Our Sandbox

eleven - piper

Small towns suck. 

Everything is too claustrophobic, too close. They are places where you can feel the breath of the person a few houses down and you can hear whispers from people whose middle names you don't even know, or care to know. 

In a city with thousands on thousands of people, Jerry wouldn't have mattered to .01% of the population. He wouldn't have been on Nolan's kitchen TV. He wouldn't be released so soon. 

He's too charismatic, with salt and pepper hair and wrinkles that are placed too precisely, more smile lines than age lines. He knew too many people, and too many people loved him. Or at least they loved his mask. 

I remember the night my mother first brought him home. It was two years ago, and I was sitting up in my bedroom, having just hung up from my daily phone call with Nolan. I was pimpled and short, with pudgy cheeks filled with baby fat that just hadn't gone away yet. I still had those thick and round rimmed glasses with the dark grey rims that constantly fell down my straight nose. 

I heard the door open, the sound of my mother's giggle. A masculine voice. I remember tip-toeing down the stairs, peering secretly over the banister and watching them. I recognized him immediately. The former mayor with the winning smile. He looked like he could have done infomercials or have been a toothpaste representative. But I guess he decided to do a combination of them. 

He and his wife, Martha, had recently split, and rumor around town was that she had cheated on him with their pool boy (I mean how beverley hills can you be?) and he graciously and calmly divorced her. 

They were sitting at the kitchen island, Jerry leaning over the table on his elbows and lightly rubbing his nose against my mother's. She had this glimmer in her eyes like she was a teenager again. Not wanting to see what happened next, I turned to go back up the stairs, but, being the klutz I was (and still am), I knocked my knee against the wall. 

Their voices stopped and I froze, hoping they would just ignore me. I hated interrupting my mom's dates, trust me, no child needs to be scarred like that. TMI. 

But of course, they rounded the hall and peered up the stairwell at me, and I watched Jerry's face, waiting for a reaction. 

An emotion I couldn't place flashed through his eyes, but then it disappeared as he curled his lips into a bright and slightly intimidating smile.

"You must be Pepper?" He asked, stretching out his hand. 

I stared at it for a moment, before shaking it gently. 

"It's Piper." I whispered. I was so shy then, like a mouse whenever a human being tried to even look at me. 

"Apologies." And then he winked at me, like a father would to his son. But instead of being endearing, that gesture sent uneasiness to my stomach, and suddenly nausea hinted at the back of my head. 

"I-I'm going to go study." I muttered, and in a flash, disappeared up the stairs. I could hear my mother giggling as I swiftly shut my bedroom door. 

I felt as if I'd just shaken hands with a con man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Piper, are you okay?" Nolan asked me. We're stretched out in his backyard, both of us swinging in his giant white hammock that lies under the shade of a willow tree. His mother was an amazing gardener, and she really made this yard as picturesque as possible. 

"I haven't even called my mom yet." I whispered. 

"Do you-" Nolan began to ask.

"And I don't know if I want to." 

"Why not?" He asked, leaning up on his elbow and looking down at me with a furrowed brow.

I sigh and brush a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Because I know what she's going to say. That Jerry was just angry, that it was her fault. That he promised he'd never do it again." I scoff. "You said that my mother was strong. But you're wrong. She pretends like nothing affects her. She tries so desperately to be a picture perfect wife and mother, like one of those moms on the sitcoms." 

Nolan doesn't respond for a moment, and I know he wasn't expecting this as my response. But not that I have run out of tears and pity for myself, I have reached a stage of frustration. 

"Do you know how many douchebags she's dated?" I ask, sitting up on the hammock. "More than I can count. My own mother has kissed more boys during my teen years than I have. She's so empty, she just wants what she had with my dad again." 

I pause at the mention of my father. I don't talk about him a lot, only on memorial day when we unfold his flag. It's been so long since we got that visit, since his funeral. 

"But can you blame her for that?" Nolan asks. 

"What?" I ask, frowning at him. 

"Your mom and dad were perfect, that truly cookie cutter, hallmark card couple. She had it all, she had him, she had you. And she lost that when he died. Can you really blame her for wanting to feel that again?"

"But she's not feeling it!" I snap, and turn to fully face him. "She's married to a conniving son of a bitch who did this to me." I point to my cheek. "And this will fade. But what happens when Jack grows up, what happens if Jerry goes off the wagon and hits him? And not even the police will care." 

Nolan looks at me, and his eyes are full of pity. But pity and hugs and kisses on the cheek are not what I need right now. I just need to know that when I walk back into my home, he won't be there. That his classic Jaguar car will be gone, and his image from my mind is evaporated. 

"I don't want to go home, Nolan." I whisper, and I lean my head into his chest, breathing in heavily. 

He wraps his arms around my back, resting his cheek on the top of my head. 

"You can stay here until you're ready to go back, you know that." He whispers and I nod.

"Nolan?" I ask, lifting my head so I can look him in the eyes. 

"Yeah?" He responds, a little huskily. 

"You're not getting this sweatshirt back." I giggle, gesturing to the grey sweatshirt that is covering me. 

"Uh uh, you have more clothes of mine in your closet than I do." He chides, grabbing at the material at my sleeve. 

"Ah, but you forget, that I am the queen here." I wink, and he just laughs softly, smiling brightly. 

"Thank you, ducky." I whisper, hugging him tightly. He's like a giant teddy bear, soft and warm and so familiar. 

"Anytime, duchess." And we continue to sway together on the hammock, staring up into the green wonderland of the willow tree.