Open House(53)

“Plenty of people do that in marriages, too.”

“Haley,” Dean said.

“Read the statistics,” Haley spat back, remembering a particularly grim class at Yarrow on recognizing the signs of domestic violence.

“You’re going a little dark, don’t you think?”

“I don’t, actually,” Haley said.

“Do you think I could ever do something like that to you?”

“I think you’re lying to me about something,” Haley said, and as the words escaped her, she knew they were true. “And I want to know exactly what it is.”





FORTY-THREE

Emma

Ten years ago

I should’ve just demanded more time alone with Noah, but I knew Josie would never go for it, and now as she and I follow him along the trail back to the campsite, my face burns with everything I just told him and how imperfectly it all went, and with shame, too, that I thought it would go another way. I hate them both right now, especially Josie for interrupting us. I want to kick the back of her hiking boots as she plods along; I want to yank the silky yellow strands of her ponytail; I want to hurt her somehow, like she’s hurt me.

Of course, I don’t. Because there’s a difference between rage and acting on it, and I know the line. I wonder if Josie does, and what about Noah? Men are so unknowable to me, sometimes, with their quicker flares to anger. I think about my dad, whom I’ve barely ever seen yell except for when I accused him of having an affair. I hope so hard that I was wrong about what I saw. I need to talk to Haley about it, maybe tonight when she gets here. And I need to tell her how I’ve been sleeping with Noah, and about being pregnant, of course. Maybe I’ll tell her everything tonight, and then we can tell my parents together tomorrow.

The trees tighten so we have to walk single file along the trail. I can barely see Noah anymore, and I hope he and Josie know where they’re going.

What if I’ve trusted the wrong people all this time? How is anyone supposed to know who the good ones are? Maybe there’s not even such a thing as good; maybe there are only shades of gray and circumstances and people reacting to them in myriad ways. Maybe no one should be surprised by anything anyone does. Maybe we’re all just animals trying to survive.

I try to shake off the feeling, but it’s too heavy, coiling around my neck and shoulders like a viper. Josie lets a branch snap back in my face, and I pray she doesn’t turn and see the hot, angry tears that spring to my eyes. I want this night to be over. Tomorrow I’ll go home and talk to my parents about the baby. They’ll help me—they’ll help us. I think about all the people in my situation who aren’t lucky enough to have family that will support them, and it weighs me down even more, until I can barely make my feet follow Noah and Josie, until I just want to lie down and fall asleep beneath the stars.

The music jars me out of my mood.

A cheesy, poppy beat filters through the trees, and I exhale. We’re almost there. I’m craving alcohol to numb me, but of course, I can’t have it.

Noah pushes through the trees first, holding branches aside for us to pass into the clearing. I take in everything, the boys clustered around the keg, laughing, a few girls on the fringes, and then, of course: Dean.

He’s tall and good looking in a classically handsome way, dark haired and well built. Brown eyes, I think, but I haven’t really ever gotten close enough to know. He’s standing by the keg, holding a plastic cup and talking to one of Noah’s teammates. Dean doesn’t strike me as the jock type, which means he probably really likes Josie if he agreed to come here tonight.

I turn to watch Josie, who appears a little annoyed to see him.

Meanwhile Noah slips quickly back into his element with his teammates, smiling and laughing, and something happens in that moment as I watch him rejoin the party; in some way, I let him go. Or at least, the invisible thread that’s tied me to him starts to fray. I’ll be able to get myself back. And maybe at some point, I’ll turn him over to Josie. Maybe in some way, if I’m right about how she’s feeling, she needs him more than I do.

Josie.

She’s changed her expression so that she’s smiling now at Dean, but it’s an act, of course. Still, she’d fool anyone other than me, certainly someone as unsuspecting as Dean.

Josie, my best friend—the person I thought was almost like a sister. But when I think of Haley and the fullness my heart feels at just the idea of her, I know that isn’t true: Josie isn’t my family; she isn’t my blood.

I feel so calm all of a sudden, so peaceful. Even the woods don’t feel as menacing as they once did.

One more night, I think to myself. Just get through these hours and find a way to end the charade come tomorrow.

Yes, I tell myself. Tomorrow will be a new day.





FORTY-FOUR

Haley

I think you’re lying to me about something, and I want to know exactly what it is.”

Had Haley really just said those words to her fiancé? Her heart pounded as she stared at him. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the doorbell rang. Dean’s head jerked toward the sound of the bell. Haley put her palms on the table to steady herself, feeling like she was floating outside her body as she rose from the table to answer the door.

“Haley,” Dean called after her, but she didn’t look back. She raced across the living room, expecting to find her parents at the door. She braced herself before opening it. She tried to make her face look like she was okay, like today hadn’t been too much to handle. But when she swung open the front door, it was Detective Rappaport on her front step. A lone overhead light lit his face, casting shadows and making half of his features look sunken.