Shelter, Chapter 9: Unbearable

by Glassbottom

When I think about it now, sometimes I wonder how I survived it, how I kept my sanity.

My sanity... that's a good one. How dare I be so selfish.

It was at least ten days, maybe more like two weeks, after the fourth of July, that I found Billie waiting for me when I arrived home one day. After the fool I made of myself going to her house and passing out on the front porch, I had almost expected her sooner...

Almost.

But I had told her we were no good for each other. At least that was how I remembered it. I might have been wrong. There was the real world and then there was the Georgia Harris version of events.

Since the fourth, the heat and humidity were becoming more and more unbearable. It was as if someone had reached down and turned a knob under us all, and each day it seemed they were turning it farther and farther to the right.

She was sitting in the shade next next to the mailboxes, next to the steps leading up to my balcony, smoking a cigarette and looking sweaty and dirty and flushed, but still looking like herself, still Billie, still beautiful.

She was looking off in another direction like she didn't notice me, like I wasn't even there, as I walked up on her, and then turned and looked up at me as if perfectly on cue.

"You got some nerve, woman," she said, just like that, with something behind her words but not much emotion. Her eyes were glazed over almost like she was high on something.

"I heard you come to my house 'n' passed out. And then you woke up and took off without sayin' much of anything."

"It was a mistake," I said. "I'm sorry. I still think we should – "

"A mistake," Billie cut me off. "People sure make lots of mistakes, don't they? Well, I'm sick of mistakes and people bein' sorry. I think people should just do what they're gonna do and stop sayin' they're sorry about it."

"What do you mean?" I asked her after closing my empty mailbox.

"Can I get a cold drink... please!" she glared at me. "I'm so fuckin' hot and you don't even invite me in for a cold drink..." She began to tear up. OK. A little scared here. A little unlike the girl I know.

"Come on up," I said. "What's wrong with you, Billie? This isn't like you."

"How would you know what I'm like?" she asked me as we climbed the steps. She wiped away her tears. "All you ever wanted to do was stick your hand between my legs. Do you really care what's wrong, huh? Maybe I cry a lot. Maybe I'm a big ol' cry baby. Why do you care?"

I got her inside. I turned the air on higher. I let her sit down. I gave her a cold rag to rub on herself and some ice water to drink. I did my best not to look at her. She drank her water and cooled herself and she stood up and walked over by the wall unit air conditioner.

"I might have a job," I said aloud, loud enough for her to hear me. "I just had a job interview and I feel good about it."

"That's very good," Billie said. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks. I really need a job."

"And I need you, Georgia."

I turned away, did my best to pretend I hadn't heard what she said. As obsessed as I was with her, I knew I was better off not hooking up with a ten year old girl like her.

"Did you hear me?" she asked. "I need you."

Oh yeah, I had heard her all right, plenty loud and plenty clear in both fully functioning ears.

"Yes, Billie," I said, but I toughed it out. With every bit of strength I had I said, "but... I... don't... need... you. I am in a very good place now. I think I got this new job, I feel better about myself, I don't need to be taking little girls out for ice cream and messing with them on deserted streets... not anymore... "

Billie stood looking at me with her hands on her hips. She looked better, not so sick. The water had done her some good.

"You should go," I told her. "It's getting late."

"I ain't goin' to leave you alone, you know," she said.

"Are you threatening me?" I asked her.

"Just telling you," she said, walking up close to me, getting right up in my space so I could touch her. "It's a promise."

"What are you going to do?" I looked down into those determined eyes, at that determined mouth, at those full, determined lips. I had to resist taking hold of her, mashing against those lips. I was shaking.

"What are you going to do?" I repeated.

"I'll just hang around... and bug you... and remind you of what a nasty pervert you are..."

I lost it. I grabbed her roughly by the arms and I pushed her back against the wall. She was right up in my face and I pushed her and held her there. But she didn't cower, she didn't cry. She grinned at me with not a tear in her eyes.

"You'll have to do better than that," she said. "I've seen worse. I've had worse."

I let go of her and I backed away, looking at my hands, frightened by what I had done, frightened of what I might do.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I – I don't know why I did that, but you've got to leave me alone. You've got to know that now."

Slipping on her flip flops and heading for the door, she opened it and headed back out into the heat, turning to shoot me a look.

"Goodbye, Billie," I said.

"See ya' around, Georgia," she said.

I closed the door behind her and I put my back against it and I felt horrible. I only hoped she had got the message.

.....

I got the job.

I know. Congratulations. Good for me.

It was a small business and they needed someone to handle the phones and some invoicing and assistance in payroll and book-keeping.

The business was heating and air-conditioning, so you can imagine how busy they were when I started there, right smack-dab in the middle of a heat-wave. There were several men who worked there as installers and repairmen and they were busy all day long.

I didn't worry about Billie. What in the hell could a little girl do? At this point, I couldn't see her telling anyone what I had done, and how in the hell could she possibly hope to stalk me the same as an adult. She couldn't drive, she didn't have money or resources... all she had was her stupid bike...

And one day after work, I walked out into the driveway to find her straddling her bike...

"Billie, what are you doing here?" I got excited. The upset kind of excited.

"I went for a ride and saw your car here," she said. "I thought I'd say Hi."

"Leave me alone," I told her.

"What are you gonna do?" she grinned. "'Oh, officer,'" she said, mocking with a sad tone, "'this little girl, she won't leave me alone.'" Oh, yeah, especially when everybody says how you kept lookin' for me an' stuff."

"Go away," I said.

"Jenkins Heating and Air-conditioning... so you got the job. I bet you guys are busy."

"Goodbye, Billie," I said.

I got in my car, started it, backed out of the driveway, but did not start off down the street without turning to see her amazing round ass in her tight yellow shorts as she straddled the bike, her legs stretching, extended as she walked the bike on the balls of her feet along the grass.

.....

And the hand that controlled the heat turned the knob to the right more... and I swear sometimes it was Billie turning it up... making it all the more unbearable.

Unbearable is an itch you can't reach in the middle of your back... a sleepless night when you've had far too many... another day without love when you've lost everyone you care about... and an obsession that won't leave you alone...

Unbearable is a clitoris on fire from morning to night and night to morning, with visions of one ten year old girl in your head...

"Jenkins Heating and Air," I answered the phone. "How may I help you?"

"Oh, Geor-gia... " she said, all sexy-like, trying to be and succeeding. "I am sooo hot... "

I felt the tingle creep between my legs, just the thing I had been trying to avoid, that thing where she arouses me. Crap. She could do that without half-trying. Now she was trying. I was shaking, hesitating.

Not knowing how to respond, not wanting to pretend it was a customer, but obviously not in any position to reveal any form of the truth, I decided to treat it as a personal family call.

"Hi, sweetheart," I finally said. "What's up? Mommy's busy."

"Oh, you wanna play Mommy and Billie again, huh?"

"I can't... talk," I said. "We'll have to talk later, baby."

"But I'm all naked now," Billie said. "I'm all naked in front of the mirror. You wanna know what I see?" she asked in this voice that just made you wanna pray for forgiveness. Oh, did I want to see... oh... yes, please... but no...

I leaned forward on my desk with my brow in my hand, closing my eyes, fighting it all, gathering all my strength, while under my desk I was squeezing my legs together...

"Are you all right, Georgia?" my co-worker Kendra whispered.

I opened my eyes, raised a hand, forced a smile, and talked to Billie.

"You don't want Mommy to lose her new job, now, do you, kiddo?" I asked her. Kendra excused herself to the ladies' room, holding her finger to her lips.

"Are you askin' me that," Billie asked, "'cause I really don't care."

"I think you do," I said. "Because if that happens, I promise you, you'll never get what you want."

"I never get what I want."

She hung up... hard!

But that wasn't the last time she called me... or showed up at my apartment... or left a note on my windshield... or showed up at a restaurant where I was eating just to taunt me from across the aisle.

I had a stalker, and she was ten years old, and she was pretty goddam good at it. I don't know how she did it, really I don't, but she got my home phone number, and late on a hot weekday night when I had shut off the air and I was lying naked in bed, letting a fan blow on me, the phone rang.

"Hello," I said.

"I need you," she said. "I wish I was with you right now."

Oh God...

"How the hell did you get my number?" I growled into the phone.

"How did you find out where I lived?" she asked.

I felt sick for a moment. The feeling crept into my gut that maybe she knew, and I felt bad about it, like I had cheated on her by doing what I had done. Why I felt like that I did not know.

I ignored the question.

"How did you get my number?" I repeated. "It's unlisted."

"What are you wearing?" she asked. "Are you in bed, Georgia?"

"None of your business," I said.

"Hmmm," she said. "I guess you are in bed, and you are naked... or almost naked. You know, Georgia, I had a hell of a time telling my little sister to keep quiet about you. She's cute, huh? Did you like her? She said when she first found you that you were rubbin' on her legs 'n' stuff...

"Are you touchin' yourself right now?" she asked me. I wasn't, not yet, but I wanted to. "You wanna know a secret, Georgia? I'm touchin' my pussy... "

It came almost as a whisper, that word at the end, and it sounded so sweet coming off her little girl lips. Someone had taught her that word, someone had taught her to like that word, you could tell.

"Please, Billie, don't tell me any more," I pleaded with her. "I don't want to hear it."

She sighed into the phone.

"You wanna know another secret, Georgia? On the fourth of July when you were lookin' for me, I was with my cousin Mona at her house. An' while we were watchin' the fireworks together it was just me and her on a blanket and... "

I could feel her next words coming. I couldn't just hear them in my head. I could feel them. And they crept down between my thighs, urging me to press my fingers to my clit, swollen in anticipation. I could picture Billie and Mona lying on that goddam football field together touching one another.

"...and she let me touch her boobs and she let me touch her pussy, and the whole time the fireworks were goin' off I was rubbin' on her like she showed me..."

"No more, Billie," I said. "No more."

"I remember a day you bought me ice cream... then you took me into the ol' factory graveyard and you kissed me... and you stuck your hand up my skirt... and about a week or so later I told you that I wanted to be the one who decided when someone touched me an' when I touched them... remember?

"Well, that's you, Georgia." Her voice was anxious.

Oh, Sweet Jesus...

"I want you to have me, Georgia." There was a tone of hunger, almost insanity.

Oh my God...

"It's not me, Billie," I said, my voice trembling.

"All you have to do is say it. "

I pressed the off button. I turned off the ringer. I rolled over, tucked a pillow between my legs and tried to get comfortable. Finally I gave up on that, and I let the pictures in my head have their little slide show as I masturbated

What had I done? What had I awakened?

For the next few days I felt almost sick. Billie did not try to call or come by my work or the apartment. I had shut her down. What was her next move? She didn't have a normal life anymore, not like other kids.

What if she went looking for attention from someone else? There were plenty out there offering to give it, but not the way she wanted it.

Sure, there were people, men mostly, who just wanted to touch and be touched gently, but others had rape and murder in their hearts. It wasn't about love or desire for them. It was about anger and hate and the destruction of everything innocent and beautiful.

Yes, I cared about her. I was only afraid of what might happen to me.

But you know, sometimes it's unbearable, and you can only be pushed so far before you snap.

(TO BE CONTINUED)