John Dies at the End

today so he could pick me up instead. He wanted it to be a surprise.”

I was surprised, if for no reason other than the sudden realization that my birthday was just two days away.

“So you’re here? Now?”

“Yep! Hey, check this out. This is awesome.”

Amy leapt to her feet, raised one leg and planted her foot on the railing of the porch. This caused her dress to fall back on her thigh and my heart skipped a beat, like I had never seen that particular naked patch of skin on a woman before. Amy was pointing out something on her ankle and she was putting her leg back down before I took my eyes off her thigh long enough to notice it. She had gotten a small tattoo on her ankle, of a Chinese character.

“It’s, uh, nice,” I said. “What does it mean?”

“Ankle.”

She laughed, then closed the distance between us and clamped a hug around me that knocked the wind out of my lungs. She said, “Do you like it? I told Crystal you wouldn’t like it.”

“What difference does that make? If you like it, then that’s that. If I don’t like it I can screw myself.”

“So you’re saying you don’t like it.”

“It’s fine, Amy. You, uh, just got the one, right?”

She pulled away from me and gave me the most sly and devious expression her face could manage.

“Maybe. You won’t know unless you check me.”

I laughed. She giggled. We both fell silent. We left a trail of clothing from the front door to the sofa.

A CERTAIN AMOUNT of time later, Amy and I lay on the couch under an American flag afghan that John had bought me from a garage sale years ago. The TV was still on, we were both watching it absently. I asked, “So, how long are you in town?”

Amy didn’t answer at first, then said, “These guys get all worked up about building these motorcycles, don’t they?”

“You’re still working at that craft shop, right? When do you have to be back at work?”

She shrugged.

“Amy?”

“I quit.”

“Oh. So when are you going back?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Amy, no. No. You can’t stay here.”

“Why? You have another girlfriend?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I can’t go back there, David. It’s awful. Crystal and Tonya, they’re always, like, having naked pillow fights and stuff. I can’t be around that.”

“Really?”

“No. They told me to tell you that.” She laughed.

“Amy, don’t make me go through all that again, explaining why it’s not safe. I shouldn’t have to.”

She twisted around to face me.

“No, see, I worked it all out. I think that right there, that’s proof you’re not, like, evil or whatever. You’re looking out for my safety even though you’re lonely and depressed every minute I’m away. If you were truly bad you’d only care about yourself. You’d tell me you wanted me to stay around, knowing it was dangerous for me but doing it anyway.”

I thought about this for a moment, then said, “You’re wrong.”

“How?”

“I do want you to stay.”

“Good,” she said brightly. “I will then.”

She kissed me on the cheek and rolled over again. I tried to figure out exactly at what point I had lost control of the discussion. She said, “Now, I really don’t have a place to stay here in town . . .”

“Well . . .”

“But John said I could stay with him until I found something.”

“Over his dead body.”

She laughed, said, “He told me to tell you that. He also wanted me to tell you he has a king-sized bed so there’s plenty of room for me. And that he sleeps naked.”

“You can stay here. For now. But Amy, you’re not living with me. You understand me? I mean, you’ll be living here, but not ‘they’ll be getting married next’ living here. It’ll be ‘she doesn’t have a place to stay’ living here. Okay?”

“Sure. Everything’s worked out then. You know, it’s good to be back. One thing I can say about [Undisclosed], you know it’s gonna be more interesting than Utah.”

NOTHING INTERESTING HAPPENED for the next four months.

ON A BLISTERING late-August day, John and I hauled Amy and about a dozen cardboard boxes of her possessions down an exit ramp, my Bronco passing a green HOME OF [OMITTED] UNIVERSITY sign.

The school was a little more than two hours from Undisclosed, which I had figured was a safe distance should a pit open under the town and swallow it into Hell once and for all, and yet close enough that Amy would agree to go. It had taken about twelve arguments and one crying fit to come to that compromise. In the end I convinced her that she would have to get some kind of education and actually continue her life at some point. See the world, broaden her horizons. Get off my couch and stop typing on that damned laptop. She was a sheltered kid. She had a shitty time in high school and had barely been outside city limits since. You don’t realize how terrifying the world can be for someone like that, someone who would rather stay in a familiar hole than an unfamiliar mansion.

Which is why you haven’t exactly jumped at the chance to move away, either . . .

But we finally looked into the college thing, did the research and found that her SAT scores were actually good enough to get her a partial scholarship. That and some future-crippling student loans were all it took to get her in the door. There was lots of paperwork and Amy turned into a nervous wreck for the last three weeks before move-in day at the dorms. But here we were.

And that, I thought, will be that. The Utah thing was poorly thought out but now she’ll have classes and meet fascinating people and she’ll love it. She’ll call every day, then every week. And then she’ll mention a guy. A friend, she’ll say. And then she’ll call once a month, only visit twice a semester and then you’ll get the call and she’ll say she’s sorry, she’s met someone, he’s an English major and plays lacrosse or some shit. And she will have grown up. She’ll get some job right out of school in some other city and she’ll never, ever come back here.

And that’s how it should be. She’ll be out of my orbit, out of my sphere of concern, a poor target for anyone or anything that wants to get to me. She’ll be safe. This time.

When a man plans, a woman laughs.

We unloaded boxes and waded through the lobby of the dorms. We wound up waiting in line for elevators along with crowds of skinny girls and well-dressed parents, chubby boys that looked far too young for college and a surprising number of Asian kids. Some guy came along and was handing out packets of forms, dorm rules and shit, and struck up a conversation with Amy. She got along so easily with people, so laid back. She had a light jacket draped over her arm on this ninety-four-degree day. It concealed her missing hand perfectly. They talked and she giggled and he moved on, handing out his packets.

I said, “That guy seemed nice.”

She said, “Uh-huh.”

“Did you get his name?”