Two Girls Down(110)

“Kylie,” said Vega, not too loudly.

She didn’t move or wake up.

“Kylie.”

Still she slept. Wasn’t it Sleeping Beauty, Vega tried to remember, where the whole kingdom falls asleep with her? All of them drugged, frozen where they stood, the bakers kneading dough, the cobblers hammering shoes, everyone. Not Denville, thought Vega. All of us are fucking wide-awake forever.

She placed her hand on Kylie’s arm and said once more, “Kylie.”

As soon as Vega touched her, she woke up with a sharp intake of air and jumped like a flea to the farthest corner of the bed. Her face looked like it did in the pictures, like the video in the ice cream shop, but was also now transformed into a strange sculpture that was not her, full of fear and drugs and trauma, stoned but aware.

“It’s okay,” said Vega, regretting it instantly, knowing that was exactly what Press and Lindsay Linsom told her. “Your mom, Jamie, sent me here to get you.”

Kylie shook her head.

“She’s dead. Mr. Linsom says she’s dead. Her and Bailey,” said Kylie quickly, her voice raw, the information by now rote.

Vega bit her cheeks, so paralyzed by anger she had to remind herself to speak.

“They lied. Your mom and Bailey are fine. They’re waiting for you.”

She watched Kylie take this in, her eyes rushing around the room and back to Vega’s.

“If you come with me, I’ll take you to them,” said Vega.

Kylie shook her head violently now and cried, “No, no, no, no!”

She began to sob, but it was different from other sobbing Vega had witnessed, because Kylie made no effort to cover her contorting face as the tears came out, making noises like she was suffocating.

Vega was reticent to touch her again but had to bring her out somehow.



“Kylie, Kylie, listen. Just listen,” she said.

Kylie quieted to a long whimper.

“I’m here to protect you. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But Mrs. Linsom said…” Kylie began, then stopped.

“What did she say?” said Vega. “Tell me.”

“She said I was helping Cole. That he was gonna get Cole if I wasn’t here.”

Vega stood up straight now.

“He’s not going to get Cole. Or you. Or anyone.”

“But he has a gun,” Kylie cried.

Vega pulled back her jacket.

“So do I.”

Kylie stopped crying then and just blinked, a tremor still in her lungs as she breathed in and out.

“Let’s go,” said Vega.

She backed up to give the girl some room. Kylie straightened out her legs; now Vega could see how ridiculously small the toddler bed was for her. She was almost two sizes too long for it. Then she stood up and wobbled, uneasy on her feet. Vega held her by the shoulders.

“Okay?” she said. “Can you walk?”

Kylie nodded. She was only a few inches shorter than Vega. The white nightgown was too small also, the empire waist across Kylie’s chest, the hem above her knees. Vega thought it was probably one of Cole’s.

Kylie looked toward the open door, uncertain. Vega went to it, nodded. Kylie came to her, slowly, learning to walk. Together they stepped outside the wine cellar to the foot of the stairs. They both looked up, toward the rectangle of light at the top.

Vega put her arm around Kylie’s shoulders but didn’t touch her, and they began to walk up, Kylie keeping pace with Vega on each step, arms at her sides. They reached the top of the stairs and were in the kitchen, and Kylie squinted at the light.

“It’s nighttime?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Vega. “Almost four in the morning.”

Vega led her out of the kitchen and toward the front door. She was not planning on involving Mrs. Linsom in their exit.



“Kylie!” Mrs. Linsom called from the living room.

Kylie’s whole body jerked when she heard her name. Vega shook her head slowly, mostly to herself.

“Let’s go,” she said to Kylie.

But Kylie peered around Vega, through the entryway, like someone trying to see how far ahead the traffic accident was. Then she stepped away from Vega, hands still at her sides limply, and moved forward, around the oak table with the full flower arrangement, into the living room.

Do not let the skip run the show, Perry said in her head. You let the skip make any decisions, you are cooked cabbage.

But Kylie wasn’t a skip. She was a girl looking to settle up, and for all Vega knew, the next time Kylie and Mrs. Linsom would see each other would be in a courtroom. This might be the last time.

So Vega followed her. Mrs. Linsom was right where Vega had left her, crouched on the floor against the piano. Kylie was walking toward her.

“Kylie,” said Mrs. Linsom weakly, her skin a washed-out yellow. “Kylie, I’m sorry you had to go through that. But you did the right thing.”

Vega gripped her thumbs in her palms. Her imagination expanded with what she could do to Lindsay Linsom. Tell Kylie to wait in the car. Pick up the glass deer centerpiece and crush Mrs. Linsom’s forehead, smash the jaw, crack the delicate bridge of the nose. When her free hand goes to her face to protect it, smash each finger one by one on the piano keys. Then make her play something.

Then Kylie took the last couple of steps so she was right over Mrs. Linsom. She leaned down and screamed.