Ugly Page 7

  “You must be Lily Anderson. Chris has told me a lot about you,” says a striking blonde woman as she walks toward me and stands beside me.

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” I hold my hand out to her, she takes it in hers and shakes.

  “Come upstairs and we’ll have a chat.” She turns and quickly starts walking away. My eyes are instantly glued to her sexy, hour-glass figure. Her strides are filled with such confidence and strength. It makes me envious to see those qualities in a woman. “This way,” she says, as she leads me up a narrow staircase.

  At the top on the right, she opens a door and steps inside before closing it and sitting behind an ordinary looking white desk. I sneak a look around the room and see how everything is in its place. Nothing out of order. Her desk is immaculately clean, with papers stacked neatly, and all pens in a container pointing down.

  “Tell me about yourself, Lily. Chris says you’re living with them?” Her cheeks pink just slightly, and when she says the word them, it’s almost like she’s spitting the word out in disgust.

  “I’m seventeen, and I’m about to graduate high school as the valedictorian, with a 3.9 GPA. I’ve been living with Mr. and Mrs. Hackly for almost three weeks.”

  “Mr. Hackly,” she pauses and clears her throat, “told me you came from an abusive household.”

  Instantly I feel myself cringe and retreat in total humiliation. Why would he say that? Why would he tell someone about that? How many others has he told? I feel like the butt of all jokes. “Um,” I mumble, trying to catch my breath.

  My head spins around and I can’t help the tears that leak from my eyes as I try and hold them in.

  “Don’t cry. I just need to know you’ll work hard for me.” Stacey looks at me, and her eyes, though pretty, are very cold.

  “I will, ma’am,” I manage to say through a strangled and painful sob.

  “Yes, I think you will. Summer is nearly here, and I’m going to need extra cashiers. You have the job if you want it. I trust Chris when he says you’re a good kid.” She stands, comes beside me and leans on her desk. “Here.” She reaches around to some papers which were on her desk. “Fill these out, bring them back on Saturday, and once I’ve got you a uniform, I’ll have you trained and ready to go.”

  I look up at her, I’m sure I’m a mess with tears clinging to my cheek and my eyes red, but I smile. “Thank you,” I say.

  “Tell Chris I’m still waiting for that lobster he promised me. You can tell him tonight while you’re having dinner.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say as I stand and take my backpack.

  As I walk out of the office, I thank Stacey again and promise I’ll do my best for her. I tuck the papers in my backpack and walk downstairs past Shayne. “Hey,” she says. I stop by her counter. “Did you get the job?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  She smiles at me. “That’s excellent. I’m Shayne, and I think you and I are going to be great friends,” she cheerfully says.

  “I’m Lily, and I really hope so.”

  A friend. A real life friend. Someone I can just be myself around. I hope she’ll be my friend. I really need someone.

  “Uncle Martin, this is my girlfriend Lily. This is my uncle, Martin,” Trent says as he introduces me.

  “Hello,” I say as I extend my hand to the balding, middle-aged man standing in front of me. He doesn’t look anything like Mr. Hackly. He’s short, with not much hair, a big belly and when he smiles, half his teeth are rotten.

  “What’s this, little lady? Where I come from we’re all family and this is how we greet each other,” he jovially says as he steps into my personal space, wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly while he lifts me clearly off the ground.

  He puts me down and chuckles. “Pleased to meet you, Sir,” I say, breathless from the bear-hug.

  “Sir? You can call me Uncle Martin or just plain old Marty. And you.” He looks at Trent, “You’re way too old to be calling me Uncle, you can call me Marty.” I smile at Marty, because he’s nice.

  “Come on, I need to introduce you to Uncle John,” Trent says, as Marty goes back to flipping the burgers on the barbeque.

  We walk toward a gentleman sitting near the pool. He’s nursing a beer as he watches some kids in the pool. He looks almost exactly like Mr. Hackly, but older with gray hair.

  “Uncle John, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Lily.”

  He stands from where he was sitting, and his intense green eyes go directly to me. Automatically, I feel uncomfortable. He trails his eyes down from my face to my breasts, then further down. A violent, intense knot forms in my stomach as I take his offered hand and shake it.

  “You’re Lily?” he asks. The question sounds wrong. Almost like he was expecting someone beautiful and he’s shocked by just how ugly I am.

  “Yes, Sir,” I answer.

  “She sure is pretty, Trent,” he says to Trent while leering at me.

  “She is,” Trent answers as he puts his arm around me and pulls me into him. “Go inside and help Mom with the food.”

  I force a smile at Trent’s uncle and turn to go inside, but I hear him say, “Fucked her yet?” I speed up and leave because he just creeps me out to the point I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

  When I go into the kitchen I see Mrs. Hackly working, and two other women sitting at the table, laughing and drinking a clear liquid in a tall glass. From the way they’re looking at Trent’s mom, and how they’re acting, I doubt the liquid is water.

  “Ma’am, do you need help?” I ask, as I step inside and stand beside her at the kitchen counter.

  “Yes. Thank you, dear. Can you peel these potatoes?” She asks, as she dumps a bag full in the sink.

  “Sure thing.” I pick the peeler up and start peeling them, and I can hear the two women at the table whispering and giggling like schoolgirls.

  “Who’s this, Lina?” one of the women asks in a condescending tone.

  Mrs. Hackly stops chopping the salad, gives me a sideways look that I interpret as ‘sorry about them’, then plasters a fake smile on her face. “This is Trent’s girlfriend. Her name’s Lily,” she says in a saccharine voice.

  “Come here, girl,” the older woman tells me, as I turn around to smile at them. I dry my hands on the tea-towel beside me and move toward the older one who is holding her hand out to me.

  I reach her and take her hand in mine, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” I say as nicely as I can.

  She looks so old, with heavy wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. She’s got a thick crown of coarse gray roots that need to be dyed, then straw-like dark hair that comes to just above her shoulder. “You’re not very pretty,” she says to me.

  I lift an eyebrow at her and hold in a chuckle. “Frankly ma’am, you’re not the first person to say that to me.” Pot calling the kettle black.

  “I’m Terri and this is Laura. You can call me Mrs. Terri, and you can call her Mrs. Laura,” she says, pointing to the skinnier and younger woman sitting beside her.

  “I’m just Laura. Don’t listen to a word the old bat’s saying to you. I’m married to Marty and Terri is married to John.”

  I smile at her, and feel somewhat more at ease. “I better get back to the potatoes.”

  “Soooo,” Terri draws out in a huff of a breath. “You’re going out with Trent, are you?”

  I see Mrs. Hackly’s shoulders tense and she takes in a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am,” I answer.

  “Really? And you think a good-looking boy like him will be happy with a girl like you?”

  “Terri,” Laura hisses, “stop it, leave the girl alone.”

  “Really Laura, Trent is a handsome boy. He can have anyone he wants, and he probably already has. So why would he choose someone as plain as her?”

  “Stop being such a bitch.”

  “Lina, are you happy with the girl?” Terri says as if I’m an infected, disease-ridden animal.

  “Lily is a very nice girl,” Mrs. Hackly repl
ies in my defense.

  Terri mumbles, but doesn’t say anything else to me.

  Mrs. Hackly and I spend the rest of the time in the kitchen cooking. I should say, Mrs. Hackly is cooking, and I’m doing whatever she says.

  When all the food has been prepared, we take everything outside on the back porch and call everyone for lunch.

  Trent instantly is beside me, and wraps his arm around my waist. He pulls me into his side, as he chats with his dad.

  Mrs. Hackly waits for everyone to be seated before she sits opposite me. I have Trent on one side, and John on the other. The conversation is mostly among the brothers, the kids and Terri. I notice Mrs. Hackly, Laura, and I are all pretty quiet, not saying much.

  As the conversation continues, I also pick up on Marty’s reaction to things. He seems slightly slower, with a lot of the jokes the other two brothers tell going over his head, as if he’s not understanding them.

  “Like some more potato salad?” Trent asks.

  When I turn my head to look at him on my right, a hand grabs my left thigh and squeezes it. Automatically I jump back and swing around to look at John. He moves his hand, but not before he chuckles at me.

  “You okay?” Trent asks.

  “I’m fine, I just need to go to the bathroom,” I say as I push my chair back and leave the table quickly.

  “Are you okay, dear?” I hear Mrs. Hackly ask me in a concerned tone. I turn and look at her over my shoulder, feigning a smile.

  The moment I’m inside the double glass doors, I run to the bathroom and lock myself inside. I feel sick, like I’m going to throw up. I remember the moment his leer made me feel ill, and now the thought of his hand squeezing my thigh sends terrifying shivers throughout my entire body. There’s a rock in the pit of my stomach, but it’s hurtling up my throat at such speed I doubt I’ll be able to make it to the basin.

  As soon as I vomit, my nerves calm. I breathe deeply in through my nose and out my mouth enough to let the wave of nausea pass. “What was that?” I ask myself as I look in the mirror. My eyes are all bloodshot and my face is splotchy and red.

  Standing at the basin, I let the cool water run and splash it on my face. I stand looking at my ugly reflection in the mirror and finally feel strong enough to go back out to the barbeque. I’m not sure if I should tell Trent or if I should just keep it to myself. Telling him will cause a rift if he tells his dad, but not to tell him is dishonest.

  I take a few more deep breaths and open the door. The second I unlock it and push down on the handle, it’s forced open and John barrels in, pushing me back into the bathroom. His lunge is so powerful I stumble back and fall on my bottom.

  He quietly closes the door and locks it. I scoot back until I feel the cold wall through my t-shirt. “You’re such a good girl, waiting for me,” he says as he stalks toward me.

  “Please, don’t,” I beg as I brace myself for what’s about to happen.

  “Shhh, no need to say anything, sugar. I’ll take care of you.” He unzips his jeans and begins to push them down over his hips. He grabs me by the shoulders and easily lifts me. “Now, be a good little girl and pull your shorts down.”

  This makes me feel sick. My heart is beating so quickly in my chest, and that nauseous feeling has returned, but even worse. “No,” I cry as his hands grope at my body. “No!” I shout louder.

  “You’re feisty. I like a woman when she fights back. It’s sexy.” He leans in and licks my neck as his hands keep fondling my breasts.

  With all my might, I push him away and run for the door, unlocking it and bolting out to the table where everyone is eating and enjoying their lunch.

  I sit beside Trent, and he immediately sees me shaking. “What’s wrong?” he asks as he puts his fork down and wraps me in his arms.

  Breathing through the lump in my throat, I try and form a sentence. But there’s no words molding into anything comprehensible.

  “She fell and it frightened her. I was there to help her up,” says John as he confidently strolls back to his seat and sits beside me. I move my chair over closer to Trent and further away from John. “Lucky I was there, actually, she could’ve gone through that glass coffee table. Now that would’ve been ugly, wouldn’t it, sugar?” he says. But his tone is giving me a warning. To shut up and not say anything or next time, I’ll be hurt.

  As I sit beside Trent, in his arms, shaking, I can’t say anything.

  “Thank God you were there,” Trent says to John as his hand rubs up and down my back. “Isn’t that right, Lily?” He kisses me on the forehead. I can’t do anything. I can’t agree and I can’t say a word. Not now, not with everyone here. “Poor thing, she really is spooked.” He kisses me again on the forehead.

  I stay cocooned in Trent’s arms, not wanting to look at John. But I can feel his evil eyes boring into me, drilling through my back.

  “Aren’t you hungry, sugar?” John asks. Just his mere words sends another shiver up my back.

  I shake my head, and try to move even closer to Trent. “You have to eat,” Trent says. I can barely form a sentence let alone consider eating. But I have to put on the appearance everything is okay. Because if I don’t, then everyone will know. I’m good at not letting anyone in.

  John’s already convinced everyone he saved me, when he’s the one I needed saving from. I move my chair out so I’m far away from the table’s edge, this way if John tries grabbing me again, Trent can see it for himself. Picking up my fork, I push the food around, but take small bites. The food is sitting high up in my stomach, ready to make a quick reappearance if John touches me again.

  When lunch is done, Mrs. Hackly stands and begins to gather all the used plates. I stand with her, and decide to stick close by to her. This way, John can’t come near me.

  We take the plates into the kitchen. Everyone else stays outside talking and laughing. I scrape the wasted food into the trash can and shake my head. A few weeks ago I would’ve pleaded to have food like this. And now, I couldn’t eat what was on my plate because of what happened with John. I’m so ashamed I let it go to waste, I’m no better than people who disregard others who are starving.

  “He touched you, didn’t he?” Mrs. Hackly whispers.

  Every hair stands to attention all down my arms and on the back of my neck. Ice runs through my veins, touching the furthest extremities of my body. Slowly I turn my head to look at her. She’s rinsing the dishes in the sink and her head is lowered. I can see tears slowly rolling down her cheek and drip one by one into the dirty dishwater.

  “How did you know?” I ask as I struggle to keep my voice steady. Her tears intensify and she looks at me. The look itself screams a thousand words. Telling me the entire horrific chapter in her life that she’s desperately trying to not let anyone see. “Oh my God,” I whisper as I put a plate down and go to give her a hug.

  Mrs. Hackly shakes her head at me and says through her tears, “Don’t, please.”

  I step back and give her space. Picking up the plate I silently continue to scrape the wasted food. Laura comes in a few moments later and stops by the door. I can see her looking and assessing us. “Are you okay, Lina? Did Lily upset you?”

  “No, dear. I’m alright. Just thinking how quickly my boy’s growing up,” she says, quickly recovering from the truth.

  This makes me think, how many more things does she recover so quickly from? How many more questions does she avert by lying? Has she done that to me?

  “I’ll bring in the rest of the things. Do you need a hand for dessert?”

  “Lily and I have it covered, thank you.”

  Laura makes a few trips bringing everything in, while Mrs. Hackly and I continue to silently work. The only words are her instructing me what to do. When we finish, we take the desserts out, and I notice John’s left the table and is in the pool. I take a steadying breath, relieved he’s nowhere near me or Trent’s mom.

  “The water’s beautiful, who’s coming in?” he shouts from the pool.

 
I feel myself shudder as I try not look at him. “Did you bring your swimsuit?” Trent asks me as he stands from the table.

  “It’s in my bag, but I’m not feeling well. I might just sit this one out.”

  “Okay.” Trent leans down, kisses me and then he runs toward the pool.

  “How ‘bout you, sugar, you coming in?” John asks me.

  It terrifies me that he wants me in there with him. He scares me. “She’s not feeling well. She’s sitting this one out.” Trent explains.

  “Come inside, dear, out of the sun. I’ll make you something cool to drink,” Mrs. Hackly says, before John can say anything. She’s caught on to what he wants to do, and she’s helping me. And more than likely, helping herself, too.

  Mrs. Hackly comes around and as I stand, she links her arm through mine. She gives me a small wink, and I’m fairly certain, that winks means two things. First, I won’t let him near you; and second, you’re saving me, too.

  We go inside and I sit at the kitchen table. “I understand,” she says as she makes me a cool drink. “Trust me, I understand.”

  As we sit in the kitchen, we’re talking but not saying anything important. The day wears on, and soon it’s time for us to go. I make sure Trent is beside me when I say goodbye to John, and the moment I’m out of there, I take a deep breath.

  “Are you feeling better?” Trent asks and Mr. Hackly turns to look at me.

  “She better not be pregnant,” Mr. Hackly says from the driver’s seat of the car.

  “What?” I quietly whimper. Pregnant? I don’t ever want children. This world isn’t made for kids. It’s too cruel to subject a child to it.

  “We’re not having sex yet, Dad. But when we do, I’ll wear a rubber.”

  I’m humiliated. Totally embarrassed. “Better still, take her to the doctor and get her on birth control,” Mr. Hackly says to Trent.

  I can feel my face burning, and I feel like crying. The conversation goes on around me as if I don’t exist. “I’ll use a condom, dad,” Trent says again.

  “Problem is son, girls like her get knocked up ‘cause they’re onto a good thing with people like us.”