But still I don’t call. I cannot seem to let go of my fury. I am not going to once again let a man get in the way of my future.
56
JESS
March settles in with a string of days that repeat themselves. I go to school, to practice, and then to Ms. Helen’s to walk Sherman. I talk to Casey most nights. We talk about school and track and even sometimes the accident. He tells me that Sheila never talks about the accident anymore. She even told Casey she’s glad I didn’t go to jail.
“You’re making that up,” I say.
“No, I’m not. I think she might even feel kinda bad for her part in this.”
I assume a reporter’s voice, “And in the end, Sheila comes out smelling like a rose.” I smirk. “She has a gift for that.”
Sheila has always had a wind at her back. She can walk a much thinner line than the rest of us and never lose her balance. Casey tells me I want the world to be fairer than it is.
“Some people are just lucky,” he says. “Nothing sticks to them.”
I’m not sure if that’s true, but it does seem like people have already lost interest in the accident. I wonder if Ms. Helen thinks people have forgotten about Coach. Maybe that’s why she talks about him so much.
And then one rainy day, Ms. Helen tells me about the time Coach Mitchell talked a young woman out of having an abortion.
“She was the girlfriend of one of his best players. The two of them had gotten into a situation. Now, back then folks around here were opposed to abortion, I suppose they still are. But they also weren’t willing to educate young people about birth control, as if talking about sex meant kids would be more likely to have it. But what they really didn’t want to deal with was a high school student walking around pregnant. Most girls who didn’t have an abortion just quit school, but this young woman refused. She wanted to finish high school and go to college.”
She looks at me for a long moment. I know she is talking about my parents, but she doesn’t say it.
“He asked this young couple if they loved each other and they said that they did. So, he asked them why they would want to abort a baby they’d created out of that love. They were scared and there were a lot of tears that night, but Robert convinced them to tell their parents. That wasn’t easy, and those parents didn’t necessarily handle it well, but Robert supported those kids. And he went to bat against the administration to make them allow the young woman to graduate from high school. There were some on the school board who fumed over that for years—as if there was anything wrong with educating a young woman who was pregnant. A woman in that situation needed her diploma more than most. It’s not easy raising a child, especially when you’re still a child yourself.”
A car in need of a muffler roars up the street and we both watch it pass. Sherman doesn’t even lift his head. The street is quiet after the car passes, only the birds above us arguing over the feeder that hangs on the corner of her porch.
I’ve gotten used to Ms. Helen’s pauses, but this time she hesitates so long I wonder if she’s forgotten what she was going to say, but when I look at her, there are tears on her cheeks.
“I know I make Robert sound like a saint. He was a good man, but he wasn’t perfect. He let me down plenty. He put his work before me, and sometimes he put the team before his own kids. And sometimes when he was here, his mind and his heart were elsewhere, fixing someone else’s problems instead of ours. Oh, he tried to make up for it with flowers or a card or ice cream for the kids. When I was young, it made me angry. I almost left him once!” She laughs under her breath and then continues. “I can’t even remember why now—isn’t that something?” She shakes her head, puts both hands on her knees as if she’s about to get up, but she doesn’t. “But then I realized I was only angry because he didn’t live up to my expectations. And I’d never even told him those expectations! As I grew older, I realized I didn’t want a perfect man; I just wanted a man who loved me. And, oh, Robert loved me. We worked hard at loving each other. It’s work, you know, loving another person. The songs and movies make it look easy, but it’s not.”
Ms. Helen wipes her eyes and gets up to leave. Each night she’s told me a story and left without another word, but tonight she hesitates on the doorstep.
“He wasn’t perfect,” she whispers, “He knew that people make mistakes—even good people.”
I walk home in the rainy darkness and I feel a little lighter.
— — —
Track is going well; I’m winning a lot, even break my PR in the 400. Casey never misses my meets, even the away meets. My parents don’t come to watch me run—Mom always has to work and Dad can’t get here from Gillam in time. I don’t mind, though, because Casey is there, cheering for me. He walks me to the bus. Sometimes he holds my hand. I’m not sure exactly what we are. We’re friends, but we’re more than friends. Life feels a tiny bit better.
Mom is home every night cooking dinner; she even takes me shopping for new clothes and a dress to wear to the track banquet. I feel happy, but that seems wrong. Will feeling happy always feel wrong?
“Earth to Jess,” Mom says. I roll my eyes at her. I hate it when she says that.
“I’m going back to work. There are leftovers in the fridge.”
“Have fun.”
Mom frowns at me. I watch her leave. She still hasn’t told me what happened with her and Kevin, but whatever it is, I hope it’s over soon. I can’t take much more of sad mom. She’s way too invested in trying to make me happy. She should worry about herself.
57
LIZ
Jake calls after I am already in bed. My first thought when I see his number is the civil suit, but I know Kevin would call me first—wouldn’t he?
“What is it?” I ask when I pick up the phone.
“Hey, Lizzie,” he says in a warm voice coated with liquor.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. I just wanted to see how you were.”
“I’m fine. It’s late, Jake. Why are you calling?”
“I just,” he starts, but then his thoughts sputter out.
“You just, what?”
“I wondered what happens now?”
“What do you mean? We wait to see what happens with the civil suit. Get some sleep.”
“I’m not talking about Jess or the accident.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“What happens with you and Kevin now?”
“Why does that matter?”
He laughs softly. “I guess it doesn’t. I just wondered.”
I glance at my clock. “You just wondered at eleven-thirty at night?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you care, Jake?”
“I think things have been pretty good with us. Jess is doing better. I’m doing well with my business.”
“And that means?”
“You’re not making this easy, are you?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say you feel the things I do. That we’re good together. I want you to say we should give this another shot. We should try being a family again.”
“Jake,” I say, but he cuts me off.
“No! Hear me out! This has been good. You know it has. Don’t just dismiss me like some school kid. I still love you, Lizzie. And I’m sure you still love me. It’s not gone.”
“I do still love you, but it’s different. I love you because you’re my friend and because you’re Jess’ father, but what we had has been gone for a long time.”
“But the business will make real
money this year. I know I’ve been a screw-up for a lot of years, but I’m getting it together. I can take care of you and Jess.”
“That’s not what it’s about.”
He snorts. “Then why are you chasing after a lawyer?”
“I’m not chasing after Kevin. And what I feel or don’t feel for him has nothing to do with the fact that he’s a lawyer.” I hear the words come out of my mouth and they sound hollow to me, too. If Kevin wasn’t a lawyer. If he hadn’t rescued Jess again and again, would I have fallen for him?
“Just give me another chance.”
“I can’t do that, Jake. I’m sorry.”
“We could be good again.”
“We’re different people.”
“Exactly! I’m different. I’m not the same screw-up you married. That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”
“But I’m not that girl either! I want more than this!”
“More than what? More than life in Jefferson? Move out here. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We can start over. Here in Gillam. You won’t have to work.”
“I don’t want that. Don’t you hear me? It has nothing to do with where I live. I’m going back to school. I’m going to make the life I want.”
“Why can’t I be a part of that?”
“Because you can’t. You’re moving on, too, don’t you see? You’re growing your business. You’re stepping up as a dad. It’s only a matter of time before you find the woman you’re meant to be with.”
“What if that woman is you?”
“You’re wrong. And you’ve been drinking. And tomorrow morning you’ll probably realize how right I am.”
It takes another fifteen minutes to get Jake off the phone. I almost hang up on him several times, but I know he needs to salvage his pride. I am touched by this call, but I can’t go back there. I am not that girl he thinks I am.
I am also not the girl Kevin thinks I am. All I know is that right now, I need to be the woman I am. So, for the next few weeks, I focus on doing a good job at work and taking care of Jess. I try very hard not to think about what may or may not be happening in some lawyer’s office across town where the Mitchells hold our future in their hands. Kevin stops calling, and Jake is too busy with his business to turn up much. Jessica spends hours on the phone with some boy. I think it is the boy who sent the text and I don’t know how I feel about that. At least, so far, there is nothing more to it than phone calls. No dates. No declarations. We need a few weeks without drama. For a while, I think I can hold off the inevitable with normalcy. And it works.
— — —
The third week of April, it happens. Kevin leaves a message he has met with the Mitchells’ lawyer. He has news.
After Jess is in bed, I call him.
“Thanks for calling me,” he says. “It’s great to hear your voice.”
“What did the Mitchell’s lawyer say?”
“No civil suit.”
“What?”
“Just what I said. They aren’t planning to bring a civil suit. Legally, they still could, but he’s certain that won’t happen.”
My heart unclutches. A future—mine and Jess’—is possible now. Anything seems possible now. The fear that I have been clutching so tightly to my heart, the one that startles me awake at night, that steals my breath as it runs through me in ordinary moments every day—in line at the grocery store, wiping the counter, pausing to chat with a resident—it lifts so instantly and completely I feel as though I am breathing for the first time in months. The world brightens impossibly and spins just for me. If I was standing, I would probably collapse in a dramatic heap like a woman on a soap opera. Instead, I rock like Curtis on the edge of my bed, hold my hand over my mouth and cry silent joyful tears. I can’t speak; no thoughts form on my lips. Kevin laughs softly; I can feel his smile. He has done this, given me this tremendous gift. Briefly, I think of the Mitchells and I wonder if they are also relieved.
“Liz?”
I nod, but still can’t find words.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I finally squeak out. “Thank you. We will find a way to pay you for everything. I am back at Morningside, and Jake will pitch in too. I know we can’t afford what you charge, but maybe we can work out a payment plan.”
“You don’t need to pay me.”
“I do.”
“You don’t. Please, I won’t take your money. I would do it again, even if it meant we still landed in this place.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a good person Liz. A really good person. Much better than me.”
“Kevin—”
“Can we just talk? In person, not over the phone? If I could just see you…”
I ignore his question and remind myself, and him, what stands between us. “How is Jill?”
“The baby is fine. It’s a boy.”
“Congratulations.”
“Look, I know I messed up in too many ways, but I need to see you.”
I don’t know why I agree to see him. Maybe it is the news that there won’t be a civil suit or his insistence that we don’t have to pay him, but I feel I owe him this much. We make plans to go for a walk on Saturday.
58
JESS
They don’t make balloons that say, “Congratulations you aren’t going to be sued!” but Mom and Dad and I still have a little celebration when we get the news that the Mitchells will not sue us. It seems weird not to have Kevin here since it’s probably because of him we’re ducking this lawsuit. Or maybe it’s Ms. Helen. She doesn’t seem like the suing type. I’ve never asked her if she’s told her kids I walk Sherman. We go out to dinner at Jeb’s Skillet because it’s our safe zone, and no one mentions the accident, not even any of us at our table, because it’s hard to celebrate anything about the last seven months. Except maybe Casey. Whatever it is we’ve become feels right. Talking to him is the only time I feel okay, except maybe walking Ms. Helen’s dog. Our celebration dinner is kinda good, too, because Mom and Dad get along like they like each other, which lately it seems like they do.
— — —
Track season is over for everyone except those of us going to Regionals, and hopefully States. I’m running the 800 and 1600, plus the relay. There are twenty-two of us going to Regionals, which is more than Jefferson has ever sent. The team took the dedication to Coach Mitchell seriously, but no one more than me.
Even though he’s not on track, Casey drives me home most nights so I don’t have to ride the activity bus since Mom is back at Morningside and can’t pick me up. Casey and I never seem to run out of things to talk about. I’ve talked to him about the accident and about how scared I am about the upcoming ‘talks.’ He’s an excellent listener. Sheila would laugh to know that we’ve been ‘hanging out’ for weeks and he has yet to kiss me. But it’s none of Sheila’s business anymore.
— — —
Casey asks me to prom, which changes everything, even though the thought of prom makes my stomach drop because it’s the day after I give my first community service speech. I still have no idea what I’ll say. Everyone, and by everyone I mean Ms. Ellen and Mom, think I’m working on it, but mostly I just stare at my blank computer screen until I can’t stand it and then I either call Casey or watch YouTube to distract myself. There really isn’t anything to say. Every time I write anything down, it just sounds stupid, so I delete it. Why would anyone listen to me, anyway?
— — —
One Friday night after practice, Casey says, “Want to come over tonight? My parents are out of town.”
I shake my head. “I’m having dinne
r with my dad and his new girlfriend.”
“Can’t you cancel?”
“She’s cooking. I think she’s trying to demonstrate what a great mom she’d make.”
“Would she?”
“If I was five.”
“So cancel. Hang out with me.”
“I promised my dad I’d give her a chance, plus I have to walk Sherman.”
“Oh yeah. I could help you with that.”
“Thanks, but it’s something I have to do by myself.”
I ride my bike to Ms. Helen’s. I’m cutting it close. Dad is supposed to pick me up at six. When I knock, Ms. Helen appears with Sherman already on the leash.
When I’m walking Sherman, my life feels better, different, not so ominous. It’s crazy to think walking someone’s dog could make up for killing her husband. Or maybe it’s Coach Mitchell’s spirit hanging around. Crazy.
When Sherman and I turn onto Maple Street, I hear a car pull up behind me. It idles for a while but then follows me. My heart races. Maybe it’s the crazy person who still periodically throws trash on our lawn. I glance at Sherman. He offers little in the way of protection. I look over my shoulder at the car and freeze in my tracks when I recognize Sheila’s Mustang. I stop walking.
Sheila pulls up beside me and lowers her window, casting her perfectly made-up eyes on me. “Hey,” she says. She looks past me at Sherman who is yanking my arm backward, trying to chase a squirrel teetering on the picket fence behind us.
“Hey,” I say.
“I heard you made Regionals.”
I nod.
“That’s cool.”
I nod again. I can’t think of anything to say. How can she act like the last seven months never happened? There’s no point in asking once again what really happened in that car. By now she’s solidified her lies not just in this town but likely in her heart. That’s what happens when you tell it enough.
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