Page 5 of Right in Front of You

A slight click of metal forced my eyes to open, and I saw Mr. Fowler unbuckling his pants.

“Please, not—” she begged.

“Shut up and do as you’re told.”

If he laid a hand on her, I’d jump out of that closet and hit him as hard as I could. I tightened my fists at the thought. He’d probably throw my skinny-boned ass against the wall and then out the window, but hopefully I’d scare him enough to leave Molly alone. He had better have loosened that belt because of his beer belly, not for any other reason. I wanted to believe that the worst he’d do would be to hit her with the belt, but even that seemed like a lenient punishment from Mr. Fowler. Still, I didn’t hear any other physical threats. What was he up to?

“You still have enough pads?” he asked.

“Yes, they’ll last me a while.”

“Did you mark your period on the calendar?”

“I did.”

Her voice was barely audible. I didn’t have any sisters, so I didn’t know the standard procedure for dealing with women’s issues — gross — but something about his question made me feel uncomfortable.

When I saw Molly’s shorts fall to the floor and her tiny feet wiggle as she shimmied out of her underwear, I closed my eyes again. I didn’t open them until I was sure she had her pajama bottoms on. The next few minutes as she went through her routine of changing, going to the bathroom, brushing her teeth, combing through her hair and whatever else there was that girls did when they got ready for bed, felt like they lasted forever. When I peeked through my eyes, Mr. Fowler hadn’t moved from his spot; as long as he stayed away from Molly, I was fine with that.

Fifteen minutes later, the closet door opened. Molly pulled her hand over her swollen eyes and reached for me. She’d been crying. I wanted to hug her and tell her that everything would be all right, but doing so would acknowledge that she had been crying and embarrass her that much more. And so I ignored the redness in her eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, Carter.”

“I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t see you change.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good. You should probably leave now, in case he comes back again.”

Chills swept over my arms. Why would he come back, if Molly was ready to sleep?

“Yeah, I should go. Are you okay though? You know, I’m not afraid of him.” That was a little bit of truth stretching, but I wanted her to feel safe. “I can stay with you if you’d like.”

Without waiting for her objection, I took her hand and led her to her bed. Molly slipped underneath the covers, and I tucked the corners around her shoulders. The drapes were pulled closed to make the room appear darker. It was barely past eight-thirty and the summer sun wouldn’t set for another hour at least. She looked beautiful lying there, her brown hair splayed out on the pillow. In fact, I’d never truly taken the time to take in her beauty until that moment.

“He’s not like that all the time,” she whispered.

“Has he done this before? Asked you to change in front of him?”

“No, this was the first time.” Her eyes skidded to the side, twice. She was lying, but I didn’t want to upset Molly anymore, so I let it slide. “He’s stressed. Mom just had a baby, and it’s… it’s just very difficult for them.”

I couldn’t imagine that having a newborn in the house was easy, but that didn’t mean that Molly’s privacy was to be sacrificed.

“Please don’t tell anyone, Carter. It was a one-time thing.”

I hoped so. I really did. Little did I know the doubt in my instinct was still being fed by the innocence of my age. I wished later that I’d listened to that nagging voice in my head more carefully. It could have saved so much grief in the future.

“I won’t.” I made the sign of the cross over my chest.

“And never mention this again. Promise me, Carter.”

That was one difficult promise to keep, but my parents always taught me to give other people the benefit of the doubt. Not to judge, but forgive and know that second chances didn’t come often.

“Promise,” I said, before opening the window and climbing down. “This is between me and you, Molly. You can trust me.”

“Thank you. You’re a good friend, Carter,” Molly whispered from behind me; but I felt like a jerk. I felt like the worst friend in the world, and I didn’t know why.

I never liked being around Mr. Fowler after that day, and I wished I had known the signs of a pedophile and a sick man when I was younger. Maybe I could have saved Molly from the pain she’d experience as a young woman.

We never spoke about that night again, and I selfishly chose to forget it. I did, however know that if Mr. Fowler ever hurt Molly, I’d be the one who killed him.

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