I waited, as patiently as I could, in the great room while Caleb got ready. He was my babysitter for the day, or a handler, if you will, while Mom and Frank were away. Of all my step brothers, Caleb was the oldest at twenty-seven, and ostensibly the most mature. And, given that Caleb had been a respected lightweight boxer in college, he was Frank's go-to guy to make sure the trailer trash step daughter didn't embarrass the family in the public.
Of course, Caleb caused plenty of embarrassment on his own. He might have been spawned in a silver spoon environment, but every chance he got, Caleb raced to the other side of the tracks and peeled off his designer duds to start fistfights in rough bars with whoever looked at him crookedly. Lots of drinking came with the territory, but Frank Montgomery would shrug that off, boys-will-be-boys and all that jazz.
I was a different story.
Finally, Caleb descended the high spiral staircase. His steps were deliberate, taking care to flex his sinewy build with each movement. His abs were visible under his wifebeater, with matching tattoo sleeves running up his arms. His jeans were tight in the crotch, showing off his bulge.
All calculated, naturally.
He sneered when he saw what I was wearing.
"Not terrible," he said. "But that complexion, geez."
Caleb never failed to insult me. My simple black, straight hair was too plain. I never stood up straight. I always slumped my shoulders. And now it was my pale skin, always in dire need of a tanning booth.
I was wearing a black halter top that showed off a hint of my midsection, along with a knee-length skirt. Function over aesthetics, you could say, because today I was getting my first tattoo. A little blue dolphin below my navel, near my hip. Cute, I thought.
"Can we just go?" I asked.
Caleb inspected my thighs like a butcher about to cut into an unsatisfactory piece of meat. He fished his finger under the fabric and lifted up my skirt. "Do you even go outside when the sun's out?" he laughed.
I smacked his hand away. "Do you ever get tired of giving me shit?"
"I sure don't, my little ugly duckling. Now c'mon. I don't feel like babysitting you all day. Let's see if you can get some ink without trying to suck somebody's—"
He caught himself, then sneered again. Caleb snatched his car keys from the coffee table and walked out the front door, leaving me in silence.
It always stung, you know. Their comments, my reputation. I'll spare you the details, but after high school I remained a virgin, about as sexually active as a doorknob. Not too long before Mom met Frank, I got drunk at a party and took the plunge.
I fucked two guys at once that night. Right there at the house party, up in one of the bedrooms. Unlike Caleb Montgomery's family, we didn't live in big palatial villas with their long, empty hallways to muffle the sound. Half the town lived in trailers, with the others living in little mill town houses with walls as thin as tissue paper.
The sex was bad, awkward, about as unflattering a 'deflowering' as one could imagine, but loud enough for everyone downstairs to hear.
The rumors spread, as they often do. By the following week, I was the town's resident slut. A reputation that tailed me even now, hundreds of miles away, in Frank Montgomery's beachfront palace. (Frank interviewed Mom about me before they were married, to make sure I'd gotten over my slutty ways, and afterward spilled the beans to his sons.)
It was the first and only time I ever fucked. After that, the mere thought of sex paralyzed me. Even when I was alone, touching myself, I'd freeze.
Outside, Caleb wailed on the horn, breaking me out of my memory. I dragged myself out to him, wondering if I hadn't been better off as trailer trash.
#
"What the fuck is that?" Caleb asked while he sped us down the freeway.
He was referring to my talisman, a little faux-gold rose on a dollar store necklace.
I stuck it back in my purse. "Nothing."
"No, really. What was it?"
I noticed his eyes settling on my thigh. I pulled the hem of my skirt down. "You'll think it's stupid."
"Probably," he laughed. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke out the window. "Try me anyway."
So I told him. I always suffered from anxiety. It felt like a big fist in my belly all the time. So bad that sometimes I could barely speak. Antidepressants didn't work. Ditto for Valium. One day I heard about self-hypnosis.
"Oh Christ Olivia," Caleb said.
I shrugged. "It works for me. Calms me down."
"What, do you have some hypnotist dangle that thing in front of you?" he cackled. "You're getting veeeeery sleeeeeepy..."
"I do dangle it," I said. "But it's not like you see in the movies. The talisman is just an aide. It's more like deep meditation. I use it for my anxiety, but people use it for lots of things. Like quitting smoking or exercising more. It's like you open your brain to new suggestions, make yourself more agreeable to things you wouldn't normally consider."
