Dear Mama, he wrote. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done it.
Later, there was a thunderstorm. Marcus woke up to a loud crashing, loud enough to make him think lightning had hit the chimney. The house shuddered. Marcus lay in bed, listening to the deep rolls and sharp cracks of thunder. He’d never heard a storm like this before. He looked out his window-the sky flashed with light, bolts of lightning hit the pond in the distance, and rain poured down in sheets. Out in the driveway, he noticed the windows of the Rover were down. Winnie and Garrett had forgotten to roll them up when they got back from the movies. They deserved to have a ruined car-they were spoiled brats, both of them. But then Beth entered his mind. He’d already disappointed her once that day and so Marcus threw on a T-shirt and ran downstairs and out the front door. The rain pummeled his back. He dashed for the car. They always left the keys in the ignition, even when they parked in town. Any idea how fast this car would be gone in Queens? Marcus asked once. He turned the key in the ignition and put up the windows. Then he leaned back in the driver’s seat, straightening his arms to the steering wheel. He thought of driving away. But there was no escaping this island in the middle of the night. Marcus relaxed against the leather seat until it sounded like the rain was abating a little. But three seconds outside-from the car to the front door-left him soaked. He peeled his shirt off as he climbed the stairs, cursing himself for being such a slave. When he got into his room, he tossed the wet shirt onto his chair, missing Winnie by a few inches. She was standing there, in his room.
“What the hell?” he said.
She looked different. He switched on the night-light that Beth gave him the first day of their vacation so he could find his way to the bathroom. It was a scallop shell night-light and it glowed pink; this was the only time he’d ever used it. It gave off just enough light for him to study Winnie. She was staring at him. It occurred to Marcus that maybe she was sleepwalking. Then he pinpointed what was different-she wasn’t wearing the sweatshirt. She was wearing a short pink nightgown. Marcus felt his body temperature rise. He dug through his dresser drawer for a dry shirt.
“If your brother catches you in here, I’m dead meat.”
“He doesn’t care anymore, Marcus.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, really, we talked about it.”
“I’m sure you did,” Marcus said. He imagined some elaborate trap-sending Winnie in here to give Garrett a reason to attack him again. “Where’s your sweatshirt?”
“I’m finished wearing it,” she said.
“How come?”
She moved closer to him. “I can’t explain it, really. I just don’t feel the need to wear it anymore. I might wear it once in a while, if I get cold.”
“Oh,” he said. Along with everything else, he felt betrayed that the shedding of the sweatshirt took place without his knowledge. Because Marcus knew that meant something bigger had happened, a change in Winnie’s brain or heart. He thought the retiring of the sweatshirt deserved some kind of ceremony, the sweatshirt that Marcus had worn once himself. He still hadn’t told Winnie about that, and now he figured he never would. “Well, congratulations.” Although he meant it, his voice was laced with sarcasm.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s a good thing.”
The pink nightgown was sheer and through it, Marcus could see the outline of Winnie’s white panties. He was afraid to go near his bed, but there wasn’t anywhere else to sit, aside from the chair where his soggy shirt lay in a puddle. “Do you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
“I came to apologize.”
“Did you?”
She lowered herself onto the bed next to him, and Marcus glared at the floor, allowing only the side of Winnie’s foot in his view. “I acted badly. I said mean things.”
“Yeah, and there was a lot you didn’t say.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t said shit to me in over a week, Winnie. You cut me out.”
“I’m sorry-”
“You can’t treat people like that. You’ve been horrible to your mother.”
“She was horrible to us.”
“She wasn’t horrible,” Marcus said. “She just kept a part of her past private.”
“An important part.”
“Fine, an important part. There’s no law saying that parents have to explain themselves to their children, Winnie.” He raised his head and looked at the brown smudge on the door where his shoe had hit. “My mother hasn’t explained herself. I don’t know why she killed those people and I probably never will. Everyone has their secrets.”
“I don’t,” Winnie said.
“Well, I do,” Marcus said. “I have a big secret that nobody knows about, but if I told you, you’d probably be mad at me for keeping it, even though it’s mine to keep.”
“I won’t be mad at you,” Winnie said. “What is it?”
“Why should I tell you?” he said. The nightgown left her shoulders bare-bare shoulders, bare arms, bare legs to midthigh. And her neck. For ten days there had been no Winnie, and now there was all this. “When you and I first became friends, I thought I wanted to be a part of this family. Now I don’t want to. You know the other night, when I went into town? It was to call my pop and tell him I wanted to come home early. Do you know how bad things must be for me to want to go back to Queens?”
Winnie touched his leg, and Marcus jumped up. This was a terrible room for confrontation because there was practically nothing in it. He crossed the room in three steps and sat on top of the wobbly dresser. His shirt was dripping, making a puddle on the floor under the chair.
“Please don’t go home,” Winnie said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“What about the last ten days? What about not one kind word in ten days?”
“I was confused. And angry. And I thought you were angry at me. And Garrett-”
“Don’t even mention his name,” Marcus said, rocking the dresser back and forth. “I should have beat him blind when I had the chance.”
“Garrett and I have to confront my mother,” Winnie said. “We have to get this out in the open.”
“I told you that before.”
“I wasn’t ready before. I had a lot to think about.”
“Whatever,” he said.
“I’m sorry I slammed the door in your face,” she said.
“I’m used to people treating me that way,” he said. “I’m used to being shunned. That’s all I get at home. But here everything was different. Everything was better.”
“I was feeling better, too,” Winnie said. “Until.”
“Until.”
“My mother,” Winnie said.
“Your mother? What about my mother?” Marcus said. “Can’t you tell the difference between a misdemeanor and a felony?”
“No,” said Winnie. She rubbed her arms as if she were cold. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t sit on the beach with you. That was mean.”
“I managed.”
“You looked good swimming.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you miss me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I had other things to worry about.”
“I want you to forgive me.”
“What do you care if I forgive you or not?”
“I came here tonight because I want you to know how I feel.” She stood up and held her arms out like she was handing him something very heavy. “I feel like I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you, Marcus.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Marcus noticed the thunder was growing fainter, and so Winnie’s words seemed very loud to Marcus, so loud he felt the entire world could hear. His throat ached in the same place where Garrett had kicked him, and he realized he might cry.