Mary felt the anger that had been building in her pull back in advance of a surge. She reeled back, then lunged forward, putting her hands on his chest and pushing him hard against his car. “What the fuck, Jake?”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his face concerned as he pulled Mary into him, as he contained her arms. He was strong, and Mary realized that he could keep her right there for as long as he wanted.
“You went to Hannah’s school? You drove her home?”
“I just wanted to get to know your sister,” he said, slackening his arms to find her eyes. “You always keep me away. You never let me in.”
Mary twisted away and pushed him hard again. But he didn’t even stumble. Then Mary brought her face close to his, her hair falling over her shoulders like a crow’s wings. “Don’t go near her,” she hissed. She drew back to stare at him for a moment longer, her eyes yellow brown, something other than human, then she marched past him toward the hotel.
He watched her silently. Then he followed after her. “Mary!” he said, his gate sideways as he tried to make her look at him. “Mary, come on!”
She pushed in through the brass revolving door, and he slipped in beside her. Curtis immediately tried to straighten as they burst into the lobby, his eyes moving from Mary to Jake.
Mary stopped and turned. “You need to leave, Jake,” she said, her voice quiet. She was aware of the empty lobby, of the soft, pleasant din of the bar beyond it.
“Just come talk to me.”
Mary felt Curtis step up beside her, felt him make himself as solid and formidable as he could. “Come on, man,” he said. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
Jake stared hard at Curtis until a burst of breath escaped and he shook his head, letting his gaze plummet. “Fine,” he said. Then he looked at Mary, his eyes expectant. “I’ll see you later?”
Mary’s body remained stiff.
“Come on,” said Curtis. He started to guide him toward the door, but Jake shrugged him off.
“I got it, Curtis,” he said.
Curtis stood next to Mary as they watched Jake make his way toward the parking lot, his hands in his pockets, his broad, muscled shoulders slumped. “I wish they’d spray that fucking golf course for douche bags instead of grubs,” Curtis said.
WHEN MARY GOT HOME FROM WORK that morning, she woke Hannah up. “Bunny,” she said, shaking her shoulder; Hannah rolled toward her, blinking. Her skin was phosphorescent white in the dim room. She looked around, orienting herself to the wakeful world.
“I don’t want you getting in the car with anyone you don’t know ever again.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Hannah, her voice still thick with sleep. Mary was home earlier than usual; she had raced there after her shift.
“You got in the car with a guy the other day.”
Hannah blinked, running back in her mind to retrieve the memory. Then she looked back at Mary. “Your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just some guy.”
“He said he was your boyfriend.”
“I know.”
Hannah sat up and blinked, staring down at the comforter. She finally looked back at Mary. “Why are guys like that with you?”
Mary didn’t have to ask what she meant. Her body felt tired, like her bones could no longer hold it up. “I don’t know,” she said.
“You don’t even care if they like you, but they do.”
Mary was silent.
Hannah squinted, as if looking at something very far away. “I remember one guy you liked back.”
“Who?”
“I was little. It was when we lived in that town with all the big houses.”
“Northton.” The name slithered out before Mary could catch it.
“Yeah!” said Hannah, pleased to hear the long-unspoken word. “Northton. There was that guy there.”
“Stefan.” In Mary’s mind, she pictured a heart bound with briars. She would draw it later. She would draw it over and over.
Hannah looked at Mary. “You liked him.”
Mary took a breath and ran her hands over the comforter. “I did like him,” she said, her voice rising as if the fact were of little import.
“That town was the last town we really lived in. Before this one.”
“It was.”
And Hannah and Mary looked at each other, some deep truth silently exchanged. Some hidden plea. Some quiet warning. “Do you promise we won’t have to leave here?” Hannah asked.
Mary nodded, her throat thick and swollen.
“Cross your heart and hope to die?” Hannah asked.
Mary nodded again.
Thirty-five
1990
Of all the things that happened during that first and last winter at Sea Cliff, Hannah getting her period was not the least among them.
Mary had been sleeping but felt the bed quake as Hannah jumped on top of it.
“Mary!” said Hannah, shaking her sister’s shoulder. Mary had just gotten home from work an hour before.
Mary groaned, her face in a pillow.
“I got my period.” Hannah’s voice was a rush of breath.
Mary turned her head toward Hannah. “You did?” she croaked, her lids still shut.
“Uh-huh,” replied Hannah. “It’s disgusting. It looks like hot chocolate.”
Mary chuckled softly and opened her eyes.
Hannah plopped down next to her and lay on her side, her hands between her knees. “I can’t believe I got it.”
“I told you you would,” replied Mary, angling her body so that it mirrored Hannah’s. “Did you find pads?”
“Uh-huh.” Hannah pulled the covers over herself. “The ones you use.”
As Mary stared at Hannah’s face, she thought as she had many times before how very much like Stefan she was. It was the way she seemed to be made of light, beams of it fusing to form something human. It was the way her blond curly hair went straight at the ends; it was the composure of her face when she was listening. It was the way she could forgive and forgive. Until she couldn’t. “You know you’re like all grown up now.”
Hannah smiled, settling into the idea, letting it carry her. “Maybe when I finish high school, we could go to college together,” she said. “You and me.”
Mary made herself smile. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe we’ll do that.”
Mary didn’t sleep well that day. It was bright. Too bright. She thrashed, her limbs tangling in the sheets, drowning in them. She’d put the pillow over her head until she got too hot, her hair sticking to her neck. Though she had neither spoken to him nor touched him since he picked up Hannah, Jake was still watching her at work, still waiting for her in the parking lot. He still followed her home in the morning. Please, baby, he’d say, as he followed her to the door. Please.
And on that sleepless day, Mary wanted so badly to feel him. Feel someone. She threw off her blankets and went to the bathroom. She took a shower, turning her face toward the water and letting it fill her mouth, then dropping her head and letting it hit the back of her scalp. She stood there, watching the water run off the ends of her hair. Then she got out, got dressed, and wrote Hannah a note.
Bunny, going for a drive, then going to work. See you in the morning.