“Let’s go back,” I said.
I got to my feet and began to take up the tablecloth to fold it. Which involved more or less pulling it out from under her. I was upset, to put it mildly.
“Wait,” she said. “Give me a minute to get up at least.”
I waited, and she did.
I folded the cloth, hoping she wouldn’t keep talking.
She kept talking.
“See, this is just what I was trying to tell you before. You have to be careful who you hang around with. People will judge you by who you hang around with. And then they might not want to be around you, either.”
“Stop,” I said. And I looked her right in the face. She was shocked that I had spoken to her so abruptly. I could tell. “Stop talking. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I just want to go home.”
“What about our date?”
“It’s over.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
She snorted. Literally snorted through her nostrils like an angry bull. Then she stomped off toward town.
“Wait,” I said, picking up the basket and following her. “Let me walk you home at least.”
“I don’t need you to walk me home.” She threw the words over her shoulder, like something she spat out.
“You might. It’s easy to get lost in the woods.”
“I can see the town.”
I was nearly jogging to keep up with her.
“But when you get down off this rise, you won’t. And it’s easy to get turned around.”
“I’ll manage,” she said.
But I followed her. To make sure she would find her way out okay. I didn’t try to talk to her again. I didn’t want to talk to her again. But I followed her until she stepped out onto my street and turned toward home.
Then I followed her home.
She glanced once over her shoulder at me as she disappeared into her house. Then she slammed the door hard.
And that was it. My first girlfriend. My very first relationship. Two whole days of it, and that was that.
I showed up at Zoe Dinsmore’s cabin at what I guessed was about seven o’clock in the evening, judging by the sun. I was out of breath from running. I was deeply feeling my lack of sleep. But I was far too upset to go home.
I pounded hard on the door. Raised my fist high over my head and banged with the outside edge of it. The dogs were inside, and they barked a few deep barks, because they couldn’t see it was only me.
“Who is it?” she called through the door.
“It’s Lucas.”
The dogs stopped barking at the sound of my voice.
The door opened and they came spilling out, lashing me with their wagging tails. For the first time ever, I paid them no mind.
Zoe Dinsmore looked into my face in the fading light.
“Uh-oh,” she said.
“Why do people do that? Why do they need to make you wrong? Or make you out to be some kind of bad person? Everybody knows bad things happen. I know we’re not supposed to talk about this. I know you don’t want me to. But I’m talking about it. I’m just talking about it. Because I need to know.”
In the moment of silence that followed, I watched her face. She was looking down at the threshold and her own bare feet. She didn’t look angry that I had asked. She didn’t look much of anything.
“I suppose you’d best come in,” she said.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “If they admit to themselves that what happened couldn’t have been easily prevented, then they’re admitting it could happen to them.”
“But it could.”
“But they don’t want to admit that. Until it actually does happen to them, they want to be completely sure it can’t.”
It was a good while later. The sun was nearly down. We were sitting on the floor of her cabin, our backs against the end of her bed. She had started a fire in the woodstove to get her through the night, and we were staring at it. The little cast-iron door was open, and we were sitting there transfixed by the fire.
I wouldn’t have thought it would be cold enough for a fire in June. But then, I didn’t live in an unheated cabin in the woods. She obviously knew more about it than I did.
I had long ago told her about my date. I had spared not one ugly detail.
“So they would do that to you? Just to make themselves feel a little more comfortable?”
“Apparently so.”
“Even though it’s just a lie in their heads and they’re not really safe at all?”
“They’ve been doing it to me for seventeen years, kid.”
“Everybody?”
“No. Not everybody. Some are more understanding, but the way they look at me is almost worse. I swear I’d rather have the contempt.”
“Why did you stay?”
That fell to her floor and lay there for a moment. I swear I felt like I could look down and see the question lying—uncomfortably—on the floor near the sleeping dogs.
She didn’t answer.
“Your daughter told me that everybody thought you should go far away and start again somewhere new. Someplace where nobody knew you. And that nobody knew why you didn’t do it. Not even her, and she’s your daughter.”
“I was born in this town, kid. Lived here all my life. Everything I know is here.”
“So? If you’d gone someplace else seventeen years ago, you’d know that place like the back of your hand by now. There has to be more to it than that.”
“I don’t think you’d understand.”
“Try me.”
The fire crackled and snapped while I waited for her to try me.
“I didn’t think I deserved it,” she said. “There. Is that honest enough for you?”
Chapter Eleven
The Dark and Uneven Path
I’ve lived my whole life in a small town, but in the days after my uneasy breakup with Libby Weller, I was stunned by the downside of
