the worst part.”
Marcy put her feet up on the couch and shifted so she could look
more comfortably across the harbor. She drank some scotch, and swallowed and let her breath out audibly.
“If he’s not hurting you
physically,” Marcy said, “I suppose
it’s being degraded to a thing.”
“Tell me about that,” Jesse said.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“You’re not some kind of a pervert, are you?”
“I don’t think so,” Jesse said.
“Tell me about being a
thing.”
“Well, you know, it’s a woman being used against her will for a
purpose in which she has no part. Hell, the guy’s using her to jerk
off.”
“Or something,” Jesse said.
“Literally or figuratively,” Marcy said,
“you’re a
thing.”
“It’s not about you,” Jesse said.
“No,” Marcy said. “It is
entirely about the rapist and you don’t matter.”
Jesse nodded slowly. He walked from the window and sat on the couch beside Marcy. They were quiet. Marcy leaned her head against Jesse’s shoulder. He patted her thigh.
“This isn’t just about the
rape,” Marcy said after a while. “Is it.”
“No.”
“It’s also about Jenn,” Marcy
said.
Jesse nodded.
“Sometimes I think everything is,” he said.
17
Jesse was in the parking lot of the Northeast Mall, talking to Molly on a cell phone.
“Where is she now,” he said.
“Just coming out of Macy’s.”
“She alone?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone around you recognize?”
“No. This is the time.”
“Okay, pick her up and bring her.”
Molly didn’t actually have a hold on Candace when they came out
of the vast shopping sprawl, but she walked close and a little behind, herding her with her right shoulder like a sheepdog.
“Hop in,” Jesse said, when they reached him.
“What do you want?” Candace said.
“We’ll talk about it when you get
in,” Jesse
said.
Molly opened the door, Candace got in, Molly closed the door.
Through the open window she looked at Jesse. He shook his head.
“Is that smart?” Molly said.
“Probably not,” Jesse said.
