“Terrible, isn’t it?” someone said.
When Sandy looked up from her phone, the guy with the fancy watch was looking at her, his brown eyes catching the light from the front windows. He wasn’t as young as she’d thought, but she’d been right that he was good-looking. In a dickhead kind of way. The look on his face as he stared at Sandy made her want to take a shower. “What did you say?” she asked.
“I said it’s terrible, isn’t it,” he repeated, nodding toward the TV over the bar.
Sandy looked up. Police cars on the midday news. Maybe a car accident? Sandy told Jenna all the time not to drive when she’d been drinking, but she did it anyway. Jenna did so many dangerous things. And their car was such a piece of shit. The brakes had been making this fucked-up noise for weeks, and they didn’t have the money to get them fixed.
“You need something else, friend?” Monte asked, appearing out of nowhere.
He didn’t like strange guys talking to Sandy. Anytime anyone tried to chat her up in Blondie’s, Monte would turn up like magic. That was usually enough. He was a huge guy. He had a way of scaring people away without saying a word.
The dickhead seemed to get the message loud and clear. He held up his hands and ducked his head. “I’m good, thanks,” he said. “I was just about to leave.”
Sandy turned back to the TV, to the police cars in front of all those tall trees. Suddenly, the camera panned backward to the Essex Bridge. And Sandy felt the earth beneath her give way. She wrapped her hands around the brass bar rail to steady herself. “What happened, Monte?” she asked.
“Ah, they found a baby in the woods up near Cedar Creek.” Monte looked up at the TV and shook his head. “Poor thing. The world is filled with goddamn animals. That’s why you got to be careful, kiddo. Like I told you.”
“Hey, Pop!” Dom called to him from the other side of the bar. “Come here for a sec.”
“You call us if you need anything, kiddo,” Monte said, then glanced in the direction of the dickhead. “You know you’re like a daughter to us. No, you are a daughter to us. And we take care of family.”
“Thanks,” Sandy managed, her eyes moving back to the TV as soon as Monte headed back to the other end of the bar. She wanted someone to turn the volume up. Wanted to hear exactly what they were saying. The dickhead said something once Monte was out of earshot, something Sandy caught only a piece of: “like her.”
When Sandy looked away from the TV, he was swallowing the last of his beer and dropping some money on the bar. Finally, he pushed himself off the stool, straightening his jacket as he stood. “I guess I should be going,” he said to no one in particular.
“What did you just say?” Sandy asked, wondering if she’d imagined it.
“That I’ve got to be going.”
“No, what did you say before?”
“Oh, that.” He took a step closer to Sandy, then leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You look just like Jenna.”
Frat Chat
Here are the chatters in your area. Be kind, follow the rules, and enjoy the ride! And if you don’t know what the rules are: READ THEM FIRST! You must be 18 to Chat with the Frat.
I think it’s Sadie Cresh. She’s been getting seriously round in the belly.
Fat, I didn’t even think of that. Why don’t they just round up all the fat girls and test them or something?
1 reply
Because there ARE too many!
What about Ellie Richards and Jonathan Strong? They’d definitely kill a baby before they’d risk not going to Harvard together.
2 replies
Jonathan Strong is totally gay.
He grabbed my ass in the locker room.
You guys, it’s Harry Trumble with the candlestick in his mom’s room. Have you seen her? She’s hot as shit.
You are all disgusting pigs.
3 replies
I agree. I can’t believe I know you people.
Pretentious bitch.
You are some sick shits. Funny as hell but sick as shit.
You know you’re supposed to be in COLLEGE to be on this thing.
1 reply
Fuck off, loser.
I think it was Aidan Ronan. His baby. He killed it.
9 replies
I heard he did some fucked-up shit in his old school.
And have you seen his mom? I heard she fucks everybody. That probably messed him up.
I saw him last week with some skanky bitch downtown.
I’ve seen him with her, too. Total crack ho.
I heard he once tried to kill his little brother.
I heard that, too. Choked him so hard he had to go to the hospital.
That’s bullshit. He’d be in jail.
Not bullshit. His parents lie for him all the time.
I heard he got kicked out of St. Paul’s for bringing a hunting knife to school.
MOLLY
APRIL 17, 2013
Justin and I had our first argument today. The first since we lost the baby. It was stupid, about dinner plans for our anniversary that I don’t even care about.
Lost the baby. Lost the baby. Lost the baby. I’m supposed to keep writing that in here. Not supposed to—Dr. Zomer never tells me what I’m “supposed” to do. But she says I need to normalize the experience.
But how to make killing your own baby normal? Because I know what happened is my fault. Who else’s fault could it be? I was the one who was supposed to keep track of how often she was moving. I was the one who was supposed to notice the second she stopped.
And I didn’t. I didn’t notice a thing. And I let myself get so stressed out the night before. That whole weekend. So stupid when I think about it now. The doctor made a point of telling me that none of that mattered. That it wasn’t my being upset that made her heart stop.
But how can they know that for sure when they don’t know why it DID stop?
The saddest part about my fight today with Justin was how relieved he seemed. So happy to have a regular old fight. Like the ones we had before. Before we lost the baby, before we had Ella, before there was even really an us. Because that’s where we are: a place where a fight is the best hope we’ve got.
Molly