Things We Do in the Dark(111)

“And he agreed?” Ruby raises an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Paris allows a small smile. “And to think, I didn’t even have to sleep with him.”

“So you’re sarcastic now.” Her mother’s lips flatten. “Nice way to talk to your mother.”

“Would you rather I hit you?” Paris asks. “Smack you? Put cigarettes out on your neck? Would that be more polite?”

“Oh my God.” Ruby’s chair scrapes as she pushes back from the table. She goes to a cabinet and pulls out two mugs, and pours them both a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter. She dumps powdered Coffee-Mate into them, which is no different from how she used to drink it back in the nineties. “Are you still upset about all that? That was so long ago. It’s time to move on. You’re an adult now, Paris.”

“I was a child then, Ruby.”

Her mother sighs, placing both mugs down on the table. “Are you here to talk about the past, or are you hear to pay me so I don’t talk about the past?”

“Both,” Paris answers. “You’re getting your money.”

“Good,” Ruby says, her shoulders relaxing. “You owe me. I deserve that money. I did twenty-five years in prison for you.”

“For me?” Paris forces herself to stay calm. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

“You know I did.” Her mother sips her coffee and leans back in her chair. “I never told anybody what you did to Charles.”

“Because you know they wouldn’t have believed you,” Paris says. “His blood was all over your dress, and your prints were on his knife. You stabbed him sixteen times.”

Ruby cocks her head. “Was it that many?”

“Sixteen times,” Paris repeats. “And I was only thirteen. You would have made yourself look even worse if you accused me of anything.”

“You fucked me over in court, testifying that Charles never touched you. All you had to say was that one thing. That one true thing.” Ruby’s lips flatten into a hard line. “No jury would have convicted a mother for protecting her daughter.”

“Holy shit, you’re still doing this.” Paris stares at her in disbelief. “Bending the truth to make it fit what you want it to be. I heard you and Charles, okay? I heard you fighting with him in the other room. You accused him of using you to get to me. And you were right about that, because that’s exactly what he did, because that’s what men like Charles do. And then I heard him laugh and say that you were ugly when you were jealous, and that you’d never be together because you had no class.”

Ruby’s eyes narrow, her cheeks turning pink. “That is not what he said.”

“Oh, Mama,” Paris says, which will be the last time she’ll ever call this woman by that name. “I’ve always envied your ability to deny any reality that doesn’t serve you. Allow me to jog your memory.”

She takes a long sip of the terrible coffee. Then she takes them both back to the night she thought she’d never have to revisit again.



* * *



Joey was in a dead sleep when Charles got into bed beside her. Though she often couldn’t fall asleep when she knew he was nearby, he’d seemed so preoccupied with her mother all evening that it had felt safe this time.

It was her own fault for assuming. It made no difference to Charles that this was his house, his family home, and that his daughter’s bedroom was on the other side of the wall. There were no boundaries with men like him. They were only built one way.

She felt a hand on her stomach, and woke all the way up. Her eyes flew open, but there was nothing to see, because the room was dark. Instinctively, she tried to scuttle to the other side of the bed, but he got on top of her and pinned her down with his body weight.

“Shhhhh,” Charles whispered, his breath acidic from the red wine and cheese he’d been eating earlier. “Just relax. Your mom can be a lot of fun, but I’ve missed you, Joey.”

She wriggled violently underneath him, but like the last time—like every time—it was useless. He was bigger, smarter, and more powerful than she could ever hope to be. It was never a fair fight. All she could do now was close her eyes, remain still, and allow the darkness to take over.

She didn’t know how much time had passed—it could have been one minute, or ten—but she heard the swoosh of the door opening, and then all the lights in the room flicked on. The mattress bounced with the sudden absence of Charles’s weight as he quickly rolled off her, his feet landing on the floor with a heavy thump.

Joey opened her eyes and blinked at the bright room. Her mother was standing in the guest bedroom doorway, her eyes darting from Charles to Joey and then back to Charles again. She looked furious. Joey sat up, the bedsheets falling away, and was relieved to see that she was still dressed.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Ruby’s voice was hoarse. Her eyes were focused with laser precision on the man now stumbling around the bedroom, adjusting his clothes. It was amazing to Joey that her mother would even bother to ask a question she already knew the answer to. “Were you touching my daughter?”

“No, darling, no,” Charles said. His face was bright red. “I got up because I thought I heard a noise, but I’ve had too much to drink. I seem to have ended up in the wrong bedroom.” He forced a laugh.