Читать книгу Bury This - Andrea Portes - Страница 16

SEVEN

Shauna Boggs played a game on Beth Krause once that wasn’t a game at all. Shauna knew the game, though, she’d learned it well. She’d had it played on her.

It was an after-school sort of game that started with playing dress-up. When Shauna first learned to play this game she was in the seventh grade and didn’t mind looking in the mirror and playing dress-up in Mommy’s clothing ’cause Daddy said it was okay. Encouraged her even.

“Here,” he would say. “Try this.”

And she would try this, and she would giggle and say, “Oh, no, not me” or “Oh, maybe . . . someday.” If it was something fancy. Something fancy from Mommy, before she left. Before she died? No . . . she didn’t die, Shauna. She left. She left because of you.

Her mom, before she left, had a menagerie of looks, from sophisticated to prim to downright slutty Too many clothes for that little closet. Too many clothes for that little house. Guess that’s why she left.

Her mom, Shauna’s mom, was from Niagara Falls. The good part. The part up above the falls with long stretches of houses and even longer stretches of lawn. Why she’d ever married Troy Boggs was beyond anyone, including her, which is why, one day, looking around at the pale lead house, which could’ve used a coat of paint, and almost could’ve been the home sweet home she thought she’d been looking for, she simply made a calculation. It was a math problem. What times what makes me stay? Versus . . . what times what makes me go? What is my opportunity cost? Of course, there’s the girl. Well, I can’t take her with me now, can I? Then I really wouldn’t have a chance.

(What kind of fella’s gonna grab up a pretty lady and a kid? I’ll tell you what kind. A loser. That’s what kind.)

No, Shauna’s mother had no intention of landing herself a loser. Another one, anyway. Once was enough. Although. Troy had been cute, sexy in a sinister sort of way. She liked the way he fucked her at least. That was one thing he could do. About the only one.

A math problem. Yes, there were some unknowns. Some variables. But still . . . that’s what variables were for, wasn’t it? The unknown. It was inevitable, really. The minute she’d walked down the aisle, she knew it. Not having her family there. And that tuxedo!

No, Troy Boggs was not the end of the line for her. She’d made a mistake. That’s all. Wrong answer. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. And she did fix it. She did. How easy. Easy as putting one delicate foot in front of the other and making her way, tippy-toe tippy-toe, out the door and nevermore.

“Here,” Troy Boggs said to his daughter. “Try this.”

And this was a dress Shauna Boggs dare not try on. Are you kidding?

“No,” she said, pleading. “I can’t.”

Seeing in her eyes that scared little girl he wanted to protect punch kill fuck, he grabbed her closer, tucked into his arm. “It’s okay, honey. Daddy’s here. Daddy wants you to.”

And so there she goes, little Shauna, out the door and some crumpling and crinkling until, finally, there she emerges from the closet, what a sweet little thing, what a delicate little thing, what a warm, white thing to sink your teeth into.

There she is, little Miss Shauna Boggs, the plump little brunette Michigan beauty standing there, fumbling, not proud or pretty, fumbling silly pig . . . in her mother’s oh-so-sophisticated wispy white wedding dress.

She’d left it behind. That bitch. She’d left it behind just as she’d left Shauna behind and she’d left Troy behind. Trash. Trash Boggs. That’s a better name for you.

But he’ll show the bitch, that la-di-da bitch from Niagara fucking Falls, he’ll show her ’cause Troy Boggs gets the last laugh here ’cause Troy Trash Boggs gets the last laugh now by lifting up his daughter’s skirt, your daughter’s skirt, in your oh-so-pretty wispy white dress.