With Malice (19 page)

I joined her on the mat and dropped my crutches to the side. I took a long drink, and as soon as I finished, Anna topped it up with more rum.

“I'm going to miss you,” I said. My friendship with her was completely different than what I'd had with Simone. That had been built on years spent together, endless sleepovers and shared experiences. Things between Anna and me were more intense. We'd seen each other at our worst, and instead of hating that anyone had seen me that way, it made me like her more. I wondered if this was what soldiers who survived combat felt like.

Anna tapped her can with mine. “I'm going to miss you, too.” She looked over at me. “I wasn't sure about you at first, but you're pretty tough for a pretty, rich girl.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly certain I was about to start crying. “You're pretty tough too,” I managed to squeeze out past the huge lump in my throat.

Anna rolled her eyes. “Don't go getting all overemotional on me. Besides, I'm supposed to be tough. You're the soft, squishy one with all the feelings.” She dragged out the word
feelings
so it sounded almost dirty.

“We're totally going to keep in touch,” I said.

Anna smiled but didn't say anything.

I sensed that Anna didn't think we would. We were too different. All we had in common was rehab.

“I'm going to call if I ever figure out the whole troll thing,” she said. “I'm still working on it.”

I sighed. I'd half forgotten she'd offered to try to track it down. “Don't bother,” I told her. “It doesn't matter.”

She turned to face me. “You're not giving up, are you?”

I shrugged. “No, but as much as I wish there was someone to blame for all of this, there isn't. I've seen the pictures. My lawyer brought me the accident report. I was driving the car. What I don't know is why the accident happened, but I'm sure someone who used to bug me by calling me a feminazi didn't cause it.”

We sat silently drinking. “It will all work out,” Anna said after a beat. “They don't have any proof. The only reason the cops are still causing trouble is because it makes for a good story.”

I hoped she was right. “I don't think I'll make it if I have to go to jail,” I said softly. I hadn't admitted this to anyone else. My parents were too busy perfecting their state of denial, and Evan and I didn't exactly have the kind of relationship that encouraged sharing my innermost thoughts.

“It's not going to come to that,” Anna insisted. “Worst-case scenario, you get some kind of minor charge and aren't allowed to go back to Italy.”

I noticed Anna hadn't argued that I'd be fine if I ended up having to do time. I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but the idea that I might never be allowed to go to Italy hit me like a pang. What made it worse was that I couldn't even remember going the first time.

“I can't stand how long all of this takes,” I said. “Evan said that it's possible this whole process could drag on for a couple of years.”

Anna tipped back the can and drank. “Wheels of justice suck.”

We sat in silence in the dim light. I could only imagine how much Evan was costing my parents. I hoped my dad wasn't making my mom split the cost evenly. She couldn't afford it. I'd tried to bring it up with her, but she'd changed the subject. Were they spending the money that had been earmarked for college? Was I going to have to give up on Yale and go to State instead? I felt sorry for myself having to give up my Ivy League dreams and then remembered there was a chance I'd be doing college online from an Italian jail. The light in the room changed as cars drove past, their headlights sliding across the walls.

“Is it weird if I don't want to leave?” I asked eventually. “I thought there would be nothing I wanted more than to get out of here, but now that it's actually happening, I'm not so sure. It's not like I even actually get to go home. Until the reporters find someone else to hound, we have to stay in this stupid rental.” I rubbed my eyes. “I know I don't really have a reason to complain. I'm lucky we have anywhere to go, but I still can't act like I don't care.”

Anna shrugged. “I don't want to leave in a few weeks either.”

I looked up surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She poked me in the side. “Don't get me wrong, it's not the food, but I get it here, you know. I understand how things work. I know the hot water never really gets hot, and I know the tuna casserole is actually pretty good despite the fact it looks like cat vomit. I know where things are, and I know exactly what's expected of me. Where I'm supposed to be and when. I know how people are going to react.”

I nodded.

“I fit in,” Anna said. “Nothing weird about a wheelchair in here. Hell, I'm functional compared to at least half the people on our ward, but out there, it's going to be different. There's going to be all this pity. I'm going to be the crippled kid.” Anna chewed on her thumbnail. “I hate when people feel sorry for me. The thing is, no one here feels sorry for you. You're not special because there's been this horrible accident.”

“People here don't think it's weird I don't remember anything. I can tell everyone on the outside thinks I'm lying. Covering up. The kids at my school think I did it,” I said. “I looked online. There are all these comments about how they always thought I was weird.”

Anna laughed. “You are a bit odd.”

I shoved her shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“They're only saying that stuff because they want to feel like they're in the know and that someone gives a shit about their opinion. Drama is like honey—it draws all the flies,” Anna said spouting off another Lopez family nugget of wisdom.

“They're twisting everything, though. One girl said I laughed during a presentation on the Holocaust. Simone had whispered something to me about this guy in our class, and that was what I was laughing about. I got in trouble for talking to my friend. It wasn't like I was yukking it up over the death camps or something.” I shook my head. “Then the person who wrote the article referenced one of my old blogs where I supported the idea of a Palestinian state and decided that, along with my laughing during that lecture, it means I hate Jewish people. Which is absurd,” I pointed out. “My friend Tara is Jewish, assuming she still is my friend, since I'm not allowed to talk to her.”

Anna shrugged. “I don't even have a clue what a Palestinian state is, other than I'm pretty sure it's not part of the fifty we've got, but if it makes you feel better, I'm positive you don't hate anyone.”

I flopped back on the mat. “It sucks.”

Anna flopped next to me. “Yep. But you know what the people here would tell you.”

“Everyone has some suck in their life,” I said, quoting Sam.

Anna giggled. “Is it just me, or does it seem weird coming from him? He's the perkiest person I ever met.”

I started laughing too. Sam telling you to toughen up was a bit like a toddler telling you to quit your fucking whining. I took another sip. “Tell me it's going to be okay.”

Anna tapped my can again. “I've got no idea if it will be okay, but I know
you're
going to be okay.”

POLICE STATEMENT FROM HELEN CHARRON, JILL'S MOTHER

Transcript to be provided to Italian police

Jill called me to tell me her plans from a café in Florence, some place that was in the main square, I can't remember its name. She called to describe the hot chocolate—she said it's like liquid molten pudding. She and I are both chocoholics, so she couldn't wait to tell me all about it, but I think the truth was that she missed me and wanted to share what she was experiencing.

Jill and I are
very
close. We have the kind of mother-daughter relationship that I dreamed of having as soon as I heard I was having a daughter. Once her dad left, we became even closer—just us girls. I never spoke badly about her father in front of her, but she's a smart girl. It wasn't difficult to see that her father pretty much abandoned both of us. I tried to tell him that if he wanted to play house with someone almost half his age, that was one thing, but it didn't make it okay for him to walk away from his daughter, too.

It was in that call that Jill mentioned that she was considering going to college overseas, but I never took it as a serious plan, more that she was simply in love with the entire experience of her trip. With Italy in general. Jill had gotten into Yale. She wasn't going to give up that opportunity to run away to Europe! She was caught up in the moment. Who doesn't think about what it would be like to move to wherever you are when you're on vacation?

Jill's always been a planner. Even as a little girl, she was always serious and mature for her age. If you don't believe me, you should talk to her teachers. They were so impressed with her schoolwork, but also how she behaved. The idea that she was going to throw away her future over some boy that she'd known for a few weeks is absurd. Yes, she liked the idea of living in Italy—who wouldn't? Jill was made for Europe; she's always been fascinated by art and history. She talked about how great it would be to go to school there and learn another language, but it was just talk. Jill's been looking forward to Yale for years. My dad, her grandfather, went there, and so did her dad. She has a sweatshirt with the bulldog mascot on it that she wore almost every day after she did a school visit a year ago. All the talk that she was moving to Italy to chase after this boy is ridiculous. If there is anything that Jill knows after seeing my marriage, it's that she needs to make sure she is always able to take care of herself. I dropped out of college to marry her father, and look at how well that worked out.

Jill is a very smart young woman. Yes, she was enjoying her trip and daydreaming about how she could stay, but that's all it was, a daydream.

POLICE STATEMENT FROM LYDIA CHARRON, JILL'S STEPMOTHER

Transcript to be provided to Italian police

I didn't speak to Jill about this half-baked plan to move to Italy, but she talked to her dad, and he and I discussed it. Jill called to tell him that she'd gotten the idea in her head that she wanted to go to college there. This after something like two weeks in the country. She didn't even speak Italian, for crying out loud. There's some international school in Perugia, especially set up for foreigners. She'd already looked up the application requirements, costs, you name it. She was raring to go.

Her dad was sick over the whole thing. He wasn't happy that she was thinking that, after all the planning and investment, she could change her mind on a whim. We didn't know about Nico, but we both suspected something had happened over there to get her so gung ho. She's a quiet girl, never really dated, so I'm not surprised that when she finally did meet up with someone, she confused any kind of attention with love. The girl was desperate for a relationship.

Jill had no real plan on how she would pay for all of this. The tuition, apartment rental, language lessons, travel back and forth to the U.S. Jill seemed to think that it was her dad's responsibility to give her everything she wanted. She'd applied to a bunch of Ivy League schools, and she knew her mom wasn't going to pay for that, but she made it seem as if her dad owed her this.

Yes, of course she's his daughter, he should help pay for her college, but she was convinced that it had to be the best, most expensive school out there. Did she give any thought to the fact that her dad was already paying her mom child support and then still having to cover our mortgage, and that our two boys would need to go to college at some point too? No. It was all about Jill and what she wanted. She wanted Ivy League—fine, Keith agreed to pay for Yale, but Italy? That wasn't going to happen.

I don't mean to sound harsh. I know it was difficult for Jill when her father and I got together. Her mother poisoned her against me before we even met. I never stood a chance. Making it out like I was some kind of homewrecker. The truth is if their marriage had been fine, then nothing would have happened between the two of us. They weren't divorced, but their marriage had been over for a long time by the time I was in the picture. Helen and Jill resent that Keith and I have built a life and family together. Jill is welcome to be a part of our family, but she's resisted, kicking and screaming, every time we've tried. I always hoped that she and I would eventually find a way where we could be, if not friends, at least friendly, but it's not up to me.

Justice for Simone
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