I turn my face toward the window, my small effort at making this feel less uncomfortable for her.
“Everything okay?” she adds, and that’s revealing. My guess is, they don’t do much calling each other unless there’s news.
“Sure, sure. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days isall.”
I realize I have no idea if her dad actually knows where exactly she is, or what she’s doing, or even what she told him about my visit to his house.
“Sorry about that. We took a . . . uh. We took a break after Florida.”
There’s a beat of awkward silence, and again: I have the feeling that’s pretty typical between them. I may have been annoyed with my own dad this morning, but I don’t think any conversation we’ve ever had has been this strained.
“Well, the house looks fine. No important mail so far.”
“That’s good. Thanks for checking that.”
“I am going to get someone over there to do your gutters, though. I think you’re overdue.”
I chance a look over at her and see the pink in her cheeks.
“Dad, that’s okay.”
The give in her voice—it reminds me of the first time we were in this van together, her quietthankswhen I set my arm in front of her after hitting the brakes hard.
He clears his throat and says, “So, where to next?”
I think that means he’s still going to get the gutters done.
She purses her lips, probably because she thinks so, too.
“Oklahoma.” She pauses, sliding her eyes to mine before adding, “I don’t think we have any idea why, though.”
That’s an offering, I know—more to me than to her dad. She’s not shutting the conversation with him down; she’s showing me she can handle me being here while she has it.
But then there’s another long pause on the other end of the line, and it’s . . . weighted. Jess cuts her gaze to the screen, as though staring at the numbers ticking off the duration of this call could tell her something about what’s coming.
“Oklahoma,” he finally repeats. Slow and cautious. “Whereabouts?”
There’s a specter of Salem in the back seat. I can almost feel it leaning forward in ghostly determination, catching the scent of this. A new piece of information.
“Tulsa,” Jess says. “Why?”
My shoulders tense when he doesn’t answer right away. If I wasn’t certain before that I needed to take a step back from this story, I sure am now. It can’t be right that I’d rather put a fist through that dash display than have Jess find out whatever piece of shitty news I suspect she has coming.
“We had a friend in Tulsa. Your mom and me, I mean. Years ago. When we were younger, before we had you.”
He doesn’t offer anything else, and I realize something about where Jess gets her reticence. It’s from more than circumstances surrounding her mother.
It’s from her father, too.
Jess clicks her tongue. It’s as if a piece of that misty Salem-specter has settled right in the center of her.
“What friend?”
In the back, Tegan stirs, and I turn my head to see her sitting up groggily.
“Jess,” I say in quiet warning, but her dad answers at the same time.
“I went to college with him. He was my roommate sophomore and junior year. His girlfriend at the time and your mom and I used to double date together.”
