“Hey!” he says, then glances at the glue gun in my hand. “Don’t shoot!” Tucker is one of Jason’s best friends. Sheila tried to fix me up with him last summer. He’s the kicker on the football team and deals pot on the side.
I laugh and set the glue gun on the tiny table beside the door. “I didn’t know you worked at the Panda,” I say, taking the food from him.
“Yeah, well, I needed the cash. Got busted a few weeks ago.”
“I hadn’t heard.”
“Yeah, most people were too freaked out about Coach to pay attention.” Tucker looks away when he says this.
“Huh. Well, that sucks, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
I hand him the money Mrs. M left. Sally yanks the bag out of my hand and runs back inside.
I close the door and ask, “How are Sheila and Jason? Has she said anything about me? About the accident?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, she’s said a couple of things about it.”
“Like what?”
“Like you were texting and didn’t have your hands on the wheel when you hit Coach.” Tucker looks down at the ground, asks, “Is that true?”
“I don’t think so, but I don’t remember much about the accident.”
“Yeah, well, Sheila’s a piece of work. She could be makin’ that shit up. Jason’s crazy about her though. She is a nice piece of ass.” Tucker looks to see if he’s offended me, and then continues, “Ninety percent of what comes out of her mouth is bullshit. Jason knows that too, but he thinks it’s funny. Anyway, gotta run. Couple more deliveries.”
Tucker shoves the money I gave him in his pocket as he walks back to his car idling at the curb, filling the street with black smoke. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he walks on the cuffs.
— — —
It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open reading my American History homework. Mrs. M comes in a little after midnight. She overpays me and says Mr. M is waiting in the car to take me home.
“Good to see you, Jess,” he says when I get in.
“Yeah, you, too,” I say and look out the window, away from his kind face.
“I’m sure it’s been a tough couple of weeks.”
I nod but say nothing. He backs down their long drive, narrowly missing the garbage cans. I don’t want Mr. M to have to talk about the trial, so I tell him about Stu’s costume and how well Sally is reading. Eventually, though, I run out of commentary.
We drive in silence for a few minutes. As we follow the curve on Elm Drive, Mr. M says, “This is where it happened, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s tragic, really. I wonder what Bob was doing on that turn. He should have crossed to the other side. There’s no real shoulder there.”
I hadn’t considered the curve. It never entered my mind Coach could have been at fault in any way.
“Most people, runners anyway, know better than to follow a blind turn, especially running into the morning sun like that. A driver might not see you.”
Mr. M’s a runner, like me. He went to college on a track scholarship. He came to watch one of my meets last year. He doesn’t say anything else. A few minutes later, we arrive at my house.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him as I get out.
“Jess,” Mr. M says so quietly I almost pretend I don’t hear him, but then I lean back in the car and look at him. “We missed you,” he says.
I nod and turn to run into the house before Mr. M can see my tears.
29
LIZ
Jess tells me nothing. She is a robot doing her homework, going to school, and running in the afternoons. She barely speaks at dinner. It is a relief to drop her off at the Monroe’s on Friday. I’m not sure I can take another evening of her stony silence.
Kevin picks me up not long after I have dropped Jess at the Monroe’s. He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and asks, “Where would you like to go?”
“Hawaii?”
“That could be arranged,” he says, and I bet he is half serious.
“Sushi?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
When we stop at a light, he smiles at me and it doesn’t seem like an I’m-glad-we’re-having-dinner-so-we-can-talk-about-the-case kind of smile. It is a smile that sends the thrill of possibility up my spine.
But as the light changes, a memory flashes through my mind. I’m in Jake’s pickup truck. He is wearing his ball cap backward and They Might Be Giants is on the radio. We are parked up at the lake and I have just told him.
“You’re pregnant?” he asks, a grin splitting his face. I thought he would be as upset as I was. But, no, he thought it was the greatest news ever. It meant I would stay in Jefferson instead of leaving him for Baylor. Jake was never going to college. He never wanted to leave Jefferson, and he never wanted me to either.
“I’m glad you agreed to go to dinner,” Kevin says, he raises his eyebrows at me as he smiles, and I blush. This is more than dinner. This is our first actual date.
“You know, I should check on Jess,” I say. I reach into my purse for my phone.
Everything okay?
Peachy, she texts back, with a little peach icon.
At the restaurant, they seat us at a corner booth in the front window; it is elevated above the other diners. I feel on display and say as much.
“I’ll ask them to move us,” says Kevin.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Really.”
We order wine and appetizers, and I relax. All week I have been trying to sort out whether dating Kevin is a good idea. I have been over it in my head a million times. I like Kevin, but if we pursue this relationship and it doesn’t work out—what then for Jess? My relationship with Kevin and his defense of Jess are intertwined. If one comes apart, would it take the other down with it?
And yet, when Kevin’s leg touches mine beneath the table, a warmth spreads through me. He smiles at me, and I press my leg against his and smile back. Just then, a woman appears at our booth. I know her. She is the mother of another student in Jess’ class. I think we chaperoned a field trip back in elementary school together.
“Isn’t this cozy?” she says. Big, pink lip-glossed smile at Kevin.
“Do I know you?” asks Kevin.
“Jill is a friend of mine. We work out together at the gym. You’re defending Jessica, right? Hello, Liz, how are you holding up?”
I can’t remember her name. I mumble, “We’re doing okay.”
“I imagine this is an awful time for you. I don’t know how you’re surviving. Just devastating. I don’t know what I’d do if it was my daughter. I couldn’t do it; I’d probably have to move. You’re amazing.”
I don’t know what she expects me to say, so I nod and try to smile.
Kevin stands up to shield me from her, and she takes a step back. “I’m sorry to be rude. This is a business dinner,” he says. Is that what this is?
“Oh, I’m leaving. I was just picking up some takeout for my family. Say hi to Jill for me. I missed her at spin class this morning.”
Kevin sits back down. “Guess that kind of breaks the mood,” he says.
“Why did she mention Jill to you? I thought you never see each other?”
He shrugs. “We don’t.”
I drink my water, try to relax. But it occurs to me I have taken everything Kevin has told me about Jill at his word. Why isn’t he divorced? Is it really because he has been too busy, or is it because he doesn’t want to be? What if all of this really is about sex? What if Jake is right after all?
After that, dinner is strained. I can’t find my way back to that feeling of possibility. Instead, I watch the other people in the restaurant and wonder what they are thinking. Are they all having the same thoughts but afraid to voice them?
When we get in Kevin’s car to go home, I tell him, “I think you need to divorce Jill, legally.”
He nods. “I know.”
“So why don’t you?”
He shakes his head. Then he sighs. “I will get to it.”
“Maybe you should do that sooner than later.”
We ride back to my house in silence.
“Do you want me to come in and make sure everything is okay?”
I look at the dark house. “No, I’m okay.”
“Let me walk you to the door.”
“I can go in by myself.”
“Well, flash your lights once you’re in and everything’s okay.”
This is the part when I should lean over and kiss him. Let him know everything is all right when clearly it is not. “Thanks,” I say and touch his arm. He leans towards me, but I jump out of the car and hurry up the walk.
— — —
When Jess gets home, she doesn’t want to talk.
“I’m tired,” she says and leaves me alone in the living room with the popcorn I made for us to share.
I pour a glass of wine and call Kate. I know she will be up.
“I just freaked out,” I say after telling her about my aborted evening.
“Poor man, dating you. He has no idea.”
“But what if he’s lying about the divorce?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“I did.”
“So why don’t you believe him?”
“I don’t know. Because he’s a man?”
Kate laughs.
“I like him. A lot. It’s just bad timing.”
“I still think you should just sleep with him if only for the stress-relieving aspects. As they say, ‘You could use some.’”
“Sex isn’t the answer,” I say, then laugh, “But it’s not a terrible idea.”
“You do like this guy; I can tell.”
I take a long drink of my wine. “This feels bigger than I’m ready for. Kevin is….he’s real. He’s a good person. And he likes me and believes in me. He thinks I should go back to school when this is all over.”
“You should.”
“I don’t deserve him.”
“You don’t,” she says, laughing. “But maybe for once, the universe is tilting in your favor, Lizzie.”
“I just feel so guilty.”
“You? What have you done?”
“If Jess hadn’t had the accident and Coach Mitchell wasn’t dead, I would never have gotten together with Kevin. I would never be feeling this.”
“Why are the two things connected?”
“Because they are.”
“That’s like saying Coach Mitchell died because he walked his dog.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is.”
30
LIZ
Even though it is Saturday, I have to go to work. Today is our big Fall Festival and with the way Aaron has been riding me, I need to be sure everything goes smoothly. When I arrive at Morningside, Avery follows me to my office.
“You’re here too?” I ask. Avery has been here long enough not to have to pull weekend shifts unless she wants to.
“The newspaper is coming to the festival. Edna Mae’s daughter wants me to do her hair. Ever since her big party, she’s a celebrity.”
I laugh. “And Kimba must be with her other grandparents.”
“That’s not the only reason.” She shrugs. “So, how’s Jess?”
“Same.”
My desk is covered with piles of work and post-it notes. It has never looked this bad. Normally, I clear my desk before leaving every evening, but now I can’t get caught up. Everything takes me longer to do. My mind jumps around and I am never fully present. It is hard to be here when my heart is still in the lobby of the hospital listening to Jake tell me there has been an accident. It is as if everything that happened prior to that moment was leading me to it. Was my father right? How can I even think that?
Last week, my report to the Board was full of typos, which Aaron was quick to point out. Several times, I have found myself distracted while listening to a co-worker or resident, missing whatever it is they are saying to me, lost in my fears for Jess.
Avery’s daughter, Kimba, is only three. Cherub-cheeked with a honey gold complexion. Her world revolves around her as surely as mine revolves around Jess. She understands how much I am hurting, yet I don’t tell her. Am I ashamed of Jess? Ashamed of what she has done? I am carrying around all this pain and fear like a thousand-pound gorilla made of glass—I don’t dare mention it, but I couldn’t possibly put it down. I am waiting for someone to say to me what they are saying online or out of earshot. Your daughter killed a man. It was her fault. Something happened in that car and I may never know exactly what, but it does not change the fact that Jess is responsible. And I am responsible for Jess.
“How’s Kimba?”
“This morning she got herself all worked up over the wrong cereal and all she wanted was Meemaw. Guess that makes sense. She spends more time over there than at my house.”
“It’s a phase. She knows who her mother is.”
“You know, I’m here if you need me,” she says, as she stands in the doorway.
“Thanks,” I tell her, but I know there is nothing she can do. She can’t change what’s happened. And Avery has her own issues. Single parenting is not for the faint of heart. Kimba’s daddy has been locked up since before she was born. Avery left the drugs behind, but not the pull of that man. She still visits him, but at least she doesn’t take Kimba.
When Avery leaves, I stare at the spreadsheet in front of me. I need to double-check the numbers for my part of the budget, but they blur together. I look at all that money. Put all those department lines together and it is literally millions. How will I ever scrape together the money to pay Kevin what we will owe him when this is all over? If it is ever over. Morningside spends more than ten times my salary on lawn care.
“Liz?”
Carmelita appears in the doorway.
“We have a problem. No one ordered any porta-potties for the festival.”
“Who usually does that?”
Carmelita frowns. “You?”
I don’t remember ordering porta-potties for last year’s festival, but there is no time to quibble.
“Can we designate the bathrooms in the lobby for non-residents to use?”
“We can, but it might get messy and loud.”
Our fall festival attracts lots of visitors, mostly relatives, but some people come from town looking for free food and cheap crafts.
“I’ll supervise,” I tell her and head to the lobby. Bathroom attendant—my latest title.
Everything goes well until lunchtime when the line grows long. As I am making small talk with a few residents, a scruffy guy approaches me.
“Hey, ain’t your daughter the one that hit Coach?”
My pulse quickens, and I force a smile.
“I’m sorry, sir. Is there a problem?”
“Only that your asshole kid was too busy talking on her damn phone and she killed the greatest man in Jefferson football! You should have taught her better, but don’t worry none cause the state’ll do that for you—put her away in jail where she belongs. E
lectric chair, if it were up to me.”
He is loud and gruff, and his words blast me backward. I reach for the reception desk to steady myself. Avery appears at my side. “Boss, we need you in the medical wing. Emergency.”
She pulls me away before I can say anything, but the man continues to ramble.
“What happened?” I ask as we hurry out of the lobby.
“Nothing happened. You just needed to get the hell out of there.”
I stop and grab for a wall. “I can’t do this.”
Avery takes my arm, leads me along. We head to my office. “You can do this because you have to do this. That guy doesn’t know Jess; he doesn’t know the whole story.”
“Neither do I,” I confess.
Avery leaves me in my office and returns to the lobby to deal with the bathroom line. I can’t stop shaking and my vision blurs. I call Kevin. I don’t know who else to call. My anger last night was unfair. All the man does is help me, and here I am once again calling him. I know I shouldn’t call him, but I also know that when I do, he will come.
“Can you come get me?”
“Has something happened?”
“I need to get out of here and I don’t think I can drive my car.”
Kevin shows up twenty minutes later. He asks if I have eaten and I tell him no, so he stops to grab fast food for me and we park in an empty lot where he watches as I eat french fries and sip a soda. He talks about nothing. The crack in his windshield. The truck that kicked up gravel and then drove away. Where he might go to get it fixed.
I squirt ketchup out of a packet onto my fries. Wipe the grease off my chin. He transitions to his childhood. His failed plan to play major league baseball. Piano lessons. Fishing with his granddad.
I crumble up the fry package, lean my back against the passenger side door, and drain my soda. I take a deep breath and almost feel normal again. And then he tells me how he and Jill struggled to have children and how that was the first crack in their marriage. A crack that splintered and grew until it was an impassable gorge. Four failed in-vitro attempts and too many fertility experts. It was his job to get her pregnant and he couldn’t do it. He felt responsible for her sadness. She blamed him and said she didn’t. They grew apart. Jill had an affair. Kevin tried to work past it but couldn’t. Finally, they separated. Jill re-focused on her career. She is doing well. They don’t talk often. He needs to get around to filing for divorce. As he tells me all this, he looks out the windshield, closing his eyes occasionally like a kid swallowing a pill.
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