Megan's Way

by Melissa Foster

Olivia laughed, “Yeah, right. You? You are like Miss

  Perfect. You never fuck up.”

  Megan flinched at the word. “Yes I do…fuck up,” she said, and they both laughed through their tears. “I fuck up all the time, Olivia! I just hide it well!”

  “Oh, Mom!” Olivia threw her arms around Megan’s neck. They remained there, safe in each other’s arms, until their sobbing stopped and their hearts calmed. “What am I going to do? Do I have to tell the police?”

  “Yes. Otherwise that maniac can hurt someone else.”

  “But, Mom, he isn’t the one I met. I met a younger guy.

  Someone…like…my age. No! He must have been sixteen because he drove. He drove me to this guy and then took off.”

  “The green truck!” Megan looked out the window, remembering the vehicle speeding away through the field, the bright color of it, almost fluorescent.

  “Yes! He drove a green truck!” Olivia said.

  “We have to report it, Livi. Besides, I might have killed that guy. What I did to him was so…” Megan felt sick remembering the awful sensation of her thumb digging under the man’s eye socket and rifling through the remains.

  “Brave. It was so brave, Mom. You saved my life.” “Well, someone had to do it!” Megan swallowed her impulse to cry, trying to remain strong for Olivia.

  Just before Olivia fell asleep, she said to Megan, “If my father was around, he would be so ashamed of me. I’m glad I don’t know who he is. It hurts less this way.”

  Megan tried to console her while wrestling her own private demons. How had she let this happen? Why hadn’t she forbade Olivia from going out earlier that evening? How can I leave her? Thankfully, the Valium that the physician had given Olivia kicked in, and she faded off to sleep with her worries written all over her young face.

  Megan couldn’t leave her bedside. The guilt she felt swirled through her like a whirlwind, dusting up all of her confusion and pain.

  Jack and Peter had come and gone, staying much longer than Megan had the energy for, though she was thankful for the comfort from them. They had both offered to go look for the man that Megan fought and the green truck, but the police said they were already doing that, and Megan didn’t want her friends to be bothered anymore than they already had been. Their guilt for not having been available when Megan had been in a crisis was evident in their eyes, their actions. What they didn’t realize, however, was that the time was yet to come when she would truly need them like she never had before.

  While Holly waited downstairs, Megan reflected on the scene at the police station. It had been heart-wrenching to watch Olivia describe how depressed she had been, and how that was the first time she had “chatted” with anyone online besides her two best friends. She said she had heard about myroom.com and had wanted to check it out. Normally, she had said, she would never go against her mother’s rules, but things had been so weird lately, and she was so angry and sad that she didn’t know what she was doing. She said she had felt driven, recklessly she admitted, but as if it were the right thing to do—to do something that she knew was wrong.

  Tears streaked Megan’s cheeks. She left Olivia’s bedroom so as not to wake her and paced the hallway. She pulled her sweater tight around her body and crossed her arms, only to drop them again and worry her hands. She shook her head, trying to make peace with the confusion that rumbled inside it.

  The police station had felt safe, yet sterile. Linoleum gray floors met equally dull walls. The faint ticking of keyboards panged beyond the glass of the office where they had sat, shocked and trembling, as the police officers had peppered Olivia with questions. They had asked about the photos, which, Olivia said, she had her friends take of her so she could post them online. It had been relatively easy with her digital camera. She didn’t believe that anything bad would happen, and she had gotten so caught up in the attention and flattery from those guys, hotrox42 and the surferdude97, that even the thought that it might be wrong had gone out of her head.

  The officers nodded as if they had seen many young girls go through the exact same scenario. Megan wasn’t certain if it was compassion or annoyance she read in their eyes. That upset Megan even more. This wasn’t any girl. This was Olivia—her daughter. She let it pass with a heavy heart, and they had continued to ask pointed questions. They wanted details about their online chats. Olivia promised that she didn’t give out any personal data, but the police were going to come by later and check it out for themselves.

  The friend that Olivia had pick her up and take her to the library, where she was to meet hotrox42, knew nothing of the clandestine meeting. She thought Olivia was meeting another girlfriend there. The police said it wasn’t abnormal for teens to keep details of this type of tryst to themselves, especially given the fact that this was the first time that Olivia had strayed. Olivia strayed. The mere thought of her daughter doing something so dangerous, so rebellious, made Megan’s body shiver.

  Apparently hotrox42 was the frontrunner for the older guy, surferdude97, and the police had been trying to track them down for the last few weeks. They’d had a few sketchy leads, but Olivia and Megan provided them with a description of the green truck, which the officers indicated should be fairly easy to trace given the color.

  They seemed excited that Megan had been able to physically harm the older man and were going to contact the local hospitals, shelters, and walk-in clinics in case he went for medical assistance. They concurred that such an injury could kill the man, if she had reached his brain, and that he certainly couldn’t go on walking around without getting medical attention for such a wound.

  They had called a physician into the station, since Olivia had not been raped, and took DNA samples from her and Megan’s fingernails and hands. Hair and other fibers were going to be removed from their clothing, and they were given sweatpants and t-shirts to wear home. The sketch artist had been able to draw a pretty true-to-life image of the older man. The police were fairly certain that they could nail the predators.

  Megan had sustained bruised ribs and Olivia had a few bumps and bruises and a sore back, but thankfully there were

  No further physical injuries. Emotional injuries, however, were not as neatly observable for either Olivia or Megan.

  Megan had been petrified that they would have to go to the hospital for blood tests and her secret would be revealed, but she was spared that scene. Megan’s tears continued to fall; not from the encounter they had had with the awful man, but for the shame that she knew Olivia had felt in front of the officers. She wept for her love of Olivia, a love that could never be tainted by bad decisions. She wept because all of that mess was her fault and her daughter was paying the price. She wept because she wasn’t sure, at this juncture, that she was following the right course with her own life.

  Relief over Olivia’s safe return swept through Megan. Her eyes grew heavy, she fingered the business card of a therapist that the physician had recommended for her and Olivia. She was lost in thought when Holly appeared in the hallway at the top of the stairs.

  “How’s our girl?” Holly asked in a sleepy voice, leaning her body against the wall.

  Megan glanced up and smiled. She put her finger to her lips and walked down the hall, motioning for Holly to follow her to her own bedroom.

  They sat on her bed. “My god, Hol, how did all this happen?” she asked.

  “Remember us, Megan? She’s a typical kid.” Holly lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “No, she’s not even a typical kid. She’s better than a typical kid. She never gives you a hard time. She was just…exploring, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, well…” Megan’s sarcasm trailed off as she thought about the crazy night.

  “Thank god you were there, Meg. I mean, whatever it is that you and she share, well, it’s really remarkable.” Holly propped herself up on her elbow and looked at Megan, who was splayed out beside her. Jealousy tiptoed through Holly, and guilt shadowed right behind it.

  “I know. I worr
y, you know. What if something happens to me? Who will take care of Olivia?” she asked.

  Hurt and disappointment floated into Holly’s eyes. “I thought we had all of that worked out. Remember? When she was five we drew up the documents, just in case something ever happened.” Holly played with a string on the comforter. “Or have you changed your mind?” she asked, tentatively.

  Megan sat up, “Oh no! no, I didn’t change my mind at all. gosh! I just meant, who would know when she was in trouble like I do, that’s all. goodness, there is no one else who I would rather have take care of Olivia than you and Jack. You know that.”

  Holly breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god! I was worried there for a minute.” Holly lay back on the bed again.

  “Meg?” Holly whispered.

  “Yeah?” Megan looked at her friend, curious.

  “I, um,” she looked up again, away from Megan, “I got some news today.”

  “Yeah? From who?” Megan asked lightly.

  “From the doctor,” Holly answered.

  Both women looked toward one and other, Holly uncertainly, and Megan with burning curiosity. Does she know? “Holly, what is it?” Megan asked in a serious voice. A rush of adrenaline pushed its way through Megan. Her eyes

  opened wide as she waited for Holly’s reply.

  Holly reached her hand out and took Megan’s hand off of her concave stomach and rested it in her own, between them. A tear escaped from her eye as she stared at the ceiling, the lump in her throat made it difficult for words to slip by.

  “What, Hol?” Megan whispered.

  “I can’t,” Holly said, the hot tears now streaked her face, landing in her hair.

  “Can’t what?” Megan turned toward Holly. “It’s okay, Holly. What is it?”

  “I…I can’t have children,” she said.

  Her words landed empty and hollow in Megan’s ears. “Oh Hol, I’m so sorry!” Megan sat up and took Holly into her arms. “I’m so sorry. I knew you were having tests, but I never thought…” Her sentence hung in the air as her tears fell onto Holly’s shoulder.

  “I know. We didn’t either. We waited, you knew that. After Alissa Mae…well, you know. For the longest time I wasn’t sure that I wanted a child. I wasn’t sure that I could be a good wife and a good mother. And when she…well… anyway…let’s just say that it was probably for the best.”

  Holly took a deep breath. “There just didn’t seem to be a rush to have children, you know?

  “We always thought that eventually we would, and we were really happy, so it didn’t feel like anything was really missing, but then,” Holly let go of Megan and sat on the end of the bed. “When you first got sick, it made me think about things.” She looked at her friend’s tired face and smiled, “I’m sorry. It just made me realize that time was so precious—and so we tried, I mean, we really tried.” She gave a little laugh, walked to the window, and ran her finger along the windowsill.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Megan asked, hurt to be excluded from this part of Holly’s life.

  “Because, Meg, you were sick. You were taking care of yourself and Olivia.”

  “No, you were taking care of me and Olivia, remember?” Megan said.

  “Well, you were otherwise pretty busy trying to get healthy. Anyway, I figured you didn’t need to be burdened with my foolishness.” Holly returned to the bed and sat next to Megan again.

  “Oh, Holly, your getting pregnant is certainly not foolishness. It’s one of the most important things in our lives—yours and mine. You should know that. Maybe I’ve been selfish. I’m so sorry.” Megan put her hand on Holly’s hand, and they sat in silence for a moment. “I really am sorry, Holly. I was busy being sick and taking for granted that you were always there. I should have seen your stress. I should have noticed something.”

  “It’s not your fault, Megan. My god, you weren’t selfish, you were sick. There’s a huge difference. You are always there for me and Jack. I think we both would have crumbled under the weight of Alissa Mae’s funeral, but you were there, handling everything. And when I had that awful flu,” she looked up, as if remembering a specific scene, “you made Jack dinners, and went grocery shopping for like two whole weeks for us. You even cleaned up my puke!” They both laughed a quiet, gentle laugh. “Besides, what good would it have done for you to ride that emotional roller coaster with me? it was awful; every few weeks wondering if that would be the month. It was so painful.”

  “I should have been there to go through it with you. You shouldn’t have had to do it alone.”

  “But I didn’t do it alone. I had Jack. He’s been wonderful. He rode the highs and lows with me. The man is a saint. Without him I would have strangled myself by now!”

  “Consider yourself lucky,” Megan said softly.

  The room became quiet. As Megan and Holly lay easily next to each other, years of friendship provided safety and a sense of comfort. Megan’s thoughts turned inward. A wave of sadness passed through her when she realized that she did not have her own saint. Then she realized that she’d given him up. Megan recalled the ferry ride so long ago. The memory of sitting on the ferry bench was so vivid, it was as if Megan were twenty-four years old again, carefree and contented, feeling the cool rush of the sea breeze against her warm body. She had sat on a bench facing the water, but her eyes were riveted to the pages of the book she was holding in front of her body, as if reading to a crowd. The sandy shore faded as the ferry left the dock, unnoticed by Megan. Her body rocked gently with the movement of the ferry, and her hair blew in the wind behind her. She kept her face tilted up, just slightly, to keep the wayward strands from slapping her face like a whip. The ferry ride was forty-five minutes from the Cape to the Vineyard, and Megan looked forward to the serenity of the familiar trip. She had been traveling to the Vineyard to paint murals for months.

  A voice had suddenly pulled her out of her world of mystery in her novel and reeled her mind into a frenzy of desire that she had been trying to forget. It was the last voice she had expected to hear. Lawrence.

  “Megan?” he’d said softly.

  Just one word—her name—a name she had heard thousands of times in her life. A word that suddenly made her heart feel as though it might pound right through her chest, and her breathing become rapid and hindered. She looked up into his eyes, and something ignited between them. All of the old uneasy feelings of desire, laden with unworthiness, rushed back to Megan as she recalled painting the mural at Lawrence’s home so many months ago—the way Lawrence’s presence had made her heart speed up, how just the sound of his voice had sent the pit of her stomach into a fury, and how neither one had been able to look the other in the eye. Lawrence had been able to manage a moment or two before looking away. Megan had simply been unable.

  Megan’s grassroots utilitarian persona had chafed against his extravagant wealth and class, causing her to repress the ache she’d felt for him. Though not once, to Megan’s dismay or her delight, she wasn’t sure which, had Lawrence insinuated that he was interested in anything other than her work nor had he ever looked down on her. The growing electricity between them, however, had been palpable.

  The time she’d spent on the project had been well worth the two months of heart-racing discomfort. Mr. Childs was very well connected amongst new england’s aristocracy. Word traveled fast around the small new england towns, and Megan soon found her every hour booked with painting murals for the wealthy residents of the Cape, Martha’s Vineyard, and nantucket.

  Lawrence sat down next to her on the bench, and kissed her cheek. She smiled, trying to hide her excitement, and secretly delighted at the casual tied cotton pants and sandals he wore, which were in stark contrast to his normal preppy appearance. He reached out and touched the back of her hand. His touch sent an unfamiliar warmth and yearning through Megan’s center.

  He smiled, sensing her heat, welcoming it, yet giving her the space she needed, not moving forward with his own desires. He inquired about her visit to t
he Vineyard, knowing full well why she was going. He was, after all, the reason Mr. Clark had hired Megan. His referrals had opened a door for her success, as he had wished for her since he had first set eyes on her.

  As the harbor came into view, Megan’s heart still raced, her forgotten book lay on her lap. She described the Martha’s Vineyard home which she had been hired to paint, the turrets that stood like steeples peaking high up in the air, and the wraparound porch overlooking the magnificent gardens. She had no way of knowing that Lawrence already knew these things, as he appeared to marvel at her descriptions with genuine interest. She felt a little silly, wrapped up in the mindless chatter which kept her from saying something she might regret. I just want to kiss you, she thought. She was relieved as the ferry pulled into port, and the patrons began their slow descent down the metal ramp.

  Megan had paced the hotel room, checking her watch every thirty seconds. She had just thirty minutes to settle her nerves before meeting Lawrence for drinks and dinner. Why did I agree to this? I won’t even be able to speak. She went to the mirror again. Her curly hair behaved perfectly. Thank goodness. She stood up straight and ran her hands down her sleek black dress. She sucked in her stomach, turned sideways, and then decided she couldn’t do that all evening. He’d have to accept her for her five-foot-two, one-hundredtwenty-pound frame that she tried hard to keep in relatively firm shape.

  The din of the quaint waterside restaurant brought a feeling of relief to Megan. If nothing else, she and Lawrence could talk about the seagulls that hovered, awaiting a piece of a roll to drop below them.

  She nervously pushed her food around on her plate, blushing as she became aware of Lawrence watching her, his eyes silently telling of his growing desire, heightening the sexual tension between them. She desperately tried to lessen her own lust, but was unable. She was drawn to him, like metal to magnet, and experienced a confusing moment of relief and excitement as they left the restaurant.