by Ann Aguirre
Now I can only speculate. “People probably don’t realize that I’m a little shy.”
At least she was in elementary school. I remember clearly how she held my hand like it was a lifeline and wouldn’t let go at recess. Sometimes she cried when I got off the bus before her, and she always, always wanted to be where I was. Though, later, her physical beauty made Morgan outshine me, so others believed I was the moon to her sun; I think I was always a bit braver, more willing to take risks.
Emma goes on, “We all wondered why you liked Liv so much. Not that I’m speaking ill of the dead,” she scrambles to add. “I mean, she seemed nice…”
That’s what you say about someone who left a faint impression. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m still here, still leaving my mark on the world.
Of everyone in the world, why did Morgan like me so much?
Though I can only guess, I say, “Because Liv didn’t wait. She decided we should be best friends in grade school … because of a joke.” Then I tell Emma about Ed Keller’s obsession with comics, how he accidentally created the crime-fighting duo of Frost and Burn.
And for a moment, I sense Morgan nearby. It feels like she’s smiling, one hand on my shoulder, and that she’s totally okay with me passing this on, so I don’t ever forget her—that nobody does, though, to the rest of the world, it’s Liv who’s gone.
I won’t let them forget you. Us.
“Wow,” she says softly, her eyes damp with sympathy. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose your best friend.”
“It’s bad. There are no words.”
I don’t realize I’m about to cry until the tears spill over. Mortified, I dive for a napkin and mop up as best I can. Thankfully, Emma doesn’t say anything else, and we finish our food without additional waterworks. This has probably impacted her image of me and will shape the way she treats me going forward. Because I’m not an ice princess or a heartless socialite or whatever label they’ve slapped on me at school.
I’m just a girl with too many problems and too few friends. But if I’m brave, if I show a little faith, maybe I can change that.
“We should head out.”
I clear the table and we leave the food court just as my phone delivers the message from Oscar: Done. Emma reads over my shoulder but she doesn’t understand how scary or momentous this is. From today on, life will get much more difficult for Creepy Jack. But I couldn’t wait to see what he’d do with the pictures, assuming he kept them. I’m tired of wondering how much worse things can get.
It’s time to find out how this ends.
44
Just like that, Creepy Jack’s life explodes.
The local news is running amok, though his campaign team does their best to lock the scandal down. According to various special reports, the police are investigating because they take allegations of criminal sexual misconduct seriously, at least that’s what one of the big shots says on TV. Behind closed doors he may be colluding furiously with Creepy Jack to figure out how they can sweep this under the rug.
So far, apart from Oscar, me, and Creepy Jack himself, nobody seems to know who the mystery girl is. Reporters are asking “the victim” to come forward to clarify the story and set the record straight, but so far, I’m not making a move. This has accomplished what I needed and given me some breathing room.
In that time, I’ve passed both the freshman and sophomore Bio exams, allowing me to take the junior year test, which is a crazy amount of chemistry that I’ve never even been taught in a classroom. The day after, Arden Fox shows up in a Goku costume, which is far more interesting to Renton students than political outrage. I’m ridiculously relieved that so far, nobody has mentioned that the dark-haired girl looks like me when I was younger.
I’m basically waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And then it does.
Clay’s waiting by my car when I get out of school. By his posture, he seems totally relaxed, propped against the passenger side. Emma nudges me. “I thought you broke up.”
“I guess he wants to traipse down memory lane.”
With a worried look, she jogs to catch her brother, Jay. I was going to give her a ride, but it looks as if life has made other plans. My nerves feel like a just-drilled tooth, so raw that even the air hurts when I breathe. It’s hard to look at him; where Clay stands, everything gleams a little sharper—from the curve of the Beetle’s hood to the way his knee bends—like the world’s shifted to high-def. The sky is too blue overhead, and I smell cut grass, the exhaust from the cars pulling out of the parking lot.
Suddenly I’m aware that I haven’t been sleeping well and that I didn’t bother with makeup at all today. Before this week, I doubt the rest of the school could’ve imagined what that would look like but my hair’s up in a messy twist, and I’m wearing the jeans I bought at the mall with Emma the other day, along with a T-shirt that Morgan used to sleep in. Closer inspection tells me that Clay must be struggling, too. His hazel-gold eyes are rimmed in shadows and he hasn’t shaved since we split, I suspect, because he’s working on a beard, and his faded jeans have a new hole in the knee.
“Need a ride?” I ask, because there’s no way we’re having this convo at school.
“Yeah.”
I catch a few clusters of people watching us. Because I didn’t tell Emma to keep our breakup a secret, I heard gossip making the rounds the next day. The stories were crazy, too—varied as me cheating with Nathan to me having a college guy on the side. None of the rumors are wild enough to match the truth, however. After we both get in, I start the car and drive, aimless since I don’t know what he wants.
“The park near here is fine.”
So I cut over four streets and park beneath the spreading branches of a crepe myrtle. This green space is small, just one set of swings, monkey bars, and a slide, but it’s more than we had ten years ago, all part of the city gentrification program that Creepy Jack is taking credit for, though he should have larger business for the state of Georgia. From what I can see, he uses his power in all the wrong ways for all the wrong reasons.
Turning off the engine, I shift to look at Clay. “So…”
“You’re the girl in the photos,” he says.
I don’t deny it. Between the blurred picture and what I told him about the older guy who was stalking me, Clay put the pieces together. Not surprising, it’s not exactly a complicated puzzle. But from the way his mouth tightens, he was hoping I’d say no.
“What about it?” If my tone is cool, I can’t help it. Technically this is none of his business, though I’m not collected enough to say so. I don’t have that much experience breaking up with people. I mean, there was one guy I dumped before Nathan, and with Nathan, I didn’t leave so much as … die.
Talk about extreme exit strategies.
For a few seconds he struggles for the right words. “I feel like shit … like I abandoned you in the middle of a tornado.”
“It’s fine. There’s nothing you could do anyway.” That’s a huge lie because just knowing he’s there when I need him would help.
“That asshole needs to die. Those pictures were taken a while ago, weren’t they? Your hair’s a lot longer now.”
Which is one reason nobody’s made the connection yet. Nobody is devoted to charting my hair-growth trajectory, and with my face blurred out, courtesy of Oscar, maybe I won’t burn alongside Creepy Jack before I’m done. Of course we’re starting to see fundie apologists on TV talking about how it’s possible for a good man to make one mistake, and “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” Then they say that the jezebel probably seduced him, and there’s no proof Mr. Patterson had an affair with a young girl.
I’m the proof.
But I’m not ready to come forward. Already I can imagine the cameras flashing at me, the kind of questions I’d be asked. Not yet. Soon. Before people stop caring. I just need a little longer to investigate my mother’s death, and then I’ll make sure that asshole pays.
/> I’ll be brave. I’ll speak up.
“Just let this be the second secret you keep for me,” I say then. “Thanks for not telling Nathan, by the way.”
Clay leans his arm along the door frame, tilting his head slightly out the open window as if he needs the air. “You couldn’t pay me to talk to that jackass lately.”
“You two fighting?”
“No. He’s just … Nathan.” He hesitates. “I wasn’t going to tell you this…”
“What?” Anything that could divert me from my precarious situation, even momentarily, seems like a welcome distraction.
“He brought a girl home last night.” From his tone he expects this to destroy me.
And sure, there’s a twinge because before, I thought Nathan and I had a soul-deep connection. Fact is, he’s a little immature, a lot selfish, and I just never noticed. They say love is blind, but I’d say that infatuation is blind, and love is tolerant. When you really love someone, it’s not that you can’t see the flaws; you’re just willing to forgive them.
Belatedly I realize he’s expecting a reply. “I’m not surprised. Nathan is used to getting what he wants just like you’re used to giving things up. Oh, I was going to ask him to drop this off, but since you’re here…” I fish in my backpack for his hoodie.
Yes, I’ve been carrying it for, like, four days. First I hesitated to wash it, but I didn’t want to be a sad girl who’s still smelling her ex’s clothes a month later. Then I didn’t return it because that felt like final acceptance—superstitious, I know. Over is over, and random articles of clothing don’t change anything.
“You didn’t need to bother with that. I’ve had it forever.”
“All the more reason for you to have it back,” I say.
“Do you need to be this cool about everything?” he bursts out. “I know you have to be scared and hurt—”
“Yeah, I am, all those things. And yes, I have to be this way, or I can’t function. Why are you even here anyway?” The pain and frustration cracks my voice, and I really wish I was anywhere else.
“Because I’m worried about you.”
“Then stop. I accepted your decision, now respect mine. It’ll be easier if I don’t have to see you.”
His jaw clenches, showing the force he’s exerting to bite back whatever he wants to say. Finally he just takes his hoodie but he pauses with his hand on the door. “You know you can call me, right? Even if we’re not together, I’d never let anyone hurt you. One call and I’m there.”
My heart feels like it’ll crack in two, but I’m resolute; I have to be. “I already deleted your number.”
With that I turn away and I don’t mean to look at him again, though I can’t resist glancing in the rearview mirror. He’s sprawled in the grass just beyond the curb cradling his hoodie like it’s a warm memory. I washed it, I tell him silently. It doesn’t smell like me.
My tears fall slowly, nonstop, all the way home.
45
In the white room of doom, I finally have a response from Tina Goldsmith. She’s approved my friend request and responded to my preliminary message with apparent delight because she suggests we set up a time to video chat. Since I can’t fly to New York right now, this is a great solution. I’m not sure what she knows, but they were best friends, so I suspect if my mom was having Creepy Jack’s baby, Tina might’ve been looped in.
Luck finally seems to be with me, as she replies immediately. Do you have time tonight?
I quickly respond that I do, and we exchange our handles for the video-chat app. Now I just have to wait a couple of hours. To pass the time, I crack Isaiah’s notes from Chemistry; this is the last hurdle I have to leap to get my life back on track. Everything is laid out here before me, however, and this is definitely my wheelhouse. The time evaporates while I’m immersed in the new material, so I’m startled when my alarm pings, reminding me of the chat.
It takes a few minutes to get ready, as I don’t want this woman’s first glimpse of me in over ten years to alarm her. At eight, I’m in front of my laptop and I don’t think she’ll be able to tell I’ve been crying. She initiates the call; I answer. Surprisingly, she doesn’t look much older. She’s still in her work clothes, a pretty blue suit with a blue-and-yellow patterned blouse.
“Look at you, where’s the little girl I remember?”
I smile. “Time had its way with me.”
“I’m so glad to hear from you, Morgan. I thought you forgot about me.”
“To be honest, I did. Our housekeeper reminded me and showed me the card you sent when my mom died.”
Her smile fades. “I know words don’t help but I’m so sorry. You must miss her even more than I do.”
I nod. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“Oh?” Her curiosity is obviously piqued.
“I thought you might have some fun college stories that my dad doesn’t know.” Of course that implies that he ever talks about my mother, but that wall of silence is strangely impenetrable. It’s like he deals with his grief by pretending she never existed. For all anyone knows, I might have popped out of his forehead like he was a Greek god.
“Definitely.”
For the next half hour, Tina regales me with hilarious misadventures, most of which deal with guys or drinking or both. Some of it surprises me while the rest makes me laugh. She’s just finished an anecdote and I’m still chuckling.
“Wow, I had no idea you two were so wild.”
“Don’t spread it around,” she jokes.
The conversation hits a lull. If I don’t ask my questions now, they’ll have to wait for next time, and I don’t know how long I have before someone figures out that I’m the mystery photo girl. I may not have the chance to talk to Tina again if my dad finds out about Creepy Jack. He’ll probably send me to convent school.
It’s now or never.
“I hesitate to ask this…” But my strategic pause catches Tina’s interest.
As I hope, she encourages, “No, go ahead, please. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about your mom.”
Excellent.
“Okay, well, recently…” My tone is tentative. “I was looking through my mom’s things, the ones the housekeeper packed up right after she died, trying to remember more about her. I was only seven.”
“I know.” Sympathy laces both her tone and expression.
That’ll help.
“Anyway, I found some letters … and an ultrasound.” I press my lips together, though it doesn’t entirely block my nervous sigh. I’m not feigning; that’s real.
“Shit.” Tina’s muffled exclamation indicates that I’m on the right track.
Lowering my voice, I continue, “So I was wondering if you knew anything about that. I promise I won’t judge or think bad of her, no matter what you say. I just want to understand her.” Mrs. Rhodes already confirmed an affair with Creepy Jack. Hopefully Tina knows more.
“Oh, honey.” The older woman bites her lip, as if weighing the potential repercussions, then she says, “I think she’d want me to be honest with you.”
“Thank you, Aunt T.” That slips out because I remember that she loved it, as it sounded like “auntie” when I said it fast. For the briefest moment, I can feel the warmth of her arms around me. She always smelled of cinnamon and it was so fun bouncing on her knees. Aunt T would let me sit facing her so I could play with the beaded necklaces she often wore.
My head tingles. That was the strongest influx of Morgan that I’ve had since taking over her body. Though I’m discombobulated, I don’t mind. Feels like she’s still here—in a way.
“There’s not a lot to the story. She fell in love with your father in college, and they married right after graduation. Pretty soon, he got obsessed with the tech boom, determined to establish his company as one of the giants … and consequently, your mother spent more and more time alone.
“I’m not sure if you know, but she dated Jack Patterson before your dad. He was alw
ays sort of hovering around, paying court, and by the time you were five, they were … back together. I don’t think your father ever realized.”
“Probably not. He doesn’t spend a lot of time at home these days, either.”
“He’s still in love with Frost Tech?” Tina shakes her head. “That man will die alone in a pile of money and computer chips. Sorry, I shouldn’t talk that way about your father.”
“It’s okay. I’ve lived with him this long.” Then an awful thought occurs to me. “You’re sure I was five when they got together? There’s no way that…”
Please, no. He can’t be Morgan’s dad. Sickness roils in my stomach. If there’s even a fraction of a chance—
She looks horrified. “Definitely not. Jack wasn’t even in Georgia then, though I’ve always suspected he relocated to Renton because of your mother.”
Thank you. Relief hits me so hard that I feel lightheaded.
“What do you think of him?”
I have to be careful with these questions. It’s unlikely that local gossip has made it onto national news, so Tina probably hasn’t heard about the Patterson scandal.
Now I have to adjust my hypothesis slightly. I doubt Creepy Jack would kill his unborn baby, but maybe he didn’t know my mom was pregnant? He might’ve wanted her to leave my dad and when she refused because of me … well, this is only speculation. There must be a way I can get more information, now that I’ve come this far.
Was she murdered? Or was it an accident?
Once I know the truth, I can move on. I no longer think it’ll end with me floating out of this body, however. It’s just the last favor I can do for Morgan, giving her closure. Maybe then I won’t feel so guilty about taking over her life.
“He was always obsessive,” she says. “I admit, I didn’t like him because he was just so … omnipresent, one of those boyfriends who doesn’t like Girls’ Night, won’t let you out of his sight for five minutes. Once, I caught him tailing us when Lucy and I went barhopping, like he was afraid someone would steal her, like luggage at an airport, if he left her unattended.”