What You Don't Know

by Merry Jones

  “No. I won’t be here,” she began. But he’d already hung up.

  Saturday, October 23, 1993

  S

  aturday afternoon. Nora wanted to get her math homework out of the way so she could go to Annie’s later. It was tedious review, multi-digit decimals to multiply and divide.

  0.7592 x 8.36 =?

  She had her calculator. It would be easy peasy.

  She opened her book bag, unzipped the compartment where she kept her calculator.

  “Nora,” Marla called. “Come here.”

  Nora rolled her eyes and headed down the hall to her parents’ bedroom. Her mom probably wanted advice on eye shadow or the shade of her stockings. Marla was all aflutter about some black-tie affair she and Philip were invited to that night. The party was all she’d talked about for days. She’d had Philip’s tuxedo cleaned and bought herself a new dress.

  “Have you seen my dress?” The question came from her parents’ closet. “I can’t find it. It has to be here.”

  Nora joined her at the closet door. Her mother had thrown half the hangers off the rod; her clothes were strewn on the floor in a heap.

  “I hung it up in here. I know I did. I took it out of the bag and hung it right up.” She was bereft, tugging at her hair. “Did you move it?”

  “No. Why would I—”

  “Because if you did, just bring it back. I won’t be mad.”

  “Mom, I haven’t seen your dress. Are you sure you hung it here? Maybe it’s downstairs in the coat closet.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have done that. I put it in here.”

  “Nora!” Tommy bellowed from downstairs. “Somebody’s here! Come down!”

  What?

  “Now what?” Her mother frowned. “Who’s here?”

  Nora shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “Oh, never mind. Go on.” Marla dismissed her with a wave of her hand. She bit her lip as she regarded the pile of clothes on the floor.

  “I’ll look in the coat closet. Just to be sure.” God. Why did Marla assume Nora would know where her stupid dress was—as if she’d taken it? Just bring it back. I won’t be mad. Seriously?

  “What’s with Mom?” Tommy stood on the steps, watching her.

  “She’s freaking out because she can’t find her dress.” It wasn’t until then, talking to Tommy, that Nora wondered who’d come to see her. The front door was open, but Tommy hadn’t invited the person in.

  He followed her. “Which dress?”

  What did he care? “The one she got for tonight. That party.” She passed the coat closet. “Hey, can you see if it’s in the coat closet while I go to the door?” She jogged down the rest of the steps and swung the door wide.

  Annie’s arms were crossed, and she wasn’t smiling.

  She’d seen Tommy.

  Nora stepped outside, carefully closing the door behind her.

  “I was riding my bike. I thought I’d stop over, see if you wanted to ride with me.”

  Nora hugged herself, felt her face burn red, stared at the grass, didn’t dare look up.

  Her life was imploding. She wanted to disintegrate. To die. How could she face Annie now? Annie knew everything. She knew that Nora had lied about the house renovations. And worse, she knew about Tommy, that he lived there. That the neighborhood weirdo, freak, creep was Nora’s brother. Worst of all, she knew that Nora had publicly pretended not to know him.

  “So. That was your brother?”

  Nora didn’t look up, just nodded.

  “Why didn’t you ever say so? Is he the only one? Do you have sisters, too?” Annie didn’t sound mad as much as curious.

  Nora told her that he was her only sibling. Annie asked a lot of questions: what Tommy’s name was, how much older he was, whether Nora knew why he and Craig fought all the time. Was it just because of Craig’s mean streak? Although, Craig was sweet to Annie, and she thought he was cute and built. Didn’t Nora think so, too?

  Gradually, Nora dared to move her gaze up from the grass to Annie’s knees, then her waist, and eventually, her face. Annie didn’t look angry. She wore her usual half smile, as if she might laugh.

  Nora agreed that the kid who beat up her brother was cute and built. But she couldn’t agree to sweet. He was a bully. “About Tommy.” She took a breath. “I should have told you about him.” Nora’s tongue felt stiff, had trouble forming words. “But we—he and I—I mean, I just don’t talk about him.”

  “I get it. I don’t talk about my sisters, either.” She nodded toward her bike. “So, want to ride to the river?”

  Nora shook her head. “Can’t.” She could barely face Annie, let alone ride bikes with her.

  But Annie didn’t give up. “But we’re on for tonight, right? A sleepover?”

  Nora assessed Annie’s tone. Her question was as light, as lilting as always. Was it possible that she really wasn’t mad?

  “Thing is, my annoying sisters will be home. Can we stay at your house this time?”

  Nora stopped breathing. Her parents would be out at their party. She and Annie would be home alone with Tommy. Nora would have to make him swear to keep his bugs to himself. And warn Annie about them.

  “Let me ask my mom.” She led Annie into the foyer and ran up the steps to Marla’s room.

  “Nora, guess what?” Marla sang from her closet where she was rehanging her clothes. “You were right! Tommy found my dress. It was in the coat closet, just like you said. I was sure I’d hung it in here, but no. I guess I’m losing my mind.”

  “Mom—”

  “But now I have another crisis—my black heels don’t fit right. It’s been an age since I wore them. My feet must have shrunk. I tried them on, and my feet slip in them.”

  “Mom,” Nora tried again. And this time Marla listened long enough to say, sure, fine, invite a friend over, just don’t get on your brother’s nerves.

  Tuesday, August 14, 2018, 10:50 a.m.

  “A

  bsolutely not.”

  “Dave, will you just listen—”

  “No. Under no circumstances are you to meet with him.”

  Nora had called Dave immediately after she’d talked to Paul. But Dave had been in a meeting and hadn’t called back until almost eleven. His reaction was immediate, intense, and insistent.

  “Really? I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. Especially since you’ve been out all night doing who knows what without my knowledge, let alone my approval.”

  “Okay. I’ll rephrase. Please don’t go. Is that better?”

  It was, except for the sarcastic tone.

  Nora sat at the kitchen table, still in her pajamas. Out the window, branches swayed in the wind. The clouds were thickening, the sky darkening.

  “He’s sending a car for me. What am I supposed to do, turn the driver away? Not answer the door?”

  “Yes. Exactly. Do not answer the door. Do not even speak to the driver, or to Paul. If Paul calls again, hang up. Have no contact with him whatsoever. Especially now, with everything falling into place.”

  “I have no idea what that even means. What happened last night? Where were you?”

  “I can’t go into it now, Nora. I’ll tell you everything later.”

  “No. Tell me now.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s happening imminently, like the day after tomorrow. We need to keep things normal until then. Which means don’t go see him.”

  “Don’t you even want to know why he wants to see me?”

  “No.”

  “I’m serious. Maybe I can help. I can find out what’s so urgent and what, if anything, he knows. If he suspects that Barbara’s planning to leave, I can reassure him. I can be like an undercover agent.”

  “I don’t want you involved, Nora. He’s not a nice man.”

  “Oh please, Dave. What’s he going to do? We’re having lunch. We’ll be in public, probably in a fancy restaurant in the middle of Center City. I’m
a big girl. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “I don’t like it.” But his tone had softened.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He paused. “Actually, it would be good to know what he’s thinking.”

  “Yes, it would. So, I’ll find out.” Nora was on her feet, heading upstairs.

  “Nora. Be careful. I’m serious.”

  Of course she would. She was always careful.

  “And call me. The minute you leave. I mean it. The very minute.”

  Nora promised that she would. When she hung up, she felt empowered and included. Useful. She showered and flitted around her room, picking an outfit that wasn’t too mommy-ish. Her black dress was too severe, the floral too flighty. The grey culottes worked, the ones she’d worn to her cousin Becca’s bridal shower. Yes, with the white linen top. She took her time selecting accessories, making sure that they weren’t too costumey. Not that she was competing, but she wanted Paul to see that he wasn’t the only husband who adorned his wife with jewels. So, she slid on the solitaire engagement ring that she usually saved for dinner parties, and the gold chain with the diamond drop, and her diamond stud earrings. As she misted herself with cologne—a years-old gift that she’d never even opened until now, made by Dior and aptly named “Poison”—she realized she hadn’t paid this much attention to getting ready for a man since she’d been single. She thought of Bobby Baxter and the scent he shared with Paul.

  The doorbell rang at precisely noon. Nora dabbed her lips with gloss and fluffed her hair. She went out to the limo just as the clouds broke and it started to rain.

  Saturday Night, October 23, 1993

  A

  nnie came over around eight, after Marla and Philip were gone. Nora led her upstairs to her room so they could change into their pajamas before making popcorn and watching a video downstairs. She’d set cassettes out on the coffee table: The Shining, Friday the 13th, Dirty Dancing, Ghostbusters. Old favorites. But Annie wasn’t interested in movies. She had ideas of her own, had brought with her a bagful of makeup and hair gel, a razor and shaving cream, her sisters’ old bras. Cigarettes. A bunch of tiny, airplane-sized bottles of Johnny Walker. And a list of cute boys and their phone numbers.

  Nora didn’t know what to do. She’d gone along, doing that kind of stuff when she was at Annie’s house, but she hadn’t anticipated that Annie would bring it to hers. The cigarettes freaked her the most. Even in his bedroom with the door closed, Tommy would smell the smoke and definitely tell her parents. What if he saw them wearing makeup and drinking liquor? The sleepover was out of control, and it had barely even started. Annie was already taking off her top and choosing a bra.

  “Wait,” Nora put her hands up, not sure what she could say to slow things down, but the words came just in time. “I’m

  starving.”

  She delayed with pizza. But pizza, even with pepperoni and extra cheese, was good only for about an hour. And even during that hour, while they waited for the delivery guy, Annie stood at the bathroom mirror, smearing eye shadow on her lids, applying mascara, dabbing gloss onto her lips.

  Nora stared at Tommy’s door, trying not to let on that she was nervous. Hoping that Tommy wouldn’t come out and bother them. Or see what they were doing.

  Nora chewed her pizza slowly, stalling. How could she get Annie to change her plans? Annie was relentless, pouring liquor into their sodas and telling Nora to drink. Nora drank.

  And by the time they were done eating, Nora was less anxious. Why had she been so uptight? After all, what was the big deal if they put on makeup and shaved their legs? Nothing. There was no big deal. About anything.

  Upstairs, Annie poured more Johnny Walker into their cups of soda. They drank as they took off their shorts and tops and sat on the side of the tub, foaming and shaving their legs. They put on bras and stuffed them with tissue. They redid Annie’s make up and then fixed Nora’s, heavy with eyeliner and dark purple shadow. They restyled each other’s hair. They drank more soda spiked with Johnny. They laughed because everything was funny.

  Annie wanted to smoke, but Nora pointed a wobbly finger at the hallway. “Tommy. He’d tell.” Her tongue was thick. Words felt fat.

  “What a dick.” Annie frowned. “My sisters and I don’t tell on each other. Ever. We made a pact.” Her last words blended together, sounding like “Wemmedda pack.” She held an unlit cigarette, then gave one to Nora. They didn’t light them, but stood in their underwear and stuffed bras, striking poses with cigarettes, trying to be sexy and saucy, embracing each other and feigning kisses, breaking into fits of giggles. They imitated movie stars. They took turns pretending to be a boy and practiced kissing. Nora felt giddy, elated. She had Annie all to herself for the whole night. Annie, the coolest girl in her school. Her best friend.

  Nora was having such a good time that she even stopped worrying about Tommy. She distantly heard his door open and the ensuing creaks, clicks, and huffs. His footsteps going upstairs to the attic.

  After a while, and more spiked soda, Annie and Nora began calling boys. They sometimes said who was calling, sometimes made the boys guess. They teased coyly, flirted openly. And when Annie dialed Bobby Baxter, Nora wasn’t too shy to talk to him. In fact, Nora gushed words that she wouldn’t remember later, and that, mortified and hungover, she would question Annie about relentlessly.

  At some point, they made it back to Nora’s room and fell asleep on top of her double bed, still in their stuffed bras and

  panties.

  In the morning, Nora woke to Annie’s high-pitched screech.

  “What is this!” She held a photograph to Nora’s face.

  Nora moaned, unaccustomed to hangovers. She strained to focus. Annie’s hand was shaking, but Nora saw the photo, the image of Annie in her underwear and heavy eye makeup, posing suggestively with a cigarette in her hands.

  “Look!” She held out another picture. This one was of them both, their legs coated with shaving cream, seated topless on the side of the tub, butt to butt. She held up more. “Did your brother take these? Did you plan this with him, Nora?”

  “Are you crazy?” Nora’s heart slammed into her throat, tried to fly out her mouth. “No. Of course not. I had no idea—” Nora sat up too fast. Her skull hammered so hard that she had to close her eyes, let the pain settle.

  Annie was ranting. “Really. You had no idea?”

  “No.” She reached for the pictures Annie was holding. “Let me see them. Where’d you get them?”

  Annie threw them at her. “They were on your dresser.”

  Nora leafed through them, adrenaline and fury surging with each image. Tommy had spied on them, taken pictures of the two of them not just shaving their legs topless, but primping in stuffed bras, posing in underwear with cigarettes, kissing each other with feigned passion.

  “What’s he planning to do with these? Because if he shows them to anyone—Oh shit, he won’t, will he?” Annie was talking too loudly. If she woke up Marla or Philip, they’d want to know what was going on.

  “Shh! Annie. He won’t.”

  No, Tommy wouldn’t show them to anyone. Would he? God, Nora wanted to kill him. He was such a loser, such a twisted, disgusting, freaking loser. She finally asked a friend to sleep over, and he had to ruin it, peeping on them, sneaking snapshots of their personal, private business. Now Annie would never come over again. She might not even be her friend anymore, and who could blame her?

  “I promise, he won’t show them to a soul.” Nora tried to sound confident. “Tommy’s annoying and strange, but not mean. He probably thinks they’re funny.”

  “Funny?” Annie’s makeup was smudged and runny; her eyes seemed to be melting.

  “Like I said, he’s strange.”

  Annie fumed. She sat beside Nora and went through the pile of pictures again. Her hair was knotted and tangled, and her bra hung loose around her chest, the tissues having fallen out. She slammed the pictures down and stood, pulled on a
T-shirt and shorts.

  “I swear, I’ll kill him.” Annie headed for the door.

  “Wait. I’ll go with you.”

  Together, they burst into Tommy’s room. He was sitting at his desk, holding tweezers, working on mounting a beetle. He looked up when they came in, eyebrows raised as if annoyed at the intrusion.

  “Tommy, what the hell—” Nora began.

  But Annie interrupted. “Tommy, that’s your name, right? So, you’re a pervert? A peeping Tom? Spying on your sister’s friends for jollies?”

  Tommy’s grin was smarmy, self-satisfied. “Jollies? Like anyone would get excited by your pitiful little bodies?”

  “You don’t know me, Tommy, but here’s the thing. I’m not someone you want to mess with.” Annie’s hands were relaxed at her side. She stepped further into Tommy’s room, her voice low, buzzing like a wasp about to sting. “So, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to give me those photos and the negatives. Every copy of them. If you don’t—if anyone outside this room ever sees even a single one of them—I swear you’ll be sorry you were ever born.”

  They waited a few long moments, but Tommy was unfazed. He chuckled, leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “What are you going to do, have your thug buddy Craig beat me up? Because guess what? He already does.” He scratched his mop of black hair. “Actually, whatever your name is, I don’t think I’m giving you those negatives. No. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m keeping those pictures. And you and my dear little sister are going to do whatever I say, or else they show up in your parents’ mailbox, on doorsteps, and all over your school.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “For starters,” Tommy continued, “you’re going to tell Craig that you think I’m the hottest guy in town and you want him to kiss my ass.”

  “You’re insane!” Annie lunged at Tommy, pounding his head. “Give me those negatives, you piece of shit, bastard freak—”

  “Annie, don’t!” Nora tried to stop her, didn’t want things to get out of control. She pulled futilely at Annie’s waist, knowing that the attack was fruitless and counterproductive. Anger only fueled Tommy and incited his outrageousness; indifference was the only way to handle him. Besides, compared to Craig, Annie’s flailing fists were nothing.