She pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing in his damp heat.
I’m around the corner. I’m at the front door.
“Come on,” she said. She took his hand and led him inside.
Lights in Winter
November–December 1991
When they returned home from Thanksgiving dinner, Jess’s mom stood facing the living room window, her arms crossed. “Go to your room, Jess. I need a minute.”
It was almost funny. Being sent to her room, a child’s punishment, for the fact of a grown man confessing his love for her. But Jess didn’t laugh. She didn’t argue. She went.
She sat on her bed, her body stiff, her feet planted on the floor, and stared out her window as the sun slunk behind the Black Hills. She didn’t take off her coat, her leaden guilt pinning her in place. She could smell Dani’s vomit, see the yellow chunks on the carpet. She wasn’t sure if the smell was a memory or spattered on her shoelaces or pant legs. She couldn’t bring herself to check.
After some time, her mom came into the bedroom. She pulled the desk chair next to the bed and sat down, crossing her legs at the ankle.
She said, “I want you to tell me everything. Don’t lie to me, Jess. Enough lying. Tell me so we can figure out what to do.”
Jess pulled her coat tight around her. She said, “Mom, nothing happened.”
“Something happened. Come on. How did it happen? Did he coerce you?”
“No. It wasn’t like that. He didn’t—we didn’t do anything.”
“If he touched you, I need to know. Aside from being flat-out wrong, it’s illegal, Jess. You’re a minor.”
“Nothing happened. Nothing physical. I swear it.”
“You didn’t have sex with him?”
“No.”
“Oral sex? Other touching and kissing?”
“God, Mom. No.”
Her mother sighed. “Well, that’s something, I guess.” She frowned. “So what’s going on? Tell me. From the beginning.”
How to even begin? “I don’t know. We were out on the deck late at night—”
“What were you doing on the deck late at night with him?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Let me guess. He told you his sad story, how sad his life was, how awful life with his wife was. How stuck he felt.”
“It wasn’t like that. Not at all. I know you think he manipulated me somehow—”
“I know he did, Jess. Of course he did. You can’t see all the pieces. You haven’t lived long enough to know, but this happens all the time. All the time. Exactly like this. He’s trying to get his life back through you. It even has a name. Midlife crisis. We don’t even have to look far for an example. Look at your father.”
“He’s not the same as my father. It’s not like that. It’s not a midlife crisis. There was no crisis. He didn’t seek me out.”
“I’ll bet you a million dollars he did. You couldn’t see the signs. Didn’t know how to read them.”
“He didn’t,” she said, but she hesitated, thinking about the night on the deck. The night in the garage. The letter with the silver key, the first night in the empty house, his phone call, his note under the windshield wiper.
“No.” She shook her head. “He pushed me away.”
“That’s what he wants you to think. And now he’s told you he’s in love with you.”
“Yes.”
“How is that not manipulative? Telling a young, confused girl what she wants to hear?”
“It’s not what I want,” Jess said. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”
Her mother let out a disgusted sigh. “What did you think was going to happen, Jess? He would divorce his wife, leave his daughter, and marry you when you turned eighteen?” She laughed. “You’d start a sweet little life together? Happily ever after?”
“I didn’t think any of that. I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t, did you.” She raised her voice until she was yelling. “He is using you, Jess. Using your youth, your beauty. He is a vampire, sucking the life out of you. He will use you to death. He will drain you until you are nothing, and you’ll wake up one day, and it will be too late.”
Jess plugged her ears. “Stop yelling.”
“I’m not yelling!” She lowered her voice, though. She exhaled hard through her nose. “Jesus. If this fucker thinks he can mess with my kid.” She shook her head. “Nope. Not on my watch.”
At first Jess felt relief. Her mother was on her side. But she was shaken by the yelling, which made her want to yell, too. “On your watch? Ha! When are you ever awake long enough to watch anything?”
Her mom narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t about me.”
“Why not? Why are you allowed to behave however you want, and I have to sit and take it? Because you’re the so-called adult? You don’t even know what you’re doing. You spend half your days in bed. You can’t even do the bare minimum: stay awake.”
Her mother stood and tucked the chair against the desk. “Enough. We’ll talk about this later. I need to go out and get some aspirin. My head is killing me. For some reason.”
Jess said, “It’s Thanksgiving. The store’s closed.”
Her mom whirled to face her. She yelled, “I know what day it is!” She pushed on her bad ear, holding her finger against it. “Goddamn, Jess. I can’t believe you did this. How could you be so stupid?”
Jess’s cheeks stung as if her mom had slapped her. She had never seen her mother look at her like that before, her face inflamed, the tendons in her throat distended. She’d never called her stupid before.
“I didn’t do anything.” Jess burst into tears, knowing it was technically true but that she was guilty, too, in her heart. She curled on her side and pulled her coat and covers around her, trying to fold up inside herself. She wept into her knees, choking on the force of her sobs. At the same time, she waited: for the bed to dip as her mother sat next to her. She waited for her mother’s hand to smooth her hair, pat her back. She waited to hear her loud voice: It’s okay, J-bird. We’ll figure this out together.
Instead, she heard the front door open and click shut. She heard the sound of the engine in the drive. She heard her mother pull away.
If her mother didn’t believe her, who would?