“Are you trying to buy my good will?” she asked, nudging the bag and craning her neck to look inside.
“Yes,” I said. “Is it working?”
“Not yet,” she said, but she put the book aside and pushed past the tissue paper. She brought out a sweatshirt, some shorts, and a small box with a simple gold and diamond necklace. She sucked in a breath as she held it up to her neck.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“This is really pretty,” she said. “And it must’ve cost a fortune.”
“A small fortune,” I said, smiling.
“I can’t take this.” She put it away and dropped it into the bag.
“Consider it an advance on what I’ll owe you when we’re through if you want,” I said, walking back to the door. “By the way, what are you reading?”
“The Big Sleep,” she said, head tilted. “Ever heard of it?”
“No,” I said.
“You should give it a try.” Her eyes flashed down to the bag again then back up to me. “Presents aren’t going to get you very far, you know.”
I laughed softly, but I left her there. I liked that she pushed back against me and didn’t take my shit so easily. I wanted her forgiveness, wanted her company, but most of all, I wanted to earn it.
Another day, and another present. She lounged out back near the pool wearing shorts and a tank top, still reading that book. She shaded her eyes as I approached.
“Before you say anything, just look at it,” I said, and handed her the box. She chewed on her cheek for a second then sighed dramatically and opened it up.
Inside was a pair of reading glasses, a pair of sunglasses, and every book Raymond Chandler wrote in mass market paperback. She gaped at the pile. Apparently, the guy was very prolific.
“I don’t think I’ll get through this all, you know,” she said, laughing softly. She picked one title up: The Long Good-bye. “But I’ll definitely try.”
“Let’s go for a walk,” I said.
She glanced up at me, one eyebrow raised. “I’m still trying to avoid you, you know,” she said.
“I know that.” I drifted away. “But come with me anyway.”
She made a big deal of getting up and stretching, but she took the sunglasses from the box, shoved them on her face, then trailed after me. We walked down to the woods together, her flip-flops smacking against her feet, the birds chirping up in the trees, squirrels rustling through the underbrush, and I felt good for the first time in a while. She trailed close to my elbow, but she didn’t talk.
“I never wanted you to see what happened, you know,” I said softly.
She grimaced and stared at the ground in front of us. “I know that,” she said. “But can’t help it though.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry you came in.”
She was quiet for a few minutes as we walked, and I decided to enjoy her company. There wasn’t much more I could do—presents and apologies couldn’t take away memories. I wished she could understand why I did it and why it was necessary, but it was hard for someone outside of my world to truly get it. Those weren’t good guys, far from it, and taking them out of this world was doing everyone a favor. Hard for her to see it that way, when all she could remember was that guy’s brains splattering on the carpet.
“Bea told me something horrifying the other day,” she said suddenly.
“Yeah?” I asked, leaning toward her. “What’d she say?”
“She used to have sex with your dad.”
I stopped walking and she kept going before she turned, grinning. She picked up a stick from the ground and swiped it in the air like a sword then leaned on it.
A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. I knew my father hadn’t been faithful to my mother’s memory—far from it. The guy paraded mistresses through the house like candy and new cars. He treated women like they were disposable, which probably rubbed off on me a little bit, if I were being honest with myself.
Bea was like a mother to me. Not literally my mother, but close enough, and the thought of her having sex with my father was maybe one of the most repulsive things I’d ever heard. I knew they were close and knew she had a lot of influence over him, but never considered that they had a physical element to their relationship.
“You’re a monster,” I said, snapping my jaw shut. “You know that, right?”
She laughed lightly and shrugged a little. “I don’t know. I saw you murder someone. All I did was tell you that your housekeeper used to bang your dad.”
I turned away from her and held up one hand. “God, please, I’m begging you, please stop.”
“Oh, grow up,” she said, laughing. “I bet they had a very satisfying sex life. I think she used it to convince your dad to do things she wanted.”
I rubbed at my face hard enough to peel a layer of skin away. If I could take a bath in acid right then, I probably would’ve dipped in and enjoyed it. God, what a nightmare.
“I’m begging you,” I said.
“What’s the big deal?” she asked.
“Bea raised me,” I said and started walking again. I couldn’t stand still, not with the image of my father and Bea in a disgusting, sweaty, horrifying carnal embrace jittering around my brain hole. “She’s like a saint to me. She was the only person that made me feel normal, growing up.”
“I’m sorry to break it to you, but she had her own motives,” Mags said.
“I know,” I said. “Bea’s always been important to the family. My dad took her advice to heart. I just didn’t know he also took her—you know, like that.”
“Sexually,” Mags said, nudging up against me.
“Right. Like that.” I groaned and looked up at the trees. “Please tell me we’re even now. Tell me you don’t know something else absolutely terrible.”
“I don’t know if we’re even,
