rissy stories

For Vesper Blackmoore, it had been a long Tuesday workday as a summer housekeeper at the Hampton Inn, especially since she had just been fired at the end of her shift for getting caught stealing her sixty-seven-year-old coworker’s tips. Sure, Betsey’s name card was sitting on the dresser next to the thirty dollars left by a very generous guest. And sure, Vesper probably should have brought the money and name card down to the front desk like she was supposed to do, but Betsey was assigned to the rooms on the second floor today, and Vesper needed that money. “I’m a twenty-year-old college student here and she’s like… a hundred years old. I mean c’mon, what does the old bat need the thirty dollars for? To buy Life Alert just in case she falls and can’t get up?” Vesper thought, smirking to herself as she started her routine shower after the thirty-minute drive home in rush hour traffic at 4:30 pm in Bridgewater, New Jersey.

In the typical, small, one-windowed bathroom that was squished by the low slant of the rough, popcorn ceiling, Vesper stood inside the shower with the water running. Steam rose above the curtain rod and slithered over to the foggy mirror connected to the wall right across from the shower. The wooden countertop in front of the mirror was covered with bobby pins, hair ties, headbands, curling irons, straighteners, and other various girly items and the sink centered in the middle of the counter was covered in toothpaste. The moldy toilet was to the left of the counter and mirror sat right across the slightly open closet door with chipping white paint. Dirty towels and clothes littered the white-tiled floor as well as the two fuzzy carpets in front of the shower and toilet.

In the shower, Vesper held her “radiant RED” shampoo bottle over a cupped hand and squeezed the life out of it with the other. A wheezing sound resulted and scowled, crushing the empty bottle in her fist. She remembered that her fifteen-year-old sister loved stealing her shampoo because “she has red hair too.”

“Geez, Clementine,” Vesper snapped while throwing the red, empty bottle onto the shower floor, “Your hair is orange not red.” One loud thud echoed throughout the bathroom as the wrinkled bottle fell flat at her feet. She huffed with frustration as heavy pelts of shower water bombarded the bottle, pushing it slowly towards the drain behind her. She stared down at the traveling bottle and then became hypnotized by the dirty, wet shower floor. She normally never paid attention to the disorganization and filth throughout the entire house, but since she started working as a housekeeper three weeks ago, she occasionally had random bouts of OCD. She had to physically restrain herself from dropping to her aching knees and scrubbing away the filth with a rough sponge that was lying inside the white shower basket hanging off of the nozzle behind her.

“Okay I’m not a housekeeper anymore,” she whispered with a shake of her head, “I just want to take a nice, relaxing shower… and then plot my revenge on Clem and that ancient bitch who got me fired.” Then she snatched Clementine’s half-empty L’OREAL shampoo off the shower wall ledge to her left. She poured a giant handful of mango-scented, silky liquid into her palm. She continued squeezing the bottle until the white shampoo overflowed. She smirked, feeling satisfied, and placed it back on the ledge.

Vesper’s head snapped up at the sound of a loud fist slamming against the bathroom door three times, and then she uncaringly smacked her rough, shampoo-covered hands together. She flinched as wasted shampoo splattered all over the tan, shower walls and blue shower curtain, and then she shrugged. “It’s not my shampoo,” she thought. She carefully flipped her long red hair upside down, and slowly leaned over. She moaned as her sore back muscles stretched and pulled– feeling injured because of stripping dozens of beds and then re-making them all day long. She used to be in shape as a runner, but she quit about two years ago, and now she wasn’t used to working that hard.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and lathered her tangled strands while yelling to the bathroom door, “Go away Fruity!” The doorknob turned and the door squeaked open. A smelly wave of heat, moisture, and mangos hit her mother in the face. She waved her hand at the steam and then Vesper heard her turn on the bathroom fan.

“How many times have I told you to stop calling your sister Fruity?” Cheryl’s stern voice asked over the sound of running water and the fan. “Oops,” Vesper thought as she slowly straightened back up and leaned her soapy head back under the showerhead. She rinsed the massive amount of shampoo out of her hair, keeping her amber eyes closed – picturing her five-foot-nothing mother glaring at the shower curtain with her arms crossed and her right pointer finger tapping against her left bicep.

“At least forty-two, but hey, I’m not counting,” Vesper said loudly, spitting out water and ringing out her hair, causing a waterfall to slap onto the shower floor. Vesper could practically sense Cheryl rolling her eyes at her.

“Ves,” Cheryl replied, using her deep, “don’t-screw-with-me-right-now” tone. “Look, I have to ask – ” she started, but was interrupted when Vesper let go of her soaking wet hair and let her arms fall down at her sides, causing two loud smacks. Vesper’s eyes widened, fearful about whether her mother had already heard that she’d lost her job. She let her mango-scented hair fall perfectly over her small breasts and flat stomach, the dead ends hanging right above her hipbones as she faced the curtain, staring at the shadow of her mother who was standing on the other side of the blue plastic.

“How about this, I’ll stop calling her Fruity when she stops calling me Martini,” Vesper bargained as she turned around to reach her conditioner bottle. “Or, better yet – you could let us pick out new names that don’t have food or drinks associated with them like we’ve been begging to do for years, now isn’t that just the duckiest idea?” she asked. Cheryl sighed heavily – Vesper knew that Cheryl loved having children with unique names, but she never actually asked her kids who own those names about whether they liked them or not. Vesper imagined her mother wiping sweat off of her forehead from the shower steam, and then doing her usual move of looking up at the ceiling, pleading with God to give her the strength not to commit murder.

“I can’t handle your snarky-ness today, Ves,” Cheryl replied tiredly. Vesper stifled a laugh and opened the radiant RED conditioner cap with a snap as Cheryl started talking again, “Now, I really have to ask you –”

“Oh, face it mom… no one can handle my snarky-ness,” Vesper interrupted with a sneer. Vesper heard Cheryl stomp her foot and slap a hand on the countertop. However, Vesper couldn’t see that she had accidentally clipped the end of Clementine’s pink hairbrush handle with her hand, sending it flying and flipping towards the shower curtain.

“Seriously, Ves, ENOUGH!” She yelled as the brush smacked into the plastic, almost hitting Vesper on the other side of the curtain. She gasped and flinched, her sarcasm fading away as her stomach suddenly tightened, indicating that something wasn’t right – and it wasn’t about her job. Her mother got mad at her quite often, but she’d never been angry enough to throw a brush at her. Vesper slowly placed the bottle back in its spot, washed conditioner off of her hands without using it, and turned the shower off.

“Oh-kay… what’s up, mom?” She asked, poking her wet head out from behind the shower curtain. Through the bathroom fog, Vesper noticed that the wrinkle lines around her mother’s eyes were more prominent, the sleeves of her light sweater were pulled up to her elbows, and her shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, her bangs secured at the side of her head with two bobby pins – all of the usual signs that Cheryl was stressed. Cheryl hesitated, like she was afraid to ask the question.

“You didn’t happen to pick up Clementine while she was walking home from Jessica’s house, did you?” Cheryl asked. Vesper scrunched her nose and shook her head, water dripping down her face from her hair. Why would Vesper take the chance of having to listen to Clementine gossip about her annoying best friend right after cleaning up other people’s messes for eight hours straight and then being sacked?

Cheryl bit her lip and grabbed a green towel off of the towel rack behind the bathroom door. She handed it to Vesper who was still hiding her cold, athletic body behind the shower curtain. “Clem said that she would walk back to the house at three and it’s almost five. It’s a fifteen-minute walk, so I called her, but she left her phone in her room. Then I called Jessica’s mom, Janet, and she won’t answer either.”

“Well Dammit Janet,” Vesper replied with a giggle. She dried off the tan and freckled skin on her arms with the rough towel while looking at Cheryl who was staring at her with a cocked eyebrow and a shake of her head. She remained silent while Vesper laughed nervously and ran the towel along her legs that had goose bumps from the temperature drop. She cleared her throat and scratched the back of her head with short, stubby fingernails. “That – that was a joke, mom. Rocky Horror?”

“I know, but it’s not funny. You’re twenty years old now, isn’t it time that you grow up a little?” Cheryl asked. Vesper appeared stunned, and then she scoffed and blew air out of her nose as she looked down at herself, wrapping the towel around her body so that it was covering her entire torso. She pushed the curtain to the side and stepped onto the fuzzy blue carpet sitting outside the shower.

“I was trying to make you laugh,” She answered in a low, defeated tone. Vesper couldn’t wait two months until August, when she could leave for college again. She missed living with a roommate who understood and accepted her for exactly who she was – funny, routine-oriented, and slightly immature. Vesper also missed privacy – a place where her shampoo was never stolen and her showers weren’t interrupted.

“This is serious, your sister is missing, Vesper! And she has dinner with your father in two hours, this is a nightmare!” Cheryl yelled, spitting numerous times at the several “s” sounds, her face had paled, and she was on the verge of crying. Vesper rolled her eyes, knowing that there had to be a catch – Clementine was supposed to have dinner with Paul at seven tonight. Cheryl normally never paid attention to what her children did, unless it involved using them against her ex-husband. Vesper angrily wiped her mom’s spit off of her face and shuddered – she hated spit and tears.

“Okay-okay, stop with the spitting – why don’t you just call dad?” Vesper suggested as a test. She already knew that her mother would never admit defeat to him.

The divorce that occurred four years ago, when Vesper was sixteen, was a nasty one due to Cheryl having an affair with a younger, “hotter” man. Paul should have taken most of her money and the house in the settlement, but they were given shared custody of Clementine for eight years and Vesper for two years. He didn’t want to leave Cheryl with nothing for his children’s sake, so he moved to an apartment about an hour away, and Clementine visited him every weekend because she was still under the age of eighteen.

However, Vesper only visited him about three times a month. Mostly because he was paying her way through college – she never got along with him. Countless arguments between Cheryl and Paul popped up when Vesper thought back on those years. “All you do is stay home Cheryl, but nothing is ever clean in this house,” or, “I’ll tell you why I’m switching bedrooms – you snore too loud and I can’t sleep,” or the recurring one, “I honestly only see you as an annoying roommate, it’s like you’re not even my wife!”

Vesper thought that he practically drove Cheryl into the arms of another man, who was now Cheryl’s boyfriend – Brad. However, her mother wasn’t blameless. She picked the young, tall, built type of man who was “everything that Vesper’s father never was,” which also set a really crappy example for Clementine. However, despite Vesper’s disappointment in both of her parents for tainting her sister’s childhood, her suggestion for Cheryl to call Paul would either make her angry or give her some hope that Clementine might have called him – either way, it would stop the spitting and crying.

“Why would I tell your father that I lost our daughter? I’d lose custody of Clementine!” she cried while throwing her arms up in the air – she went with anger. Vesper rolled her eyes at her mother. “I should have known she didn’t really give a shit about where Clem was – she only cares about ‘losing’ to dad,” she thought. Then she suddenly raised her eyebrows and straightened up her back as she got an idea. She held out her arms with her elbows began and her palms facing the ceiling, forming a “W.”

“Hey – maybe that’s what happened. She probably got lost or ran into someone on the way home, want me to look for her?” Vesper asked unenthusiastically. Clem had never been this late before, but Vesper wasn’t concerned. However, she was willing to do just about anything to get her mother to calm down – mostly because it would give her more time to think about what she was eventually going to do to the prehistoric lady from work. Cheryl’s eyes suddenly sparkled in the artificial light of the bathroom.

“Could you?” she pleaded. Vesper forced herself to nod and she plastered a big fake smile on her face. “Oh, thank you sweetie, you are the best! Bring her back before seven, and Brad is supposed to come over in a half hour anyway, so I’ll stay here just in case she shows up,” Cheryl added with relief, and then left the bathroom so that Vesper could get dressed. Vesper’s eyes widened at her mother’s rapid change in moods, mostly surprised at the fact that she felt surprised. Cheryl simply wanted to transfer the problem elsewhere so that she could make-out with her fucking boyfriend all night, and then could later blame Vesper for losing Clementine, if she was actually lost.

Cheryl loved to blame Vesper for Clementine’s mistakes – as if everything about her little sister was her fault. “What a load of crap,” Vesper thought, feeling like slapping herself for stupidity. She knew that her mother would blame Vesper for Clementine’s disappearance if she didn’t go out and find her before she needed to go to dinner with Paul. Then she would punish Vesper for making her look bad in front of Paul, and possibly losing custody of Clementine – as if Vesper was causing that problem.

“Of course you will, mom.” Vesper muttered while shutting the bathroom door.

xxx

Vesper threw on a random pink t-shirt, shorts, socks and underwear on the bathroom floor before walking downstairs and heading out the front door. Even though she wasn’t entirely concerned about her sister’s disappearance because they lived in a friendly, and boring, neighborhood where nothing dangerous ever happened, Vesper had grown rather fond of having a little sister. She figured that it was best to search as soon as possible, on the off chance that Clementine was actually in danger.

Vesper calmly walked down the driveway that needed to be repaved, and took a right on the sidewalk, stepping on grass clippings and ants as she walked. She had thought about taking her car instead, but a gut feeling told her that Clem hadn’t gone far. The neighbors were coming outside to mow and water their lawns now that the temperature was slowly dropping as the sun set. The smell of fresh grass filled the boggy, summer air, birds were chirping, the sky was pink and beautiful, and a firefly landed on Vesper’s shoulder as she picked at a wedgie for the fourth time. She was now uncomfortable enough to finally take a moment to check what she was actually wearing.

“I’m probably wearing Clementine’s clothes,” she said to herself, recognizing that her clothes felt tight. Then she stopped dead in her tracks, grabbed the bottom of her shirt with her hands, flattened it out, and held it slightly in front of her to see it clearly. Her eyes suddenly widened with the feeling of pure terror. “Oh God,” she muttered, realizing that she’d put on a One Direction band t-shirt. “The poor girl doesn’t know what actual music is,” Vesper whispered, now even more to desperate to find her little sister.

This tiny, simple thought that it was actually possible for Clementine to pass away before being introduced to good music hit Vesper hard. She actually thought about what would happen if anything happened to Clementine. This scary realization caused her to break into a jog, no longer taking notice of her peaceful surroundings. Her eyes wildly searched her suburban neighborhood for any sign of Clementine’s presence. She whizzed past some of her neighbors washing their cars and she dodged kids who were playing hopscotch on the sidewalk, her heart racing and her second wind kicking in.

“Clementine?” Vesper called, slightly out of breath. “Maybe I spoke too soon about the second wind,” she thought as she slowly came to a stop and placed her hands on her knees, trying to breathe. Her damp red hair was now tangled. She felt her wrist for a hair tie and found nothing. So she straightened back up and pushed back hair that was clinging to her sweaty face and neck. She started walking and then she happened to glance at a big, green electric box across the street in the center of a fairly secluded, shadowed area between a neighbor’s high fence and a tool shed, sitting in between two yards with large tree branches hovering over the shaded spot.

Vesper did a double take and smirked as memories began to unravel of her sitting behind that electric box and smoking up with her high school friends after school. She decided to rest a couple seconds more and let her mind wander. Almost no one paid attention to that area unless that someone was using the area, so she never got caught. However, she decided to give up weed when she got to college. She remembered how relaxing and calm it felt to be high, watching everything around her do strange things that they’re not supposed to be doing – like trees falling into the sky, her friend’s heads blowing up like balloons, and she always swore that she could actually see the grass growing. Vesper sighed with content and she was about to look away when she noticed a puff of smoke coming out the top of the box…or behind it.

“Aw, no. No-no-no,” She said, her gut telling her to check out what was behind the box. She crossed the street without looking both ways and jogged over to the secluded area a couple of yards from the sidewalk. A part of her prayed that she wasn’t going to find her little sister, but low and behold, “Clementine, what the hell are you doing?”

Two girls were sitting with their backs against the box with their knees hugging their chests. One of them had straight, orange hair and bright green eyes that were clean of makeup, wide, and terrified. Her freckled skin turned a deep red, “Oh my God,” she said, dropping her joint. The other girl, Jessica, had short blonde hair and blue eyes. Her face was caked with makeup and she was biting her lip-glossed lips while stuffing her marijuana baggy into her backpack. “Look, this isn’t – this isn’t what it looks like,” Jessica said. Vesper folded her arms and raised her eyebrows.

“Then tell me,” She replied. A very pale Jessica glanced at Clementine.

“Uh, w-well, you see – ”

“Okay, screw it, never mind, go home,” Vesper cut her off and jerked her thumb towards the sidewalk. Jessica immediately threw her backpack on and ran back to her house without another word. Vesper struggled to kneel down in front of Clementine, every muscle within her body resisting. She moaned at the soreness and then sighed. Clementine gulped down a lump in her throat and stared at her sister worriedly.

“You’re not gonna tell mom, right?” She asked. Vesper looked down at the grass and remained silent for a couple of seconds. She honestly didn’t know what she was going to do. A huge part of her wanted to congratulate and hug her, but a smaller part wanted to parent her. She normally never listened to the smaller part and felt conflicted. “Let me go over the facts,” she thought. Clementine, not unlike Vesper, had a history of not being able to get away with anything – Cheryl and Paul loved to blame each other for the kids’ mistakes, so they were always on the lookout. There was always a strong possibility that Cheryl would catch Vesper and Clementine in a lie. In turn, she would also punish Vesper for not telling her about Clementine smoking weed. Vesper knew that the biggest punishment would be her parents cutting off her money – money that she couldn’t afford to lose, especially after just getting fired.

Clementine’s breathing pace noticeably quickened while Vesper remained silent, “W-w-wait, Ves – you’ve gotta understand. You don’t remember what it’s like to live with mom and dad all the time, even separated, they don’t even care about us, they only care about hurting each other!” she cried. Vesper’s heart twitched at the desperation in Clementine’s tone and raised her head with a kinder expression. Vesper slowly sat on her knees in the cold grass in the shade and nodded at her now crying sister. Vesper really hated tears, but right now, she strangely didn’t seem to mind.

“I know that, Clem,” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder and rubbing back and forth in a comforting motion. “I’ve been there. Hell, I’ve been here.” Clementine continued to cry, her face beet red, her eyes bloodshot, and hiccupping. The two of them remained silent for about a minute, not even needing to say anything more. Vesper kept having to fight the urge to crack a joke, so she forced herself to say something else instead “I won’t tell mom if you help me with something tomorrow,” she waged, clearly not used to the whole “parenting” thing. However, this seemed to calm Clementine down enough to stop crying. She nodded and wiped off her face with freshly manicured fingers.

“Deal,” She whispered and gave her sister a grateful smile. Vesper felt her heart swell until Clementine glanced down and looked confused. She pointed to Vesper, “Is that… is that my One Direction shirt? Wait – and my shorts?” she asked. Vesper laughed.

“And your underwear, and your socks…OH and your shampoo, Fruity.” She listed with a smirk. Clementine playfully hit Vesper in the arm.

“Martini,” she replied jokingly and then they both helped each other stand up. They walked back onto the sidewalk and then took a right, going home. Clementine grabbed onto Vesper’s hand and leaned into her slightly without saying a word. They enjoyed the sunset and Vesper genuinely smiled for the first time that day.

“What do you need my help with tomorrow?” Clementine suddenly asked.

“Well, I was thinking that I introduce you to some real music, like Paramore. Then I need you to help me plot my revenge for the old hag who got me fired,” Vesper replied. Clementine’s eyes widened at the insult and then her jaw dropped.

“Holy shit, you got fired? So… can I just take all of your stuff now, or should I wait until after mom kills you?” Clementine asked. Vesper smirked at her attitude and lightly pushed her off the sidewalk with her hip. Clem stumbled into the grass, laughed, and the stepped back onto the sidewalk. She nudged Vesper’s arm with her elbow.

“Just, don’t mention it to her, or dad, until I find a new one,” Vesper said. Clementine shrugged and looked at her fingernails as they continued walking home.

“Well, technically, I still have leverage,” she claimed, “If I tell them you got fired, and then you tell them that I smoke weed, I’ll follow it with: ‘I was just following Vesper’s footsteps,’” Vesper stopped walking and stared at her little sister with disbelief. Cheryl and Paul didn’t know about her smoking weed while she was in high school – that was the one thing she got away with. “Which would put you in the hot seat,” Clem continued, now using her fingers to untangle knots in her orange hair, not making eye contact with Vesper, “So now you’re going to have to do something for me,” she finished. Vesper scoffed, placed her hands on her hips, and shook her head.

“I don’t believe this,” she muttered to herself, looking up at the sky, “Alright, what do you want, you little blackmailer?” Clem fully faced Vesper and had stopped walking with her. She was now playing with her hair nervously.

“I know you and your roommate are getting an apartment off campus this summer…can I move in with you?” Clem asked. Vesper blinked rapidly as she comprehended the question. She knew that Clementine was tired of living with their parents, but Vesper never expected her to actually leave until she turned 18. Vesper loved Clementine, but not that much. She forced herself to think about how Clementine had stolen all of her shampoo, which made it easier to slowly shake her head at her sister.

“Clem… I have no idea how that would even be possible,” she said truthfully.

“Then I guess you’re going to have to live with them knowing that you got fired and smoked weed in high school, Martini,” Clem said with a laugh. Vesper gaped, watching Clementine’s back as she turned around and started walking home without her. On the one hand, she could not understand how Clem even thought about asking that much of her – Clem was a smart girl, she knew that even if Vesper wanted to take her, that her parents would never let that happen.

Vesper then realized, for the first time, how much her attitude and behavior had affected her little sister over the years. Clementine never used to be this manipulative, reckless, or sarcastic. She was slowly and surely developing a Vesper-like vengeance.

Vesper gulped as she fully comprehended the dangerousness of the situation. She wondered whether she had actually found the real Clementine, or if she had just found the aftermath of the real Clementine’s death, and the birth of a more corrupted version of her sister that will never return to innocence. “Maybe it’s not my parents who are tainting Clementine’s childhood… maybe it’s me,” she thought.

“Dear God, what have I done to you Fruity,” Vesper whispered. As she watched her sister walk away, her hope of trying to redeem Clementine and undo all of the negativity that Vesper had instilled within her slowly faded away with the setting sun.