“Terri?”
“How do you know?”
Lena ’s heart was thumping hard enough to press against her ribs. She had never admitted anything about Ethan to another person, and she still found herself unable to come right out and say it. She could only tell Terri, “I know about it the same way you do.”
Again, the younger woman was quiet. Then Terri asked, “You ever try to get away?”
Lena thought about all the times she had tried to make a break: not answering the phone, avoiding the gym, hiding out at work. He always found her. He always found a way back in.
“You think you can help me?” Terri asked. An almost hysterical note was threaded through the question.
“I’m a cop.”
“Sister, you ain’t nothin’,” she said, harshly. “We’re both drowning in the same ocean.”
Lena felt her words pierce like daggers. She tried to speak, but there was a soft click on the line, then nothing. Lena waited, holding out hope, until the recorded voice of the operator bleated through the receiver, advising her to hang up and try the number again.
Nan came into the kitchen, her natty pink robe tied around her waist, a towel wrapped around her head. “You going to be home for dinner tonight?”
“Yes,” Lena said. Then, “No. I don’t know. Why?”
“I thought it would be nice to talk,” she said, putting the kettle on the stove. “See how you’re doing. I haven’t talked to you since you got back from Hank’s.”
“I’m doing okay,” Lena assured her.
Nan turned to look at her closely. “You look upset.”
“It’s been a rough week.”
“I saw Ethan riding his bike up the driveway just now.”
Lena stood so quick she was dizzy. “I should get to work.”
“Why don’t you invite him in?” Nan offered. “I’ll make some more tea.”
“No,” Lena muttered. “I’m running late.” She was always nervous when Ethan was around Nan. He was too volatile, and she was too ashamed to let Nan see the kind of man she had ended up with.
Lena muttered, “I’ll see you later,” tucking her cell phone into her jacket. She practically ran out the front door, stopping short when she saw Ethan standing at her car. He was pulling off something that had been taped to the driver’s-side window.
She walked down the steps as if her heart wasn’t in her throat.
“What’s this?” Ethan asked, holding up a mailing envelope. She recognized Greg’s handwriting from ten feet away. “Who else calls you Lee?”
She grabbed it from him before he could stop her. “Just about everybody who knows me,” she told him. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d come by to see you before work.”
She looked at her watch. “You’re going to be late.”
“It’s okay.”
“Your parole officer told you that if you were late again, she’d write you up.”
“That dyke can kiss my ass.”
“She can send you back to jail is what she can do, Ethan.”
“Chill out, okay?” He made a grab for the envelope, but again she was too quick. He frowned and asked, “What is it?”
Lena saw she wasn’t going to get out of the driveway until she opened the envelope. She turned it over, pulling the tape carefully like she was an old lady trying to save the wrapping paper on a present.
“What is it?” Ethan repeated.
She opened the envelope, praying to God there wasn’t something inside that would cause a problem. She slid out a CD with a blank white label on it. “It’s a CD,” she said.
“A CD of what?”
“Ethan,” Lena began, looking back at the house. She could see Nan peering through the front window. “Get in the car,” she told him.
“Why?”
She popped the hatch so he could stow his bike. “Because you’re going to be late for work.”
“What’s the CD?”
“I don’t know.” She started to pick up his bike, but he took over, the muscles on his arms flexing against his long-sleeved T-shirt. Back in his skinhead days, he had tattooed himself all over with Aryan Nazi symbols, and now he seldom wore anything that would expose them- especially at his job bussing tables at the university coffee shop.
She got into the car, waiting for him to secure the bike and get in. Lena tucked the CD over the visor, hoping he would forget about it. Ethan pulled it out as soon as he settled into the seat.
“Who sent you this?”
“Just a friend.” She told him, “Put on your seat belt.”
“Why was it taped to your car?”
“Maybe he didn’t want to come inside.”
Lena realized she had said “he” about a second after the word left her mouth. She tried to act like it hadn’t happened, putting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway. As she turned back around, she chanced a look at Ethan. His jaw was so tight she was surprised his teeth didn’t start cracking.
Without saying anything, he turned on her radio and pressed the eject button. His Radiohead CD slid out. He held it by the edges, forcing in Greg’s CD as if it was a pill he wanted to shove down somebody’s throat.
Lena felt herself tense as a guitar was strummed, followed by some feedback. The intro took a few seconds, heavy guitar and drums leading up to the unmistakable voice of Ann Wilson.
Ethan wrinkled his nose like there was a bad smell. “What’s this shit?”
“Heart,” she said, trying to keep her emotions flat. Her own heart was beating so fast she was sure he could hear it over the music.
He kept scowling. “I’ve never heard this song before.”
“It’s a new album.”
“A new album?” he repeated, and even though she kept her eyes on the road she could still feel him staring a hole into her. “Aren’t they the ones who were fucking each other?”
“They’re sisters,” Lena said, disgusted that old rumor was still around. Heart had made a huge impact on the rock scene, and invariably, the boys in charge had felt threatened enough to spread nasty rumors. Being a twin, Lena had heard every filthy male fantasy about sisters there was. The thought of it made her sick.
Ethan turned up the volume a notch as she coasted through a stop sign. “It’s not bad,” he said, probably testing her. “Is this the fat one singing?”
“She’s not fat.”
Ethan barked a laugh.
“She can lose weight, Ethan. You’ll always be a stupid bastard.” When he just laughed again, she added, “Like Kurt Cobain was so hot.”
“I didn’t like that faggot.”
“Why is it,” Lena asked, “that every woman who doesn’t want to fuck you is a dyke and every guy who isn’t cool enough to be you is a faggot?”
“I never said-”
“My sister happened to be a lesbian,” Lena reminded him.
“I know that.”
“My best friend is a lesbian,” Lena said, even though she had never given much thought to Nan being her best friend.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” she echoed, slamming on the brakes so hard his head nearly banged into the dashboard. “I told you to put on your fucking seat belt.”
“All right,” he said, giving her a look that said she was being an unreasonable bitch.
“Forget it,” she told him, taking off her own seat belt.
“What are you doing?” he asked as she reached over to open his door. “Jesus Christ, what-”
“Get out,” she ordered.
“What the fuck?”
She pushed him, screaming, “Get the fuck out of my car!”
“All right!” he screamed back, getting out of the car. “You’re goddamn crazy, you know that?”
She pressed the gas pedal to the floorboard, making his door slam from the momentum. She drove maybe fifty feet before hitting the brakes so hard the tires squealed. When she got out of the car, Ethan was walking up the road, his body vibrating with rage. She could see his fists were clenched and spit flew from his mouth as he yelled, “Don’t you ever drive away from me again, you stupid bitch!”
Lena felt amazingly calm as she pulled his bike out of the back of the car and dropped it on the road. Ethan started running to catch up with her. He was still running when she glanced up in her rearview mirror as she turned the corner.