When David Died: A True Story

by John Locke

  Oh.

  Right.

  I look at Jess.

  Could I go to jail for that?

  Probably.

  But if nothing else, we made a memory. And Jess was right: her mom slept through the whole thing. Completely missed her daughter’s first orgasm. Because of what Michael did to me we kept the lovemaking mostly about welcoming Jessie to the grownup’s table: she kissed me from the waist up and I kissed her from the waist down and we both got what we needed. Having said that, I’m finding myself looking forward to the next time, if there is one.

  So she’s sleeping and Alison’s sleeping, and I’m feeling around under the covers to make sure I’m wearing my T-shirt and panties and…I am.

  That being the case, whose Hello Kitty panties are these?

  Two guesses.

  I lift my head to make sure Alison’s still sleeping.

  She is.

  I need to wake Jessie up, get her hand off my boob, get her panties back on her body before Alison wakes up and discovers how close her daughter and I have grown since her husband’s death.

  9.

  7:20 a.m.

  AFTER LEAVING JESS in her room, I head to mine and try to enter quietly, but apparently Michael set the latch because the door only opens a couple of inches before making a huge racket.

  “Michael?”

  “What?”

  “Can you let me in, please?”

  “I thought you wanted to be elsewhere.”

  I sigh. Is there anything worse than a GMP (Grown Man Pouting)? And while we’re on the subject, as I’m standing here in the hall, how about we address his behavior toward me: I tried to console him last night and he assaulted me. I wanted to take away his pain even as he wanted to inflict pain on me, the woman he supposedly loves and wants to spend the rest of his life with. Then he found me with his sister and became furious that I “abandoned” him (when he needed me most).

  Abandoned him?

  Who wouldn’t abandon a rapist after being raped? Only a fool would go back to the scene of the crime, angry as Michael was, after what he’d done. Let’s not forget, this is the same guy who claims to worry about my safety and lectures me about how men can’t be trusted, and how I’m oblivious to their glances and lewd remarks. He’s the one who goes through that whole verbal checklist about what I should and shouldn’t do when he’s not around. But you know what he left off the list?

  Being in a hotel room with him!

  So now I’m supposed to what, apologize for abandoning him when he needed me most? For not coming back to the room in the wee hours of the morning to be raped a second time?

  As it turns out, that’s not what he expects. What he wants is answers. Specifically: “Were you fucking my father?”

  I roll my eyes in the hallway and again when he finally allows me to enter the room.

  “Were you?”

  “So that’s why you raped me last night?”

  “What? Raped you? Believe me, if I ever decide to rape you, you’ll know it.”

  I wonder why people keep telling me if they decide to do something I’ll know it. If the detective ever grills me, I’ll know it. If my fiancée ever rapes me, I’ll know it. I do fucking know it!

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Michael. I’ve been raped before, and believe me, you don’t have to take a back seat to anyone.”

  “You think that’s funny?”

  “Funny’s the last word I’d use.”

  “Fuck you, Nicki! And for your information, my mom told me your whole foster family sob story months ago.”

  I look at him. “You’ve got a cruel streak, Michael. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  “So do you. By the way, I notice you haven’t bothered to answer my question. Were you fucking my father?”

  “No. And you know it.”

  “Then why do two police detectives think you were?”

  “Because they’re morons. They found a stupid picture on the floor and thought, ‘The dad must be fucking his son’s fiancée!’ Well, how nice of them to say. On the other hand, they’re seasoned detectives who’ve seen every type of horror there is, so I doubt anything’s far-fetched to them. There’s a photo on the floor? Could it be the husband and wife were fighting and one of them picked up the thing that was closest—a stupid selfie photo—and threw it across the room in anger? No. Too easy. The photo on the floor means the dad and his future daughter-in-law were having an affair. And why not? They don’t know me, they didn’t know your dad, so in their eyes it’s a possibility. But you know me, Michael, and you knew your dad your whole life, so I have to ask, is this what you really think about him? Or is it what you think about me?”

  “Nice speech.”

  “Fuck you, Michael.”

  “I would, but you’d accuse me of rape.”

  I show him the angriest look I can muster while saying nothing. Because after last night I really don’t know what he’s capable of doing.

  I lock myself in the bathroom with a clean change of clothes and take another Percocet, then shower, add some color to my face, and open the door to an empty room.

  Fine with me.

  I text Jessie, who texts back that her mom and Michael are on their way to meet David’s insurance agent. That strikes me as odd, so I call her phone. When she answers I ask, “Kind of soon to be filing for the death benefit, don’t you think?”

  “Actually, the insurance guy called Mom to say how sorry he was.”

  “How would he know so quickly?”

  “He’s a neighbor.”

  “Still, it seems kind of cold to meet him this soon.”

  “Think about it, Nicki.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s Mr. Blass. Daddy’s insurance agent. Our neighbor.”

  “Omigod! That’s the guy? Whoa! My head’s about to explode!”

  “Exactly. So Mom wanted to explain how Daddy died.”

  “Blass didn’t know?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Where are they meeting?”

  “At the house. Michael didn’t tell you?”

  “We’re not talking so much these days. He left while I was in the shower.”

  “I bet that wasn’t as fun as our shower.”

  “You’d win that bet. How come you didn’t go with them?”

  “Mom said to stay put. They didn’t want me there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Mom’s gonna say Daddy did this auto-sex thing all the time.”

  “Why?”

  “Michael said the insurance pays twice as much for an accident than it does for suicide.”

  “Double indemnity?”

  “I guess. Can I come to your room?”

  “That’s fraud, Jess. About the insurance, I mean.”

  “That’s what Mom said. But Michael said there’s no proof he didn’t do it all the time. It just makes sense he did, especially because of the noose. Plus, I’m sure Mr. Blass will do all he can to help Mom get the money.”

  “No doubt. But what’s the deal about the noose?”

  “The detectives said it was a slip knot instead of a hangman’s knot, and that’s how the auto-sex guys do it. But I can’t imagine Daddy knew anything about tying the kind of knots he’d need to hang himself. You think he bought it somewhere?”

  I laugh. “You mean like a suicide store?”

  She shakes her head. “Forget I said that. I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

  “Not to me. You’re brilliant, far as I’m concerned. So this whole insurance scam was Michael’s idea?”

  “Yup. But he didn’t have to twist Mom’s arm. She’s in it 100%.”

  “Did they ask you to lie?”

  “Nope. I’m just a child, remember? I’m not supposed to know anything.”

  “You’re no child.”

  “Not after last night,” she giggles. “Can I come over?”

  I pause. “How about we meet downstairs for breakfast? I’m starving. Aren’t you?”
>
  “I guess. Are you blowing me off?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Are you sure? Because I had a really great time last night.”

  “Me too.”

  “Then why can’t we…”

  “Order room service?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’m twenty-three.”

  “What?”

  “I’m twenty-three years old.”

  “No you’re not. You’re twenty-one, same as Michael.”

  “I lied about my age.”

  “No shit? Why?”

  “I don’t know. The night I met him he asked me, and it just came out. Then, once we started dating, I just…never corrected it.”

  “He’s never seen your driver’s license?”

  “If he did, he never checked the date.”

  “What made you tell me just now?”

  “I really like you. I thought you should know.”

  “Twenty-three?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s really sweet, Grandma,” she says, then laughs hysterically.

  When she’s done I ask, “So it’s not a problem? The age difference?”

  “No. And don’t worry: I’ll keep your secret.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We’ve all got secrets, Nicki.”

  “Tell me one of yours.”

  She says, “Here’s one I’ve been saving. Ready?”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I’m adopted.”

  10.

  8:15 a.m.

  “WHAT DO YOU mean you’re adopted? Who told you that?”

  “Michael. And then I confronted Mom and Daddy and they confirmed it.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Years ago, when I was ten. I was being a brat and Michael got pissed and said I wasn’t his real sister.”

  “What a bastard! Has he always been like that?”

  “Who cares? You’re still gonna leave him, right?”

  “Absolutely. And soon.”

  “Good. Can I come over now?”

  “Yes. And hurry!”

  Of course I knew Jess was adopted. It didn’t require much due diligence to discover that tidbit. But I had no idea she knew, and wonder why she never mentioned it in any of the heart-to-hearts we’ve shared. As I wait for her to tap on my door I rush through the room, tidying up, picking up stray clothes, pulling the sheets tight to remove the wrinkles, fluffing the pillows. I find my heart racing at the notion Jess finds me desirable, and though I’ve never been with a woman before (Oh God, should I say girl?) —I always wanted to try. But I never dreamed I’d enjoy it as much as I did last night.

  Moments later, we’re in the bed naked. “I wish you weren’t so sore,” she says.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Returning the favor.”

  “In that case, I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Never better! Not to mention I’ve taken two pain pills since…it happened.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “At this point it would hurt more if you didn’t.”

  She digs in, and we’re both right: it hurts, but it’s worth it. Afterward, I order room service and we get dressed while waiting for our food to arrive. As we eat, I ask, “How was your mom this morning?”

  “Loopy. She got up, brushed her teeth, put her skirt on backwards and didn’t even know. Good thing I was there to tell her.”

  “Did she happen to mention the detectives accused me of having an affair with your dad?”

  She laughs. “Wait, are you being serious?”

  I nod.

  “Why on earth would they think that?”

  “You know that selfie I took with him the day after Christmas?”

  Her face falls. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Nicki.”

  “For what?”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out about that. I wanted to get it fixed.”

  “What happened?”

  “When I walked in and saw Daddy’s body I went crazy. I ran for the door and knocked the photo off the table and it broke.”

  “The detectives said they found it on the opposite side of the room, and that it had been thrown so hard it made a dent in the wall.”

  “Baseboard.”

  “What?”

  “When Mom saw the body and realized he was dead she screamed at him, called him a bastard, and for a minute I thought she was gonna punch him in the ribs. But she changed her mind and kicked the picture frame instead. It didn’t have anything to do with your selfie. She was just mad at Daddy, and it was there.” She pauses. “What does that have to do with them thinking you had an affair with Daddy?”

  “They saw the broken picture of me and him and wondered if maybe he broke it out of anger. And if so, then maybe we had an affair, and I threatened to tell your mom, and that’s why he killed himself.”

  “They said all that?”

  “Everything except the part about telling your mom. I added that, but I think it’s what they were implying.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s crazy.”

  “I said the exact same thing.”

  Fifteen seconds pass with no response from Jess, so I say, “I didn’t have an affair with your dad. You know that, right?”

  “You swear?”

  “On my life.”

  She studies my face. Then says, “I believe you. I mean, it’s not like you even live here. When would you have the time?”

  “There are better reasons than that! Aside from the fact he was nearly twice my age, I would never do that.”

  “Of course not.”

  We’re quiet till she says, “And just so you know, I never suspected you!”

  “Of what?”

  “I mean, toward the end I thought he might be having an affair because Mom accused him of it. I just never knew who the woman was. Do you?”

  “How the fuck would I know?”

  She laughs. “Nicki?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is it too soon to tell you I love you?”

  “Not if it’s true.”

  “It’s true.”

  “I love you, too, Jess.”

  And just like that, we’re officially a couple.

  Well, not officially.

  But within seconds we’re officially naked again.

  11.

  10:30 a.m.

  THE DOOR SUDDENLY opens!

  I lift my head and gasp, fearing the worst. But thank God it’s the maid, not Michael and Alison, who would certainly be surprised to find us in bed, in this particular position, naked. The maid—bless her heart—went straight to the bathroom, pretending not to see us, which Jess, being young, thinks is hilarious.

  “We’ve got to be more careful!” I scold. “What if it had been your brother?”

  “My brother Michael would handle it a lot better than your fiancée Michael.”

  “Not funny, Jess. Seriously. It could have been your mom.”

  “So?”

  “Are you prepared for them to know what we’ve done?”

  She looks at me. “Aren’t you?”

  “No. Not yet, I mean.”

  “Why not?”

  “Think about it.”

  “The timing? Sooner or later they’ll have to face the fact we’re in love.”

  “Let’s make it later.”

  “Why? Because you’re already having second thoughts?”

  I sigh. “A little while ago, in the moment, you said you loved me and I said I loved you too. I don’t regret saying that, because I’ve always had feelings for you as a friend. This part is obviously new to me, and I’m really enjoying it. I’m eager to explore where it could go, and have no reason to believe it wouldn’t be perfect, but I guess what I’m saying—”

  “You’re not really in love with me.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all! Let me try again: emotions are already running high with Michael and me. If he found out
about us it would put him over the top. Why are you shaking your head?”

  “Because you’re making it sound like your biggest fear is Michael’s state of mind, and that’s simply not true. You’re afraid they’re gonna find out we’ve been having sex and they’re gonna do the math and realize you’re an adult and I’m a minor and…what’s wrong?”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “What? Of course not! How can you even think that?

  Looking into her face I see nothing but innocence. But now I find myself wondering how well I really know her. Despite the fact she wanted me first, the power in our relationship has shifted dramatically: she literally has the power to destroy me. So I say, “Did you mean it earlier when you said you love me?”

  “You know I did, Nicki. And the reason you know is because after thinking about it you can look back and see I’ve loved you for months. From the day we met I opened up to you and told you things about me that no one else knows. The real question is where are you in this relationship?”

  “I already told you. I love you too.”

  “Yes. You did say that.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “It’s certainly what I wanted to hear. But now that I think about it, your pronouncement came awfully quick.”

  “I wouldn’t mislead you, Jess.”

  After a moment of silence, she says: “Prove it.”

  “Prove I love you? How?”

  “Tell Mom.”

  “When?”

  “Today.”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay.”

  She does a double-take. “You will?”

  “Yes. If you’ll promise to say we’ve only kissed, and that we’ve decided to wait till you’re sixteen before exploring anything sexual. Can you do that?”

  She feigns shock. “You want me to lie for you?”