Claiming Her Innocence

by Vivian Wood

  “How far has it gone?”

  “Um, well, ‘all the way’ I guess you could say.”

  “You’re sleeping together?”

  That’s an understatement. “Yeah,” he said.

  “And that Sophia girl? You at least broke it off with her, right?”

  “Not exactly…”

  “Shit, Ryan, you’ve made a mess.”

  “It gets worse.”

  “How does it get worse?”

  “Well, I know you never knew Poppy that well or anything. And I didn’t know this either until really recently. But—”

  Ryan didn’t know if he should tell Eli or not. But it wasn’t like Eli would go blabbing around town, and already there was a weight lifted off of Ryan’s shoulders just by sharing this much. “But what?” Eli prodded.

  “She was a virgin?” It was out now.

  “What do you mean she was a virgin? Wait, isn’t she your age?” The confusion in Eli’s voice was thick.

  “I mean the other night…”

  “Ryan, stop.” Stop. He wished he could.

  “I’m in deep,” Ryan admitted. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “And it’s not just the sex?” Eli asked.

  “No,” Ryan said, nearly offended.

  “Calm down, I was just asking. Because, you know, the whole taking someone’s virginity thing can be a trip for some guys—”

  “Eli, come on. You know me better than that.”

  “You’re right. Sorry. But what about your friendship? I mean, you two have been glued at the hip since you were kids.”

  “I know,” Ryan said. “I know. I’m—I’m not even sure there will be anything left after all of this. But I need to find out. I’m willing to risk it.” It was true, though the first time he’d realized it.

  “And Poppy?”

  “I need to find out if she’s willing to risk it, too. Once and for all. This has gone on long enough.”

  “You’re telling me,” Eli said. “I have to tell you, I always wondered. In high school and everything. You seemed almost too close, you know? I figured you were boning like mad and just keeping it a secret for whatever reason.”

  “Boning, Eli? Really? Is that how the POTUS talks?”

  “It is when he’s talking to his brother and wants to give the phone observers something to gossip about.”

  “I just, I don’t want to hurt anyone. You know? Especially her. And Sarah. They—neither of them deserve any of this.”

  “If you really want this,” Eli said, “if you’re sure, go for a grand gesture. Women love that sort of thing.”

  “You mean like a proposal?”

  “No, you idiot! Besides, isn’t she already engaged?”

  “Oh. Yeah,” Ryan said.

  “I mean—sorry, I don’t mean to make light of it. I just mean, not anything like that unless you’re really, really ready for it. I know you’ve been tight with her for years, but there’s no reason to jump straight from friends to marriage.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “If this all works out, if you end up together, enjoy it. You know? Date! Have fun. Make up for some of those lost years.”

  Lost years. Ryan had never thought of it like that. Had they really wasted so many years? In a way, maybe Eli was right. But on the other hand, no time spent with Poppy, whether it was just friendship or not, felt wasted.

  “Yeah. But a grand gesture like what?” He’d never felt the need to do something like that before. Then again, all of his former relationships had been easy and casual. The women had never acted like they expected anything more. Of course, maybe that was normal. What else would a girl expect if she dated someone who was constantly on tour?

  “Something real,” Eli said. “A genuine step forward, together. Just talk to her, Ryan. Make a declaration.”

  “A declaration, huh? There’s some polititalk for you.”

  “You know what I mean,” Eli said.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I said no dist—oh. Alright.” Eli’s voice was muffled as he barked at whoever was in the office. “Hey, Ryan, I have to go. But keep me posted, okay? And I don’t want to see any more smoochy pictures of you and that Sophia girl online, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Go govern the free world,” Ryan said.

  “Talk later.” Eli was gone.

  He kicked his feet onto the balcony railing and started mulling over ideas. Scenes from cheesy movies flew through his head. Skywriting from a plane, hot air balloon rides with champagne, a penthouse suite at the fanciest hotel in D.C. filled with flowers.

  That’s way over the top, he thought. Worse, it wasn’t Poppy. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t them.

  He sat up and knocked over the last of his coffee onto the papers. He knew what to do.

  28

  Poppy

  Poppy sucked in her breath and filled her lungs as she pulled up to her parents’ house. It was the last place she thought she’d go, but it was funny how when your world falls apart you seek out childhood comforts.

  “Of course you can come home!” her mother had said over the phone.

  “And Dad?” Poppy had asked.

  “He doesn’t get home from the ba—he won’t be back until night,” her mom said. She caught herself, but it was no secret her dad spent all day at the local dive.

  Poppy climbed the steps and tried to ignore the cobwebs. Even though she’d just been there recently, the house still seemed smaller and shabbier. The incredible shrinking house.

  She didn’t knock, just walked right in. That was a first in nearly fifteen years. It felt like home again—but only for an instant.

  In the living room, her mother was perched anxiously on the edge of the couch. She held what seemed to be a scarf in mid-crochet in her hands. The hook looked deadly. On the recliner was her dad.

  Her mom offered a tight-lipped smile, but her father just glared at her. On the television, canned sitcom laughter broke out.

  “What are you—what are you doing…”

  She couldn’t choke the words out.

  “Will called, honey,” her mom said.

  “Will? Why? When did he—”

  “To ask for your goddamned hand,” her father said gruffly.

  “The start of last week…” her mom trailed off.

  “Came down here. In person,” her dad said. Anger boiled right below the surface. “Called first. Like a gentleman should.”

  “He was very nice,” her mother said softly. She looked, yearned, at her daughter. Poppy could see a bruise, faded to violet, that hugged her mother’s eye. She’d done a shoddy job with the concealer.

  “Shut up,” her father snapped to her mother without looking at her. Poppy scanned her mother’s body, or what she could see of it, and saw what looked like strangulation marks that peeked out from the turtleneck.

  Her mom’s mouth slammed shut.

  “Your mother is right about that, though,” her dad said. “He was nice. Brought flowers and candy for her. Bourbon and cigars for me. From Cuba.”

  Poppy nodded and took in the rules of the game. She couldn’t remember if she’d shut the front door completely, or if it could easily be pushed open if she had to run. Why did you wear heels? What were you thinking?

  “That boy of yours promised us, promised us, you’d be taken care of. He’s got some crazy idea, for some strange reason, you deserve that. A kept woman.” Her dad shook his head, and his wiry gray eyebrows quivered with him. “Even offered your old man a job with a ‘real up-and-comer in the TV industry.’ That’s what he said. And you know what?”

  He looked at her like he expected an answer. “What?”

  “I believe him. I don’t know why, but he wants to take care of you. Of all of us.” So that was it. Will had cornered her in the way she least expected. He got the monster of her childhood in on it, and they came at her from both sides.

  “Dad,” she started. “I—”

  “You what?” he asked and
stood up. She was taller than him now. When did that happen? However, those childhood scars ran deep. He tore terror through her with just his tone.

  “I love that boy, you know that?” her father asked. The surprise on her mother’s face was almost comical. “Love him like my own flesh and blood.”

  Poppy searched for words, but none came. She’d never heard her dad say that word before. Not to her mother, and certainly not to her.

  “You do?” she asked her mom, incredulous. She’d always acted indifferent about Will.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that—”

  Poppy was surprised at how much she could read into those five short words. For once, her mom’s voice was smooth and strong. She didn’t like Will.

  “Don’t act like a bitch,” her father said sharply. “Always rurnin’ everyone’s good time. Jealous is all,” he said to Poppy. She hated how he said that. Rurnin’.

  “I just meant—”

  “One more word,” her father warned her mom. Is that what happened? Did Mom try to help me, tell Dad she didn’t like Will? And he let her have it, because of me?

  “Any time attention’s off her – well, you know how your mom is.” She couldn’t believe what he said.

  Poppy couldn’t find the right words. Her mom? Jealous? Petty? Her dad was really reaching.

  “And the job? It would be a real boon, I know it,” he continued.

  “Dad, I—”

  Stop stammering like a little girl. “And your mother’d be a whole lot happier. A lot safer. With me working.”

  There was the rabbit punch. “I… I…”

  “But only if y’all get married, of course,” her dad said. “You are getting married. Aren’t ya.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I don’t… you know, it’s all really fast?” She could hear her voice lilt up, like a child’s. “Both of our careers are just starting. You know? Maybe, I mean… I think it might be better if we took some time? Just—”

  “Don’t you bullshit me. You’re gonna marry that boy. If you got any goddamned sense in you.”

  “I don’t… ”

  “Where’s that ring?” her father asked suddenly. She glanced down at her bare hands. Thank God she’d slipped the box into her pocket. “Put it on. Show your mom,” he demanded.

  She slid the ring onto her hand. It felt cold and foreign. Poppy held out her hand limply.

  “Closer,” her father demanded. “Can’t nobody see it from here.”

  She took a step toward him.

  “Your mom, you goddamned idiot,” he said.

  Poppy changed directions, but kept watch on her father from the corner of her eye.

  “Now, ain’t that something,” her father said. Poppy and her mom both nodded.

  “I said ain’t that something,” he repeated.

  “Yes.” Their voices blended together. Fear made a beautiful medley.

  “You keep that on, like you’re supposed to.”

  “It’s loose,” Poppy said.

  “What?”

  “It needs to be resized.”

  “Bullshit. It’s fine. ‘Cause you don’t eat enough is all.” Her father slouched back down into his chair.

  “Do you want some supper?” her mom asked. Her voice was soft but her knuckles were white as they clenched the crochet hook.

  “Um—”

  “Well, would you look what time it is!” her father said as Shameless came on. “Bourbon time. It’s five o’clock here.”

  Everyone acted like he hadn’t been drinking the whole day. He’d always counted down the hours, the minutes, until five. Not drinking “the good stuff” until then somehow made it okay in his head. Although now that she was grown, Poppy'd figured out he pounded down beers all day because they were affordable.

  “Pour your old dad a glass?” he asked her.

  Is this a trap? He’d never asked her to pour for him before—probably because she never filled the cup to the brim.

  “No?” her father said. “Alright, then.” He shot up from his chair like a lightning bolt and it took her aback. She didn’t know he could still move like that.

  The door was only a few feet away, but she was frozen in place. Her muscles tightened up, held her hostage, but also braced for the hit.

  He moved straight toward her, a dare scrawled across his face. Don’t move. Don’t move. She didn’t know why, but it was a mantra being drilled into her head.

  He came close, uncomfortably close, but veered away at the last second toward the old buffet where he kept an assortment of glasses and Wild Turkey. It was a game of chicken, and she’d won. “You want one?” he asked her as he raised the glass that threatened to spill toward her.

  She shook her head. He’d never asked her before, and she certainly wasn’t going to drink with him now. Surely it would be some kind of macabre toast to her impending marriage.

  “C’mon. Have a drink with your dad,” he said.

  “You just got here.” He took a long swallow of the amber liquid. “Haven’t even sat down yet.”

  “I know, but… I can’t drink. If I got pulled over, even if I was under the limit, my medical license would be taken away.”

  “Fuckin’ pigs,” her father said. He shook his head sadly. “Get you any way they can. Won’t even let a doctor enjoy a drink after a long day. Fuck ‘em all.”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Well, I won’t keep you then. Go’n home. Walk her out,” he instructed her mom as he fell back into the chair.

  “Mom,” she whispered at the door. The bruises were easier to see in the natural light. “What—come with me.”

  Her words shocked them both.

  “Poppy! What are you talking about?”

  “Just come with me. Please.” She begged her with her eyes.

  Her mother glanced behind her into the darkness of the house. “Stop being silly,” she whispered finally.

  “Mom! Come on. I don’t—”

  “You need to go,” her mom said. “You’re busy. Drive safe.” She shut the door in Poppy’s face. She was stunned, and stared at the paint-chipped door for a full minute before she retreated to her car.

  What do you think you’re doing? You can’t even save yourself.

  The drive home was blurred with tears. She knew she’d do a better job behind the wheel if she had a bourbon in her. The thought made her laugh, even through the tears, and a stream of snot bubbled at her nose. It was all settled in her dad’s mind. Marry Will, or he’d make her mom’s life more of a living hell than he already did.

  He might even kill her.

  29

  Ryan

  She didn’t look surprised when she saw him slouched on her staircase.

  “You look exhausted,” he said, and immediately regretted it. Poppy’s makeup was smeared, with streaks of mascara on her face.

  “Ryan, I’m not in the mood for whatever you’re going to say,” she said as she pushed past him. He moved behind her as she unlocked the front door.

  “Hey, come on,” he said. “Let’s go for a ride. Okay? You look like you could use a distraction.”

  She paused, the key still in the deadbolt. “Ryan, seriously. No.”

  “Come on, Pops. Please. A drive, like we used to. Remember when I got my first car?”

  A flicker of a smile played at her lips. “The beast,” she said.

  “Yeah.” She'd been more excited than him when he’d hauled home that turquoise Trans Am. It had taken him some time before he'd made the connection it was because she saw it as a faster, easier escape from her father.

  “Just a short drive,” he promised.

  “Okay.” She sighed. “We have to talk anyway.”

  “Sure. We’ll talk—once we get where we’re going.”

  “Not very long?” she asked as she looked up at him.

  “Promise.”

  She rolled down the window and closed her eyes against the wind. Both of them knew where they were going, and no words were exchanged in t
he car. He pulled into the parking lot and they got out in perfect sync.

  “It’s beautiful here,” she said as they sat on their bench.

  He looked at her, soaked up all her loveliness. “Yes. It really is.” Poppy blushed and looked at her lap, but he knew it was now or never. “Poppy, I have to tell you how I really feel, even if you don't feel the same way. It’s worth the risk to me, the risk to our friendship. Because I’m falling—”

  Poppy just held up her left hand. The diamond glittered in the sun, seemingly innocuous. How could such a little thing hold so much power?

  He was shocked. “I thought you told him you were going to think about it. When did you start wearing it?” His heart plunged into his stomach. Sure, when Will had made that announcement at the cabin, everyone had started to celebrate, but Poppy had been quick to point out it was more a gesture than anything else when she’d emerged. A promise ring at best.

  “That doesn’t look like a promise ring,” Sarah had said. He’d thought Sarah would be the first to squeal and make a big deal out of it, but she’d seemed wary.

  “Well, I guess it’s not,” Poppy had said. She’d flushed and put the ring in her pocket. “We just… we’re taking it slow.”

  “That’s unorthodox,” Penny had said sharply. Ryan couldn’t figure out why she'd been so angry.

  “That’s awesome!” Mason had said. He'd been clueless about all of it. “Congrats, you guys.”

  “It’s nothing,” Will had said, backtracking. “Poppy’s right. It’s just a little token, I guess you could say.” Penny had glared at him. “Ryan? Got anything to add?” Will had put him on the spot. Cornered him. And it was clear he'd loved it.

  “If Poppy’s happy, I’m happy for her,” he’d said. Sarah had squeezed his hand and he'd squeezed back, thankful to have some kind of support. Poppy wouldn’t look at him.

  “So, I don’t know if we’re toasting to an engagement? Or what?” Mason had asked.

  “No,” Poppy had blurted out suddenly. Will had given her a look. “I mean, not like this. I don’t want to make the trip about this—”

  “We’ll have a proper engagement party soon,” Will had told them. “Let’s just relax this weekend.”