She came to our rushed wedding in the church basement and tried to put on a bright face, but I remember glancing back at her just before I said my vows. I saw the sadness on her face.
The day they left, she told me, “You can do this. You’ll be a good mother.”
But am I?
Or am I too preoccupied with Kevin and the court case and my job and dealing with my dad? How could I not know Jess was so devastated she would leave? I thought we were past the worst of it. She was back at school; she said it was fine. Obviously, it was not fine.
I am startled when my dad answers his phone. It has probably rung twenty times by then. There is no answering service for the room phones. Most patients’ families give them cell phones. Dad didn’t want one. “This one’s fine,” he said when Kate tried to press a cell phone on him. He patted the big, boxy phone that was probably installed thirty years ago, its cord tangled irreparably.
“Hello, daughter,” he says.
He sounds clear, alert, awake.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Who else would call me at this hour?”
He doesn’t sound angry or surprised, just matter of fact.
“How are you, Daddy? Are you still having stomach pains?”
“Now and again, but it’s nothing.”
“Maybe your doctor needs to change your meds.”
“Maybe, but that’s not why you called I imagine.”
I shake my head, try to form the words.
“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” he asks.
“Jessica is gone.”
“Is that right? Where to?”
“She ran away. I don’t know where she is.”
“Why’d she do that?”
And that is the real question. Going back to school has not been easy, but she has insisted she is fine. I had no idea it was so bad that she would run away.
“I don’t know.”
“Seems to me, if you knew why she left, you’d know where she’d gone.”
“I wish Mom were here.”
“I do, too, every day. She was always good with you girls. You never listened to me.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you more,” I say.
“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t do us any good, now does it? Don’t change facts. You’ll find your girl.”
“How do you know?”
“Your mother said you raised her right. Better than I did with you.”
I catch my breath. I have never heard my father express any remorse for how he raised Kate and me, or for how he deserted us. But he sounds clear, not confused tonight.
“I better be getting some sleep. Gotta go into work early tomorrow,” he says and my heart sinks.
“Daddy?”
He has already hung up; the dial tone rings in my ear. My mother never told me she thought I was doing a good job with Jess. She was not one for compliments. I hold on to those words all night long. Hoping they were meant for me.
35
JESS
It’s still dark when I wake up. I’ve been dreaming of the accident like always, but fresh pieces of the memory broke loose—Sheila laughing, the sun so bright I flipped down the visor, “Hey Soul Sister” by Train was playing on the radio. It’s all clear for a moment, but then it’s gone again. I crawl up to the passenger seat and roll down the window, gulp in the night air trying to steady my heart. The night is clear and dark, and even with the parking lot lights, I can still see the stars. I wish I had a friend like Cygnus the Swan to come and rescue me.
I wish I could start over or be someone else. It all feels out of control like I’m a player in someone else’s film, God’s puppet with no idea how I got here or where I go from here. And yet I know I am not a puppet. I did something so horrible that my own brain is keeping it from me. The pain bears down on me; searing the breath out of me.
I am all alone.
I crawl back to where Fish lies, slip my arms under his shirt, pull him to me, and crush my lips on his as if I want to swallow him alive. He kisses me back and then helps me slip off my shirt, unhook my bra.
“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers.
“Yes, we do,” I say because it’s true. I need someone to love me. Right now. Love away all this hurt. I dig my fingernails in his back and burrow my face into his chest.
He takes my face in his hands. “You sure about this?”
I nod, but tears stream down my face. “Nah,” he says, “You ain’t.” He holds me tight while I sob. When I finally stop shaking, he says, “It’s gonna work out.”
I nod numbly, but I don’t believe him.
“I need a smoke,” he says.
He sits on the bumper of the rig smoking a cigarette and I pull his jacket tight around me and inhale the sour stench of the mattress and Fish’s cigarette smoke. How did my life come to this? I did everything right. I was going to get out of Jefferson, and not on the back of a mini-bike. How can you lose so much in only a moment? I wish there was some way to rewind my life. I’d do it differently. Life is a collection of moments, one after the other, you don’t think one matters more than another until it does. I’m trying so hard to remember, but why? It doesn’t change the outcome; it doesn’t help me one bit. And just because I don’t remember doesn’t mean I’m not guilty.
— — —
The next morning, I spend the last of my money on breakfast and gas. We finally get on the road, and a cold rain pelts us. Fish pulls the bike under an overpass and we scramble up the concrete embankment to get away from the splash of the passing cars. Fish smokes a cigarette and recites the graffiti on the underside of the bridge to pass the time.
“‘FUCK EVERYONE,’” he reads and laughs. “Now, there’s a life goal. ‘YOU SUCK.’ Wow, this bridge is just full of cheerful shit.” He looks back at me. I’m holding my knees to my chest, trying in vain to get warmer. I watch car after car go by and worry I’ll never be able to get far enough away. Fish sits down beside me. He wraps an arm around me.
“You okay?”
I shake my head; my teeth are chattering.
“Can I help?”
I shake my head again.
I put my face down on my arms and say, “I did it,” to my knees.
“Did what?” asks Fish.
I lift my head and look at him. The tears come quickly now and I know snot is running out of my nose, but I’m too cold to wipe it away. “I had to have read that text. I knew what it said before the police told me.”
Fish looks confused, and maybe a little scared. He rubs my back. The only sound is the splash of the cars echoing off the concrete walls.
“What did it say?”
“Casey wanted to meet at Jacardo’s and play pool on Wednesday.”
“Huh,” says Fish. He takes a long drag of his cigarette. “You any good at pool?”
Just then a police cruiser pulls in behind the bike.
“Shit,” says Fish. “It ain’t registered.”
“What isn’t registered?”
“The bike.”
“Why isn’t it registered?”
“Because I don’t drive it anywhere ‘cept around Gillam and to the fishin’ holes.”
“But it has a license plate!”
“Expired,” Fish says. He stubs out his cigarette and walks down to the cop who stands behind his bike talking on his radio.
The police officer talks to Fish but keeps looking at me. He walks Fish back to the cruiser, handcuffs him, and puts him in th
e back. I can’t believe they will arrest him for an unregistered bike. I jump up and run down the embankment.
“You can’t arrest him just because his bike isn’t registered!” I yell.
“I’m not. I’m arresting him for kidnapping and corrupting a minor. I imagine you would be…,” he glances down at his notepad, “Jessica Johnson?”
“You can’t do this!” I yell and try to open the door. Fish frowns. Shrugs his shoulders. “He didn’t do anything!”
The police officer shakes his head and steps between me and the car. Two other cruisers pull in behind us.
“Your parents are very concerned about you,” says a female officer. She leads me to one of the other cars and I get in only because I’m freezing. The heat feels wonderful and I hate myself for being glad I’m off the bike because it also means I’ll have to go home.
— — —
When we arrive at the police barracks, I demand to know where they’ve taken Fish.
“That’s none of your concern, young lady,” says a grandfatherly officer. I give him the finger when he looks the other direction. A social worker and a nurse arrive. They’re full of questions.
“Were you being held against your will?”
“No. I asked him to drive me.”
“Did Mr. Tanaletti assault you?”
“No. I already told you. We’re friends. I asked him for a ride.”
“Where was he taking you?”
“He wasn’t taking me anywhere.”
“Then what are you doing in New Mexico?”
“Trying to get away!”
“From whom?” asks an attractive black woman I didn’t see come in. “I’m Detective Aronson. From whom are you trying to get away?”
She’s young and has perfect features, like a cop on television.
“Me,” I tell her.
“Okay ladies, have we established Ms. Johnson has not been physically harmed?” Detective Aronson looks at the social worker and the nurse.
“I’m not sure,” says the nurse.
“She’s not been very cooperative,” says the social worker.
“Well, give me a few minutes.” Detective Aronson nods toward the door, and the women leave.
“Fish did nothing wrong. You can’t call it kidnapping if I asked him to drive me.”
“Well, you are a minor. So technically it would have been better if he had asked your parents for permission to transport you over state lines.”
“Oh God,” I wail, “I just keep fucking up everyone’s life.”
Detective Aronson dials a number and hands me the phone.
“Jess?” It’s my mother’s frantic voice.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
Now she’s crying and I can hear Kevin next to her asking to speak to the detective.
“Fish only gave me a ride because I asked him to.”
“Thank God you’re safe. You’ll be home soon. We will get you the help you need. Your father is on his way to get you.”
“I don’t want him to.” I wish she would listen to me. I can tell she’s in fix-it mode where she just barks out orders and can’t hear anything I say.
“You just need to come home. Then we can sort this out.”
“I don’t need to come home! I don’t want to come home!”
Kevin gets on the phone.
“Hey Jess, your mom’s just worried. Let’s get you back home safe and then we can talk about what happened.”
I hand the phone to the detective. I have to pee and I do not want to talk to Kevin or my mother. I need to find Fish. I have to tell him how sorry I am. God, I am so sick of telling everyone how sorry I am.
36
JESS
I spend the day eating candy bars from the vending machine and watching stupid cable shows muted on the waiting room television. A steady parade of human regret and frustration cycles through the police station.
When Dad arrives, he pulls me into a bear hug and doesn’t let go. “Don’t you ever do this again.” He has tears in his eyes and I feel like a jerk in too many ways.
“You could have come to me,” he says, still not letting go.
I shrug him off. There is nothing I can say that will improve this situation, so I sit back down on the bench to wait. Luckily an officer shows up to talk to Dad before he can get all mushy and say shit that he only thinks he means. The officer takes Dad to sign some papers. By the time he comes back, I’ve fallen asleep upright on the bench.
“Time to go home,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet.
“What about Fish?”
“I bailed him out. He can ride his sorry bike back home.”
“I’m not leaving him here!”
“Your mom will kill me if I show up with him, too.”
I sit back on the bench and cross my arms.
“Jessica, I have just about lost my mind thinking about you alone with Fish for two nights. I’m not sure I can be near him without hurting him right now.”
“Well, I’m not leaving without him.”
He shakes his head and glares at me, then mutters, “Shit,” and goes back to the desk.
Fish doesn’t say much as we load his bike in the back of Dad’s truck. The drive is ominous. The silence punctuated by the rhythmic slashing of the windshield wipers. With every mile that brings us closer to Jefferson, my chest grows tighter and the lump in my throat grows bigger. We stop for food, but I can’t eat.
I watch Dad and Fish eat their burgers. I pick up a salt shaker and slowly empty it on the table, watching the crystals pile up. Finally, Dad breaks the silence.
“So, where were you headed?”
Fish says nothing, just examines his burger. I look at my father and mentally tell him to SHUT UP. He doesn’t.
“Well?” he asks.
“Nowhere,” I say.
He looks at Fish. “You must have been headed somewhere.”
Fish shrugs. “I was just doing what I was told.”
When we’re back in the truck, Dad says, “Your mom’s real upset.”
“It wasn’t about her.”
“This has ripped her up. She would do….” He stops and shakes his head. His voice cracks as he finishes, “She is doing everything for you.”
“I didn’t ask her to.” I can’t help it if my mother is a sucker for lost causes.
Fish sighs and leans against the window, his hip pressed against mine. My thoughts wander back to the night before. I lay awake on that filthy mattress for hours trying to figure out how to fix things. That I almost had sex with Fish—with anybody—made me think of Sheila. She tried to get me to get rid of my virginity all last year, picking out guy after guy for me. She teased me about how much I was missing. I don’t know what I was waiting for; I guess I just thought it should mean more than bragging rights. I wanted it to matter. Not that sleeping with Fish would have been the right thing either. My life is over. Maybe I was just trying to prove that point. Or maybe I just wanted someone to want me, someone who didn’t care what I’d done.
— — —
Dad clears his throat. He has probably been thinking about what he’s going to say for the last few silent hours. “Look, there are a lot of people trying to help you.”
“I wish they’d stop.”
“What is so awful about people wanting to help you?”
“Maybe I don’t want their help.”
“You’ve got to stop this. It was an accident, for Christ’s sake! You don’t even know what happened in that car.”
I slam my hand on the dashboard and turned to face him.
“But it wasn’t an accident! I hit him! I did that! That was no accident!” I want to keep screaming but now I’m sobbing loud, like a little kid. Fish blocks my hands when I reach for the door handle. I have to get out of this truck.
Dad pulls the truck to the shoulder and flips on the hazard lights. He grabs me and hugs me tight. I fight to get free, but he’s too strong.
Fish jumps out of the truck. “I’m gonna catch a smoke.”
“Let me go! I can’t go back there!” I punch Dad’s shoulder uselessly.
He holds me tighter and finally, all the fight goes out of me. I cry into his sturdy chest until I have no tears left, then I slump back against the seat, numb. Fish appears at the window and Dad lowers it. Cigarette smoke wafts in the window along with the damp from the cars splashing by.
“Fish, look I don’t know what…” Dad says.
“I’m sorry man,” says Fish cutting him off. “I shouldn’t have given her a ride. But she was pretty torn up.”
“I can see that.”
Fish takes a drag of his cigarette. “You can beat the shit out of me if you need to,” he says dropping his butt and crushing it out with his heel.
“I’m not gonna beat the shit out of you, but once we get back to town, you stay the hell away from my daughter.”
“Shit, Jake. You don’t gotta be like that.”
“Get in the truck.”
I want to argue, but I have nothing left. My heart is exhausted.
We pull into the driveway at three in the morning. Mom comes running out and when she sees Fish, she yanks him out of the way and crawls in the cab with me.
“C’mon baby girl,” she says and pulls me out of the truck. She holds me so tight I practically trip over her as we walk to the house. For once, I don’t mind. I want her to take care of me.
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