“Mr. Chairman, I propose the board go into a closed session to deal with this matter.”
The president and the board members look visibly relieved. “All in favor?” he asks. It is unanimous.
“We ask everyone other than faculty and administration to leave,” he says triumphantly.
As we get up to leave, Ellen turns to us. “I’m so sorry about this,” she says.
“It’s not your fault, Ellen,” I tell her and we leave.
— — —
When we get home, I make coffee. Kevin and I sit at the kitchen table. Jess turns on the TV. Jake sits with her and watches a sit-com.
Kevin scrolls through his phone looking at his email, but occasionally he blurts out comments like, “It’s ridiculous this is taking them so long,” or “They’re just trying to figure out how to cover their butts because we could still sue them for defamation of character.” I touch his hand each time and give him a knowing look while nodding in Jess’ direction. He goes back to his e-mail. More than once, I catch Jake watching us. I pretend to read my book.
“Who was that guy behind us?” I ask Kevin. “Was he from the paper? I didn’t know you’d contacted them.”
Kevin looks confused for a moment. “Oh, him? No idea.”
— — —
An hour later, my phone rings. It is Ellen. Jess clicks off the TV. Jake comes into the kitchen, takes off his ball cap.
“Excellent news! The board rescinded its earlier decision. Jessica can return to track for now,” Ellen says.
“That’s great news!”
“And could you tell Jess how sorry I am she had to go through this? I feel like everything with her is two steps forward, three steps back.”
I glance at Jess. “Yes, I’ll tell her. Thank you so much for your part in this.”
“Oh, I didn’t do much. I think bringing a lawyer into it was the key. Everyone’s afraid of money.”
I thank her again and hang up.
“So they reversed their decision?” Kevin asks.
“Bunch of idiots,” says Jake. He puts his ball cap back on.
“Of course they did. They know they’d be liable if they didn’t,” says Kevin.
“But at least they did,” I say. I am relieved and happy and so very grateful to this man who has once again rescued my daughter. I look to the living room, but Jess has already gone to her room.
“I’m gonna head home,” says Jake. He turns to Kevin and extends his hand. They shake and Jake says, “Thanks, man.”
“Happy to help,” says Kevin.
After Jake leaves and Jess goes to bed, I ask Kevin, “If Jess is found guilty, will they bar her from the team?”
“If that happens, track will probably be the last thing on her mind.”
“But you don’t think they’ll send her to jail?”
He hesitates a moment too long before saying, “I’m doing everything I know to do to keep that from happening.” He looks defeated as he says this, but I need to believe that he can save her. That he can save us. What if he can’t?
Kevin says, “I guess I better get going.”
I take his hand and walk with him to the door. Before he opens it, I stop him.
“What?” he asks.
I put my arms around him and press myself into his chest, breathing him in. “Thanks,” I murmur into his shirt. “For everything you’re doing for Jess, for me.”
He cradles my cheek in his hand. Then he kisses me softly, slowly on the lips, and says, “I just hope it’s enough.”
45
JESS
I still expect the phone to ring and it to be Sheila asking me to go get our nails done at Sylvie’s. We did an experiment in Chemistry to test how fast liquids evaporate. Nail polish remover was fastest, water second, and vinegar last. My friendship with Sheila, Jamie, and Kayla was more like nail polish remover than vinegar. Gone in moments, even though we’d been friends for years. I guess they were never real friends. I thought Sheila was different, though; I thought that was real.
I still don’t understand why she said what she did or sent that awful email, but I’ve tried to accept that they were things she needed to do to prove to everybody, or maybe just Jason (they’re still together) that she had nothing to do with Coach’s death. I know I should hate her (Dylan says he would), but I can’t. Even after everything.
Kevin says it will be her word against mine at the trial. Which means I’ll lose because Sheila never loses, plus I have no idea what really happened. Whenever I say that he gets angry. I know he wants to win the case and save the day and get the girl (my mom), but I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s going to happen.
It’s the first Sunday of February. The month of the trial. Twenty-four more days. It’s barely dawn as I take off on a run. I love the power of my legs propelling me, carrying me out of my head, away from my life. On the silent streets, the world seems kinder, softer somehow. It doesn’t seem possible that in three more weeks I could lose this easy freedom. A judge could put me in jail. Mom is freaked by the idea; Kevin says it won’t happen, but I’m coming to terms with it. I think it’s just this that I will miss—this time of day when the world is mine and no one else exists and the only thing I can hear is my breath blowing hard. Track is the only good thing in my life at this point. Maybe I won’t ever get to run a race this year, but damn if I won’t be ready.
I loop back for my last mile and pass the Mitchell’s house. It looks like it always does except that tennis balls polka-dot the lawn and there’s a bright red dog bowl near the porch. Mrs. Mitchell’s newspaper is in the street. I pick it up and lay it carefully on the sidewalk so it won’t get run over.
When I walk in the house after my run, Mom and Kevin are sitting at the table drinking coffee. Kevin this early in the morning is never a good thing.
“Hey,” I call and make for the fridge.
“Hey. Can you sit for a minute? Kevin has an idea.”
“What is it?” I ask without looking away from the open refrigerator. Kevin always has an idea.
Kevin clears his throat. “I thought maybe if we looked at the accident scene together, it might trigger something. I’d like to go over there with you this morning.”
My stomach drops and I close the fridge door. “I don’t think so.”
“I keep getting stuck on the chain of events. Sheila’s story doesn’t make sense to me.”
“A lot of time has passed,” Mom says. “Maybe you’ll remember something if you go back to where it happened.”
She knows I haven’t been there. I specifically avoid that road. I make Mom detour around it when we’re driving.
“I won’t.”
“Well, you won’t know unless you try.”
I close the fridge. “No.”
“You don’t even have to get out of the car if you don’t want to,” Kevin says.
“You need to do this,” Mom says.
Kevin stares at his papers and says nothing. I bolt for the bathroom.
— — —
Mom knocks on the bathroom door.
“Go away,” I tell her.
“No,” she says.
The way the two of them are so unified on this crazy idea pisses me off. It’s a stupid idea. If I was going to remember anything else, I would have by now. “Seeing it won’t make any difference.”
“Then it shouldn’t be any big deal for you to go over there with Kevin.”
“Are you coming?”
“He asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“No, he’s doing this because he cares about you,” I tell her.
“You need to stop being a child. This is your case!”
I open the door. I walk past her to where Kevin is still sitting at the table. I sit across from him.
“I will not remember anything by going over there. So, while I’m grateful for all your help, this I won’t do.”
“Jessica, you can do this,” Mom says, but she can’t possibly know that. If she really understood what she is asking, she would never ask me to do this.
“How would you know?” I study the yellow marks on the table in front of me. They’re from the permanent marker I used to draw smiley faces on an envelope when I was about five. It bled through, and Mom was furious. Faint yellow traces are still visible after all these years. Nothing really ever goes away.
“This is going nowhere,” says Mom, with a heavy sigh.
“No, it’s not,” says Kevin. He stands up. “Come with me, Jess.”
“I told you I’m not going.” I cross my arms.
“If you don’t get your ass out of that chair and get in my car, I’m done representing you.” Kevin walks towards the door.
“Kevin!” Mom exclaims.
“If you want to give up now, then fine. I will not keep trying to help someone who doesn’t want help.”
Mom looks at me, pleading. “I know you’re scared, but please….”
I stand up. “This is stupid! It won’t change anything!” I yell at her, but I grab a jacket off the coat rack and storm out the door.
“Trust me on this,” I hear Kevin say to Mom before he follows me to his car.
“Put on your seatbelt,” he commands. He drives slowly, following the same route I took the day I hit Coach Mitchell. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. We round the corner where Coach Mitchell was, and he pulls to the side of the road. I look at the small wooden cross planted on the bank overlooking the road. Dead flowers and note cards are tangled in the weeds beneath it.
Kevin puts the car in park and turns on the hazard lights.
“I’m here. I don’t remember anything,” I tell him. I know it’s no use no matter where I am.
Kevin flips through his notes but says nothing. Maybe he thinks if we sit here long enough it’ll come back to me. Finally, I say, “This doesn’t seem like a safe place to be sitting. What if someone hits us?”
“This is the spot where they found Coach Mitchell.”
“So?”
He keeps reading. “After making contact with him, your car hit the embankment and rolled on its side, fifty feet from the body.”
“Get out,” he says and opens his door.
I scramble out after him. “Are you crazy?” I yell as another car speeds around the curve and has to cross into the other lane to avoid us.
He has me stand in front of the car and hands me the end of a tape measure, then he walks out to some point on the tape and looks back at me. “Here is where the car was.”
“So?”
He looks at his notes again and then waves me to him. I let go of the tape and follow it as it recoils like a lethal, metal snake at high speed. When I reach him, he hands me the tape again and starts walking further away. Finally, he stops and looks back at me. He is maybe two car lengths away.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“It’s where your phone was found after the accident.”
“So?”
“It changes everything,” he says.
46
LIZ
Fickle February has turned cold again. It is Wednesday, three weeks before the trial and Jake is sitting at the kitchen table with Jess going over his sketch of the long-awaited screened-in porch. The trial is all I can think about, but Jake only talks of the screened-in porch.
“What kind of money are we talking about?” Jake asks when I tell him we need to get money together in case we have to appeal.
“I don’t know, ten thousand? We cannot keep expecting Kevin to do this for free.” Now that I have seen the money his other clients pay him, I am hyper-aware of the value of what Kevin has been doing for us. If Jess is found guilty, we have to appeal, but we can’t expect Kevin to continue to represent us for free. Lately, he has been working ridiculous hours trying to keep up with his other clients while Jess’ case is taking the bulk of his time. He is obsessing over every detail, even hired an accident recreation expert, and he has spent heaven knows how many hours trying to understand cell phone transmissions. He looks tired all the time. When I express my concern, he says he is fine. It will all be decided soon. But what if it isn’t decided in Jess’ favor? He cannot keep going like this.
“We don’t have that kind of money.”
“No, but we can borrow it.”
Jake frowns; snaps his pen down on his clipboard. “Let’s not worry about it until we have to.”
Typical Jake. When I sigh in exasperation, he winks at Jess, and she grins. Lately, I always seem to be on the outside of their inside jokes.
In the end, Jake refuses to co-sign on a loan and he refuses to talk about the civil suit until it happens. Never mind that a civil suit could mean bankruptcy for both Jake and me. It could mean Jess does not go to college. It could mean I spend the rest of my life paying Jess’ debt. I don’t know if Kevin has that kind of money. I know he is wealthy. But I would never ask for money from him. He is doing enough. And that is one more reason I can’t sleep with him. It feels too much like a bribe. Jake rarely says anything about Kevin’s money, except to admire his BMW. He says it costs more than our house did.
Tonight Jake hangs around even after Jess has gone to bed. He tells me about his plans for the porch but also his plans to rebrand his business. “Bring it into the twentieth century.”
“Twenty-first,” I mutter and he pinches his eyebrows.
Jess is excited about the new porch. I don’t hold my breath; Jake has made plans before, but I am hopeful. I do like that things have become very peaceful with Jake. I think that has been good for Jess. I wish we could have been these two people who talk civilly and worked together when Jess was little. I tell Jake that and he says, “Nah, we were too young. We didn’t know what we had.”
“Why now?” I ask him as he carefully rolls up his drawing for the porch. “You don’t even live here.”
“I want it to be nice for you and Jess. I said I would build it, and now I am.”
— — —
Jake starts work on the porch two days later. He is here almost every night. I am surprised by how much I enjoy having Jake around. Jess sits outside, and they talk as he works. He teaches her how to use power tools and in less than two weeks there is the skeleton of a porch out there. He is the dad I had hoped he would be when I imagined our life together. Ironic that it is happening now when in just another week they could rip our daughter from us.
It is good that he is here so much though since I have been staying late most nights at Kevin’s office. I feel guilty if I go home and he is still working. And he is always working. One of his cases must involve his ex-wife Jill because she calls a lot. When I ask about the case, Kevin looks surprised.
“What case?”
I shrug. “I just assumed that’s the only reason Jill would call so often.” I don’t mention that she is almost always rude to me. I don’t ask if he has explained to Jill that he is kind of dating me.
“Oh that,” Kevin says, but he looks at his cell phone and then says, “I’ve got to
make a call. You should go home. It’s been a long day.”
He disappears into his office. I have no right to be suspicious, yet I am. But why would I be jealous of Jill? I busy myself filing and wait in vain for Kevin to finish. Finally, I do leave. I need to get home for dinner. We have had a string of warm days and Jess wants to eat outside on the partially finished porch.
As challenging as I find the work at Kevin’s, it is not what I want. I miss the residents, and I miss Avery. She keeps me up to date on the happenings at Morningside, but I feel my future there slipping away. The trial date races towards us. I want to believe that soon we will all have our lives back.
— — —
“Well, then you have to believe him,” says Kate when I tell her Kevin denies keeping something from me. “He has been working late every night, and he’s just been so weird lately.”
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. A little distant, distracted maybe. And his ex-wife has been calling a lot.”
“What does that have to do with Jess’ case?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“Why are you worried about him talking to his ex-wife?”
“I don’t know. I just get the feeling Jill doesn’t like me. She’s rude to me on the phone and she always refers to Kevin as ‘my husband.’”
“But they’re divorced.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s weird isn’t it?”
“Maybe, but why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t. Forget about it. Anyway, what’s happening with Dad?”
“No real change in his physical symptoms, but he’s even more lost in space mentally. Let me worry about him though, you deal with Jess.”
“Thanks, but you’ll let me know if you need me.”
“Of course.”
I know I am obsessing, but I can’t help myself. “Do you think I should be worried about Kevin?”
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