Burn Our Bodies Down(35)

Mrs. Miller hesitates, and I catch the moment of tension that takes hold of her body. Gram can’t be an easy neighbor to have. Especially not now. Even so, it’s only a heartbeat before she smiles and says, “I’m so happy you could join us,” like she had any idea we were coming.

Tess skirts the island, snags the strawberry from her mother’s hand and shoves it into her mouth. “You love company,” she says around it. “My gift to you.”

“Of course I love company,” Mrs. Miller says. “And it’s been so long since we’ve had the chance to see you, Vera.”

That isn’t hard to translate, no matter how thick Mrs. Miller wants to lay on the politeness. Gram and the Millers are not friends; they don’t do this.

“But a better gift,” Mrs. Miller continues, “might be washing your hands, Tess, before you touch the food I’m serving.” She leans across and presses her palm to Tess’s forehead. “How are you feeling? Better?”

“Fine,” Tess says, batting her mom away and heading for the sink. “Eli’s coming down,” she says over her shoulder as she rinses her hands. “He stayed the night.”

Mrs. Miller’s mouth goes tight. “You need to ask me about that sort of thing, Theresa.”

“He’s stayed here a thousand times.”

“And we love him,” Mrs. Miller says. “But until you live under your own roof, you’ll ask me or your father before you invite someone in.” She glances at me and Gram. “To stay the night,” she adds, clearly for our benefit.

“Well, he’s here,” Tess says, shrugging. “So. Okay.”

Mrs. Miller looks to Gram and smiles ruefully, as if to say, “Daughters,” but Gram doesn’t give anything back.

“I hope we’re not imposing,” she says instead. At Fairhaven she looks like she belongs, like she grew up out of the floor right there in the entryway, but here she has a tightness about her, an unexpected discomfort, and I wonder if she’s feeling the same thing I am. Like I’m too much, too clumsy and too blunt to live in a house of white carpet and delicate words. Sure, I had to be careful in Calhoun, with Mom, but that was different. Nothing I learned there will serve me here.

“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Miller says. She carries the fruit plate around the island, toward a long dining table in blond wood. “The more, the merrier. Richard should be off the phone any minute, and we’ve got Eli joining us too.”

Tess grins easily from where she’s leaning against the counter, ignoring her mom’s pointed tone. I just stare at the two of them, at the way whatever Mrs. Miller was trying to impress upon Tess slides right off. I didn’t know it could work like that. I didn’t know there are ways to keep everything from feeling like the end of the world. I look up at Gram, who’s been quiet, and see her staring not at Mrs. Miller but through the french doors to the green sway of the Miller crops. We both want what’s here. Just different parts.

“Margot,” Tess says. She’s opened the cabinet next to the fridge and is peering inside. “Come here and help me pick all the marshmallows out of my cereal.”

“I made pancakes,” Mrs. Miller says. “Don’t ruin your appetite.” But she doesn’t stop me as I slot in next to Tess and watch her dump half a box of Lucky Charms into a bowl.

“How are you?” she says quietly, our backs to the adults, her hair a curtain, thick and dark. “After yesterday.”

I shrug, drop a rainbow-shaped marshmallow onto my tongue. “Fine.” She’ll know I mean anything but. “What about you? Were you sick?”

“My stomach’s been weird. It’s nothing.” She knocks my fingers away from one of the other rainbows and takes it for herself. “Look, I was at the station for a while after Vera took you home. I’m pretty sure the police are gonna come after you. Or her.” She shrugs. “If there’s a difference.”

I knew that yesterday. At least, I was afraid that was true. And I did nothing wrong. I know that. But there are things here Gram is hiding, and no way am I letting anybody else get to them before I do.

“Okay,” I say, careful to sound as bland as possible. “So?”

“So,” Tess says, drawing it out, “I want you to know it’s gonna be fine. I said you have me, and that’s still true. If you don’t want them looking at you, they won’t.”

Behind us, Gram and Mrs. Miller are making painful small talk. I wait for a moment, to be sure they’re not listening. It’s not a secret, what happened yesterday, but I don’t want Gram to hear me trying to dig deeper. If she does, she’ll close up even more tightly. I understand that much, even if I don’t understand why.

“Why would you do that for me?” I ask Tess. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

She shrugs, and for a second I wonder if it’s something else between us. I never got good at recognizing attraction in other girls—it took me long enough to recognize it in myself, and even longer to say “lesbian” without blushing. But then Tess sorts through a handful of cereal, dumping most of it back into the box, and I wrinkle my nose, the tension evaporating. Sure, she rinsed her hands, but I don’t think she used soap.

“Well,” she says. “I know what it means to have your last name matter more than your first. To put it one way.”