Tell on You

  “I know.” He put a tentative hand on Mel’s shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, he moved closer. Cupping her face in his hands, Jeremy leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “When do you see him next?”

  “Tomorrow.” She stood, rigid, as he released her face.

  “Want me to take you?”

  “I want you to make this all go away. Why did you have to do this to us?” Her voice broke.

  Jeremy pulled Melissa to him. Her head sank onto his shoulder and tears dampened his shirt. He knew the hour of reckoning had arrived. “Because I was a jerk and made a dumb mistake.”

  She drew back and glared at him through wet eyes. “That’s letting yourself off too easy.”

  “I know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it.” Her angry eyes burned. “Tell me. Tell me everything that happened between you and that—that girl.”

  “All right. I’ll tell you.” He took a breath. “She needed someone to talk to, to listen to her. I thought so, anyway.” Jeremy stumbled through a halting account of his growing infatuation with Nikki, their clandestine meetings. Humiliating to expose his foolishness, yet a relief to let it go. “The other day, when you showed up at the park, I’d brought her there to tell her it would be the last time,” he concluded.

  Her expression stony, Melissa demanded: “Did you have sex with her?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Never.”

  “But you kissed her, didn’t you? Don’t lie. I saw the pictures.”

  The damned pictures. He still had them. “Only that one time, Mel. She kissed me.” He lowered his eyes. “But, yeah, I let her.”

  Melissa eyed him with suspicion, her face hard. “And what else?”

  His hesitation gave him away.

  “Tell me!”

  “All right.” Another deep breath, bracing for the worst of it. “She showed up at my room at the Meadowview Inn the other night.”

  Melissa’s eyes went saucer-wide. “You brought her to a motel?”

  “I didn’t. I swear. She heard you tell me to go there at the park and found me there.” He described the debacle with Nikki at the Meadowview Inn.

  “You expect me to believe that she forced her way into your room, took a shower and walked out of the bathroom naked?” Melissa stared at him like something she’d scraped off her shoe.

  How could he blame her? The story sounded preposterous, even to him. “Call Rick. He’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “Which would only prove you’ve got a better friend than you deserve,” Melissa shot back.

  “You’re probably right about that,” Jeremy conceded. “Look, Mel, you have no good reason to believe me, I know. But I swear, I told you the truth about what happened. That’s all of it.” He shook his head. “The girl’s a budding psychopath. Remember how she taunted you in the park? God knows what she might be capable of.” That taunting voice outside his motel room: “Your wife, then.”

  Melissa fell silent. Picturing Nikki at her worst, Jeremy hoped. The real Nikki.

  Finally she looked up at him, bereft. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  The hurt ravaging her face tore at his heart. Like he’d killed Santa Claus.

  “I trusted you!” Melissa cried. “I thought you were different.”

  Jeremy stared in confusion. “Different? What do you mean?”

  She turned away.

  “Mel? Tell me.” Your turn.

  “Different than…” She struck the refrigerator with an open palm, making Jeremy wince. “Than my fucking father.”

  “What? Mel, what are you talking about?”

  She whirled and rushed out of the kitchen.

  Jeremy trailed her into the living room, watching in alarm as she paced back and forth. He’d never seen her so agitated. “Mel? Hon? Did he—do something to you?”

  “No!” The pacing stopped. Melissa covered her eyes. “Not to me.”

  SIXTY FOUR

  JEREMY LED MELISSA TO the living room. She’d deflated, her agitation drained. He guided her to the sofa. She sank into the cushions, like a rag doll, and he sat beside her, waiting.

  A long silence passed before she spoke, eyes staring straight ahead. “Remember the summer we met? That week on the Riviera?”

  Hardly what he’d expected. “Of course. How could I forget? What’s that got to do–?”

  “You remember Lori? My friend?”

  “The one getting married.”

  “Uh huh.” Melissa took a breath. “That week in Cannes, Lori told me a secret.” She shuddered. “About my father.”

  A sense of dread gripped him. “Mel?”

  “She said he tried to rape her.”

  “What? And you believed her?”

  Melissa nodded. She closed her eyes. “I knew exactly which night Lori meant. It was snowing, so he drove her home from our house in the Range Rover. I had a cold, and he told me to stay home.” A tear dribbled from the corner of her eye. “Lori never said anything, but, I knew something happened. She became—distant.” Melissa blotted away the tear. “I didn’t ask…” Her voice trailed off. “Because… I’d seen things. How he was with my friends. Touching them.”

  “Jeez.” Jeremy stared at her, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

  “Then a few years later Lori got engaged and we all went off to Cannes to celebrate, before her wedding. Like nothing ever happened. But one night, we’d had way too much wine.” She sniffed. “Every night, really. But especially that evening, when she told me what he did to her in the car. Tried to do, anyway.” Melissa shook her head. “Only Lori didn’t let him.” She looked at Jeremy. “She was sixteen at the time.”

  “Oh no.” Jeremy felt sickened.

  “That vacation turned into the worst week of my life.” Melissa paused. “And then I met you.”

  He stared at her, hardly breathing.

  “You were so sweet and gentle.” Her gaze softened. “Funny.” She smiled. “You made me feel safe.” Her eyes welled again. “You were the anti-Howard, I guess.” A tear ran down her face. “Until now.”

  Jeremy’s throat constricted. He felt like vomiting. “Mel, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know.” She wiped her eyes. “Too ashamed, I guess.”

  “But why should you be ashamed? It was him.”

  “It’s hard to explain. Too close for comfort, maybe.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Melissa leaned forward, her head dropping to her hands. “I felt guilty bringing my friends home, exposing them to him. Embarrassed at what he did.” Her words came out in a rush. “I even felt jealous, in a way. They were the ones getting his attention.” Disgust thickened her voice. “So fucking sick.”

  “And all these years, you kept this to yourself.” Jeremy’s brows furrowed. “Why tell me now?”

  Melissa stared at him, her expression turning cold. “To make it crystal clear how completely you betrayed me.”

  Jeremy recoiled, as if she’d punched him. What the hell was he supposed to say? “I wish you’d told me,” he mumbled.

  “Why?” Her voice edged with disdain. “What difference would it have made?”

  “What difference?” Jeremy’s old grievances smoldered anew. “Well, for one thing, I’d like to have known that Howard Milton had such big, filthy feet of clay. You know? That he wasn’t this great successful guy I kept failing to live up to.”

  “So you’re the victim here?” Melissa sneered. “Bastard! I should be all forgiving and understanding because you needed a little girl to make you feel important?” She gave a harsh laugh. “Well, fuck that. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.”

  Jeremy flushed. “No, I’m not the goddamned victim. All right?” But he felt like one. Like he was catching his father-in-law’s shit, along with his own. “Just, all those times you and your parents treated me like a two-bit loser, you might have at least let me know I mattered.” No stopping now. “I mean, compared to Howard
the Pervert, I’m practically a saint. But you kowtow to him and act like I’m dirt.”

  “I do not kowtow! And how many women do you think would let a husband back in the house after—after what you put me through?” Melissa’s eyes flashed with fury. “How dare you act like any of this is my fault?”

  He had no answer. Suddenly Jeremy felt exhausted, the ordeal of the past two days overtaking him. He needed sleep. “All right,” he relented. “I know I fucked up. Epically, okay? Mel, I told you everything. But I haven’t slept in two nights, I haven’t eaten. My face hurts. I can’t think straight and this whole discussion is more than I can handle right now.” He rubbed his forehead. Where did they keep the damned aspirin? “Look, you said I could spend the night here. Okay, fine. Invitation offered and accepted. I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll even go out for some groceries before I conk out, if you promise to let me back in.” He eyed her warily. “Okay? Deal?”

  Melissa glared. “Do what you want. I don’t care anymore.” She turned and walked out. A moment later the bedroom door slammed.

  SIXTY FIVE

  JEREMY RETURNED FROM THE grocery store with a barbecued chicken, potato salad and coleslaw, saltines for Melissa and aspirin for himself. To his relief, Melissa hadn’t changed the locks or fastened the security chain.

  He put the grocery bags on the table in the kitchenette, listening for any sounds of her stirring about. “Mel?”

  No answer.

  He checked the bedroom, found the door closed. “Melissa?” He rapped on the door, lightly. “I picked up some food. You hungry?” He waited. “I got saltines, in case you’re nauseous.”

  Still no response.

  Jeremy tried the doorknob. Locked. “Mel? You okay?” What if she’d taken something? Did they have any dangerous drugs in the apartment? “Melissa??” This time he pounded on the door.

  “Leave me alone.” Although the closed door muffled her voice, he heard the anger, still there. “I’m resting.”

  Pissed, but alive. She hadn’t softened during his absence.

  “Okay. Just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” He pressed his hand against the closed door, wanting to touch her. “There’s a rotisserie chicken. I’ll leave some, in case you get hungry later.”

  Silence.

  Jeremy gave up and returned to the kitchen, where he expended his last reserves of energy devouring half the chicken and coleslaw, all the potato salad and three aspirin tablets. By the time he cleaned up and put the leftovers in the fridge, his drowsiness had the upper hand.

  He found a blanket and pillow in the linen closet, fixed a makeshift bed on the sofa and stretched out, miserable and forlorn. He kept screwing up. She’d opened up to him, made herself vulnerable—and he’d lashed out at her. Idiot. Sleep spared him further recriminations.

  IN THE BEDROOM, REST eluded Melissa, despite her weariness. Outrage at Jeremy had given way to anger at herself. His barb about “kowtowing” to her father had hit the mark. And, for all their confessions, she hadn’t owned up to stopping her birth control. Melissa tossed and turned, the bed too big and empty. She threw off the covers. How had they accumulated all those lies, so much subterfuge, between them? How the hell would she manage without Jeremy or her parents? Some mother she’d make. Shivering, she pulled the blanket back over her.

  No use. No possibility of sleep.

  Melissa slipped out of bed, went to the bedroom door and opened it.

  Darkness. Silence, except the distant sound of late traffic outside and Jeremy’s faint snoring. He rarely snored. His injured nose.

  Barefoot, Melissa padded into the living room. She stood beside the couch, watched Jeremy slumbering. The dim ambient light softened his features. She saw the boy she’d fallen in love with that summer.

  “Jeremy?” She whispered, wanting yet not wanting to wake him.

  He stirred, rolled over. The snoring resumed.

  “You can come in to bed. If you want.” Still whispering.

  His snores grew louder.

  Melissa reached toward him, then stopped, withdrawing her hand. “Night,” she murmured, and tiptoed back to the bedroom.

  SIXTY SIX

  JEREMY AWOKE TO MELISSA shaking him.

  “Time is it?” he mumbled, eyes half open.

  “Jeremy!”

  The urgency in her voice snapped his eyelids open the rest of the way.

  “I’m spotting.” She gripped his arm. “Blood.”

  He sat up. “Oh, shit.”

  Melissa’s eyes were round with fright. “What should we do?”

  He lowered his feet to the floor. “How bad is the bleeding?”

  “Not too much. Just a little when I peed.”

  “Okay.” He had no idea how to handle this. “What time is your doctor’s appointment?”

  “At ten.”

  Jeremy yawned and scratched his head. His hair stood up in light brown tufts. “What time is it now?”

  “About eight thirty.”

  A fleeting fear of being late for work, then he remembered he no longer had a job. “Listen. This doesn’t sound like a 911 situation. Why don’t we have some coffee and get dressed. Then we’ll head over to your doctor’s office. I’ll take you there. Sound okay?” He brushed back an unruly lock of her dark hair and she didn’t resist.

  “I guess. There’s coffee in the pantry, if you want some, but I’m doing herbal tea.” She paused. “Thanks for getting the saltines.” She got up from the bed.

  “Are you nauseous?”

  “Not yet.” She headed out of the bedroom.

  Jeremy stood and stretched. Spotting. Weak tea. Morning sickness. How the hell did women do pregnancy, anyway? He used the bathroom, threw on a clean pair of jeans and a sweater, and joined Melissa in the kitchenette five minutes later.

  She sat at the small, round table, staring at the daily newspaper, her face ashen.

  “What?” he asked, alarmed. “Mel, what is it?”

  She pointed at the paper with a shaking hand. “Read it for yourself.”

  Warily, Jeremy leaned in to look. He spotted the article on the open page.

  High School Student Reveals Details of Sexual Assault by Her Teacher

  By Stuart Kinkaid, Staff Writer

  In an exclusive interview with the Star Ledger, 16-year-old Traci (not her real name) disclosed the events leading to the arrest yesterday of Forrest School teacher, Jeremy Barrett (33) for felonious assault. “He lured me to a hotel room and attacked me,” the Forrest junior alleged. “If I hadn’t managed to hit him in the face with a beer can, he would have raped me.” Several students and faculty who observed Barrett’s arrest confirmed that his face was severely bruised.

  Traci acknowledged that she and Barrett, who resides with his wife in the Hillcrest apartment complex, fell into a pattern of meeting secretly outside of school. “At first it was like he was helping me cope with stuff, but then it got more personal,” she stated. “He got my cellphone number and kept texting me, wanting to meet. Then, the other night, he called me from the Meadowview Inn and said his wife threw him out. He begged me to come over there. I felt sorry for him, so I went.”

  According to the manager of the Meadowview Inn, Barrett was alone when he registered for a room there on the night in question. However, he confirmed that he directed a young woman matching Traci’s description to Barrett’s room shortly after he checked in. “She claimed to be his daughter,” the manager said. “If I’d realized what was going on, I’d have called the cops.”

  Barrett was arraigned in Union County Criminal Court yesterday morning and is currently free on bail. He could not be reached for comment.

  “Oh shit.” Jeremy looked up from the newspaper to Melissa’s stricken face. “This is a pack of lies, Mel. I told you what happened. And what does he mean, I couldn’t be reached for comment?”

  “Well, have you charged your phone since you got home?” Melissa’s voice was cold.

  “Fuck,” Jeremy muttered.

&nb
sp; Her lip quivered. “Did you spend the night with her at that motel?”

  “Of course not! I spent the night there with Rick, remember?” A thought struck him. “How did the Star Ledger find her, anyway? Her identity was supposed to be confidential.”

  Melissa frowned. “Wait a minute.” She reached for the paper then gave Jeremy a knowing look. “Kinkaid. I’ve got a pretty good idea how he found her. My father has Stuart Kinkaid in his back pocket.”

  “But—how?”

  “The way he gets to everyone. The way he got you. By gathering dirt on them, with the help of Winkelman’s PIs.” She sank into her chair.

  Jeremy glowered. “Maybe it’s time he got a taste of his own medicine.”

  “Don’t,” she warned. “You’d be poking a rattlesnake.” Her expression turned to one of alarm. “My appointment! We’ve got to get moving.” She stood.

  “Right,” he said. “I’ll grab the car keys.” He went to the living room for them, glanced out the window and froze. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” Melissa asked, shrugging on a jacket.

  “Two news vans, in front of the building.”

  “Oh god.” She stared at him with frightened eyes. “I have to get to that appointment. What are we going to do?”

  Jeremy debated. “Do you feel able to drive yourself there? I could try luring them away from here. It’s me they want.”

  “But Winkelman said not to talk to the press.”

  “I know.” He approached and drew her into a brief embrace. They needed to be a team now, in spite of everything. He had a chance to take care of her. “I’ll come up with something. I won’t tell them anything, I promise.” He gave her a searching look. “You okay to drive?”

  She nodded.

  He picked up his jacket. “Watch out the window. When they follow me away from here, go for it.”

  “But where will you—?”

  “I’ll figure it out,” he said, with more bravado than he felt. “I’ll call you later.” He kissed her quickly and left.