Chapter 34
Monica
With only a couple of weeks remaining until the ball, it was time to think about costumes, so on Monday, instead of our usual support group meeting, I suggested a field trip. I held the door so I could get a good look at Grace’s face when she walked inside. Her reaction was all I thought it would be.
“Oh. Wow.” She blinked a few times.
“What did I tell you? The Fabric Depot—forty thousand square feet of retail space, twenty thousand different fabrics. If you don’t find something you like for your costumes here, you never will.”
“How did I not know about this place? It’s amazing,” Grace said, her voice almost reverent as her eyes scanned the brilliantly hued horizon, row after row and bolt after bolt of satin, silk, wool, taffeta, tulle, chintz, chenille, chiffon, chambray, corduroy, cotton, and broadcloth in every imaginable color, pattern, texture, and weight. “How are we even going to figure out where to start?”
“Maybe with actually getting everybody inside the building,” I said, looking back through the doorway to the parking lot. Zoe was walking toward the door at a snail’s pace, shuffling toward the entrance while she thumbed a text message into her phone.
“Were you planning to join us anytime this year?”
“This was your idea,” she grumbled, “not mine. Isn’t the whole point of being grounded that you have to stay home?”
“Don’t think of it as being grounded so much as punished,” I said. “When I can trust you to stay home, then you get to stay home. But since I can’t and since your brother is at a basketball game, you have to go with me. See how that works?” I asked, flashing a fake smile.
“I hate you,” Zoe glowered. “Do you know that?”
“I don’t care. Do you know that?”
Zoe all but hissed as she slunk through the door, still texting, staring into her phone but holding it at an angle that made it impossible for me to see the screen.
“And since you hate me anyway, I really don’t feel bad about doing this.”
I plucked the phone from her hand. She started to howl. “What? No! Give it back!”
I turned my back to Zoe, blocking her frantic attempts to recapture her phone. As I scanned the texts, waves of disappointment, weariness, and frustration washed over me, but when I spotted the picture, frustration turned to fury.
“That is it!” I spat. “Zoe, I have had it! You are thirteen years old. Ryan Plummer is almost seventeen. In case I hadn’t already made it clear, when I punished you for sneaking out of your bedroom window to hook up with Ryan and said you couldn’t see him anymore, that also meant you couldn’t text him anymore.”
Honestly, I felt like shaking her. Instead, I pushed my face up into hers, desperately trying to get her attention, if not her understanding. It wasn’t working. She turned her head away and I grabbed hold of her shoulders.
“Zoe, you have got to listen to me, this boy is way, way too old for you.”
“Only three years,” Zoe countered, finally looking at me. “Daddy was five years older than you.”
“Zoe, five years in your forties is a whole different thing than three years when you’re barely out of grade school. Besides, look how that worked out.”
“That’s because Daddy never loved you,” Zoe spat as tears sprung into her eyes. “But Ryan loves me!”
Zoe’s observation wasn’t exactly breaking news, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Like her brother, Zoe knew the location of all my vulnerable spots and how to strike to inflict maximum damage. Did she do it by plan or by instinct? I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter at that moment. I was the adult here. I was the mother. And this girl, this rotten, selfish, stupid girl was my responsibility. It was my job to protect her from all threats, including herself.
I turned the phone around so Zoe would be forced to see the screen the way I was seeing it. “I see. He loves you? Is that why he’s texting you pictures of himself in his underwear?”
Zoe’s cheeks flushed red. She looked down at her feet.
“Zoe, a guy who wears briefs that say, ‘Unleash the Beast,’ is looking for a lot of things, but love isn’t one of them. If you’ve had sex with this boy . . .”
Her head popped up. “I haven’t!” Zoe raised her hand out flat, as if she was taking an oath.
“Really, I haven’t. I swear. All we’ve done so far is just . . . fool around a little.” She paused, her cheeks flaming anew. “I let him touch my boobs.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. My head was pounding. What was I going to do with this girl?
“I just want him to like me,” Zoe said, her voice a whimper.
“Oh, Zoe . . .”
The irritation of a moment before drained away instantly, replaced by pity.
“Honey, I know. We all want that. But that’s not the way to do it.” I held the phone up again. “This isn’t just fooling around, or it won’t be for very long. Ryan knows exactly where he’s trying to lead you.”
For a moment, it felt like I was getting through to her, but then her eyes glazed over again. I wanted Zoe to like me, to make her understand that I was acting in her best interests. But if I couldn’t do that . . .
“Zoe, you are thirteen years old,” I said. “If Ryan gets what he wants, the state of Oregon calls that second-degree rape and I will absolutely press charges.”
Zoe’s jaw dropped. “But he never made me—”
“Your consent means nothing here,” I said. “I know you don’t like hearing this, Zoe, but you’re still a child. The law is there to protect you. And whether you like it or not, so am I. That’s why I’m keeping your phone.”
“Monica!” she cried, tears spilling over. “You can’t! What if there’s an emergency? How will I talk to my friends? What am I supposed to do all day?”
“Since you’re going to be either at school, at home, or with me, there will be someone to help if you have an emergency. You’ll see your friends at school. If you want to talk to them after school, then you can call them on the house phone. As far as ways for you to keep busy . . . we’ll think of something. Now, come on.”
I put Zoe’s phone in my purse and started walking toward Grace, who was standing at the far end of the store, looking through bolts of sateen. Zoe trailed along, dragging her feet and weeping.
“I hate you, Monica,” she said, sniffling and gulping air.
“I know.”
“Why are you trying to ruin my life?”
“I’m not,” I said, keeping my eyes straight ahead. “I’m trying to save it.”