I open the box and raise it toher. It, too, is soaked immediately.
“Jade.” She lets out a tearylaugh. “Are you asking me to marry you in a filthy alleyway?”
“I’m nothing if not romantic,Annie .”
We look at each other and laugh.She nods, and my chest explodes.
We head out of the city, my girlbeside me and Stinky with his head out of the window. “You know, wehave to change his name, right?” Annie says to me at one point.
“Okay, feed him a peanut buttersandwich, wait a few minutes and tell me what name comes to mind.You’ll realise that I was being nice.”
“That’s awful, Jade.”
On the ferry back, I tell herwhat had happened when she was away. Stinky’s arrival, mostly. Igloss over the details of the investigation. I leave out Denny’sinvolvement entirely.
Chapter Nine
The frigid North Easterly windbrings with it a promise of an early winter. Halloween arrives, andI make up my mind to convince Annie to go to the fireworks.Halloween on Gabriola is always a blast. Most of the locals go downto Twin Beaches for the fireworks. The kids are all in costume andthe dogs run around, often hiding from the sound of the fireworks.I think it would be good for Annie. It will be something normal todo.
Annie has been getting sick inthe mornings. I’ll get her some tea and soda crackers and she’lllie down on the couch and write in her journal or watch TV. Despiteit all, we’ve been tight, almost like we were before all the shitcame down. We don’t talk about that night, and I wonder if we’vesilently agreed to pretend it never happened.
When she’s not nauseous, we talkabout wedding plans. She wants to wait until spring when all theflowers are out, but I want to seal our commitment as soon aspossible. We compromised on November fifteenth. There’s a church onthe island that we’ve been to a couple of times, and the pastorseems open-minded.
As for the baby thing, I try notto think about it. Another person is growing inside of her that hasno connection to me. That kills. I always dreamt about growing oldwith her, just the two of us—safe and happy in our perfect littlebubble. I guess that plan is shot to shit now. At night, with nodistractions, I think of the future. The focus on a child, someoneelse’s child, and me—the outsider.
But what choice do I have? If Iwalk away from the baby, I walk away from Annie. I’ll have to suckit up. And it’s not like I hate kids.
“Are we getting dressed incostumes tonight?” Annie says suddenly from the couch. “Or shouldwe just go plain-clothed?”
“I don’t think we have anythinghere,” I say. “Maybe we should just wear warm clothes and bring athermos.”
“That might be best. If I wearanything tight, my tummy will show. Can you imagine the shock onpeople’s faces if they see us and my little belly? That would behilarious.”
“Not if I put a zucchini downthe front of my jeans.”
The night is full of positiveenergy, with kids running around dressed as everything fromprincesses to Batman. Annie and I sit on the beach with Stinky andthe other spectators. As soon as the last sliver of the sundisappears into the sea, colorful fireworks explode and expandoverhead, reflecting in the still waters.
When a child dressed as adinosaur runs by and trips in front of us, Annie quickly hurries topick him up and brush off his costume. I smile, thinking of whatkind of a mother she will be. In a moment like this, my futuredoesn’t seem as bleak.
At home, Annie has a warm bathand listens to a Laura Pergolizzi CD. I’m in the living room,trying to find something good for us to watch on Netflix. Switchingthrough movies, I hear my phone buzz in my coat that’s on the backof the recliner.
When I pull it out, I seeDenny’s name flashing on the screen. Shit.
I put the phone down on thecouch and go to the bathroom. The music is so loud, she doesn’thear me enter and I startle her. “Hey, babe,” she says, looking upat me.
“I was previewing some movies,”I say. “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t too loud for you.”
“It’s fine. I can’t hear it. Canyou shut the door? You’re letting my heat out.”
I smile and close the door.
In the kitchen, I redial Denny.I run the water in the sink, just in case. The line clicks.“Denny?” I whisper. “I noticed that you called. What’s goingon?”
“What do you think is going on?Did you really think that I was going to be okay? How the fuck canI be? There’s cops calling or visiting me every few days and Ican’t fucking handle it anymore.”
He’s almost shouting; I have tohold the phone a few inches from my ear. I feel my stomach sink. Hesounds familiar now. “But what about the lawyer?” I ask him.
“What about him? All he’s doneis take his fucking time getting back to me. I feel like goingthere and burning down his firm.”
“Denny. Are you still takingyour meds?”
“Did I take my meds? Did I takemy meds? Why don’t you take them? Everybody needs them. We’re allfucked.”
“Denny, I can’t talk now. Willyou call me tomorrow and we’ll discuss things further?”
“Oh, you can’t talk now? Let meguess, your perfect little chick is with you and you don’t want herto know that you’re talking to your fucked-up brother, is thatit?”
I say nothing.
“You know, for as smart of agirl that you are, you’re sure clueless. You’re getting played likea fiddle.”
If I wasn’t sure if he was offhis meds before, I am now. I want to tell him that he’s psycho, toshut up and leave me alone, but the memory of our recent timetogether stops me. I think of the person he’s capable of being, andI can’t help but feel sorry for him.
I tell him that he needs to takehis pills and rest, and I reassure him that I’ll call when I get achance tomorrow. I hang up and put the phone on the counter. Istare at it, chewing my lip. For the first time since we’ve beenadults, I’m worried about
