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I drift in and out of sleep, never truly losing consciousness for more than a half hour at a time. Jonah holds me all night long.
• • •
First thing Sunday morning, I decide to start the drive back home just after lunch.
“I’ll be back for Thanksgiving,” I say as I towel-dry my hair in front of the mirror in Jonah’s room. “If anything happens before then, I can get back PDQ. ”
He nods, but says nothing. We dress in near silence; I slip on my jeans as Jonah buttons his shirt, both of us aware of each other yet never meeting each other’s eyes. The weight of unasked questions fills the room.
Jonah wants to take care of me. He wants to understand me in a way no one else has. He’s knocking at the locked door nobody else ever even found. My famished heart hungers for this, for him. But I am still not ready to speak the words. I am not ready to tell Jonah who and what I really am.
Somehow it seems as if when I say the words to him, when I say, Anthony raped me, all of it—the rape, Anthony’s power over me, the true depths of my sexual compulsion—will become more real.
Which is ridiculous. It’s pretty fucking real and always has been. Still, that’s how I feel.
Jonah says, “Would you like me to drive back with you?”
“But you bought a plane ticket. ”
He gives me a look that reminds me his dad owned an airline. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you might need someone to change a flat. ”
That makes me smile for the first time this morning. “Okay. ”
I text Mom and Chloe my decision about leaving today before we head to the house to say good-bye. This saves me the angst of a face-to-face confrontation, but means they’ll have time to prepare their most withering put-downs before I even get there. The lesser of two evils, I figure.
Fortunately, when we arrive, the first family member out the door is Libby, her bright yellow overalls as sunny as her smile. “Aunt Vivi! Uncle Jonah!”
He gives me a look—but it’s not the panicked face most guys would make upon inheriting the title of uncle after just one meeting. Jonah’s not scared, not at all.
I think, I’m in so deep.
So I swing Libby up into my embrace. With a pang, I realize she’s already almost too heavy for this. I’m missing this little girl growing up. “Where were you this morning?” she asks. “I had to eat Cocoa Krispies all by myself. ”
“Yeah, but Jonah’s bed-and-breakfast had waffles. ” I smile at him, and finally, the two of us are once again at ease.
“Waffles?” Libby’s face falls. Obviously she feels she got cheated.
So I quickly add, “Next time Jonah’s in New Orleans, you and I will take him to get some beignets. How about that?”
“Ohhh-kay,” she sighs. I am being forgiven, but barely.
Which is better than I’m going to do with the rest of my family.
Inside, my mother accepts my introduction of Jonah politely, though without ever leaving her seat in the high-backed armchair. Her blue eyes scour him as roughly as steel wool. She’s never trusted my judgment about anything—least of all men. Geordie they liked well enough, but he was an exception to the rule of disapproval. “A professor, you say? Were you one of Vivienne’s teachers?”
How blithely she accuses Jonah of a massive ethics violation. Before I can reply, Libby does it for me. “MawMaw, I told you, Jonah teaches volcanoes!”
She raises her eyebrows. “I assumed that was a story. ”
“I’m an earth sciences professor. ” Jonah meets my mother’s eyes steadily, even searchingly, as if he’s looking for the truth I won’t tell him. “Vivienne and I have mutual friends. ”
Which is a pretty neat way to sidestep the question of how we started going out in the first place. I’m impressed. “Jonah flew down yesterday morning,” I add, “and he’ll drive back with me today, so I don’t have to go alone. ”
“Very kind. ” Mom sounds like she doesn’t believe her own words.
This is when Chloe makes her appearance, coming in from the kitchen in a sweater dress and, Jesus H. Christ, high heels. “Heading back already?” The way she smiles at Jonah makes me realize why my sister went to all the trouble to fix herself up this morning. No, she’s not actually flirting with him; whatever Chloe’s other flaws may be, she’s not a cheater. She’d never go after a guy behind Anthony’s back. But she still has this need for men to notice her as the most beautiful woman in the room.