My Name Is Venus Black(8)

At least Betty’s office is more impressive than my caseworker’s. Her desk is wood instead of metal, the window is way bigger, and there’s a big painting of lily pads on one wall. Something about the room reminds me of the time Inez took me to see “a shrink,” as Raymond called him, because she said I had anger problems and lacked impulse control.

It’s true that I was angry a lot, and it was also true—at least at home—that I had a temper, especially when it came to Raymond. Sometimes, I picked fights with him for no good reason. It was almost like I wanted him to hurt me so I could have some way to explain to myself why I hated him so much.



The shrink was an old guy with a smoker’s cough, and I remember being as rude to him as I could. When he lit up, I asked, “How can a doctor who is so dumb that he smokes cigarettes expect to help anybody?” He frowned and snubbed out his cigarette. I don’t know what he told Inez, but she never brought me back to see him—or any other shrink—again.

Maybe she shouldn’t have given up so easy.

At first, Betty does like the others and asks me easy questions that have nothing to do with what happened. But I get the feeling she cares, like she’s not just pretending to be interested so we can get to the real questions. Questions about Raymond. About why.

When she asks what I dream of doing with my life, I surprise myself by telling her the truth. I usually don’t tell people my dream, because I’m afraid they’ll think it’s dumb, or that it’s just because of my name, which has nothing to do with it. “I want to be the first American woman in space,” I tell her, blushing a little. “But now it’s probably not going to happen.”

“Because of what you did?”

“No, because of that woman Sally Ride,” I tell her. “She’s going to make it into space any minute. Do you even think that’s her real name? It sounds like a name she made up to go with her job. Like a stage name.”

Betty reassures me that even if I am the second or third American woman in space, that would still be quite an accomplishment. Maybe I could be the first woman to land on the moon or on Mars or something. I’m relieved she doesn’t seem to think what happened will hurt my chances.

I go on to tell her about my friends, especially Jackie and Vanessa, but I don’t want to focus on them too much. “Jackie has the best mom,” I say, “because she is the opposite of Inez. Mrs. Newton actually packs Jackie’s lunches, and she makes dinners that aren’t Hamburger Helper and gross stuff like that.”



Betty laughs.

When she finally asks about Raymond, she calls him “Ray.” Clearly, she’s been talking to Inez. From the start, Inez insisted that everyone call Raymond “Ray,” because she thought “Raymond” sounded dumb. I call him “Raymond” for the same reason.

“So, Venus,” she says. I brace myself, ready with my sheet. “Let’s talk about Ray. Tell me how this thing with your stepfather began.”

“What thing?” I ask, wishing I sounded less snotty.

“Whatever thing it was that made you want to hurt your stepfather.”

“There wasn’t a thing.”

Betty squints at me. Her black eyelashes have so much mascara they look fake. I don’t even wear mascara, but I really miss having lip gloss and my Baby Soft perfume.

“I need you to tell me how you felt about your stepfather.”

“That’s pretty easy. I hated him.”

“Okay,” says Betty, nodding. “Why did you hate him?”

It was a simple question, but I didn’t know where to start. I hated the way he chewed. The way he smelled like motor oil. The way he constantly cracked his stubby fingers. The way he actually combed the thick blond hair on his forearms. I hated the way he watched me load the dishwasher. I hated the way it felt when he touched my back or got sloppy drunk and called me Veenie. I hated when he was mean to me, but I hated even more when he tried to be nice. Like the time he tried to offer me one of his Rainier beers behind Inez’s back. He must have known I hated him, but it was like he was always trying to create secrets between us. But most of all, I hated the way he treated Leo.

I go with this last one. “I hated the way he treated Leo.”

“How did he treat Leo? Did he hurt him physically?”



“Yeah,” I say. “Raymond would shake him when he was already crying. Or he’d box his ears with his fists. Stuff like that. He got mad because Leo refused to act like a regular kid. When I tried to interfere or defend Leo, then Raymond and I would end up in a brawl. Once, he threw me down the stairs.”

“Oh my,” says Betty. She’s been writing things down. “Where was Inez when all this went on?”

“He usually did it when she was at work. He was alone with us a lot because he only worked part-time at an auto shop in town, and the rest of the time he worked on cars at home in the garage.”

“What did your mother do when you told her about Ray hurting you or Leo?”

“Sometimes she’d believe me and they’d get in a fight. Other times, she’d think I was making it up or exaggerating. She liked to say that I egged Raymond on. And maybe I did.”

“Oh, Venus,” Betty says, like my name is a sad thing. She places a hand on her heart, which makes me think of the word bosom, which I always love when I come across it in old-fashioned novels. She is quiet for a moment, jotting down more notes. “What kind of relationship did your mother have with your stepfather?”