by P. J. Post
I hold his hand and watch his face, hoping for his eyes to open — or to give any sign that he’s still in there. He only looks slightly more alive than he did when they put him in that ambulance.
I remember our friendship and how important he’s been in my life, how he’s been there for me no matter what I put him through. And I grin as I recall all of those situations, some funny, some dangerous, but he always had my back.
I couldn’t have a better friend.
I feel someone nudge me and lean back, blinking away the sleep. It’s Estelle. She leans over and gently hugs me.
“Go spend some time with your girl,” she encourages. She looks like she’s the one dying. Dark circles underscore her undaunted and hopeful eyes, and she’s unusually pale.
I smile and whisper, “Thanks.” We hug again before she takes my seat next to Todd.
A moment passes between us, neither of us wanting to tempt fate out loud with words of expectations. She just nods and slides into the plastic chair.
Once back in the waiting room, I see Peggy dozing against Beth’s shoulder. Beth smiles at me, but I don’t see Carla or the others around.
“How’s she doing?”
“We went down to the ER. She’s going to be fine,” Beth says quietly so as not wake Peggy.
“Good. She tell you what happened?”
“Yes. And thank you so much, but are you crazy? You could have been killed,” she admonishes, her eyes flashing at me.
“Curtis Ray?”
“Yeah. She told me everything. I’m not sure he’s our biggest problem right now though,” she says.
“Time to talk?” I ask.
“Way past time.” Beth softly shakes Peg awake.
Peggy raises her head and frowns. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven,” Beth tells her.
Shit. Seven? I can’t believe they let me sleep that long.
“Peg, Connor and I need to talk,” Beth says. “We need the keys to the Jeep.”
Peggy sits up and rubs her eyes. “Here,” she says reaching into her purse and pulling out the keys to Shauna’s Jeep. “I’m going to stick around here with Todd’s family. I’ll get a ride later or I’ll call Shauna.”
“Thanks,” Beth says and kisses her on the forehead as Peggy pats her arm, yawning.
She needs sleep and I’m afraid she isn’t going to get any meaningful rest here. I feel like shit despite the nap.
Beth stands up and takes my hand and guides me back down the hallway. Peggy pulls her knees up to her chin and waves at us. The worry is still written across her face. I think she may really be in love with Todd. And I know how much pain losing that kind of love can cause. I feel bad for leaving, but Beth and me need some time alone, and we can’t get that here.
When the elevator doors close, she leaps over and kisses me again, and I know that every kiss to follow will be as sweet as the first. The doors open to the main lobby and we don’t pull apart until someone clears their throat.
She holds my hand on the walk through the lobby.
I stop once we get outside and light a cigarette.
“So Peggy’s filled you in on what you’ve missed,” I ask, blowing smoke.
“I think so. This Curtis Ray guy sounds pretty scary,” she says.
I wave the idea off. Alone, I’m weak and worthless, but with Beth I feel like I can deal with anything, even Curtis Ray. I don’t know what to make of it; it’s either really romantic, psychologically fucked up — or both.
“You said he wasn’t our biggest problem, right?”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, about everything. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say that enough.”
“I forgive you.”
“How? I mean after all the terrible things I did, why?” she asks.
“Because I think I know what’s going on, or why you did those things. But when I saw you again, I wasn’t sure anymore.”
“That wasn’t me, I mean it was, but I never wanted to — I died inside every time I…”
Her eyes become watery again and a tear rolls down her cheek.
“You’re going to dehydrate,” I say, grinning and kiss the tear away.
She smiles and tries to laugh with me.
I take her hand and lead her over to the Jeep. It’s still hot and the air is thick with humidity, but even the amusement park stink of the cooling asphalt smells wonderful tonight.
“Why didn’t you say something before you left?” I ask gently.
“I couldn’t.
“Not even to Peggy?”
“I love her, but we’re just catching up. She’s in love with Todd, or whatever, and Todd is close with you, so I couldn’t take the chance.”
“Take what chance?”
“That you would know where I was. I didn’t want you to follow me, but you knew anyway,” she says unable to meet my eyes again.
“Why didn’t you trust me? Especially after I told you how I felt?”
“That didn’t change anything. It just convinced me that the only way out was to leave for good. Besides I already knew how you felt.” She leans over at kisses my cheek. “That’s why I was afraid you’d follow me.”
“Okay, I didn’t though, follow you that is.”
“I know. It kind of hurt. How’s that for crazy?”
I laugh gently. “That is crazy, but I think I get it.”
She grins with me and then gets serious. “You were talking about trust, but trust doesn’t have anything to do with it. He’s powerful, too powerful for you to deal with. And that’s what matters.” The serious look is clouding over with anger.
“You lost me, who are you talking about?”
”My dad. I couldn’t take the chance. You don’t know what he is capable of. He doesn’t make threats, he makes deals and he always keeps his word.”
“Powerful. What does that even mean? He’s just your dad, so what? What’s he going to do, ground me? Fuck him.”
“You don’t understand. Everyone owes him, the Mayor, the Sheriff, Chief of Police, Judges and the District Attorney, lots of people in influential positions, and not just here, but around the state.”
“So, what does this have to do with me?”
“He talked to Uncle Dan and did some investigating.”
“Uncle Dan?”
“Dan-o, yeah, he’s my uncle.” Her anger fades as she grins at me. “I can’t believe you call him that. It pisses him off, you know.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah. They don’t talk much anymore, but he said enough.”
“Okay, so your dad is powerful and influential and shit. So what? I mean, why would someone like that give a shit about me? I’m no one.”
“Because of me.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I told him how I feel about you,” she says, glancing up.
“You told him we were best buds?” I ask.
“I told him I loved you,” she says seriously. Her eyes gleam every time she says that.
“I love hearing you say that you know?”
“Good, you’re going to hear it a lot from now on.” She smiles.
I reach over and pull her to me. “Say it again.”
“Stop it, this is serious. You don’t get it,” she warns.
“Get what? You should have talked to me. We could have figured something out — together, before all this — heartache. I’m pissed you tried to deal with this all on your own.”
She stares at me like I’m a simpleton.
I drop the cigarette and grind it out with my shoe. “Okay, it’s serious if you say so, but it sounds like horseshit to me.”
“He got the police to look into the Annie case again.”
“What Annie case? There isn’t a case, she overdosed.” I just assume Beth knows some of what happened based on what she said on the phone and don’t really want to get into it.
“They keep everything, files, records — evidence.”
“Okay, but wh
at does that mean to me?”
We stop next to the Jeep and Beth leans back against a fender.
“Dad wanted to find something, something to use against you. So he could use you as leverage against me, force me to do what he wants.”
“So?”
“So, your fingerprints were on the syringe,” she says.
The wheels are starting to turn.
“So he said that if I didn’t leave you…” she begins.
“Does that mean you won’t go to Prom with me?” I grin.
“Dammit, Connor! He wants to get the District Attorney to prosecute you for murder. He’s going to have you arrested unless I leave you and the music thing and go back to school, back to therapy and be a happy little Warner.”
“For murder? That’s ridiculous.”
“There’s no statute of limitation on murder cases, Connor,” she continues.
“That’s bullshit. See, you should have talked to me. They would never get a conviction, Dan-o knows what happened.”
“He doesn’t need a conviction, don’t you get it? He just needs to have the charges brought and have you arrested. He knows about you and your record, your history of violence and about your dad. That’s enough for a judge to set bail really high or even deny it altogether. He knows you’re poor and can’t afford a real attorney. You’ll have to sit in County until the trial and that could be years.”
The truth is slowly sinking in.
“He’s bluffing. He’s just trying to blackmail you, he couldn’t do it, not even if he wanted to,” I say, trying to convince myself more than her.
“He’s not bluffing. He never bluffs. He’s done it before, trust me. So when you do get out, if you get out, even without a guilty verdict, you’ll still be a child murderer to everyone around here. You know how people are. It will destroy you. Either way, we lose.”
“But that ridiculous. It’s like killing a mosquito with a bazooka,” I say.
“No, it’s efficient and final — like the Romans. He only knows how to conquer with overwhelming force, that’s why he always wins. And that’s why I was, why I was acting like that — to protect you. If we were apart, and I did what he wanted, you’d be safe.”
“You thought you could get rid of me that easily?”
“I wanted you to hate me,” she says as the tears begin anew.
“I tried. It didn’t take.”
She grins and then becomes sullen. “I was a bitch.”
“Yeah, you were.” I grin at her. “Is it as much work as it looks like?”
“More.” She spares a gentle laugh and then the sadness returns. “I’m so sorry about the Annie thing. I thought that would be unforgivable. I thought that would do it,” she looks away again. “I was so ashamed, I called back, but you didn’t answer. I called all day, until I left for the airport.”
“That’s when I knew you were full of shit, well, hoped anyway.”
She looks up questioningly.
“You are simply not capable of being that cold, so I knew something was up, and I could only think of one reason why you’d work that hard to get rid of me.”
She’s tearing up again, but her eyes are smiling — it’s a weird combination.
“I thought I’d lost you again,” she says.
“You’ll never lose me, no matter what, I’ll always be here for you — always,” I say seriously.
“But before, you forgot me before or at least I thought you forgot about me,” she says. “So I played along. Why didn’t you call me after that night we met?”
“I didn’t forget you — I forgot your name and kind of what you looked like, maybe. I think Tommy gave me a concussion that night.”
At the sound of Tommy’s name she cringes.
“I looked for you though. I swear I searched fucking everywhere. But I never found you, until now. I remembered everything a couple of weeks ago, but I was afraid to let you know. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I’m not one to judge.”
“I was afraid to talk about that night because of what happened to you after. I didn’t want to put you through that. I knew it would be painful. I thought we’d talk about it when you were ready. I didn’t want to force anything.”
She squeezes my hands
“Why didn’t I find you, Beth?” I ask with trepidation. We’re in it now.
She turns and looks across the sea of cars to the interstate that runs just beyond. Tall fast food signs and billboards sprout from the ground like a commercial forest beckoning us to a far away land of deep fried goodness and comfortable shoes.
She walks around to the front of the Jeep and slumps down onto the bumper.
I walk over, but she puts up a hand for me to stop.
“I can’t look at you, if you want to know, I can’t look at you,” she says flatly.
I take her place next to the fender, cross my arms and lean back. But I don’t touch her.
The sun is slipping behind the magenta and tangerine clouds, glowing along the jet fighter contrails that crisscross the sky. Golden light sparkles off her chestnut hair and the chrome of the parking lot beyond. It reminds me of Lake Thunderbird, the light catching the wave tops. She looks like she’s deciding whether or not to jump in the lake or stay dry and warm on the dock.
“After we met, I spent the next two days talking to Peggy about you and how wonderful you were and how you broke my heart when you didn’t call. I never told my dad about what happened that night though. See…”
She chokes back a sob and takes a deep breath.
Shit.
“It’s okay, we can do this another time, when you’re ready,” I sooth.
“No, you need to know, because you don’t think he’s serious,” she says.
She lays an elbow on the hood and leans back, twisting and playing with the keys in her hands. I can’t imagine what this is doing to her and I know I can’t fix it either.
I know I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know.
“A few days later, my parents were on a golf outing with their best friends, a couples thing. They were gone all day. He knew they were gone and he knew I’d be alone.”
“Who?” I ask softly.
She glances at me, almost casually. “Tommy.” And then turns back to the horizon, absently twisting the keys. “I didn’t even think when I opened the door.”
The guy from the truck?
Shit.
Impotent rage boils up within me, but it’s useless now. I try to relax for her because this isn’t about me, or fixing anything.
Her voice is becoming detached, monotone. I’m beginning to think she’s told this story more than once.
“It was Tommy. You said to steer clear and I was going to. I never dreamed he’d come to my house. He pushed me back, slammed the door and hit me.
“I remember he carried me upstairs to my room and tied me to my headboard. I was scared. I knew what he was going to do, and you weren’t going to be walking by this time.”
I’m sick to my stomach and I want to press my hands against my ears, but I don’t want to interrupt her either. She’s in a fragile place.
“He pulled my clothes off, one piece at a time and just stared me. His eyes were really scary. He looked insane.
“I tried not to watch him. I was so afraid. And then he took his pants off and folded them. And then I looked away. I stared at the posters on my walls, my gymnastic medals and awards, my high school pictures. I tried to be somewhere else.
“And then I felt his weight shift on the bed.”
I feel tears of sadness, regret and anger fall down my cheeks. I want to comfort her, but she can’t even look at me right now. I have no idea how hard this is for her.
“And then he raped me.” She says it with an emotionless tone, like “and then the air-conditioner wouldn’t work”.
“I didn’t watch,” she continues.
“When he was finished, he left for a long time and I prayed that he was gone. I thought I could hear
him downstairs sometimes. And later, when he came back…
“He hurt me, Connor. He hurt me bad,” she says as the emotion breaks through and she begins sobbing uncontrollably.
I hold back my own sobs. I won’t add to her misery. I wipe my tears away and set my jaw.
“After, after he let me go, he left. I crawled into the shower, but I never thought I’d be clean again and that’s where my dad found me. He knew what had happened, or I told him, I don’t remember, but when he found out it was Tommy, he made some calls and then he left.”
She glances back at me again, her cheeks wet and sparkling. “See, Tommy’s dad wasn’t just my dad’s friend, they were business partners and not everything they do is strictly legal. I loved my dad. He was everything to me. He kissed away my boo-boo’s, you know? He was the one who made everything okay, made everything work out — I thought he loved me too.
“But he didn’t. He made it all go away, like it never happened. Maybe it was for money, I don’t know why he betrayed me. In the end, he didn’t love me…” She begins shaking again, choking out the words between sobs. “He...never...loved me. Why didn’t he love me, Connor, why? How could he do that to me? I’m his daughter!”
The anxiety has spread out to the point that I’m shaking and want to break something. I know that doesn’t fix anything but I’d like to start with her dad’s goddamn face.
She breathes in and out for a few minutes, calming herself, like an exercise she learned.
“He screwed me over for a business deal or whatever. They made Tommy leave the state and I never saw him again. But the police never did shit.
“That’s not totally true. Uncle came by that night. He and my dad and mom argued. She’s an evil bitch and took my dad’s side. Uncle wanted me to go the emergency room, but my dad wouldn’t hear of it. That would leave a record, you know?”
She glances at me again like it all makes sense. I just nod.
“Dad left again later that evening and Uncle picked me up and, over my mom’s arguing and threats about defying Father, took me to see his girlfriend at the clinic she worked at. She was a nurse. There wasn’t any paperwork. A doctor checked me out. I can’t…”
