“When we got together and then I just ended it like someone in high school.”
“I never held that against you.”
“And that you were interrogated by the agents to boot.”
“It’s fine.” He waves it away. “If they didn’t interview me, I’d have thought they weren’t doing their jobs. You know how much I care about you, right?”
I smile.
“But,” he says. “You need more space than I’ve been giving you.”
I nod.
“I get it. I think I’ve been hanging on a little too tightly because, in a way, you’re all I have left of Sophie.”
“I know the feeling.” I catch the magnetic blue of his eyes. And for the first time in a long time, I recapture a glimpse of the calming sense of the friendship I had with Wallace before we began dating.
Already, however, that Crosbie feels foreign to me, a stranger you might spot across a crowded room.ThatCrosbie saw tranquility in Wallace and took it for dull and routine when we started dating, not strength and golden self-awareness. That Crosbie, in short, was searching for someone to push her, to test her. Not someone who was going to accept her for who she was. BecausethatCrosbie needed to hate herself for who she’d become.
Chapter 55
“I meant what I said earlier,” I say to Jess. Golden-hour evening light streams through the west-facing windows of her kitchen. Lines of yellow police tape flutter in the wind out back. Sam is conked out on the couch. Any sign of the trauma he’s endured is buried behind a peaceful, angelic face.
For me, the shakes have subsided. I’m exhausted and want to go home and curl up and sleep for a week straight, but I want to talk to my sister and check on Sam. The car ride with Jeremy was quiet. He kept it light, sensing I was too spent and exhausted and focused on Jess and Sam to talk. I’m worried how this incident will affect my nephew, but I’m hopeful with some counseling that he’ll be okay.
But Jess ... I know I need to stop being her caretaker, but I want to see if she’s willing to finally get some help after all this. Even though Allison confirmed Jess had nothing to do with the whole thing, I still wonder how much she understood about Allison’s state of mind. After all, they’ve been hanging out on and off for months.
“So, now that it’s out,” I say, “I think you should get help. No more excuses.”
She slow-blinks, as I always do. She’s calm. She gives a shrug.
“Jess?” I rub my thumb against the smooth ceramic of the coffee cup. “I know you had nothing to do with this. But how much did you know about how off the rails she’d gone?”
“I figured you might wonder. Whether I somehow intuitivelyknewshe was the Confession Artist?”
“No, of course not. But did you have any clues she’d snapped?”
The wind is picking up. Dying leaves rattle on her two maple trees out front. I wait. I’m afraid to hear the answer, that she suspected something but didn’t share it with me, just like she didn’t tell me Allison had lost her nephew.
“Okay. Yes. I know she’s been super troubled. Like me. Like Ryan Petronis’s sister, Vivian. I mean, Allison lost Tom—or Leon now. He was like her son, but I had no idea he was the one with Mark that night.”
“Neither did I. Of course. Why didn’t you mention that she’d lost her nephew to me?”
She gives me a look that says,Come on, you haven’t noticed the state I’ve been in for the past year?
I don’t say anything.
“She told me Tom, who was like a son to her, took his life. She told me he had been dating someone, but she never said who. But she said things didn’t work out. But she didn’t tell me it was Mark Coleman. I never connected the two. How did she know about Vivian and the others?”
“Remember the rehab place in Arlee she went to a few months ago? Well, Vivian’s mom was there along with another guy, a man named Gus who lost his daughter.” I fill her in on all the connections. I ask, “Did you know Allison went out of town when the others were shot?”
“God no. I mean, yeah, we’ve become friends, but I guess I was too wrapped up in my own stuff to notice what she was up to. Like you, I’d never even met Tom. You know, Leon. Don’t take this the wrong way, Crosbie, but I didn’t want to lean on you for everything. I don’t want you to feel so much responsibility for me anymore. I guess I’ve been trying to insert some distance. I’m not a child. I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re not, like, some superhero who’s been assigned to watch over me. And you’re not my mother. It’s not your responsibility, so you need to just stop.”
I swallow hard. This is on the money, and I know it. For so long, because our mom was out drinking so much, I’d taken on the role. Andafter she was gone, and Jess got so depressed, it was even more essential. Looking out for her is all I’ve ever known, but Jess is right. Somehow, in all the craziness of the past days, I’ve been recognizing it.
“Did you read the article?”
She nods. “When I read it, I didn’t feel as angry as I thought I would. In a weird way, I got some kind of vicarious relief from it. But mainly, I’m scared for you—that it’s all out there. What’s going to happen?”
