Good Neighbors(34)

“You never have my back. That’s why I didn’t come to you. But it’s real. Shelly took pictures of what her mom did. Evidence. In her Pain Box.”

“Rhea doesn’t seem like the type,” Arlo said.

“She’s a college professor!” Gertie said.

“So?” Julia asked.

“So, Shelly was sensitive. Girls like that invent stories. It feels real but it’s not. The pain’s coming from someplace else. A problem within.”

“I saw Mrs. Schroeder hit you. She hits.”

Gertie touched her cut cheek, the humiliating memory of that slap fresh again. “But that’s extreme stress. God forbid if you were hurt, I’d go a little crazy, too.”

“You make excuses for people here. It’s like you’re scared of them.”

“You’re not making any sense to me, Julia. This is out of left field. I always—”

“What was this fucking Pain Box?” Arlo interrupted, his voice raised.

“It was real. I know because I saw. She showed me. I couldn’t hug her too tight. It hurt her. And if you think about it, that’s why she never let anybody hug her.”

Gertie winced. Wiped the overfill of water from under her eyes. “You’re sure she didn’t do it to herself?” she asked.

Julia looked down.

“Then you can’t—”

“Stop it!” Larry cried.

“Honey, I’m just trying to understand,” Gertie said.

“No!” Larry cried. “Stop calling her a liar.”

“I’m not!” Gertie said. “You’re tag-teaming me!”

“Julia!” Arlo shouted. Everybody got quiet. Julia sniffled. Shook. Hid her face to hide the tears. “Do you believe this shit you’re telling us to be true?” Arlo asked.

Julia nodded, crying hard like you do when you’ve been yelled at, face hidden.

Gertie looked out the window, to the empty crescent. She followed the eddies of oil to the hole with her eyes. They reflected the sun; a smeared rainbow humbled by gravity to the earth, made of blue and black and red.

“And your instincts tell you this. You trust those instincts,” Arlo said, voice modulated now.

Julia nodded. “Her mom hurt her when no one else was around. She hid it from me. She kept it a secret because she thought it was something to be embarrassed about. But she couldn’t take it anymore. Her mom got meaner. So she told.” Then she pressed her hands to the small of her back and worked upward between her shoulder blades. “She didn’t do it to herself. She couldn’t have reached.”

Gertie kept her eyes on the hole. She felt them wet. Felt her whole self break apart. “Rhea did keep Shelly close, didn’t she? Never gave her an inch of herself. Cheerie used to keep me close.”

Arlo’s voice was thick, his body tense. “Let’s not talk about Cheerie.”

“No,” she said. “Nobody wants to hear about Cheerie… I think… I think it’s true. I think she tried to tell me once. Rhea. But I didn’t understand.”

Julia burst into tears. “She was my friend. I loved her and now she’s dead.”

“I know,” Gertie said.

Julia came to Gertie. Gertie held her off. She’d never been a hugger, especially not in moments of panic. But Julia wouldn’t be denied. She pushed Gertie’s arms aside, rested against her breast. Gertie held her, heart beating fast, thoughts broken and flying.

“If I’d known,” Arlo whispered. His tenseness had resolved into something softer and more honest.

“We could have helped her,” Julia muttered.

“Maybe. But an accident happened,” Arlo said. “She fell. Not even her mom did that.”

“She loved you,” Gertie said. “And you loved her.”

Julia’s expression balled tight, tears still falling. “There wasn’t anybody I liked talking to more, when she wasn’t being mean. We didn’t even have to talk. We just knew each other. But she was hiding something inside. She was hurting. And what if she wakes up down there, all alone? What if she thinks I abandoned her?”

“It’s not your fault,” they all said, together, even Larry. “It’s not your fault,” they repeated.

She slackened like a drugged calf, resting her head on Gertie’s breast. Larry petted her frizzy hair. With his skinny, monster-tattooed arms, Arlo leaned down and encircled his family, trying but not quite able to encompass the entirety of them.

Very softly, Julia said, “One day I’ll save kids. All the kids.”

Yes, they said, and they knew she meant it. They knew, when she grew up, that this would happen because of Shelly. Of course you will.

In the end, Julia asked that her hair be cut short just like Shelly had done. They did this, and braided the eighteen wild, curly inches with elastic ponytail holders, then added this to the cigar box. Each hammered a nail into one of the box’s corners to close it. Then they showered and dressed in their summer best. Not black, but pretty florals for the girls, the Hawaiian shirt for Arlo (cleaned now of blood), and Larry’s typical green. They discussed the backyard, but knew where they’d eventually agree upon.

They walked out of their house and into Sterling Park. They passed the orange cones and tape. The crew, having stopped coming on weekends, were all gone. A new, thicker slab covered the hole. They knelt at the edge. Arlo pried loose six rivets to lift a corner.