Christopher Conlon - Savaging the Dark

“It was a long time ago.”

“How old was he when he died?”

“Twelve.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.” When he looks at me curiously I add, “We were twins.”

“You had a twin?”

“Mm-hm.”

He’s silent for a while. Finally: “What was his name?”

“His name was Michael.” It sounds strange in my mouth.

Another silence.

“What was that like?” he says at last. “Having a twin?”

I touch his chest, his ribs. “Oh, it’s so long ago, sweetheart, I don’t even remember.”

That night the dream again, the dream I used to have when I was a girl: naked before a mirror, one-half of my body gone, balanced on one leg, a single arm, half a head—one eye, one ear, a half-mouth. I wake up weeping.

One afternoon Kylie is the last student left in the afternoon study period. The pale little girl sits next to me at my desk while I help her grasp the difference between an adjective and an adverb. When we’re done she looks at me with her head tilted back to see through her glasses and says, “Ms. Straw?”

“Yes, Kylie?”

“Do you think I’m too young to have a boyfriend?”

I smile. “What makes you ask that?”

“It’s what my mom says. She likes Connor but she thinks I’m too young to have a boyfriend.”

“Your mom has met Connor?”

“Mm-hm. He came over on Saturday. We watched TV.” Her voice is as tiny as she is. It has a perpetually congested sound, as if her nose is always stuffed up. No doubt it’s the result of her asthma.

“Did you?”

“Connor likes old movies. We watched one called Sorry, Wrong Number. It was good. It was scary. And we watched cartoons.”

“That sounds like a great time, Kylie.”

“My mom made popcorn and everything.”

“Wow.” I smile. “But she thinks you’re too young to have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” She makes a sour face. “He can only come over when she’s there.”

“Well, that’s not so bad. At least he can visit you.”

“I can’t go to his house, though.”

“Well, your mom feels protective. This is all pretty new for her, Kylie. And for you too.”

She glances at me mischievously and then whispers: “Can I tell you a secret?”

I lean to her and whisper in return, “Sure.”

It takes her a minute to get it out. “He kissed me.”

“He did?”

“Mm-hm.” She nods. “Right here.” She puts her finger on her right cheek.

“Wow. That’s pretty special.”

“I kissed him, too.”

“Where?”

“On his cheek. Right here.” She illustrates on her own cheek.

“Wow.”

She meets my eyes for a second, then giggles and turns away, blushing.

“But you’ll be careful, right?” I ask her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Kylie, I’m sure your mother has told you about boys, right?”

“A little.”

“Sometimes they can get… aggressive. You know what I mean?”

“No.”

“Well… pushy. Like maybe they want to do something with you that you don’t want to do and they try to pressure you to do it.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like kissing, if you don’t want to kiss.”

“I like kissing.”

“I’m sure you do. But only on the cheek, right? What if a boy wanted to kiss you somewhere else?”

She makes a little fist. “I’d bop him one.”

I laugh. “It can be different, though, if you’re with a boy you like. What if Connor tried to kiss you somewhere else?”

“He wouldn’t do that. He’s nice.”

“Well, he’s a boy. That’s what I mean. Boys can get pushy. That’s what your mom is worried about. He might…” I’m not sure what I’m saying, but somehow it comes out. “He might try to kiss you on the mouth. Or he might try to touch you. You know, in other ways than you touch when you’re dancing. He might put his hands on your chest or your bottom.”

“Why?”

“Well, boys like to do that with girls. He might even want you to take your clothes off.”

“Connor would do that?”

“All I’m saying is that Connor is a boy and they sometimes push things with girls. So you have to be careful. And I’ve heard that Connor…” The words rush forth. “I’ve heard that he—he’s known a lot of girls. That he has a lot of experience with them.”

“He does?”

“That’s what I’ve heard. He’s done a lot of things with girls.”

“Really? With their clothes off?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” I say, “but I just think he knows a lot about girls, that’s all. So it’s good that you’re careful with him. You should always be careful around Connor. Always make sure that your mom’s there.”

The girl looks troubled. At last she rises from her chair. “Thanks, Ms. Straw.”

“I’m not saying don’t see him, Kylie. I’m just saying be careful.”

She nods. “Okay.” She gathers her things and moves quietly toward the door. She takes one more concerned look at me and then steps out.

It’s lunchtime the next day and Connor suddenly comes into the room and shuts the door hard behind him. I look up.

“Connor, what are you doing? Open the door, please.”

“What did you say to Kylie?”

“What?”

His eyes are furious. “Kylie. What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t say anything to Kylie.”

“Liar. You’re a liar. You said something to her. She told me you did.”

“Connor, I just—I just reinforced what her mother had said. About being careful around boys.”

“Why is it your business?”

“Because she’s my student. I care about her. I don’t want her to get into any trouble.”

“With me? Is that what you mean?”

“Connor…” I get up from the desk, lean in front of it. “Sweetheart, she’s a little girl. I know you and she are the same age but she’s really much younger than you. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“You aren’t expecting to do with her what you do with me, are you?”

“No.” He scowls. “I don’t even think about that. You’re dirty.”

“Connor, open the door.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to.”

“You told me to.”

I sigh loudly. “Connor, would you please open the door?”

But instead of opening it he reaches over and twists the slender stick that closes the blinds.

“Connor, what in the world are you doing?” I march authoritatively up to him, expect him to be intimidated enough to move away from the door. But he stands his ground.

“You scared Kylie on purpose. You’re jealous.”

I chuckled. “I’m jealous of Kylie McCloud? Connor, do you hear what you’re saying?”

“I like her better than I like you.”

My jaw drops. I feel it drop.

“Connor… sweetheart…”

I see tears spring to his eyes. “I don’t know how to act around her. I feel like I’m twenty years older than her. I feel like I’m with a little kid. But I really like her.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ve told you it’s wonderful. I’m happy you’re together.”

“You said it was cute,” he spits. “Like I’m a little boy.”

“Connor, you are eleven, you know.”

“You don’t act like it when we’re at the motel.”

“You never complained.”

“It’s wrong. It’s dirty. You’re not supposed to do those things with a little kid.”

“Oh, you’re a little kid now? All these months we’ve been doing what we do together and suddenly you’re a little kid?”

“You don’t understand.”