Tithe Read Online Free PDF Page A

television, eating one of the miniature Snickers Grandma had bought for the trick-or-treaters. “Leave me the fuck alone,” she muttered to the drink in front of her.
    “You think I don’t know anything. Okay, you’re the smart one, right?” Kaye’s grandmother said in that too-sweet voice that pissed off Kaye so much. “If you’re so smart, then how come you’re all alone? How come all these men just use you and leave you? How come the only one to take you in is your old, stupid mother?”
    “I heard you the first million fucking times you said it.”
    “Well, you’re going to hear it again,” Kaye’s grandmother said. “Where is your daughter tonight? It’s almost one in the morning! Do you even care that she’s out gallivanting around who knows where, trying her damnedest to turn out just like—”
    “Don’t you start in on my daughter!” Kaye’s mother said with surprising vehemence. “She’s just fine. You leave her out of your bitching.”
    Kaye bent her head down and tried to walk up the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could.
    She caught her own reflection in the hallway mirror, mascara and glitter eyeshadowsmeared across her cheeks and under her eyes, running in crusted and glittering streaks that looked like they were made by tears. Her lipstick was smudged and dull, arching across her left cheek where she must have wiped it.
    Kaye turned to take a furtive look into the living room. Her mother caught her glance, rolled her eyes, and motioned her up the stairs with a furtive hand movement.
    “While she’s in this house she’s going to live by the same rules that you lived by. I don’t care that she’s spent the last six years in a rat-infested apartment with whatever hoodlums you took up with. From now on that girl’s going to be raised decent.”
    Kaye crept the rest of the way up the stairs and into her room. She closed the door as quietly as she could.
    The tiny white dresser and too-short bed seemed to belong to someone else. Her rats, Isaac and Armageddon, rustled in their fish tank on top of the old toy box.
    Kaye stripped off her clothes and, not caring about the wet or the mud or anything, climbed into the small bed, wrapped a blanket around herself, and folded her legs so that she fit. Kaye knew what obsession was like—she saw how her mother craved fame, pined over men who treated her like shit. She didn’t want to want someone she would never have.
    But just for tonight, she allowed herself tothink of him, to think of the solemn, formal way he had spoken to her, so unlike anyone else. She let herself think of his flashing eyes and crooked smile.
    Kaye slid down into sleep like water closing over her head.

3
    “
A cigarette is the perfect type of perfect
pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one
unsatisfied. What more can one want?”
    —OSCAR WILDE,
The Picture of Dorian Gray
    Kaye was standing in a little stream clutching a Barbie doll by its blond hair, the cool water tickling her toes. Heat beat down on her back, and she could smell green things and the rich mud of summer. She was nine.
    It made perfect dream sense, even though she knew that it hadn’t happened quite this way. The warm green memory was younger than nine. But in this patchwork dream, Spike sat on the carpet of moss that ran along the bank. He was sewing a doll’s dress and purse out of leaves. Lutie straddled the waist of a sitting Ken doll, her iridescent butterfly wings fluttering slightly while she sang bawdy songs that made nine-year-old Kaye giggle and blush at the same time.
    “I could pretend that he could bend, But I’m bound to be sad when he is unclad. A smooth plastic chest doesn’t make up for the rest; Even a boy-doll has to try to make a girl-doll sigh.”
    Gristle stood silently beside Kaye. Laughing, she turned to him, and he made to speak, but the only thing that dropped from his mouth was a single white stone. It splashed into the stream, settling along the bottom along