finally woke up while I was in the bathroom. I heard her mention something to Alfie about me, but couldn't make out the exact words. Her footsteps made me tremble.
She banged on the door. "Get out of there, Maggie."
I'd had enough crying for one morning and obliged. The door swung open and Mama pushed her way past me. She looked up as she knelt over the toilet. "Get out."
I did as I was told, but rather than face Alfie again, I went straight to my room. I could still feel the sting on my face from the alcohol I'd poured in the cut, and the salt from my tears hadn't made it feel any better. I shut the door and lay down on my bed, thinking of Michael and his touch and then of Alfie. What was he trying to do with me? Get me in bed?
I was almost twelve years old at the time, and I had enough common sense to know that any sort of affection from a man Alfie's age was dangerous. Like I said before, I wasn't a stupid girl. Grandma had given me enough knowledge to make it as a woman, and some of that was certainly hard to swallow at such a young age.
I'd never thought of Alfie as anything more than Mama's boyfriend: another man who would come into the house and eventually leave. I never really got to know any of them, and I never thought Alfie would be any different. True, he'd moved in with us and I could hear Mama's sex noises in the middle of the night. They fought off and on, and occasionally, Alfie would strike Mama. It was usually in the arm or leg, however, not in the face like so many other men. Mama probably deserved it, anyway. She had a temper, one that couldn't be controlled. Most of her boyfriends must have realized this and dropped her as soon as that temper crept out of its hiding place.
Mama was certainly pretty enough. She had Grandma's eyes, and that may have been one reason I couldn't hate her despite all the mean things she'd said to me. It took me a while to realize why she couldn't keep a man in the house: Grandma didn't approve.
I could hear Mama in the bathroom, vomiting. The trailer walls were never meant to keep sounds out, just separate one space from another. The toilet flushed, the water in the sink ran, and the door opened. She was coming to get me.
I was wrong. I heard Alfie tell Mama something then the screen door open and shut. Maybe she was too angry to deal with me. Maybe she just didn't care enough to impart her great motherly knowledge on me and warn me of the dangers of sexual relations at such a young age. Whatever the reason, Mama was gone.
I was alone with Alfie.
My bedroom door opened, and he stood at the entrance, smiling. His unshaved face and messed up hair made him look more than crazy. He took a drink from the beer in his hand and stepped inside.
I pushed up against the wall, like I had so many times when Mama threatened to beat me. This was different. I could tell something more sinister was about to take place and no one was going to save me. Grandma wasn't going to appear out of nowhere and calm Alfie down. Mama had left the trailer for God knows what reason, and the neighbors had probably heard enough screams from our house that they no longer paid any attention.
Alfie sat down on the side of the bed and put his hand on my knee. He had to know I was frightened.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Maggie." He smiled and set the bottle on my nightstand. "Your mama went to the store to get you some medicine for your cut. I think she feels bad for leaving a mark on such a pretty face."
I didn't know what to say. Without Alfie in the house, Mama wouldn't have done that. She would have finished vomiting, come in the room and beat the crap out of me. I'm sure of it. Maybe Alfie had some calming effect on women I wasn't aware of.
He moved his hand up my leg and rubbed my thigh. His hands were large, and as I looked at them, I wondered if they were clean like Michael's. I don't know what possessed me to think of such things, but I figured if Alfie was going to touch me, I wanted him to
Learning to Kill: Stories