Into Thin Air by Caroline Leavitt Page B

first, striding in with Janet behind him, pinning Lee in his sights. He whispered something to the cop and then, before he got to Lee, crouched down toward Jim. “Another one I don’t know,” Frank said. “Where does she get these guys?” Jim lifted the cloth from his face, staring woozily at Frank’s stabbing finger. “You go near my daughter again and I’ll kill you. You understand that word, kill, or are you too drunk and stupid?” Jim’s mouth, fishlike, gaped open. Frank clenched Lee’s bare arm and yanked her upward. She tottered on new suede heels, trying to brace herself on Frank’s shoulder, but he pulled back, striking her face. Her neck snapped forward; she stumbled. Jim’s hands flashed, grabbing for an edge of Lee’s shirt, clamping on stale station air. “Honey,” Frank said, beckoning Janet.
    On the drive home Lee sat in between Frank and Janet. “You reek of cheap wine,” Frank said angrily, but after that no one said a single word. The radio remained silent. Frank parked the car in the drive and walked ahead of them, and as soon as he opened the front door, he disappeared into the study, closing the door firmly. Janet put two hands on Lee’s shoulders. “You see the state your father’s in?” she demanded. “You’re going to give him a heart attack.”
    That night Lee sat up in a thin white nightgown. Something scuttled in her stomach, and she doubled herself over on the bed, head in her hands. She heard the lights clicking shut, the sounds any house made settling, but as much as she strained, she couldn’t shape a single murmur coming from Frank and Janet’s room, and it somehow scared her.
    Morning, Hung over. Her head warring with her stomach, she gingerly dressed for school. In the mirror her face looked as if the features had softened and blurred. Sickened, she smelled eggs frying.
    Janet, a blue apron around a red dress, a single pink sponge curler in her bangs, nodded at Lee. Frank dunked his toast into his coffee and nodded at his daughter. “Were you sick last night?” he said. “I thought I heard you.”
    â€œNo, I was okay,” she said.
    â€œLots of vitamin C today,” he said.
    They were halfway through breakfast. Lee took cautious bites of egg. She suctioned orange juice through a straw.
    â€œYou think it’s fine, what you did?” Frank said.
    Lee put down her glass.
    â€œYou think I like to be called into a station by the police? I thought something had happened to you. I could hardly drive straight for thinking it.” He dragged the edge of his plate toward him. “We can’t live like this,” Frank said. “We absolutely can’t.”
    Janet scraped butter from her toast.
    â€œYou remember your aunt Bessie? In Ohio?” Frank said. “I think you met her once, when you were really little.”
    â€œDidn’t she have a cat or something?” Lee said.
    Frank nodded. “Well, we want you to go live with her for a while.”
    â€œExcuse me?” Lee said.
    â€œShe doesn’t work, so she could keep an eye on you. The school system there’s fairly strict, so there’d be no room for any of your monkey business.”
    â€œYou can’t send me away,” Lee said. She looked desperately at Frank, who was calmly buttering his toast.
    â€œWhat would you do, a daughter running wild? Suspended. Half-drunk. Picked up by the cops with a boy you don’t even know?” he said.
    â€œI wouldn’t send her away,” said Lee.
    Janet held up one hand, interrupting, “I know what you think. You think I don’t love you, that all of this is my doing, but you’re wrong.”
    â€œWho cares whether you love me or not?” Lee cried.
    Frank touched her arm. “You show us you can be responsible in Ohio, then you can come home.”
    Lee, furious, flung down her napkin.
    â€œYou