The Fourth Wall - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I never was quite the little princess my mom wanted me to be. Sure, like most girls, my mom dressed me in pinks and purples and frilly little dresses as a toddler; but from about 5 years old on, I was all tomboy. Jeans, t-shirts, and baseball caps made up my daily wardrobe and, if my mother was able to force me to wear something pretty, I inevitably found some way to cover it in mud or rip holes through it. By the time I was 7 or 8, she had stopped fighting; hoping that teenage hormones would eventually drive me away from holey jeans and scraped knees to shaved legs and cheerleading skirts. But there I was: my fifteenth birthday, surrounded by my mom, my step-dad Daniel and my younger sister Kat; my stomach turning more than ever at the sight of what was folded neatly in the bottom of the box I had just opened.

"Well, come on Charlotte! Hold it up for everyone to see!" My mom stood ready, the camera on her phone poised to capture the smile she was sure would spread across my face, confirming that I had now entered a more feminine phase. I lifted a purple dress out of the box and forced the muscles in my face to relax and then curl into something I think resembled a smile.

"It's great! Thanks Mom", putting on my best excited tone, I posed as Mom snapped a half dozen pictures.

"Ha! You think Lottie's gonna wear that?", snorted Kat. My mom glared at her, as if her words would make me suddenly realize I didn't like it. Daniel couldn't help but let out a slight snicker, but he straightened up when Mom's gaze turned to him.

"Oh I think it will look great on you, sweetie." He said, in his best I'm being supportive voice. After a few more pictures, I slid the dress back into the box and closed it.

“Can we have cake now?” whined Kat.

“Okay, okay. Daniel, grab the plates out of the cabinet.” my mom cleared away the bright pink and purple wrapping paper that had concealed the rest of my gifts: a new pair of jeans from Daniel and a gift card to Palace Heights MoviePlex; a thoughtful gift with Kay’s name signed to it, but I knew it was Daniel’s idea.

Daniel was pretty much my dad, although it never quite felt right to call him that. I was a baby still when my mom remarried and he was always there. When my mom pushed me to do things other girls did, Daniel often encouraged her to let me figure out what I wanted to do on my own. It was his gentle nudging that finally got her to let me try out for softball.

I sat at the kitchen table and finished my cake and ice cream, doing my best to tune out the noise of my family whirling all around me. As soon as I was done, I gathered up my gifts and retreated to my bedroom, leaving their voices behind me. The last thing I ever heard my mom say was a whisper to Daniel: “I think she liked it!”

When the door to my room was closed, I stuffed the gifts into my closet and waited until the sun went down. Then I slid my bedroom window open and quietly climbed out.

The air that night was typical of a summer night in North Carolina. While I was used to the heat, somehow I never grew acustomed to the humidity. Every step I took away from my house down the dimly lit street felt like I was walking through water. I always felt a hint of guilt when I snuck out. My mom would have been so angry had she known and I could imagine to disappointed look in Daniel's eyes; but I always told myself it was okay. After all, it's not like I snuck out to do drugs or have sex or something like that.

There was a softball field three blocks from our house that I used to go to some nights. The smell of the dirt and the grass just made me feel like I was home. I walked onto the field and layed in the grass, staring up at the stars. On the field was the only place I felt like myself. At the house, I was the dilemma. Something to be dealt with or solved. My parents tried, always looking for ways to include me or get me to engage in family life. It's not that I didn't love them. I really did! But there was only so much I was able to take. My mom pushed so hard to make me someone I never wanted to be.

At school, it was more of the same. Three years ago, I didn't give my appearance a second thought. My red, almost orange, locks of hair and my pale, freckle dotted skin were just fine with me. I was always taller than most, but in 7th grade I shot up even more and put on a little extra weight. Then Junior High came and suddenly my classmates seemed to turn on me. Freak. Amazon Woman. They were never very creative with the names they came up with, but they hurt just the same. Mom used to tell me they'd lay off me if I just "stood up straighter" and stopped insisting on wearing overalls.

When I came here, to the softball field, I was not expected to wear a pretty dress or fit in with the cheerleaders. I earned respect by hitting the ball the hardest and running the fastest. As I lay in the outfield, I chuckled to myself at the image of me, wearing my new purple dress and sliding into home plate; the dirt and dust clinging to every last thread.

I had fallen asleep in right field when I was suddenly shaken awake.
“Lottie...wake...up” Kay’s face was still blurry as I shook off sleep. As it became clearer, I could see her face was bright red and salty stains streaked over her cheeks. As our eyes met, those stains filled up again as fresh tears began to flow. I jumped up as quickly as I could and grabbed her.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt? Where’s Mom?”
With that, she lost it. Her tears now covered her face as she let out a wail. She fell into my arms and I could feel the desperation in every muscle of her body. She clawed at my back, pulled me tighter and tighter, hoping I that the pain would go away if only I was a bit closer. Within minutes, the blue lights of a police car came closer and the cruiser pulled straight onto the field. A tall, thin police woman got out of the driver’s side and hurried toward us.

“Are you Charlotte Cassidy?”

I picked up Kay, who, exhausted, now laid her head on my shoulder.

“Yes, what’s happened?”

“My name is Theresa. You girls need to come with me now, okay?” The police officer motioned for me to get in the car. I sat Kay in the back seat and she slid to the other side. I climbed in after her. Another cop, a black man who looked only a few years older than me sat in the passenger seat.

"What's going on? Are we in trouble?" I asked the man. For a split second, his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, but he quickly looked away. Theresa climbed back into the driver seat and turned back to look at us. Kay was curled up with her legs in the seat, silently crying. The radio in the police car made a noise and a woman's voice filled the car.

"Unit 12, status report on the Cassidy kids." Theresa faced forward and grabbed the radio.

"Dispatch this is Unit 12. We picked up the kids and are en route to the station." She put the car in drive.

"What? Are you arresting us? You have to let me call my mom! We didn't do anything!" I pleaded with Theresa. I couldn't believe it! Mom had found out I snuck out and called the cops! I knew she would overreact. Theresa put the car back in park and turned around. She looked at me and I knew something else was going on. She fought to hold back tears of her own.

"Honey, I'm so sorry. I...something happened to your parents." she choked on her words, "There was a break in and...i'm so sorry. Your parents didn't make it."

No! It wasn't possible. Would mom really go this far? Was she just trying to make me feel like crap for sneaking out?

"That's not true. I just saw them earlier. They were fine. Just let me talk to my mom. I can explain, I wasn't running away!" Kay was crying harder now, hugging her knees tighter.

"Kay, tell her. Mom and Daniel, they're fine. Right?", Kay turned away from me and let out a painful yell, "Kay, tell her!" I felt Theresa's hand touch my knee.

"I'm so...so sorry Charlotte. I'm afraid it's true. Your poor sister; she saw everything." Theresa wiped her eyes and turned back around. She put the car back in gear and we drove away from my field. Seconds later, we passed by our street. As I looked down it, I saw a crowd of policemen and paramedics in front of our house and I knew it was true. I wanted to cry. I wanted to let the tears come and let out a wail like Kay had. Instead, I sat silently in the police car as Kay slept on my lap.

Theresa stayed with Kay and I all night in a hotel room while they tried to contact Aunt Marie to come get us. The next day, Theresa took us back to the house and we were allowed to pack our things. She rushed us past the living room straight to our rooms.

When I opened the door to my room, it was mostly exactly as I had left it. After a few second, though, I noticed the red tape marking off the bay window and suddenly the truth hit me and I couldn't stand. I sat for ten minutes on my bed, with my knees to my chest. Theresa knocked at the door and then entered.

"You okay?"

"How did they get in?" I looked at Theresa, waiting for what I already knew.

"Lottie, it's not imp-"

"I want to know. Tell me, how did they get in?" Theresa sat down next to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

"The window, it wasn't locked." Her words hit me like softball to the chest and I felt the air leave my lungs. Before I, or Theresa, knew what I was doing, I was on my feet with my softball bat in my hands. In the blink of an eye, I hurled it through the window.

Theresa firmly threw her arms around me; partly to comfort me, but I'm sure mostly to keep me from breaking anything else. After several minutes, my heart stopped beating in my ears and Theresa sat me back on my bed.

"I'll get some things together for you", she said and began packing a bag.

How could I take anything with me? Mom was in everything here. My clothes were all folded neatly in my dresser. She had done laundry Sunday afternoon and sat them in a basket at my door. When they stayed there for two days, she must have gotten tired of looking at them and decided to put them away for me. They smelled so clean and familiar.

It was then that I remembered the dress. I bolted from my bed and threw open the closet. The box was still right where I had stuffed it. I threw it open and took out the one item I hated but never wanted to part with again.

The next day, Aunt Marie arrived from New York and we met her at the airport. We hadn't seen her in about 4 or 5 years but she looked exactly as I remembered: Tall and thin, like my mom, with really short bleached blonde hair. An artist, she definitely looked the part, or at least what I imagine they look like, with tattoos covering most of her body and the hip, trendy NYC clothes.
When she saw us, she knelt down, picked up Kay and embraced us both.

"Hi darlings." Her eyes were full of sympathy as she looked at the two of us, but I could tell she didn't have any words of comfort. She just raised her hand to my cheek and smiled slightly. "You look just like your father."