Page 7 of Pieces of Ash
“I was just swimming,” I insisted.
“Practically naked!”
“But Tig,” I said, “I swam all the time in LA.”
“Teagan!” she hissed. “Not Tig!”
“Fine!” I yelled. “I swam all the time in LA,Teagan!”
She yanked me onto the landing and turned to face me, her eyes swimming with tears. “Mosier’s house, Mosier’s rules! How do younotunderstand that?” Pulling me against her with a desperate sob, she squeezed me tight, murmuring in my ear, “Grow up, Ash. Grow up fast, you dumb little girl.”
Then she dragged me the rest of the way up the stairs to my room, where she chose my clothes—a long-sleeved white blouse with a ruffled neck, a long, flowy skirt, and shiny, black mary janes. She told me I’d need to apologize to Mosier and promise to be better.
“Better? In what way?” I asked, feeling scared.
“Tell him that you’ll be more modest,” she said, nodding at me encouragingly, though her voice was laced with panic. “You’ll…you’ll be the little sister he never had. Agoodgirl. Respectable.”
“He’s not my keeper!” I huffed, scratching at the itchy neckline of the fussy blouse.
“Yes,” Tigín grated out, grabbing my upper arms harshly as she stared into my eyes, “that’sexactlywhat he is now.”
We walked down the stairs together in silence, hand in hand, headed to Mosier’s private office. My mother knocked, and he shouted, “Come!”
I looked up to see her jaw tense before she lifted her chin and pulled me into the room.
Mosier’s study was the most intimidating room in the house. Sinister, too, with its smell of stale cigars and whiskey, its dark wood and leather furniture. A dagger with a sharp, shiny point was displayed on a credenza, and crossed swords intersected over a massive black marble fireplace. Underneath the sword was a plaque that read,Christus remittit. Nos non oblivisci.
Years later, I would learn the meaning of those Latin words.Christ forgives. We don’t forget.
“Mosier,” said my mother, her voice high-pitched and placating, “Ashley has something she wants to say.”
His eyes, dark brown and disgusted, slid from my mother to me. Flicking them down my form, his face softened slightly at my appearance.
“So,cenusa,” he said, staring at me from behind his massive desk, “you act like a whore and make me hurt my sons…and now you want to talk to me?”
Cenusameans “ashes” in his Romanian, and it’s what he always called me. Never Ashley. Alwayscenusa.
My mother’s voice was tentative. “She’s just a kid, Mo?—”
“Shut up,” he spat without looking away from me. “Not another word from you.” He lifted his chin a fraction of an inch, his eyes searing. “You come to me dressed like an angel now. But I seen you before…” His eyes lowered to my breasts. “Your tits on display. Anispita. Teasing. Sinful. Dirty. Naked in the pool with two grown men?—”
“With yoursons! And they weren’t naked,” said Tigín. “Mosier, they were just swim?—”
“You speak again,” he said, lifting his eyes to my mother, “and you’ll need a doctor.Ma în?elegi?”
She gasped softly and nodded, looking down at her feet as she squeezed my hand.
“So, littlecenusa, little whore in training, what do you have to say to me?”
My heart was racing, and my entire body trembled. “I…I am so sorry. S-so sorry that I broke your rules.”
“Myrules?” he repeated softly, leaning forward and planting his elbows on his desk. He sniffed, then grimaced, as if what he’d smelled was distasteful.
“I d-didn’t mean to upset you,” I managed to say, gripping my mother’s hand for dear life.
My stepfather stood up behind his desk, raising a shaking fist. “Upsetme? You upsetGod, you cheaptârfa!”
I didn’t know what I was doing wrong, but I obviously wasn’t saying the right things. I was making him angrier. I glanced up at my mother to find the color in her face draining as she jerked me closer to her side, taking a step back and pulling me with her.
