The sound of a car starting in the driveway.
“Where are they going?” Jed asked. And then he sprang up. “I’ll go check.”
I should go outside, I thought. But something made me stay. Maybe it was the look Ana gave me. A mutual understanding, though I couldn’t have articulated it then.
Liko put his phone away. He rolled out of his chair like a stuntman. “I’m gonna pee and then I am outta this mess.” He went to the bathroom.
I got up. I looked out the window. The boys’ car was gone, and Tom’s car was gone. I hoped Chuck wasn’t driving.
I started pacing. Back and forth, back and forth along the wooden floor beams I could barely see in the near dark.
The toilet flushed.
I looked up. Ana was standing by the front door. I had no idea why.
The bathroom door opened. Ana flicked the light. The living room lit up. I stopped pacing.
Liko walking down the hall. Right in front of me he stopped. He stood there, his feet inches from mine, and stared at me. The pimples on his nose. His small black eyes, full of hate. I thought I saw his lip quiver. And then his lips, curling back. I expected him to growl. He looked like a pit bull. “What you gonna do?” he said, heavy Hawaiian accent and his whole body seething.
I was going to kill this person.
And then Liko was done staring me down. He pushed past me, bumping my shoulder on the way.
“Hey!” I said. I felt my fingers press into my palms.
Liko kept walking.
“Hey!” I said again.
Ana was blocking the door. She was standing squarely in front of it.
“Move,” Liko said.
Ana said nothing. She just blinked at him.
“You’re going to apologize to Cam.” I was behind him now, right behind him, yelling into his hair.
He turned. “Cam’s a little bitch!” he said, right into my face, his nose almost touching my nose, and then he spat on my floor.
And almost before the spit had touched the floor, my fist was smashing into Liko’s cheek.
And my initial reaction—what is wrong with you, Nancy?—was yes! Because I hadn’t punched anyone in a long, long time, and I’d forgotten how good it could feel. Like such a release. Like the simplest way to solve a problem. So basic. Just use your hands.
Liko was stunned. His mouth was hanging open. Saliva dripping off his lip and there was blood in it.
I couldn’t feel my hand. I couldn’t feel anything.
If Liko had said anything else in that moment, I know I would have punched him again.
But he didn’t say anything else. Maybe he knew I would have punched him again. My fists were still clenched. I had become the pit bull.
Ana stepped away from the door.
Liko took a step. He took another step. He didn’t look at us. He walked out of the house.
Why wasn’t I shaking? I looked at Ana. Why wasn’t she?
We were the same height, so our eyes were level.
We said nothing.
The only sound was the reggae song, and it was a song about love.
27
“Nan?”
Warmth. Comfort. Encased in cement. Outside, the birds.
“Na-aaaan?”
Fingers tucking hair behind my ear. I opened my eyes. Ana. And light, too much. Light all around her face, radiating like a wallet-sized portrait of a saint. Her face in shadow. No wig. Just her plain bare head, as bald and smooth as an apple.
“Honey, it’s time to wake up now,” she cooed.
“Mmm.” The reality of this day was expanding when I wanted it to contract. But it was already there, covering me in light and words. I was thirsty. I didn’t want to move. If I moved, if I reached for the water glass, I would be a body again and it would be over.
“Those pills really knocked you out, Nan.”
Oh—it all rushed back, the whole night—no. I gasped a sharp breath. I opened my mouth several times like a fish. My tongue was made of sandpaper.
She held out the water glass. It was dirty in the light. “Have some.”
I didn’t speak. I didn’t move. But I was blinking rapidly, trying to find my thoughts.
Ana set the glass back down.
Drunk Chuck. Poor Cam. Tom. Jed. Where had they gone last night? Were they okay? And Liko. Liko. My fist crashing into his cheek. How could I have done that? After all this time?
“Nan?”
My hands on the sheets. Unbruised, unscratched. “I hit a child,” I whispered.
“Oh please.” And then Ana said exactly what I wanted her to say, exactly what the other voice inside me was saying. “He deserved it.”
“What if he tells? Oh God, what if he tells his mother? Or the police?”
“He’s a thug,” Ana said, her hand firm on my leg. “Thugs don’t talk to cops. Trust me.”
“Did they come home last night? Where’s Cam?” The last thing I remembered was looking out the window, waiting for the blue Honda to reappear. None of them had picked up their phones, and that’s when I’d decided to thank Alan Jeffries for his pills and go to sleep.
“Well, that’s why I’m waking you up, honey. Someone burned a sign last night at the high school and the boys got dragged in for questioning.” She laughed. “The pigs just called. We have to go pick them up.”
“What?” I sat up.
“I pretended to be you on the phone. I did a really good job. You would have been proud.”
“Oh my God, Ana,” I said somewhat disapprovingly, although, really, I was glad she’d taken the call instead of me. The last thing I wanted to do right now was talk to cops.
“No, Nan, not ‘Oh my God.’ Oh my free will.” She whipped the covers off me. “Now get up! We are brave mama bears today. Let’s fucking own it.”
I didn’t think. I got up.
“You’re going to take a shower. And wash away that guilt!” She took my hand and led me into the bathroom and turned on the water. “We need to leave in ten minutes,” she said, pulling my pants down, pants I didn’t remember putting on. “When you get out of this shower”—she unbuttoned my pajama top—“you will not feel guilty, Nan.” She looked straight into my eyes. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now go. Wash your sins away! I’ll make coffee.” She closed the door.
?
Ana and I, walking hand in hand into the police station. I wore a light scarf. I didn’t take my sunglasses off. I spoke in a low voice. When the clerk couldn’t hear what I was saying, Ana explained for me. There were uniformed people everywhere, and I was waiting for one of them to slam me against the wall and cuff me. This one or this one or this one. I could only see their feet.
I signed a piece of paper. The boys came out. Their familiar flip-flops. “Free to go,” a uniform said.
Ana said, “Thank you, kind sir.” And we left. And then we were in the parking lot, and then we were getting into the Jeep, and then we were driving through the fields of lava, and it was more surreal than usual.
“Boys,” I began, and before I could say anything else, Ana said, “Did you light this fire or what?”
In the rearview mirror, I saw Cam turn to his brother.
“No,” Jed said, “we did not.”
Cam put his sunglasses on. “No, we did not,” he repeated.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mom,” Jed said, keeping his voice steady.
“Yes, Mom,” Cam repeated.