The television was on; a baseball game. It would be a late night because the Sox were playing on the West Coast. Our Boys were ahead seven to zero in the bottom of the eighth inning and I didn’t care. I didn’t want baseball and I didn’t need any more alcohol. I needed something here though. And the Something said:

   “Tess…I’m sorry, but I’m closing after the game is over. Last call was--”

   “I don’t want a beer, Zeke. Just…” I fell onto a stool. “I don’t know. Maybe a diet soda.”

   He brought it over, then looked at me closely. At my hair and makeup and nice clothes that were Just So. But he didn’t say a word. Even though he knew what I’d been out doing, looking like this. And while he looked at me I looked at my soda. Just looked at it. Because I couldn’t drink it. Couldn’t even pick it up. I was shaking too badly.

   “Tess, where’s your coat?”

   “My coat?”

   “Yes. Your coat.”

   “Oh…it’s…”

   I’d left it on the stool at the other bar. My coat and my pin. The three dollar pin that cost me a buck. The pin that meant, I love you, Jason, so don’t give up. I love you more than anything, so don’t let me go. Filled with colorful stones, except for the fake ruby. All the colors that meant…that meant…

   And I had let it go, just like he had let me go. It was back in that bar in Westville with Red Bartender. And what would he do with it? With a worn out old coat and a cheap old pin? From the worn out, cheap old lady who had fucked him in the booth of a bar…

   “It’s gone, Zeke. That’s where it is.”

   He studied my face again. And I knew that, this time, he wasn’t looking at the makeup.

   “Uh…Tess, can you hang on for just a sec? I’ll be right back.”

   “Okay.”

   He went into the kitchen. I looked at my soda. The bubbles were dancing and popping. I tried to listen to the pops but the game was too loud. I could feel it building up. Inside me. Could feel it wanting to come out. Tears and puke and bitter angry sad scared words, all moving up, up, up like bubbles of soda so I closed my eyes, focused. Focused hard on the sound of the soda, tried to make it louder than the baseball game, louder than the stupid announcers and the crowd on the television and the crowd behind me because what the fuck was the big deal? It’s just a game, a game, a stupid fucking goddamn game…

   Then another sound, my name, so I looked up. Zeke was back. Zeke and...

   “Donny?”

   “Hey Tess.”

   They weren’t smiling now. Had they smiled just for her? She had loved him, even if it was just a little, so maybe he had loved her too. I wanted to think that he had. That he’d loved her eyes, those beautiful eyes, and her laugh that was so full of mischief. Just like she was. So full of hurt and longing and fear...

   Oh Rachel. My poor, beautiful lost little girl...

   “Come with me, Tess.” It was Zeke. He said it loudly, like he’d said it already.

   “Where?”

   “The break room. The diner’s closed and Donny’s just cleaning up the kitchen. He’ll be okay to watch the bar for a bit.”

   “It doesn’t take a whole lotta brains to keep an eye on these guys.” Then he gave the boss a sheepish look. “No offense.”

   Zeke didn’t even blink. He just said, “Come on, Tess.”

   I followed because I couldn’t think of an excuse not to. And because I really did need to talk, needed to tell someone everything. Everything that was coming up. I couldn’t push it back anymore. There was too much shit. Too much shit buried in boxes in the closet, too many people just waiting to knock at my door. Too much time with my head buried in the sand hoping it would all go away. Pain and sadness and other useless fucking emotions. But I couldn’t feel them. They were under the hard ground. And that was covered with ice.

   Break room. Very uncomfortable chair. Was it the one Rachel had sat in? That day? When she had told us everything and nothing? If I’d known it was so uncomfortable I would’ve, would’ve, would’ve what? Pillow? Cushion? Like I have an extra one I carry around with me, just waiting for uncomfortable chairs? Why does it matter now anyway, and I left my soda back at the bar. Can’t drink it anyway but don’t forget to pay for it, Tess, don’t forget...

   And Zeke was waiting for me to talk. Even though his bar was busy and swarming with people who needed him to fill up their holes. He was here with me. But I just sat, silent and still, because I was waiting for the words, too. There were so many of them, so many things to say. To Confess. Because we all get around to it. Sooner or later. The only question was where to start.

   Because I could tell him all about Red Bartender, how I’d used him. And about Chris and all the others that had come before Jason, how I’d used all of them. I could even tell him that I’d used Jason, used Brian, too. Because even though I had loved them both--even though I really still did--I had used them. To fill up the holes. To make all the voices go away…

   It was the voices I needed to tell Zeke about. One voice in particular, the one that had always been louder than all the rest. And the story started like this:

   “When I was sixteen years old I fucked my mother’s boss.”

   He sat there. Just looking at me with no disgust. That would come later.

   “Sixteen?”

   I nodded.

   “How old was he?”

   “He must’ve been about…forty or so. Mike Poulin. He fucked me right in his office, right on his big, ugly desk.”

   He nodded. “Did your mom ever find out?”

   “Sure did. I got home late that night and ran up the stairs to my room. So she followed me up, because, of course, she had to yell at me for not calling to say I’d be late and letting her know I’d miss supper. For wasting her precious fucking time. And...she knew.”

   Did she smell it on me? Was it the flushed face? Guilty face? Scared face?

   Scared. It scared me. He scared me. And so did I.

   “She walked into my room, took one look at me and she didn’t know who, but she knew what.”

   You’re shaking. Stop it.

   “And she said, ‘You need to be careful, Theresa. Everyone’s going to think you’re a slut if you keep this up.’ As if she didn’t already think that. I mean, she put me on the pill a whole year before that. Not because I asked. Not because I needed it. Because she knew. It’s what she said. ‘I know you’re going to need these.’ She was always just expecting me to go out and fuck everything in sight.”

   I folded my hands. I had to make them stop shaking.

   “And it was all bullshit anyway. She didn’t care what anyone thought of me. She was only concerned about me putting her reputation in jeopardy, about people knowing that her daughter fucked around. And she just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

   I took a deep breath.

   “So I finally told her who it was. Just to shut her up.”

   “It didn’t, of course. But it did piss her off.”

   “Well, no kidding. Her boss took advantage of her daughter. Of course she was pissed.”

   “No. You don’t get it. She was pissed at me. It embarrassed her. I embarrassed her.”

   “Oh.” He looked at me carefully. “Is that why you did it?”

   “No.” Then I shrugged. “Maybe a little. But mostly I liked the attention. He didn’t take advantage of me, Zeke. Well, not really. Maybe a little. But only because he knew I’d let him.”

   “He was this big shot business man in town. He owned most of Brookfield. Gas station, used car place...you know the type. Had his fingers everywhere.” I laughed because I had meant it in the clean way, but the other way was true, too. “Pretty much the only thing he didn’t own was the café, and his brother owned that. He still does.”

   Still shaking. Still...

   “The office my mother worked in was sort of the hub of Mike’s mini-empire. She did his books and ran the office and answered phones and did the filing and a bunch of other shit. Anyway, I went in one day after school for…something. I don’t remember what. And he…was there.”

   Tall. Handsome. Politician’s smile. I was so young and so stupid that I thought the smile was for me. Just for me. And I thought that it meant…

   “So after that I started going in every day.”

   What had she thought? Years of nothing and then all of a sudden…every day. For weeks and weeks. Had she really thought I was there to see her? Had it made her happy, even a little, to think that I might actually have wanted to spend my free time with…her?

   “And Mike was always there. I knew he wanted me, because he’d always make a point to come out of his office, out of his lair, whenever I came in. And he’d stare at me…you know, stare at me that way when her back was turned. Or he’d ask her to go get a file and say nice things to me once she left the room.”

   And that’s when I started wearing a sweater every day. Even after it started getting warm.

   “He did it for weeks. At first it was, you know, kinda creepy.”

   Liar.

   “But after awhile I started to like it. He had lots of money and he was good looking and he had all these people who answered to him--and he wanted me. Sounds pretty stupid, I know, but I thought it was great. I mean, I was just a...girl.”

   I was. I was just a girl…

   “And I was doing that to him.”

   “And so one night I went into his office.”

   First Friday of summer. A week after Dave’s graduation. Because graduation meant college. It meant that--soon--he’d be gone. And I’d be all alone. For real.

   “And I knew Mike was there alone, because his car was the only one out front and...it happened.”

   Sixteen years old, still a virgin. Had he known that, too? Before it happened? Probably he did, but he didn’t say a word. He just shut the door. Closed the shades. Cleared off the desk. Not like in the movies, not a big whoosh and papers flying everywhere. Not like that. I helped him clear it off. Five stacks of files. Adding machine. Pencil box. Two small piles of papers. Telephone. We put it all on the floor.

   Then he kissed me. First time I’d ever been kissed. He was so gentle and it was so nice, and I didn’t want it to ever end. Then his hands were all over me and his mouth was everywhere. Everywhere and I loved it. I really did. Even when the clothes started to come off, I loved that, too. Loved him looking at my naked body. Loved what it did to him. Then he lay me down on the desk, on his big, ugly desk. I thought it would hurt, thought it was supposed to, and it did, but only a little. Not like I thought. And he was so slow, took his time, knew what he was doing. I even came and that surprised me, even though I’d done it myself plenty of times before that night, most of the time while I was thinking about him. And when it happened he knew it almost before I did, and I had never in my life felt so good and so happy and so loved as I did at that moment. Not because I was coming, although that was great, but because my ears were full of a man whispering to me, in between his grunts and moans

   my name. My name. And then he told me how beautiful I was

   and how sexy

   and it was just what I had always wanted to hear.

   Well, not really. But it was close enough.

   But when it was all over everything was different. When it was all done I didn’t have the power anymore. Because I had liked it. And he knew it. And I was scared. Just like a little kid.

   I cleared my throat. “Anyway, my mom really did freak out. Although…now that I think about it…I don’t think she was pissed.”

   I closed my eyes for a moment, and tried to remember her reaction. She didn’t yell. She didn’t actually say anything. She just stood there, looking at me, her mouth literally open…and she started to shake. Couldn’t stop…shaking…

   “I think it scared the shit outta her.”

   But whether she’d been pissed or scared didn’t really matter. Not back then, and especially not now. And I sat silently for a few seconds, looking at my feet. Because I couldn’t look at Zeke for the next part. But I had to say it.

   “Not that it stopped her from using it to get a huge raise from the guy.”

   “What?”

   I laughed. Laughed. Just like it was funny.

   “Oh yeah. She told him that she’d tell his wife, that she’d tell everyone, all about it if she didn’t start seeing more money in her paycheck. Lots more. Because she knew he wanted to go into politics and that he’d want to keep it quiet. So of course he gave her what she wanted. She told my dad that…she told him that she got a raise.”

   “It’s how she paid for my brother’s college tuition.”

   I smiled again, but my heart was squeezed so tightly that I could barely breathe. Because I didn’t want to think about how Dave would react if he ever found out that his sister’s cunt had paid for his education. And I looked at Zeke again, looked him right in the eye. Because there was something that he had to know:

   “Dave’s a wicked smart guy. He deserved to go to school and get a good education. He came back to Brookfield to practice law when he could’ve gone someplace where he’d make big money. He’s helped a lot of people. He really has.”

   He battles Injustice because of me. Because of two years too late. Because he’d spent all his life knowing how much she hated me. She didn’t love him, and he knew that, too; but she didn’t hate him. And he knew that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Just.

   “And once he was done with school, she put all that extra money away for herself. And now she’s living it up in France. With all that fucking money.”

   Fucking money. That’s just what it was.

   “Anyway, when I found out what she was doing to Mike, I went back to see him. Because I wanted to tell him that I was sorry and that I didn’t know she was...going to do that to him. I really wanted him to know that. It was very important to me for him to know that.”

   And I said it again:

   “That was very important to me.”

   I needed Zeke to understand that. Because Mike never had.

   “But when I got there he thought I was there for another reason. He thought I was there to fuck him again. Because...”

   “Because he’d already paid for it. So...I let him. I let him fuck me. Again.”

   I swallowed.

   “Why not? Might as well. I mean, he did pay.”

   “Oh, Jesus...”

   It surprised me that it was sadness I heard in his voice, and not disgust. Sadness. Because he loved me. Even though he shouldn’t. Even though I didn’t deserve it. Because what he didn’t know, and what I couldn’t tell him, was that I kept going back. Kept going. All summer long, every Friday night, because it’s not like I was doing anything else with my time. What else would I be doing on a Friday night? What else could I possibly do? And every Friday I’d walk through the door and help him clean off a desk. So he could fuck me. But it wasn’t his desk. Not after that first time, that first night. It was my mother’s desk because that’s what he wanted. Where he wanted to be. And what he’d say, as he was fucking me, what he’d talk about was her. Because he hated her, hated her, he fucking hated, hated, oh god, I fucking hate her, I hate that fucking bitch. He’d say it even louder, so loud, so fucking loud, as he was coming. Inside of me. On her desk. But every Friday I’d close my eyes, close them tight, and try to imagine the words away. Even though in my mind it was still him, still him, still Mike…in my mind he was saying something different. Something else, beautiful words

   just like the first time. And I’d come, every time. Just like the first time. Because in my mind those words meant that he loved me. Even though he didn’t. Even though I knew he didn’t. I imagined it anyway because it’s what I needed. To hear. Even though I agreed with the words he was really saying. The ones I heard when I couldn’t imagine them away.

   Because I hated her, too.

   And every Friday night, after he was done and after we were dressed, I’d look at her desk. Look at it. And I’d leave it so that she could see. It was empty and dirty and torn apart, just like I was. And every Monday morning she must have gone into work and looked at her desk, her empty, dirty desk. Looked at what was dried up on top of it. Because I always waited, always, for a minute or two, waited naked on her desk, and let drip…right…out. Onto her desk. And, of course, she had to clean it before she put all her stuff back. On top of her desk. The files and papers and her adding machine and her pencil box and her telephone. Every Monday morning. All summer long. But she never said a word. The only words I heard all summer, the only words at all, were Mike’s words. The words that were real and the words I imagined. They mingled together in his voice until sometimes I couldn’t remember if it was my mother he hated…or if it was me. Probably it was both.

   And then: the last time. The last Friday night. Hot awful August, right before summer ends. When you don’t know, really, what Autumn will bring. Because that last night I found out, for real, what he thought of me. Right after I came I opened my eyes. I usually kept them closed until he was done but I wanted to see, for some reason, his face. To see…something. To see if the Something was there. And, of course, it wasn’t. His eyes were open, too, because they’d been open the whole time. Probably he always kept them open, always watched me. To see it happening. And then he smiled, that horrible, cold smile and I saw something else. Something else. The look that was really. A word. And then he said it. He said the word. While he was coming. Inside of me. On my mother’s desk.

   “You like it. You dirty…fucking…whore. You. Love. It…”

   And I did. So he was right. I really was a--

   “No, Tess. You’re not.”

   I blinked. Because the words were real, not in my mind. And I blinked again. Because it was Zeke’s voice. And if Zeke had said those words--out loud--that meant that I had said it all out loud, too. And this is what his words meant:

   And so I told him the rest. The other words Mike had said. The ones that hurt worse than anything ever had.

   “As soon as he was done he said…I mean, he was only just finished. He was actually still…inside me. And he looked right into my eyes and he said, ‘Don’t bother to come back again, Tess. It’s just not worth it anymore. You’re just…not…worth it.’”

   And I laughed. Just like it was funny.

   “He still kept paying my mother, though. Every week. Because it was worth it to keep her quiet. His reputation was worth it. His career. And his family not knowing, that was worth it. Even if I wasn’t…”

   …worth it.

   I shrugged, because I was too tired to care. Or too frozen. Because it was all still there, packed tight. Underneath the hard ground. Underneath the ice. Maybe it always would be. And I didn’t know what to do about it. What else I could do.

   Zeke reached over and held my hand, and it felt like the sweetest thing anyone had ever done. “Tess. That doesn’t make you a whore. It makes you a scared, lonely kid. You were searching for something you needed and didn’t know how to get. It’s what we all do. It makes you normal, Tess. It makes you human. And all the rest...well, Jesus. That wasn’t you. Not you, Tess. That wasn’t your fault.”

   They were the words I’d hoped he’d say, the ones I’d always wanted someone to say. Even though I didn’t know it until he said them. Because I’d never felt normal before. I still didn’t. But I had to try hard to feel that way, to believe I felt that way. To pretend that I did. At least long enough, maybe, to help Brian. To help Rachel, because please, God, please don’t let her die…

   Oh. That’s right.

   And that’s when something shifted inside me; ruptured inside me. I knew what it was, what was going to happen, even though it was different than before. It was bigger. The only thing that wasn’t different was the fact that I had to do this part in private.

   And Zeke had to get back to the bar. Because he was never gone from it this long. He was always there.

   Always…

   “Zeke. What happened with you and Dean?”

   I’d caught him off guard. He sputtered a few incoherent syllables before he managed, “What makes you think something happened?”

   I squeezed his hand. “You can’t fool the cleaning lady. There’s only one toothbrush in the bathroom again.”

   He shrugged. “It just didn’t work out.”

   “Because you’re here all the time.”

   He shrugged again.

   “You gotta cut that shit out, Zeke, because…You know, don’t you? She wouldn’t want to see you living like this. She stood up to those assholes because of you. She fought for you. Not for the diner. Not for the bar. For you.”

   Must be nice.

   “And she didn’t do it so you could waste away in here with no one to talk to except a bunch of drunken assholes and an idiot cleaning lady. She didn’t want you to live your life all by yourself and die all alone. So go out and…fucking live. Like she’d want you to. Like she wants you to. If you can let Donny loose on the public on a Saturday night just so you can listen to my bullshit then you can sure as hell let him go out there a few nights during the week so you can have a goddamn life.”

   And still he said nothing. So I shot his words right back at him.

   “Get him back and love him, Zeke. Love him like it’s your last day.”

   He finally smiled. We stood up and I gave him a hug, one that was as tight as I could make it. And I hoped that he knew it meant thank you. That it meant I love you. Because I couldn’t say the words out loud.

   I followed him back into the bar. It was empty except for Donny, who was collecting empty bottles from the tables. I stood with my hand on the doorknob for a minute and waited for him to finish. Because there was something I needed to tell him. Something that I knew was important. I knew it even through the fog.

   “Donny…you’re still with Ashley, right?”

   “Yep.”

   “Well…you be good to her. Okay? Be good. She deserves it.”

   He smiled softly. “Yes. She does.”

   Then it was time for me to leave. Because I’d held it down long enough. And when I got into my car I turned on the heater, turned it on high. Because I was still shaking. Still.

   And I probably always would be.

Chapter 37

Chapter 39

Table of Contents

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