Behind Every Lie(89)

“What happens now?” I asked. “Will I be charged for shooting Liam?”

“Washington State law allows an individual to use reasonable force to defend themselves when they’re attacked.” Jackson’s eyes sharpened. “It was self-defense, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, then.” He smiled. “It sounds pretty clear-cut to me. And I hear the district attorney has no desire to press charges.”

I closed my eyes in relief as Jackson began gathering his things.

“How’s your friend doin’?”

“Jacob? He’s stable,” I said. “Fortunately, he has a hard head. He’ll be out soon.”

Jackson gazed at me for a moment. “You going to be okay?”

“Me?” I looked out the window at the mottled sky. Memories flickered before me. My brother hunched over his homework early on a Sunday. Jacob with his grass-stained knees flying down the street on his bike. Mom driving me to school on a cold, rainy morning. The squeeze of her hand as she said some of her last words, I love you.

“Yeah, I think I will be.” I smiled and held Jackson’s gaze. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”





forty-nine

eva




A FEW WEEKS AFTER I got out of the hospital I was at Mom’s house—home for now—slicking the last bit of gold lacquer onto a piece of pottery I was repairing. The radio was on, an old dance track by Sandra Collins playing in the background. A car pulled up outside and I peered out the wooden slats. Andrew slammed the car door shut. He walked around the side of the house, returning with a rake, and started scraping leaves into a pile.

I watched my brother move the rake in precise parallel lines. He looked older than I remembered. Lines bracketed his blue eyes, worry and grief chiseling his face. I awkwardly pulled a heavy sweater over my sling and went to greet him. The November day was crisp and clear, the sky a strip of brilliant blue.

I hugged Andrew with one arm. His brown knitted sweater smelled of rain and freshly cut apples. He straightened his glasses and returned the hug, a rare but much appreciated gift.

Andrew resumed raking the leaves, and I used my feet to drag smaller piles into Andrew’s larger one. When the yard was clear, Andrew and I stood in front of the pile of leaves. With a sort of silent acknowledgment only known between siblings, we fell backward onto the pile.

We stared up as a plane bisected the sky, leaving puffy white trails in its wake. Fall leaves shivered and spun in the air, a gust of wind causing a riot of burnt orange and scarlet and sienna to sprinkle onto the lawn.

Andrew and I laughed. “Well. That was a little bit pointless!” he said.

“No. Not pointless,” I replied. “Sometimes you have to clear up the mess before you can start over fresh.” I elbowed him in the ribs. “So. When do I get to meet your new girlfriend?”

Andrew blushed. “Soon,” he promised.

I dropped it. He’d tell me more when he was ready.

After a moment, he asked. “Are you glad he’s dead?”

I thought about it. Liam had lied to me every day I knew him. He’d violated my trust, betrayed me, controlled me. But he had loved me too. That was real. Wasn’t it?

I tried not to question myself or doubt myself too much these days. Most days I failed. Maybe doubt never really went entirely away. Maybe all you had to do to silence it was ignore it long enough.

“I’m … relieved. I don’t think Liam was evil, just broken. Maybe we all are a little bit.”

“I’m glad I sh—”

“I shot him,” I cut him off. “Me. Remember? It was self-defense.”

Now Andrew rolled onto his elbow; his eyes behind his glasses were a battleground I’d never seen before. My brother had spent his life playing by the rules, coloring inside the lines. But he was learning there were an awful lot of shades of gray in there.

“You can’t blame yourself,” I said. I stood and brushed the bits of dead leaves from my jeans. “Trust me. It’s a waste of time.”

Andrew glanced at his watch. “You ready to go? We don’t want to miss the ferry.”



* * *



The tires of Andrew’s car crackled on the gravel as we pulled up to Liam’s house. He turned the ignition off, and for a moment we sat in silence. The red Douglas fir timbers of the house were brightly lit by the afternoon sun, the lake a perfect mirror for the jean-blue sky. A sharp breeze skimmed the rippled surface. The muddy shoreline was a twisted mass of reeds and roots writhing down into the water.

“What’s going to happen to this house?” Andrew asked.

“Liam named me next of kin in his will. I’ll sell it once everything is finalized. All the money from his estate will go to a charity for those who’ve been sexually assaulted.”

“Do you really need to go back in there?” he asked.

I nodded. “I need to get my cat. Melissa’s been driving out here to feed her for long enough.”

He sighed. “All right, come on, then.”

He pushed the car door open, but I laid a hand on his arm. “I think I need to do this on my own,” I said.

He nodded. I stepped out of the car and my shoes crunched across the gravel to the front door; I was trying not to think about the last time I was here. I was glad it was daytime, the sunlight making everything shimmer.