Soul Snake: Two Thrones, One Queen Read online

  Counseling! What a bunch of suburban horseshit.

  It was truly a low blow Catherine had dealt her, but she wasn’t the only the one who knew how to hit below the belt.

  SARAH BATTLES

  According to Catherine and Rex, Daphne was broken, and what better way to repair a broken soul than two months of forced counseling from a chunky Christian counselor with a Jesus fish on her car?

  At first Daphne was destroyed by the notion, but she quickly found unadulterated pleasure in weaving complex stories for Sarah Battles to psychoanalyze.

  “I’m afraid of dildos.”

  Daphne wasn’t blinking, winking, or smiling.

  Sarah turned bright red.

  “Really Daphne?”

  Secretly Sarah hated Daphne and her parents for forcing her into something she refused to take seriously. Daphne treated Sarah like a joke, and Sarah found Daphne to be a complete waste of her precious time. Sarah spent eight years in school earning her doctorate in Psychology and she didn’t appreciate Daphne mocking everything she stood for.

  Every week it was one hour of complete nonsense that Sarah went along with just to get it over with. She needed to move on quickly to get to her real patients – the ones who were not egotistical little dipshits.

  “Afraid of dildos. Why, Daphne?”

  Here we go again, thought Sarah. A full hour of bullshit. In her mind she called it the bullshit hour. But, whatever. It was a paycheck.

  Daphne smelled like cigarettes. She didn’t appear to ever brush her hair, and some days she would come in complaining that she thought she had an STD. It was revolting.

  Her parents had informed Sarah of even more gruesome details, such as the fact that Daphne was pregnant by the age of sixteen. Being that there were more than three prospects for the father, Catherine and Rex began to throw around the A word through whispers that Daphne could still hear through the wall.

  In fact, they did all sorts of dirty things Daphne could still hear through the wall, which was clearly what brought about her fear of dildos.

  She had only once contemplated using one, when the disgusting sound of sex noises from the other room had forever made her associate it with an experience much more emotionally scarring than passing a fetus on a Greyhound.

  “And so that’s why I’m here. I am deathly afraid of dildos because every time I see one, I remember things I can’t even talk about, horrible things.”

  Once again it seemed to Sarah that she and Daphne were off to a bang start by only eight a.m. in the morning.

  “And how does it make you feel when you see a dildo, Daphne?”

  “Like running for dear life. I feel like running and never coming back to my stupid, fucking parents who talk about tax brackets at the dinner table while my brother tries to set the house on fire with bottle rockets.”

  Sarah decided to play along for once.

  “Daphne, have you ever considered facing the sadness you feel from growing up without a mother?”

  Daphne narrowed her eyes. She didn’t trust Sarah.

  “Sarah, the only thing that gives me a sense of sadness is the disgusting sex noises that I hear through the wall of my parents’ room.”

  Sarah felt her face get hot. She sure wished Daphne would just keep some things to herself. Now every time she saw Catherine and Rex at church she would have to force all Daphne’s vivid descriptions out of her head.

  “Like a pig... It sounds like someone’s poking a pig. Catherine’s like uh, uh, fuck me harder, and he’s like oooohhh … Catherine baby, who’s yo Daddy? It’s so fucking gross. That’s probably why I cut myself. It’s probably my way of wishing I could really cut them, but that’s against the law.”

  Sarah looked wearily at the clock on the wall. She probably should have been documenting Daphne’s homicidal tendencies, but she really just didn’t give a crap anymore.

  “Speaking of the cuts … Why are you cutting yourself?”

  Although Sarah suspected Daphne did everything for attention, she daily tried to delve into the primary reason Daphne’s parents paid good money to have her counseled. Now this little heifer repeatedly dodged the questions.

  “I want to tattoo the cuts to make fringy-looking rips. Like a pair of jeans from the 80s. But, nobody believes me and you guys keep telling me I’m broken.”

  Sarah was beginning to think Daphne had smoked a joint before her session. She jotted down on her pad the words Drug Test Again. Patient on Drugs.

  “So, Daphne, maybe you feel like everyone wants you to be someone you’re not?”

  Sarah couldn’t possibly have come up with something more cliché. She was so predictable. Daphne decided to toy with her.

  “Sarah, can I ask you a personal question, woman to woman?”

  Is she really confiding in me?

  Finally Sarah thought maybe they were getting somewhere.

  “Does your vagina ever smell like fish sticks?”

  Sarah pretended she didn’t hear Daphne’s disgusting question at all. She didn’t think it was possible to feel any more annoyed, and she hoped Daphne was having fun completely wasting her valuable time.

  “Well I think we’ve definitely delved deep enough for today, Daphne.”

  Thank God.

  Daphne’s fingers were trembling already from nicotine withdrawal.

  She’d greatly enjoyed the first thirty minutes as Sarah drank her coffee. She wondered if Sarah felt a buzz from all that Kahlua she’d dumped in the coffee pot. Next time she was going to put some pot brownies in the mini fridge by the water cooler. Thinking they were something from a church member, Sarah would surely eat at least two. She was a little chubby, and she might even be the type of chick that would eat a whole pan of brownies before an early morning counseling session.

  That would be hilarious to see Sarah accidentally stoned. Maybe she’d finally shut up about the family unit and talk about some fascinating Freudian theories. She wondered if Sarah’s husband had an Oedipus complex. Surely he did if married Sarah.

  She was definitely going to surreptitiously sneak Sarah a pot brownie at some point.

  Daphne suppressed a giggle. What if Sarah really did eat the whole pan? Oh no! Would she die? Would she come in wearing a Grateful Dead shirt? Would she sneeze the alphabet? What would happen?

  Daphne didn’t want Sarah to die, though. She liked Sarah. Their relationship just worked. Sarah loved to gossip and Daphne loved to make up gossip, and so Daphne always made sure before she left for the week that Sarah had a juicy new thing to tell her parents and everyone at church, or on Facebook or whatever other type of corny shenanigans that heifer got into.

  Having no clue about the Kahlua spike, Sarah stood up and felt so dizzy. She would probably go have her thyroid checked again.

  “Thank you for coming, Daphne.”

  You dirty little dog who goes around making babies that I’ll have to give half my paycheck for as I eat Oatmeal for supper while you swipe your food stamp card for lobster.

  “Yes, it is always a pleasure, Sarah.”

  You casserole toting gossip whore who pretends you had a right to wear white at your wedding, but really you have a bigger dildo collection than a lesbian on pot. Please be sure to tell everyone all my personal business at your Pharisee douche bag excuse for a church. You’re probably all closet cross dressers.

  NOT FUNNY

  “Do you think this is funny?”

  Catherine was on her soapbox again. Her nostrils flared like little bat wings.

  Rex was quietly stabbing at his bloody steak.

  Daphne braced herself for impact on the wooden dining room chair. She knew Noah would soon find the bottle rockets she’d left in the bathroom for him.

  “Sarah called me again at work today, Rex.”

  Daphne couldn’t believe it. That bitch.

  “She’s a bitch. That’s why.”

  Daphne could still pronounce bitch, even with a mouthful of steak.

  Rex knew he had better
speak up as Catherine gave him the why the heck do I have to raise YOUR daughter face.

  “Daphne, Sarah is a good lady and a church member. Please don’t use that language concerning her. That’s not nice.”

  Catherine rolled her eyes. Concerning her? Apparently Rex treated disciplining his daughter like his duty as church deacon. He assumed that people cared about what he said. He must have thought he was super important.

  Way to go, Rex. That’s not nice? Really, Rex? What a scary disciplinarian he was. It was no wonder his daughter was going to turn out to be a bag lady with Aids. Oh but she’d have on a cool pair of tattoo jeans. Geez.

  Rex sensed that Catherine was threatening his manhood again with her thoughts. He decided to defend himself with more saintly discipline.

  “Sarah is only concerned about you, Daphne.”

  Now Daphne was rolling her eyes. Why did people always use concern as an excuse for gossip? What next? Would she be on a prayer request list? That way the whole church could know about her fear of dildos.

  Daphne laughed nearly spitting Heinz 57 through her nose.

  Fear of dildos … now that was funny.

  Now Catherine was losing her patience.

  “Daphne, you think everything is funny.”

  “Catherine, you think everything is serious. So, we’re even.”

  Rex looked back down at his plate to avoid Catherine’s do something face. He couldn’t help but to wonder if maybe Daphne was right. Catherine took life very seriously.

  After losing his mother the year before, Rex began looking at life differently. With obvious career prospects like stripping and drug dealing, Daphne would be flying from the nest soon. Then he’d be left to fight Catherine’s negativity alone.

  She would continue to force him to go to church. She would continue making everyone eat at the table, and she would continue letting out a Mortal Combat fatality scream every time Gracie Ann tipped over a sippie cup.

  She would come in everyday exhausted and bitch about everything she could possible bitch about. If she ran out of ideas, she would look around and think of something to bitch about. That was her hobby – bitching. As an excuse for being such a bitch, she’d continue to blame it on her endless responsibilities as a working mother.

  It was no wonder Daphne was on pot. He’d smelled it wafting down from her room once or twice when she thought he was gone, and it reminded him of his young, fun days - his happy days.

  He had been so in love with Daphne’s mom. When he closed his eyes he could still hear Angel’s sprightly little laugh. A little hippie chick who read Tarot cards, Angel wasn’t scared of anything. She insisted they spend their honeymoon riding to Mexico on his motorcycle. The only thing he remembered from the entire experience was eating the worm out of a tequila bottle.

  That was probably the night they made Daphne. Poor kid. She never had a prayer with such a failure as her only parent.

  Every since Angel died on the delivery table he felt like someone was cutting out his guts with a fishing knife. Only piling tragedy onto more tragedy was the gift she left him – a newborn baby girl looking up at him with innocent eyes. Never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful -- or terrifying. He wasn’t sure which. He only knew that she needed a mother.

  Although he never loved Catherine as much as Angel, he had been so grateful for everything she’d done for Daphne. She really did love his daughter, just not as much as she loved herself. Rex was probably no better himself. And just because she had a gigantic stick up her ass was no reason for Daphne to be so disrespectful to a woman who only wanted the best for her.

  What was so bad about wanting Daphne to finish college, get a job, and actually move out before she was forty? Catherine had a point with all of her nagging, and the more she nagged the more he didn’t have to.

  He wasn’t always sure nagging would even help, though. No amount of counseling could change the fact that Daphne Delray was a baby bull in a China shop just like her mother. Rex knew that much.

  “So what did Sarah say exactly, Catherine?”

  Rex tried to pretend he cared about what Sarah Battles had to say, but really he didn’t like Sarah any more than Daphne did.

  “She said Daphne refuses to talk about the cuts, and that she doesn’t want to take our money anymore because obviously she’s not a very good counselor. She says she’s just wasting our time.”

  Sounded to Rex like that was Sarah’s way of saying she didn’t want the hassle anymore.

  Catherine’s voice attempted to soften with phony compassion.

  “Daphne, why won’t you talk about the cuts?”

  Daphne put her fork down. She was so tired of talking to idiots.

  “Dad, has it ever occurred to either of you, that maybe, just maybe, I really am trying to make a state-of-the art pair of ripped up tattoo jeans? That maybe I’m not broken at all? I just have this super cool idea? Just maybe?”

  Catherine’s brow sank with sadness.

  Here we go again.

  “Is this about Rio, Daphne? We want you to know it is O.K. to feel sad in our house. You can’t keep holding all this in.”

  Daphne slammed her fork down

  Enough is enough.

  She was so disgusted with her douche bag parents she no longer had an appetite.

  “You guys think that I’m broken because I’m different. You believe in God, right? So tell me, just because God made me a genius and you a dipshit, how the hell does that make me the broken one?”

  Catherine gave Rex the look again, but this time he couldn’t even look up. Daphne had a point.

  Sometimes it really did feel like he and Cathy were the ones that were broken, not Daphne.

  Bottle rockets sounded off, shattering Rex’s reflective moment.

  “Dammit, Noah! Where are you getting all these bottle rockets?”’

  “I’m outta here. I got to get to Brinley’s before it’s past her bedtime. I promised her I’d read her some old book about a queen.”

  Catherine rolled her eyes.

  “I’m proud of you,” boasted Rex. “You’re being a fine example to that young girl.”

  “Oh sure, Rex. She’s going to read stories to a little kid. Probably come back knocked up again. God, were you born yesterday?”

  STORY TIME

  “I’m early, just for you.”

  It was the only event in her life that Daphne cared to be punctual about anymore.

  Catherine called it the hood, but Daphne never felt scared in Brinley’s neighborhood. The houses were falling apart. The street signs were faded. People stood stop signs asking for money, but nothing felt as dangerous as the cold, clammy feeling Daphne got every time she returned home to her well-manicured yard – every time she returned to Catherine and Rex.

  Brinley’s house practically felt like Disney World. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but every time she curled up with Brinley, the stabbing feeling in her chest subsided. The hot little tears that leaked out of her eyes day and night finally dried up for an evening, and sometimes she was even able to smile – really smile.

  Using the key Lydia made for her, she crept in via the torn down screen door in the back and made her way down a dim lit hallway that always smelled of pork chops.

  Arms crossed and brow furrowed, Brinley had been waiting up for her. Her pink princess lamp lit up the tiny room and cast shadows of the stuffed animals onto the powder pink walls. The magic book was open to exactly where they had left off, and her three teddy bears were sitting in a line down the edge of the bed waiting for story time. Daphne sank down into Brinley’s worn out mattress, book in hand, and as she started reading her entire bad day melted away. The counseling, Catherine, all of it … It was as if none of it ever happened.

  “Chapter Three: The Pearl Crown …”

  CHAPTER THREE: THE PEARL CROWN

  Medallia’s green eyes scanned every inch of her sprawling new estate from atop the balcony of her new beach house. The sparkling jet
black sand of the shore flowed like waves of marble toward the sinking hot pink sun.

  She had done it all herself thanks to her Pearl Imagination Crown. The crown King Loch Ness had presented her with that day was no ordinary crown. With twelve pearls full of lightning bolts, they gave Medallia the power to bring to life anything her imagination could conjure.

  She stepped around an ivory pillar set in turquoise to get a better view from her balcony. My Sea Shell Palace is a work of art every bit as state-of-the-art as Loch Ness’s virtual reality throne.

  Something was missing, though.

  It needed action – possibly and element of danger.

  She closed her eyes and in a flash created a line of volcanoes erupting in spews of hot pink lava.

  Still, it’s was no virtual reality throne.

  Weary of thinking, she whistled to her purple dolphin servants whose names she’d never bothered to learn. Having more than a million, it would have been impossible for any mere mermaid to remember all of those names, which completely justified her new whistle.

  The dolphins now stood at attention at the ivory headboard of Medallia’s bed.

  “I am bored, and I’d like to travel to the city today. I’m going to need you to wear reigns today and pull my new pink tortoise.”

  “Please forgive us, Queen, but what pink tortoise?”

  “This one!”

  An enormous pink Galapagos turtle with ten purple spots appeared out of thin air and nearly landed on the dolphins.

  Medallia’s pearl imagination crown was an absolute delight, and she could only imagine the looks she’d get from the Mer Folk as she threw seashells into the city square from atop her pink Galapagos tortoise.

  How modern! Even Loch Ness would have to admit that she really had imagination.

  But lately Loch Ness hadn’t been in the mood to admit much of anything.

  He’d been acting paranoid ever since she decided to spend a night or two at her sea shell mansion, and one evening over dinner he’d even reduced himself to spewing threats.

  “Medallia, magic is a circle, just like this crown, and even though you have your own crown now, I created you within my circle. You only exist within my circle of imagination. That means you belong to me. If ever I decide to cast you out of the circle of my thoughts, you will cease to exist.”