As I read on, Kate’s amazing self-awareness shows me how Drew could become so captivated by her.
9/18
I know some people will say I’m looking for a father figure, and my first instinct would be to say, “Bullshit. I already have a father. He just happens to be a prick.” But really, what if I am? What if one of the needs Drew fills for me is a protective presence who takes care of certain things? What’s wrong with that? Everyone needs some of that, and I was certainly shortchanged in that department growing up. If Drew is happy being that for me, and if he makes me happy by being that, where’s the fault in it? A lot of people would be happy to tell me, of course, but screw them. What do they know? Half of conventional married couples end up divorcing, so there. Is this relationship going to stunt my emotional growth or something? No. Most people who’ll criticize us probably stopped growing themselves years ago—emotionally and intellectually—especially in THIS TINY TOWN.
After two months of nightly rendezvous, Kate has developed into an accomplished lover, and her hunger seems to have no bounds. Yet just as in the past, she continues to measure herself against others.
11/5
Tonight I had eight orgasms in two hours. Two clitoral, six vaginal. Drew is amazing. Or maybe I am. Do other women respond like this? I hope so, for their sakes. But I know Ellen never did. And I know my girlfriends don’t. Except maybe Karen Carr.
11/17
Drew wants to test my testosterone level. He thinks a libido like mine has to be driven by something other than the normal hormonal flow. I think he must be right, with the crazy things I want. There’s still so much I haven’t shown him! Sometimes we get to a place where it hurts me, but instead of wanting it to stop, I want it to intensify. Once when I was on top, his hand was on my breastbone and it slipped up around my neck. I pressed it there with both hands to show him what I wanted. He squeezed for a little bit, but he didn’t really cut off my air. I wanted to tell him that Steve used to do that for me (at my request, of course) but I felt too weird to say it. Drew would probably understand, but I’m not sure. If I tell him how that gets me off, he might think I’m messed up somehow. Of all the things we’ve done, he’s never suggested anything that involved pain. I could tell him I read somewhere that some people like oxygen deprivation when they climax (he probably knows that already), and try to get to it that way. I could say Karen told me about it. I don’t know. Maybe I am sick or something. But if I want it, it must be natural, so what’s wrong with it?
All I can think about after reading that entry is the autopsy report. Cause of Death: Strangulation. Could it be that Kate wasn’t murdered at all? That she died during what was, for her, normal sexual activity? I’m still wondering this when the name I’ve been searching for leaps off the page as though written in letters of fire.
11/18
Tonight I met Cyrus face-to-face. Can’t talk about why, even here. He wasn’t at all what I expected. He looks young and old at the same time. His face is young but his eyes are old. He reminds me of Drew that way. Cruelty and kindness living in the same soul. I found myself wondering who would win if he and Drew had to fight to the death. Like that stupid Mel Gibson movie: “Two go in, one comes out!” And what would they fight over? Me, of course. A scary image. But it turns me on, too, in a weird way. Seriously turns me on.
12/15
Fuck, fuck, fuck! No letter from Harvard! Clearly I didn’t make the cut for early decision. After school, Mrs. Parrinder pulled me aside and told me Mia got into Brown. That’s probably true. I remember Brown had the same ED notification date as Harvard. That’s weird, too, because Mia’s so straight compared to me. You’d think I’d be going to Brown and she to Harvard. Of course she claims she didn’t even apply to Harvard, but I know that’s bullshit. She had the SATs, and who wouldn’t apply who had a chance of getting in?
12/18
Tonight Drew and I talked about maybe bringing someone else into our lovemaking. He says he’s never done that before, and I like the idea of making him experience something he never has. I’ve sure never done it. The only girls I know who have are sluts who pulled a train when they were drunk or something. Or Susie Drane, who let Chris and Chip both do her on the football field one night. Ugh! The obvious question: should the “third” be a guy or a girl? When Drew asked what I thought, I said “girl” to make it seem less threatening, but the truth is, I’d rather it be a guy. I’d love to see Drew do things to a guy, and vice versa. But I also want to know what it feels like to be completely full. When I finally admitted that, Drew didn’t seem threatened by it. But clearly there are problems with this kind of thing. Do you pick a friend you both know really well? Or a total stranger you know you’ll never see again? A stranger reduces the emotional risks but increases the medical ones. The easiest way to start would be Sarah Evans, of course, since I’ve already been with her. But when Drew asked if we could trust her to keep quiet, I realized I wasn’t sure. Sarah’s been kind of stalking me lately, and this would make that worse. Drew said maybe the best thing would be to try a couple, a guy and girl at the same time. That way we’d all have the same things at risk, and nobody would feel left out of the sexual stuff. I asked Drew if there was a woman he fantasized about having, or if he had a friend he could trust to try something like this. I was afraid he was going to say, “Mia Burke.” But he really surprised me. He said maybe Penn Cage, the writer. Drew trusts him, and Penn’s girlfriend (fiancée?) is like 33 and hot. Caitlin Masters is her name. I played tennis with her once at Duncan Park. She’s from Boston, and she dresses sort of risque sometimes, so maybe she’d be into something like this. It seems weird even to be writing about this, but if it’s something you desire, what are you supposed to do? Pretend it never popped into your head? Drew said we shouldn’t rush it, though, and I think he’s right. There’s time for all this.
While the shock of reading this passage settles over me, I see Cyrus’s name lower down the page.
12/23
Cyrus wants me. And he’s so fucking open about it! Far more open than Drew ever was. Maybe it’s a racial thing, just to be out with it like that. Or maybe he’s just used to getting whatever girl he wants. He kept pulling on his package while he talked to me, just like the black guys on MLK Street. Like I wasn’t seeing it or like he didn’t give a shit if I did. It’s such a double standard! What if those guys’ wives and girlfriends walked around rubbing their clitorises (clitorisae?) all the time? They’d flip out! All that practiced cool would evaporate in about two seconds. And somewhere behind that double standard is the belief that “It’s different for men.” That men need it more, think about it all the time etc.” IF ONLY THEY KNEW!
A month passes without major changes in Kate’s pattern. Then Cyrus reappears, like a supply ship that arrives once a month.
1/14
Cyrus is definitely getting to be a problem. Tonight he walked me into a corner and murmured stuff right in my ear. He asked if I had “something against niggers.” His word, not mine. I told him I didn’t, but that I was in love with someone else. He asked who. “Some gay-ass white boy?” he said. God, I wanted to tell him about Drew. That would have made him step back! He just stared at me like a wild man, like he blames me for driving him crazy. Then he touched my right breast—not too hard, just a tweak to my nipple. I was wearing a bra, thank God, because my headlights definitely came on, from fear, I’m sure. He could probably see them, but too bad. He’s making himself crazy. I just hope I don’t have to do this much longer. But it’s all in a good cause, right? At least I see it that way. The cops definitely wouldn’t.
This passage makes me think Kate was seeing Cyrus to buy drugs. I’m ecstatic to find evidence of Cyrus’s obsession with Kate; I only wish I could show selected portions of this journal to Shad Johnson. A dangerous game.
2/3
Tonight I told Drew that the best kisser I ever knew was a girl. Have to be honest, right? Nothing ever aroused me faster than Sarah Evans’s tongue in my m
outh. It anticipated every want before I even wanted it. Drew asked if she kissed me “down low” better than he does. Again, yes, but I think she had an unfair advantage! She knows the territory better than any man could. At least Drew doesn’t freak out like other guys about other sex I’ve had. (How can he though, he’s been with like 22 women—21 before he got married.) Of course I’ve never cheated on him. That would probably be different. In fact, I know it would. I never want to find out! I never want to see him truly angry!
As I read the last line again, I know I can never show this journal to Shad. Here is the smoking gun that the D.A. would give anything to be able to read aloud to a jury.
By mid-February, Kate is growing less obsessed with sex and more concerned with the future of her relationship with Drew.
2/19
I’ve always heard people say, “Youth is wasted on the young,” but I didn’t understand that until I’d been with Drew awhile. Now I look around and see people my age living from moment to moment, jumping from thing to thing without thought. On one hand it’s beautiful to be completely in the moment, but it’s also like being less alive, almost living like an animal, without past or future. Except people aren’t truly like animals, because they’re haunted by insecurity. Kids don’t realize how much freedom they have to screw up, over and over if they need to, because that’s the true gift of youth—time. The need to be accepted drives everyone to crazy extremes, even adults. But in my peers it’s almost a manic need. And girls are the WORST. It isn’t even acceptance that most of them want, but ATTENTION. My god, the things they’ll do to get it. Alter their voices, act out, give blowjobs to guys they barely know, “Look at me! Look at me! Notice me!” I talked to a couple of friends about it, but of course they think I don’t understand their problems. They all say I’m so beautiful and smart and assume I’ve never had to deal with self-doubt. A couple of years ago I was a pathetic wreck, I just hid it better than most. Guess I learned that from Mom. Thanx, Mom, if you ever read this.
2/24
Mom knows! Oh, my God. I don’t know how I’m going to tell Drew. I’m only writing because Drew didn’t get on the computer. Hurry up! He’s going to freak, but I have to let him know somehow that it’s all right. I can’t believe it. All that anxiety I’ve had about Mom finding out, and she’s known for TWO WEEKS. She’s played it so cool. She wouldn’t even tell me how she knows, but she acted like she’s seen us together or something. Maybe she followed me over there. Maybe she walked in on us here and didn’t tell me. It’s so weird. She said she knows I think I’m in love with him, but that’s only natural since I’m so young and he’s such a good guy in so many ways. She’s really concerned with Drew’s feelings, I think, and she wants to talk to him. Actually, now that I think about it, Drew will be glad it’s come to this. I mean, I think he will. I guess I should look at this as a test. If he panics and doesn’t want to talk to her, then he’s not serious about wanting to be with me. I’m just a diversion. God, that would kill me! But if that’s how he reacts, I’ve got to face it.
2/26
Every time I go to Cyrus’s I tell myself it’s the last time. But then I have to go again. It’s just taking so LONG. Longer than Drew’s worst estimate. Sometimes I feel stupid for waiting, but that’s par for the course, I guess. I should talk to some other mistresses about this. I’m sure we’re a silent sisterhood, suffering alone, yet all dealing with the same issues. I feel your pain, girls!
3/4
Mom and Drew talked tonight! He actually came over to our house at 10:30, and the two of them talked in the kitchen for like two hours. I went over to Lessley’s before he got there, because Mom wanted to see him alone. She called me home at one a.m. She had tears in her eyes when I walked in, but I think she was happy. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, “I don’t know why I’m crying.” And I said, “What happened? Tell me!” She just hugged me and said, “He really loves you, honey. He loves you in a way no one ever loved me. You’re very lucky in that. You’re just unlucky in the circumstances.” She said a lot more, but I can’t sit still to write it! I’m going over to Drew’s in twenty minutes. Oh My God. I can’t wait for him to talk to Dad! He’s one person the great David Townsend sure won’t intimidate. I think Mom wants to see that encounter too. It makes me realize how Daddy has used his education and his gender to intimidate us. I want to see what he’s like when that advantage is neutralized by superior strength and intelligence. Hell, yeah!
3/14
Mom’s been worrying lately. She trusts Drew. She even worries for him. Her main worry is Timmy, I think. She doesn’t know whether Drew’s love for me is strong enough to make him leave Tim. I understand Drew’s conflict, though the irony is devastating. Because one of the things I love about him is that he’s NOT like my dad. Yes, he could divorce Ellen, but he could never abandon Tim. He’ll always be the father he needs to be, and that’s just something I’m going to have to deal with. I mean, I love Timmy too, even though he isn’t mine. And Drew and I can have our own after a while, anyway. It’s going to be all right. I know it is.
3/19
Got my acceptance letter! YEAH! Now I get to drop the “H-bomb” like all the other Ivy League brats. And now I’m second-guessing myself, of course. Before I got in, I thought I wasn’t good enough for Harvard. Now it’s like…maybe it’s too cliché for me. It’s like Woody Allen said, “I’d never want to join a club that would take me as a member.” Plus, I saw the same juvenile shit in Cambridge that I did when I visited Ole Miss. Stop overanalyzing! You got what you wanted. Live with it!
Then Kate’s final entry:
3/31
Five days now. Never been this late before. Drew told me to get a test at the pharmacy, but I’ve been too nervous. I don’t want to know yet. There’s so much stress already, I don’t want to add my being pregnant to it. Drew doesn’t need that. Neither does Mom. Neither do I. But I keep thinking about that senior party at the lake, when I got so drunk. I know I missed my pill that day, and maybe even the day after. Shit, what if I am? I always thought I’d get an abortion, but now that it’s real, that’s not such an easy call. I mean, what if I had the baby? Drew already told me that it’s my decision, he won’t pressure me either way, and I know he means it. In some way it would be such a relief. My future would be decided, at least in that way.
Drew’s been talking to a med school friend about practicing medicine in Boston. He said he already took the boards or whatever. He was saving that as a surprise, but I think he wanted to ease my worry about the future. He definitely loves me. He’s shown me so many times, in so many ways. If a baby comes, so be it. That child would be the two of us alive in the world as one, and how can that be bad?
With that the journal ends.
Less than twenty-four hours later, Kate Townsend was dead.
I close the book and drop it onto the floor beside my bed. I’m too tired to try to analyze what I’ve just read. I switch off the ringer on my phone, turn off my reading lamp, and roll onto my stomach. As sleep slowly takes me, one aspect of the journal remains at the forefront of my thoughts: Kate’s voracious sexuality. Seventeen years old, and already she was considering the risks and rewards of a ménage à trois with a stranger. More disturbing still, in light of the way she died, was Kate’s desire to be choked during sex. This opens up so many possibilities that I must wait until I’ve rested to consider them. But one thought refuses to leave me alone: it now seems less impossible than it did yesterday that Kate Townsend could have died at Drew’s hands.
Chapter
16
Annie leans over the front seat of my car, kisses me, then climbs out and runs into the St. Stephen’s middle school. From habit, I wait until she disappears from my sight before driving on. It’s a primitive instinct, like the one that made Annie keep a hand in contact with me for over a year after her mother died, even while she slept.
As the line of cars moves slowly past the high school, Holden Smith steps from beneath the o
verhang and motions for me to pull over. When I do, he comes to the window with a big smile and tells me he’s scheduled an emergency board meeting to deal with the aftermath of our two student deaths. Yesterday he practically demanded my resignation along with Drew’s; today—with the Examiner offering up Cyrus White as a possible suspect—he’s saying the board was hasty in suggesting I resign. Holden sounds positive that Chris Vogel drowned because of Ecstasy or LSD. And while no one has fingered Marko Bakic as the source of those drugs, Holden seems quite prepared to expel our troublesome exchange student without any proof. I reiterate my intention to resign, but I also agree to appear at the meeting, primarily in order to gather the most information possible about the events surrounding Chris Vogel’s death. I feel Holden’s relief as he pumps my hand in farewell.
“Chickenshit,” I mutter as he walks away.