All Is Not Forgotten

There was this girl. She asked if I had anything. I knew the guy was out there. Kids were coming in and out, whispering about it. He had all kinds of stuff.

“And you thought if you bought these drugs, then what? She would go out with you?”

I looked at my wife. She was almost laughing. I wiped my face and tried not to smile. Relief had swept through us both.

“What happened next? How did you get from the road to the woods?”

I just … I got close to the car and I got scared. So I pretended I was just walking by.… I went to the other side of the car, the side next to the woods, and as soon as there was a clearing, I went near the woods just to the line of trees, then came back to the house. I put the money back. I told the girl the guy had left.

“So you were never in the woods?” My head was spinning then. It is one thing to ask the question. It is quite another to know the answer is coming. This is the reason many questions remain unasked. Sometimes it is easier not knowing.

No!

The word echoed, bouncing against the walls of my heart. Thank God! Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you!

My wife couldn’t speak without revealing her joy, pure joy that her wonderful son was still wonderful.

“This is not who you are,” I said sternly. I don’t know how, but I managed to conceal myself. My head was spinning.

“Stealing money and even thinking about buying drugs!”

Jason slumped back into the couch. He really had no idea about anything.

“Why don’t you go to your room. Take the Xbox with you. I’m sorry I broke the TV.”

Am I grounded?

“Yes. Until next weekend.”

Jason got up, unplugged the Xbox, and grabbed all the wires and controllers and games. He skulked away to the stairs and then up to his room.

Julie fell into my arms and we both laughed. The fear was gone. The box on the shelf empty. It did not lift the darkness. It did not clean the stain. But I was resigned to live dirty, under this shadow for the flawed but wonderful creature we had created.





Chapter Twenty-seven

I went forth with conviction. With purpose. It is not that I needed proof that my son had not raped Jenny. It was that I needed to see his innocence, his goodness again. He had been lying to us about that night, and now he had confessed. And in his confession, the way it was told, the words and tone and expression, was the innocence.

This is my son. My child. He is my legacy in this world. He is an extension of me. I came to see their pursuit of him as a pursuit of myself. I felt it inside my gut like nothing I had ever felt before. It was primal. I went forth like a lion protecting his cub.

I did not let go of my own desires. With my head clear, I constructed more of my plan. I believed I had found a way to not only keep my son from being dragged into the investigation, but get Jenny back on track, too. I became two men. The first was the doctor curing his patients. The second was the puppeteer, holding his wooden sticks, making his subjects dance to the tune of his will.

I saw Charlotte two days later. She was irate. You told the police! About Bob and the voice. You told them!

“Calm down, Charlotte. I didn’t say anything to them about Jenny’s memory. Why don’t you tell me what’s happened.”

Charlotte found her composure and studied my face. I told you, I was steadfast in my conviction. A rock. The doubt and anger she’d been carrying for over sixteen hours were gone in a second. My power seemed to have no end.

He asked to see me. Bob. I met him at the house, but he didn’t touch me. Not even a kiss hello. He was upset. Worried. So of course, I asked him what was wrong. I tried to hide my fears. I pretended that I didn’t know anything. I don’t know … I think he believed me.

“I’m sure he did. It was the truth, after all. You could not have known what had him so upset.”

I suppose. It felt like a lie. I felt guilty pretending.

“Did you tell him?”

No. I let him tell me. Detective Parsons paid him a casual visit. Bob said he was nice as could be, and very apologetic. He said he’d gotten a hold of some record from a million years ago. College. Bob went to Skidmore.

“College?” I asked.

Yeah. He said some girl he was with on spring break lied about her age and then cried to her friends the next day. They told their parents and their parents told the girl’s parents and the police had to get involved because the girl was underage. Nothing happened from it. Bob said he was worried it might be found. You know, because of the election, he said he thought it wouldn’t happen until years from now, when he runs for a national office. I guess it’s always been in the back of his mind that someone might dig it up.

“And what does that have to do with the matter at hand? With Jenny?”

Obviously, it’s a sexual offense or complaint or whatever. Detective Parsons said he had to just do a quick follow-up to cover his bases and then he could close the file.

“So he wanted an alibi?”

Yeah.

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