by Noah Bly
This kind of jab from Caitlin was by no means unusual; ordinarily Jeremy wouldn’t have thought a thing of it.
He glared over the open refrigerator door at her. “I’m impressed you can smell anything over that rotting tuna fish perfume you seem to favor.”
Paul was not above this kind of crude rejoinder, but for Jeremy it was quite harsh.
“Jeremy!” I chided. “That’s beneath you.”
“Don’t bother, Mother. He’s just looking for attention.” Caitlin narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m so glad to see that you aren’t intimidated by women to the point where you feel the need to lash out at them in the most childish manner possible.”
He snorted and poked his head back in the refrigerator. “Oh, don’t be so sensitive, Caitlin.” He pulled out a package of English muffins, a stick of butter and a pitcher of orange juice and closed the door with his foot. “I was just attempting to remind you of the concept of proper feminine hygiene. Mother apparently neglected that part of your training.”
On cue, Paul wandered into the room in a bathrobe, bleary-eyed. “Part of what training?”
“Never you mind.” I pointed a finger at Jeremy. “Stop this prepubescent behavior immediately. What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing.” He put down the orange juice and the butter on the table and then stole my knife to slice his English muffin in half. He looked around. “Where’s the toaster?”
I took back my knife and handed him a clean one from the pile on the table before pointing toward the counter. “There, next to the microwave.”
“Why’d you move it?” he grumbled. “It’s been by the stove forever.”
Paul plopped down in the chair at the opposite end of the table from me. “I meant to congratulate you for that, Mother. Relocating the toaster was truly a bold move.” He reached for a bagel. “I had no idea you were such a rebel.”
Caitlin was drumming her fingers on the tablecloth; a sure sign that she was planning a retaliatory strike against Jeremy.
I attempted to divert her before she could speak. “Caitlin, dear, what was that book you were telling me about last week? The mathematical one with Bach in it?”
She raised a dark eyebrow at me. “Gödel, Escher, Bach, and stop pretending you don’t remember.” She stared over her shoulder at Jeremy, who had moved over to the toaster and was standing with his back to us. “Speaking of genital hygiene, Jeremy …”
“Excuse me?” Arthur shuffled into the kitchen, dressed in casual slacks and a sweatshirt. “I’m rather certain I don’t want to hear the end of that sentence, sweetheart.”
Jeremy turned around. “I do. Go ahead, little sis. Let me have it.”
She ran her tongue around on her teeth under her lip, a habit I’d been trying to break her of for years because it made her look like a thoughtful monkey. “Well, I was just going to say that while cleaning any part of yourself would be a distinct improvement, I understand why you’ve especially avoided using soap and water on your groin.” She peered into her teacup. “After all, the scars from when Sarah neutered you must be difficult reminders of your preeunuch existence.”
Sarah Weinstein had been Jeremy’s only serious girlfriend since he moved back home. She severed their relationship after a few months, however, and for weeks afterwards Jeremy had been heartbroken, moping around the house and bursting into tears every time her name was mentioned. He still wasn’t entirely over her.
His thin, handsome face purpled and his voice dropped. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
I could. Caitlin always said whatever was guaranteed to hurt the most. Always.
“Oh, don’t be so sensitive, Jeremy,” she mimicked with precision.
Paul hid a smile behind his hand.
“That’s enough,” Arthur said flatly. “I’ve had a very long week, and I don’t want to listen to this bickering while I’m having breakfast.”
His “long week” of touring had ended—in a rather animalistic fashion, I blush to add—the previous night in our bed.
“Yes, indeed,” I murmured. “Your father is exhausted. It’s a wonder the poor old dear made it down the stairs this morning without assistance.”
He tried to suppress a boyish grin without success. “Behave yourself, Hester. The last thing we need right now is another child in the room.”
But Jeremy was only getting warmed up.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “As long as we’re on the subject of ex-lovers, shall we talk about Sebastian?”
“Don’t you dare, Jeremy,” Caitlin warned, flushing. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
We all stared at her, caught off guard by her ferocity.
“Go ahead, Jeremy,” Paul interjected, leaning forward, “I think I’d like to hear this.”
“Shut up, Paul,” Arthur grunted. He sat across from Caitlin and put his elbows on the table. He cleared his throat after a moment and assumed a casual attitude. “Who’s this Sebastian, darling?”
I tapped my chin with my index finger. “Yes, I believe I’d like to know that, too. Do tell.”
Caitlin’s love life—or lack thereof—was a total mystery to her father and me. She had always been notoriously tightlipped about the subject of men and romance (so much so that in private Arthur and I had often speculated about her sexuality), and while it was possible she had been in and out of love on numerous occasions, we had been given no reason to believe this was the case, especially considering she was barely eighteen.
She fidgeted with her napkin. “Nobody. Just an acquaintance.”
Jeremy nodded. “Hmm. I see. An acquaintance.” His English muffin popped up and he half-turned to deal with it. “So do you allow all of your acquaintances to ride you bareback like a circus pony?”
There was a stunned silence, then Paul burst out laughing. “Way to go, Caitlin. You finally got laid!”
She rose to her feet, furious, flipped her long black hair off her forehead and locked eyes with Jeremy. “You are the lowest of the low. I will never forgive you for this.”
Jeremy gave her a sweet smile and turned to Paul. “You’d think losing her virginity would have made her more affable, wouldn’t you?”
Paul chortled. “Maybe Sebastian didn’t know what he was doing. I’m not surprised, though. With a name like that it had to have been his first time, too.”
“Shut up, Paul,” Arthur and I said at the same time, without heat, then we stared at each other, at a loss for words.
Neither of us were prudes, nor were we naïve enough to be shaken overmuch by this type of disclosure. Mind you, I wasn’t thrilled to hear that my daughter was now sexually active, but what surprised me far more than Caitlin’s loss of virginity was that Jeremy knew about it before I did.
Arthur glanced over at Jeremy and then back to our daughter, still on her feet and rigid with indignation. “Is this true, sweetheart?” He was apparently thinking along the same lines as I. “And if it is, why did you tell Jeremy?”
Jeremy winked at Caitlin in a conspiratorial fashion, not at all fazed by her rage. “Shall I relate the story, or do you want to? It’s a good one.”
“Goddamn you,” she whispered. “I will never trust you again.”
His smile faltered, but I believe I was the only one who saw that, because he recovered in the blink of an eye. He sauntered over to the table and slid into the chair beside Paul, acting for all the world as if this was nothing more than a pleasant family conversation over breakfast.
“Let’s set the stage first, shall we?” He buttered his English muffin slices while talking. “It was a dark and stormy night …”
“Shut the fuck up!” Caitlin snarled.
Arthur frowned at her. “I understand you’re upset, honey, but there’s no need to use obscene language.”
I laughed. “Oh, that’s rich, dear. Where do you think she learned to speak like that? During her long stint in the merchant marines?”
He stuck out his jaw. “Don’t start with me, H
ester.”
Jeremy cleared his throat. “You guys are interrupting my story.”
Caitlin balled her hands into fists and pressed her knuckles into the table top. “There is no story, you sadistic piece of shit.”
Paul reached over to Jeremy’s plate and claimed half of the English muffin. “Don’t be so modest, Caitlin. Let’s hear all the gory details. For instance, was there leather involved? Or maybe some handcuffs?”
Jeremy giggled. “None that I saw.”
Paul gaped at him. “Good God, you actually witnessed our little sister’s deflowering and didn’t take pictures?” He bit off a large chunk of muffin and spoke with his mouth full. “I am so disappointed in you.”
“He didn’t see a thing. Not a goddamn thing.” Caitlin slapped the table in frustration and all the dinnerware jumped. “I swear to God, Jeremy, I’ll make you regret this for the rest of your life.”
I snatched up my mug but not before most of the tea in it had sloshed over the rim and made a mess. “Calm yourself, Caitlin.” I dabbed at the spilled liquid with my napkin. “You’re overreacting.”
She glared at me. “I can’t believe you just said that, Mother! Jeremy is humiliating me in front of all of you and you’re just sitting there, letting him!”
I sighed. “I only meant that if you’re worried about your father and I punishing you for something like this, you have nothing to fear. It’s fine, as long as you’re being careful.”
Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head violently. “For God’s sake, Hester. Do you think I’m worried about a spanking? I’m asking you to shut him up because what he’s talking about is nobody else’s business! I’m an adult and I have a right to my privacy, even in this stupid, dysfunctional family.”
I nodded. “You’re right, of course. Jeremy …”
“Our family is not dysfunctional,” Arthur objected. “A little high-strung perhaps, but not dysfunctional.”
We all stared at him in silence.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?” he demanded, flushing. “I’m just tired of hearing my children run this family down. It’s not healthy.”
There was another long pause, broken at last by an exaggerated cough from Jeremy.
“As I was saying,” he continued, “I showed up at Caitlin’s dorm room one evening last semester while I was in Chicago, thinking I’d surprise her by taking her out for a late night snack or something, but when she answered the door I got quite a shock.”
Caitlin began to hop up and down. “Goddamn you! Shut your fucking mouth!”
Paul took the rest of Jeremy’s English muffin since Jeremy wasn’t eating. “You certainly seem to have fucking on the brain, Caitlin.”
“Shut up, Paul!” she howled.
Jeremy made a clucking sound with his tongue. “She only opened the door a crack, but I was still able to see that all she was wearing was a sheet, wrapped around her shoulders.”
Caitlin stalked away from the table, headed for the stairway. “I’m done with this conversation. You can all go to hell.”
He raised his voice, stopping her in her tracks before she could reach the door. “And when I looked over her head, what do you think I saw sprawled out naked on her bed?”
He nursed the quiet with the intensity of a seasoned actor. Caitlin was directly behind him now, staring at the floor. Jeremy kept his back to her deliberately, and made eye contact with the rest of us, studying each of our faces in turn. He came to me last, and I shook my head at him and mouthed the words, “Please stop this.”
He ignored me and resumed his narrative. “It was a rather beautiful young man, obviously asleep, face up.” He raised his eyebrows. “Granted, I couldn’t see much of him because there was only about a two-inch strip of light coming from the hallway, but I could still make out a muscled thigh, and a hairless, sculpted torso, and a chin so flat and chiseled you could use it for a doorstop.”
He turned his head slightly, to speak over his shoulder. “How old is Sebastian, by the way? Are you sure he’s legal? He looked about sixteen.”
She didn’t answer.
Jeremy grinned. “No matter, I suppose. Anyway, when Caitlin saw it was me, she tried to slam the door in my face—that was quite rude, darling, by the way—but when she realized I had seen her dozing boy toy, she stepped into the hallway and lectured me about the dire need for secrecy and the earth-shattering consequences that would result for everybody involved, should I reveal what I had seen to anyone.”
He shrugged. “Oops, now I’ve done it.” He staged a yawn. “Could you pass the salt, Mother?”
Caitlin spoke without turning around. “You made a promise to me that night to keep what you saw between us. A promise.” She spun to face us. “But now that the secret’s out and you’re all having a good laugh, maybe you should also know that Sebastian happens to be my best friend’s husband, and I feel like shit about sleeping with him.” She sobbed. “Pretty funny stuff, huh?”
Arthur and I flinched and Paul emitted a low whistle.
Jeremy wheeled in his chair. “What?” His voice was thin. “You didn’t tell me that. All you said was a lot of melodramatic stuff about your right to privacy.” He foundered for words. “It sounded lame, and I thought you were just being eighteen. I’m sorry, okay? If you’d told me this then, I wouldn’t have said anything.”
I studied the red birthmark on his back, on his left shoulder blade, in the shape of a half-moon, and tried to think of something appropriate to say under the circumstances. Nothing came to me. Arthur muttered something about “poor judgment all around,” but Caitlin didn’t hear him.
“Oh, you’re sorry, are you?” She gave Jeremy a brittle, phony smile. “Fine. That makes it all better, then. No hard feelings. We’ll just pretend like this never happened.”
“If I could take it back, I would, but I can’t.” He turned back to the table, chewing on his cheeks. “What else can I say?”
His apology, far from calming her down, incensed her further. Her voice became strident. “How about something along the lines of ‘I’m a complete piece of shit, Caitlin, and it’s no wonder Sarah dumped me, because I’m pathetic and scrawny and worthless?'”
His expression froze. “Tell me something, Caitlin.” He picked up a fork and poked the tips of his fingers with the tines. “How soon after I left you that night were you guys humping again? Fifteen minutes? An hour? Have you and his wife ever had a threesome?”
Tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her face. “You goddamn bastard.”
“Stop, Jeremy,” Paul muttered, surprising all of us. “That’s enough.”
Arthur gazed at me in helpless supplication from across the table, giving me his patented “For God’s sake, do something” look. I made a face at him and put my spoon down next to my cereal bowl, intending to go to Caitlin and hug her.
I never got the chance.
Caitlin leapt at Jeremy and landed on his back, and he crumpled under her assault and flew forward into the table, knocking it over. Everything on it went flying as Jeremy’s chair tipped over, too, and the next thing I knew Caitlin was sitting on top of him on the floor in a puddle of milk and tea and orange juice, slapping his face and shoulders with all her strength.
He didn’t fight back. He just allowed her to hit him, over and over, until Arthur and Paul finally lurched into motion and dragged her off.
Caitlin didn’t attempt to break away once they had her on her feet, and the three of them stood in shocked silence, looking down at Jeremy. I think Caitlin was as amazed as the rest of us at what had just occurred. I was still in my chair, immobilized, with an upside-down bowl of Rice Krispies in my lap.
Jeremy slowly sat up. His eyes were bright with disregarded tears. Caitlin had been hitting him hard enough to leave livid handprints all over his skin.
He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his matted hair. “Well. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I really think we should do these family breakfasts
more often.” He stared at the mess around him and sighed. “Is this what they mean by quality time?”
That was not a stellar day for the Donovan family.
But this sort of chaos wasn’t the norm in our household. It really wasn’t. We had many, many times together when nothing was broken, and no sordid secrets were revealed, and no one hated anybody else. And in retrospect, the good times far outweighed the bad.
Honestly, they did.
It’s just that the bad times stick in the memory more, for some reason. And I believe they also point the way to understanding what happened, finally, to Jeremy. Good moments in one’s life are just that—good moments. They go nowhere, they just are. But bad moments have a clear destination. You may not know where they’re headed at the time, but later, when the story is fully told, they’re as easy to follow as footprints in the snow.
Anyway, as angry as Caitlin was that morning, she eventually forgave Jeremy, because most of the time he was as good as gold, and when Jeremy was killed no one took it worse than she did, not even Paul.
Oh, dear. There I go again.
I’m lying, of course.
One person took it far, far worse.
And that’s as it should be, really. After all, when you’re the party most directly responsible for another’s death, you should be the one who suffers the most, don’t you agree?
CHAPTER 13
“I’m driving.” Alex reaches for my car keys when I remove them from my purse in the entryway.
“You most certainly are not,” I snap, holding them away from him.
We’re on our way to the grocery store. It’s mid-afternoon on a Monday and ordinarily I’d be teaching and he’d be in class, but Bonnie Norton still hasn’t called to give me permission to return to work, and Alex is playing hooky from Pritchard, for fear of running into Eric.
He puts his hands on his hips. “Hester. There’s freezing rain all over the roads today. It’ll be really slick out.”
“I’m fully aware of the condition of the roads,” I sniff. “Which is why I’m the one who should be driving. I have far more experience behind the wheel.”
