But not by John, because John was dead.
Something rose in her gut: anger. And it began to outweigh the nothing that had hijacked her psyche.
Whoever was doing this was not going to take one more thing away from her. Not one more person. She had to make this right, because she didn’t want to live without Marlon.
Not one more.
She had to fix this. Right now.
She ran out of the house and across the yard to the garage. In the Pacifica, she drove toward town, her heart and head pounding, and played “Use Once and Destroy” by Hole at top volume, screaming along with Courtney Love, fierce and furious, even though it felt like her head would shatter.
It was nearly midnight, and Marlon’s street was dark and quiet. Too bad. She strode up to his door and rang the bell. No answer. She rang it again. Nothing.
She went around to the living room window and looked in, her hands cupped around her face. It was too dark to see anything. She went back to the door and rang the doorbell four more times, then knocked on the door.
“Marlon! I know you’re in there. I’m going to keep ringing and pounding until you let me in or until the police get here, whichever comes first. Open the door! Marlon!”
When he still didn’t open the door, she backed away from his house and scrolled through the music on her phone until she found the song she wanted—-“Animals” by Nickelback—-and blasted it.
“Your favorite, Marlon,” she shouted.
Several dogs began barking, and a light came on in the house next door, followed by Marlon’s porch globe light. His front door flew open, and there he stood, looking possessed in his rancor.
“Get in here,” he hissed.
She ran inside and he slammed the door behind her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted.
Nessa was out of breath and frantic. “I’m here,” she said, “to do step number five. I’m here to admit to God, to myself, and to another human being—-that’s you—-the exact nature of my wrongs.”
“It’s too late for that,” he said.
“Why?” she said, her fists clenched at her sides. “Why is it too late?”
“Because I’m sick of the chaos that follows you wherever you go. I’m sick of your lying. I’m sick of being held at arm’s length.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m here to—-”
“I heard you. I just don’t believe—-”
“John’s dead.”
Time stopped as they stared at each other, and Marlon’s exasperation deflated into bewilderment.
Nessa collapsed on the couch and began sobbing.
In her desolation, she only dimly felt Marlon curl himself around her, his arms shielding her, his face in her hair, murmuring to her as if she were a tiny child.
After a while, her sobs devolved into whimpers, and the story leaked out of her in fits and starts.
When she finished, she felt light as fog, and a merciful quiet enveloped her aching soul.
“Are they sure it’s him?” Marlon asked.
“I’m sure it’s him,” she said.
He nodded. “I know what you mean. I knew the minute Lori was gone. Felt it in my guts.”
He brushed the hair back from her face and wiped her tears away with his fingers. “Can I get you a glass of water?”
“Thank you,” she said, suddenly shy at finding herself in his arms.
He padded into the kitchen and she heard him putting ice in glasses and running the tap. She looked around the room, at the sparse furnishings and decor, except for a large framed portrait of Marlon’s late wife.
He returned with two glasses, one of which he handed to her, then sat next to her on the sofa.
She took a long drink of her water and cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said. “Step number five.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “You don’t have to do this now. Not after—-”
“I’m doing it now,” she said.
He didn’t argue.
“When I was sixteen, I was raped by a football player at my high school.”
Marlon’s face crumpled, but she didn’t allow him to say anything.
“In high school, my best friend was Candy, and we could have been twins. This is important. Same eye color, same hair color, hairstyle, same build. They called us the Glimmer Twins after—-”
“Mick Jagger and Keith Richards,” Marlon said, nodding. “Please continue.”
“So Candy and I were at a party, and I got so fucked up that Candy had to practically carry me upstairs to one of the bedrooms where I could lie down until she sobered up enough to drive us home. I found out later she went to the basement to watch a movie with some other girls. So I was practically paralyzed, you know—-vodka, E, pot, and who knows what the hell else.
“I don’t know how much later Nathan the football player came into the room, locked the door, and got up on the bed.” Nessa cringed, remembering how her one fucked--up thought at that point had been that she didn’t look very good—-Nathan was the hottest guy in school, and she’d had a crush on him, like everyone else.