Sociopath? (4 page)

“Why would I want to do that, Sis?” he’d
asked. “I only want Raven to do what I tell him for my sake. I
don’t care if anyone else see’s him doin’ it.”

She usually never said the ef word - freakin’
and flippin’, yes, but not the actual word itself - but that day,
she’d said, “fuck you, Rafe.” She said it again right now, although
he couldn’t hear her - “fuck you, Rafe.”

* *

Laney wouldn’t have known how to do anything
if it hadn’t been for Rafe. He was the one who first showed her how
to brush her teeth and made sure she did it every morning and every
night. He told her she needed to put on clean underwear every
single day. He helped her to match her colors so her outfits looked
nice. He brushed her long blonde hair and pulled it back out of her
face and fastened it with barrettes. He was the one who taught her
how to ride her bike and to do things on the computer and play
tennis and swim. She thought lots of times about how awful and
lonely her life would have been without him.

*

Because just about every bit of love or
affectionate touching or concern about her that she’d ever
experienced had stemmed from Rafe, Laney found it not a bit
surprising that he had introduced her to this new wonderful thing
as well. It was like Christmas every night. She couldn’t wait until
they’d both had their showers and she could come over to his bed.
Like he had promised, they’d done other things after the first
time. When he had put his mouth down there, as she had done to him,
she felt like it sent her shooting up to the moon and then like she
was floating back down on the softest cloud in the sky. Sometimes
he teased her by going so slow, she thought she couldn’t stand
waiting any longer.

“Please, Rafe,” she would beg, “please.”

“Say pretty please, I love you, Rafe.”

“Pretty please! I love you, Rafe!”

And then he would make it happen and she
would just explode with happiness.

*

He told her he was going to fuck her on her
9th birthday.

“Why not now, Rafe? I want you to do it
now.”

“No, it’s going to be a treat for both of us
for your 9th birthday. Then I’ll put myself inside you. It will
give you something to look forward to because it will be so
good.”

*

Her 9th birthday was not for another year. By
doing it the way he did it, he made it seem like the Holy
Grail.

* *

Of course, daily life went on for both of
them. She still loved school and she was good at it as all the
Vincennes kids were. She was on the honor roll every time. None of
them were as smart as Rafe though. He was put in the Gifted and
Talented class in third grade and then jumped a grade and then
another, until he was in 7th grade when he was only 10. Some of the
teachers talked about how his i.q. was off the charts and maybe he
was a genius. He was better at playing the guitar than Gabe and
better at drawing than Denis. He was better at baseball and
football than Morgan and better at shooting than Wyatt. He was
better at tennis than Jocelyn and better at riding than Annecy. It
still rankled a little about what Miss Dee had said about him
though and he tried to work at being more personable. He’d been
called arrogant more than once and he tried to figure out why
people would say that about him. He’d even asked his teacher one
time after someone had said it.

“What about me would make someone think I’m
arrogant? I don’t try to lord it over anyone. I don’t try to rub it
in when I do well at something. I’m never mean to anyone.”

Privately, the teacher herself thought she
might have described Rafe as arrogant but when she tried to put her
finger on why, she was at a loss. It was true what he said. He
wasn’t one of those kids who tried to make himself the center of
attention and he never boasted about his accomplishments and
probably of all the elite group of which he was nominally a part,
he was the nicest to the less popular ones. In fact, he was as
friendly to the students who were called low-lifes as he was to the
movers and shakers, (although she’d noticed that he wasn’t really
close to anyone in either group). He wasn’t judgmental about race
or sexual orientation or disability or socioeconomic
background.

She finally decided it was just something
about the way he held himself apart and that look he had that said
he didn’t really care what anyone else thought of him, that they
were welcome to take him or leave him as he was and it didn’t much
matter to him one way or the other.

That’s finally what she told him.

“I guess it’s because you seem like you don’t
care what people think, Rafe, and everyone wants to believe people
care what they think.”

“I don’t care what they think, Mrs. Harper,
if they’re right, but I don’t like being tagged with a label that’s
wrong.”

“I don’t know how to tell you to make it any
different, Rafe.”

He shrugged and then smiled that devastating
but quickly disappearing smile. “Guess I’ll just have to live with
it then, huh?”

He was only 10 but she felt a little thrill
go down her spine at that smile. She almost called him back to tell
him that it might go a long way toward changing people’s minds
about him but she didn’t. She was afraid what he might do with it
if he ever found out how potent it could be.

*

His coaches loved his capacity for speed and
stealth. You could pass him a football and the next thing anyone
knew, he’d be crossing the goal line. Or give him a basketball and
he’d be sinking one while the other team was still looking for him.
Or he’d hit a single and turn it into a triple before anyone
tracked his location on the baseball field. From the first day he
started playing junior league sports, he never knew what it was
like to have to sit on the bench.

* *

It was her 9th birthday. As usual, the only
reason she had a party was because of Rafe. Once again, he’d
tracked down his mother.

“Next week is Lane’s 9th birthday, Mom. I
remember years when you even forgot to give her a cake or buy her a
present. Don’t you think it’s time she had a party, maybe have some
of the kids from her class over?”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Rafie, but I don’t
know who is in her class. I don’t suppose you could give me some
names?”

Silently, he handed her the list he’d gotten
from Lane’s teacher.

Magdelene had invited all the students in
Lane’s class and their parents and her teacher. She had a red and
white striped tent put up in the back yard and hired clowns and a
magician and had the stable hands bring up the horses for rides.
There was a big banner that said “Happy 9th Birthday, Laney” and
games to play and a huge cake with her name on it in red and clumps
of scarlet balloons tied everywhere. And her gift was Rafe’s idea -
her very own horse, a little palomino Arab mare named Lisbon. It
was one of the most joyous days of her life. Rafe, watching, smiled
wryly - once you could get their Mother’s attention, you could
count on her to do it up right.

No matter what else was going on though, Lane
kept thinking about being in bed that night with Rafe and about
what he was going to do. Each time she thought about it, she got a
tingling sensation in her belly. Half of her hated for the day to
end but the other half of her couldn’t wait for it to be over.

And finally, it was. She’d had her shower and
he was in the shower now. She was in his bed with her nighty on.
She didn’t even wear underpants to bed anymore. Finally he came
into the room, in just his shorts. First, he walked over and got
something out of his dresser drawer and then he sat on the side of
the bed.

“I saved my allowance to get you a birthday
present,” he said handing her a small gift-wrapped box.

She opened it to reveal a ring with a
heart-shaped sapphire in a gold mounting. It wasn’t a huge stone
but it wasn’t tiny either.

“It’s your birthstone.”

“Oh, Rafe, it’s so beautiful. I’ve never had
a ring before.”

“Put it on and make sure it fits.”

She slipped it onto her right ring finger.
“It’s perfect.”

“I don’t ever want you to take it off, Lane,
not ever. It means you belong to me. You’ve belonged to me since
the day you were born and you always will. Say it, Lane, I want to
hear you say it.”

“I belong to you, Rafe.”

He grinned. “Okay, now that that’s taken care
of, let’s have some fun.”

He stood up and dropped his pants on the
floor, then got into bed beside her. He kissed her neck and tickled
her nipples and ran his fingers along the insides of her thighs and
across her mound, lightly, teasingly, until she was saying, “I
can’t wait any longer, Rafe, I can’t wait any longer!” And then he
got on top of her and put himself inside her and feeling him there,
almost like a part of her, was the best thing yet. She just started
going off like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.

“Wrap your legs around me, Lane, and come up
to meet me.”

As he moved back and forth inside her, the
fireworks got bigger and louder and brighter until they were
melting into one another.

“Oh, Rafe, that’s so wonderful!”

“Shhhh, Honey.”

She felt him moving in and out harder and
harder and then she felt him push extra hard until he gave a little
groan and slumped down on top of her, breathing hard.

“Are you all right, Rafe?”

“I’m perfect, Laney.”

Finally, he got up and went into the
bathroom, bringing back a warm wet cloth to wash her.

“You bled just a little. Did it hurt?”

“If it did, I didn’t notice because it felt
so good at the same time.”

He smiled. “That’s what’s supposed to happen.
It’s supposed to feel good.”

“It did, Rafe. I loved it. It was my best
present ever.”

“Do you love me, Lane?”

“You know I love you more than anything.”

“Tell me how much.”

“Whatever the highest number is in the world,
Rafe, I love you way more than that.”

*

The next day, Saturday, he told her they
needed to talk.

“I think we’d better tell the folks we want
to move into our own bedrooms.”

“But I like being in here with you right next
to me, Rafe.”

“I know but we’re getting too old to be
sleeping in the same room. I’m almost twelve. That’s too old to be
sleeping in a nursery with my sister. I’ll tell them you still have
nightmares sometimes and to put us next door to each other.”

“I’d rather just stay the way we are.”

“I know, but we can’t. Don’t worry, Sweetie.
Don’t I always fix it so it’s okay?”

*

“Mom, I think it’s time that Lane and I had
our own bedrooms. We’re getting a little too old to still be in the
nursery together.”

“Why, yes, Rafe, I suppose you’re right. But
where can we put you? I hate to take Morgan and Wyatt’s rooms even
though they don’t come home that often. (Morgan was an attorney
now, living in New York, and Wyatt was a Lieutenant in the
Army).”

“No, I don’t want to take anyone else’s room.
How about those two little rooms at the end of the hall with the
bathroom in between that used to be the nurse’s bedroom and sitting
room? They’re small but they’re big enough for us. We’ll have our
privacy but they have that door between them so I can go settle
Lane down if she has one of her nightmares.”

“Oh, Rafie, those aren’t very nice compared
to your brothers’ and sisters’ rooms but if you think they’ll work,
I guess it would be all right.”

“I think they’ll be fine, Mom.”

“Well, why don’t you stay where you are until
I can get the painters and flooring people in and at least you’ll
have fresh colors and new carpet and I’ll take you and let you pick
out some new furniture and I’ll buy you each a television and a
computer and whatever else you need. I really can’t believe we left
you in the nursery this long.”

“That would be great, Mom.”

*

“We’ve got a reprieve,” he told her that
night. “It will be at least two weeks before the rooms are painted
and carpeted and the new furniture is delivered. In the meantime,
why don’t you come on over here?”

She flew over to his bed and dived under the
covers with him.

*

It really was better when they finally got
moved into their new rooms. For one thing, they were so much
prettier. Hers had pale yellow walls and white lacy curtains and a
puffy yellow comforter. The carpet was pale green plush. She picked
out white furniture painted with pastel flowers - a canopy bed and
a dresser and a shelf unit that held her new television and
computer. It felt comforting to be in a small, cozy place with just
all her own things instead of the vast impersonality of the
nursery. When they were furniture shopping, her Mom let her buy
some pretty pictures for her walls. One was of a porch with white
wicker furniture and pink roses climbing up a trellis on one side
and another was of two white Persian kittens sleeping on a
patchwork quilt.

Rafe’s room had dove gray walls and a pewter
and navy patterned rug and walnut furniture. He had one of his own
drawings, their sailboat on the bay, on the wall and that was all.
It seemed sort of bare to her but she’d asked him if he was going
to add more stuff and he said no, he’d leaving the nesting to
her.

What was best of all about these rooms was
that they could be locked from the inside (unlike the nursery but,
of course, you wouldn’t put inside locks on a nursery) so they
didn’t have to worry about anyone coming in the door without
warning them, an admittedly unlikely possibility, but still. Being
able to lock the doors made them both feel more secure.

He liked to tease her in public. If they were
swimming, he’d sneak his warm hand down her bathing suit and
massage her bottom and if they were riding, he’d move up beside her
and run his finger between her legs and even at the breakfast
table, sometimes he’d give her upper thigh a light squeeze. It
always had the effect on her of making her go completely still,
anticipating the next touch, although it usually never came. Even
in church, he’d lean over and whisper in her ear, “do you want me
to fuck you tonight, Lane?” and she’d have to force herself to just
stare straight ahead. He’d taught her the terminology of sex by
now. The thing between his legs was his cock and the place he put
his cock when he fucked her was her pussy. When she sucked his
cock, that was called a blow job. He told her not to use those
words to anyone else though. Around grown ups, she still had to say
penis and vagina. Cock and pussy and fucking and blow jobs were
only for when they were doing things together.