Maybe the scent had only reminded me of Alex’s mortality as I absorbed the reality of Joey’s—had only reminded me of Alex’s weaknesses. Of his vulnerability. And mine.
Alexwas my vulnerability.
“I know there wasn’t a glitch in the security footage that night,” I said. “I watched it.”
“But,” Alex said, “I deleted that.”
“I had that day’s feed downloaded, already. Before—before the whole thing with Joey, to help Marisa’s kid.” My teeth were chattering, and not entirely from the cold.
“Did it help?”
Obviously not. “The file’s still there on the hard drive now,” I said. “But it doesn’t have to be.”
“You didn’t say,” Alex said.
I let him think about what I was offering.
“We could watch it,” he said finally. “We could give it to the police.”
“I thought you didn’t want the police to have it,” I said.
“It was you I was trying to keep from seeing it,” Alex said. “I was protecting you, from having to see Joey.”
“And I’m protectingyou,” I said patiently. “From being connected to his death.”
“But I didn’t have anything to do with his death,” he said.
The vise that had been clamped tight around my heart let loose. Of course he hadn’t. Of course. I watched down the street for the bus through watery eyes. “But not everyone will know that,” I said.
“I’ll tell them.”
This neuro-spicy guy honestly didn’t know his word wouldn’t be enough? “Some people lie to the police,” I said. “They might not believe you. And that security video… it might only confuse things. And there’s also Marisa. She’s still missing, Alex. Do you get it?”
Alex went quiet.
I was using all my mind tricks to bring the bus rattling along, comeon, Chicago, waiting to see what he would come up with. If he could understand how much trouble he might still be in.
“Did the security video confuse you?” he asked.
That vise on my heart wasn’t gone, not entirely. Had I really believed that Alex could hurt someone? For days, I had let that possibility live and breathe alongside us, between us.
“A little,” I admitted, swiping at my cheeks with Joey’s mittens.
The expression on Alex’s face cycled through his range of emotions, some of them devastating to witness. “Oh,” he said.
“But just a little,” I said. My cheek brushed the wool of his coat, and I nearly lay my head against him. “And not for very long.”
38
The bus pulled up to McPhee’s with less than a half hour to prep for what would be a busy day. Sunday, game day, this time of year. It would be a long shift, a late night. Everyone would be their most festive. Their mostdrunk.
When we walked in, the first thing I saw was the gift Marisa had left behind for me. It sat on the corner booth, where I’d left it.
“What do you want to do about that?” Alex said.
“Put it in lost and found,” I said. “Maybe I’ll dig it out on Christmas morning.”
But of course I was only reminded that, when it came to tidings of joy, I was already sunk. Alex would understand if I didn’t have anything to contribute to our celebrations this year, and if I didn’t have anything for Oona, she’d get it, no problem. I was that person, though, the one everyone had to understand about, who everyone had to reassure no problem, no problem.
