even though I wanted to run forever, my body couldn't hold out any longer. I slowed and nearly tripped, falling to the sidewalk.
I felt the touch of someone's arms and I nearly screamed.
"Marley!" Ace held onto my shoulders and I looked up into his face in shock. He wasn't supposed to be here...
My whole body was shuddering and I began to wonder if I wasn't imagining Ace coming to my rescue or something. It was just the sort of thing I'd do to make myself feel better.
"Marley, what happened?" He asked, his eyes fierce and narrow. He gripped my shoulders tightly and shook them a little when I didn't answer him.
"Nothing. I'm fine." I said, surprising myself by how calm and serene I sounded. Ace snarled.
"Do you think I'm joking? What the fuck happened?" He asked. I shook and tried to get out of his grip. I was tired of being manhandled.
"Let me go!" I said, pushing him away. He held on tighter and it wasn't until I felt a drop of something wet tickle my nose that I noticed I was crying. My face was impassive, but my eyes were leaking tears.
Almost immediately Ace relaxed his grip. He was still holding on to me, but he was gentle now.
I dared to look up into his face and I saw something I'd never seen there before.
Ace looked like maybe he might have been a little scared, too.
Before he would let me gaze into his face for too long, he pushed me into his chest and hugged me for the first time. I reciprocated, squeezing him like I was afraid he'd blow away like a gust of wind. But he didn't go anywhere.
And in the comfort of his arms, I noticed that I had stopped shaking.