older, wiser people bestow on the younger and less experienced. My cue. Iâm supposed to agree: weâve had our little talk, I feel better now, and by golly, sheâs right; itâs time for me to get on with the business of living.
âWhat are you saying, Aunt Lyla? That you canât remember or you wonât?â The bag of limes swings on my wrist.
âNeither one, dear. Iâm tired. Canât we call it a night?â A smile thatâs supposed to appear gentle.
âWhat about the baby, then? What about Charlotte? How come no one will talk about her either?â
If Iâm not supposed to bring up my mother, Iâm never, ever to mention Charlotte. A thin white arm, a cryâdid she even exist? Aunt Lyla looks furious.
âWe donât talk about Charlotte because itâs too painful, Theo. You should know that. It destroyed your mother.â
âIs that why she killed herself?â
âI keep telling you, I donât know why she killed herself. Charlotte was one reason, absolutely. She was unhappy, Theo, and there was her drinking too, and her pills. Canât you just leave it at that?â
âI canât leave it! Itâs whatâs been wrong with me all these yearsâI canât stay married, I canât settle down, I canât do anything.â¦â And, Iâm thinking, Iâm going to have a baby now besides. My child, my motherâs grandchild. I want to tell this to Aunt Lyla, scream it at her, but instead I just leave, just walk out the door.
I donât trust her and I donât know why. Telling her about Jackson was a tidbit. I run to the car grateful that Iâve kept the one thing I care most about a secret. The baby, my baby.
T EN
âJackson? Did I wake you?â
Iâm calling at nine oâclock in the morning and I know just how the winter sun filters in through the windows, backlighting the red butte across the narrow canyon.
âTheo?â Jackson says. The mattress, our mattress, squeaks as he sits up suddenly.
âI did wake you. Iâm sorry.â
âIâm on a Tuesday-Thursday schedule this semester, so the other days, I â¦â
âSleep in.â Code for hung over. All the little codes we used to have for everything. Sleeping in for hung over. Do you want to keep me company? heâd say, meaning did I want to get sloshed with him? Going to the store roughly translated to no beer in the house, if he said it; no food in the house, if I said it. Not all the codes related to his drinking. Iâm going to go read meant I wanted to be left alone for an hour or so, after which maybe weâd have sex; watching TV meant Jackson wanted to be alone to drink. No sex.
âWhy did you wait all this time to call me?â Jacksonâs voice is huskyâhow it sounds when heâs close to tearsâand I realize weâve been waiting in silence, each of us, for the other to speak.
âI guess I wasnât ready yet.â
âYou scared me, Theo. I didnât know where youâd gone, no one knew. You couldâve been injured, something couldâve happened to you. I had to call the police, I called your fatherââ
âSo I heard.â
Neither of us says anything for a while.
âWould you at least tell me why you left?â he asks.
As if he hasnât a clue. The injured party. The last to know.
âJackson,â I say as tactfully as possible, enunciating my wordsâor maybe itâs that Iâm filled with hurt and anger and distrust, incensed that he acts so in the dark. âYou knew I was leaving. You saw me get the suitcase out, you just chose not to say or do anything.â Iâd put in an item and wait. Pair of jeans. Wait. Blouse. Socks. Wait. Toothbrush, toothpaste. Wait some more. Jackson never got off the couch, never said a word.
âAll right, you left. I let you go. Huge mistake. Is that why itâs over?
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham