Chapter 1 – Tue. Dec. 6
“Law and morality?” Dad rumbled, “That’s a pretty heavy assignment for a sophomore English class.” He gave Jessie his full attention. What we did and thought was important to him. “What’s your topic, Bug?”
“Abortion,” Jessie chirped. She delighted in pushing the edge. “And it’s for Social Studies.”
“Current Issues,” I corrected her.
“Excellent, that’s a great subject, and I’m sure you’ll do a first-rate job on it.” He wasn’t being sarcastic, but his broad shoulders sagged a little. He tried to hide it, absently pulling on his graying beard. “I’d like to hear all about it... but after dinner, okay?”
We said grace, and I served Jess her venison pasty across the kitchen table. Dad tried to take a bite, but his hand trembled and it fell off his fork. He sighed.
We ate a lot of venison. Deer hunting was sad and messy, but it saved a lot on groceries. Dad used to shoot clean, but after he quit drinking his hands were unsteady and he often made a mess of it. But he’d trained me well, so my kills were always quick. And he was so proud. I took our limits, the freezers were full, and the ordeal was over until next season.
“So, Son, I’m afraid to ask,” he said between mouthfuls, “What’s your paper going to be about?”
“Incest.”
Dad’s fork clattered onto Corelle.
This was my chance; I’d run through the next moments all day. I glanced at Jessie’s face to gauge her reaction, but I couldn’t read her eyes anymore. I thought she was unsettled, but not suspicious. I decided my secret was still safe. She was just surprised to have her topic trumped.
After a few long seconds, Dad swallowed the mouthful and groaned, “Why are my twins conspiring to give me a heart attack?”
It was an old joke, of course. Jessie’s skin was hot chocolate; mine was skim milk. Both of us had fine bones and straight hair, but head to head we looked like piano keys. Her nose was soft, mine was pointy. Her long neck made her look graceful; mine just made me look awkward. And those eyes! The lids were oriental, with irises brown as coffee beans and pupils so wide and deep... sometimes it was like I’d fall into them.
We really were twins, though. I was born on December thirteenth, up in Escanaba at six in the morning. Jessie was born down in Detroit, just five minutes later but over four hundred miles south. That’s why Jessie had always been my little sister, even when she was taller than me for a while.
Dad turned to me. This was a dangerous moment. He had a poker face of stone, and very little got by him. The best I could do is watch his gray eyes and guess what information he was trying to gather. He finished chewing another mouthful and then took a long drink, studying me intensely.
“Interesting, Son. What drew you to that subject?”
Good question. Why wasn’t it enough that I adored Jessie as her brother?
“Amanda Yirzbik.”
Dad closed his eyes just longer than a blink. I’d guessed right about Amanda. I was relieved because he’d focus on that, not on me.
Sis leaned over her plate. “You mean that creepy girl with the long hair? She never talks to anyone.”
“Yeah, that’s her. She goes to Bethany, but she’s only there every second Sunday.”
“You’re right,” Jess said, “I didn’t see her at the service.”
“I talked with her last week. She sees her dad the other weekends.”
“It doesn’t sound like she’s very sociable, Son. What prompted the conversation?”
“When she isn’t at church, the next day she looks sick.”
“Yeah, it’s true. Janna told me Amanda threw up all over the girl’s room yesterday. But what does Amanda have to do with...?” Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “Whoa. You don’t think...?”
“I don’t know. She has two older step-brothers at her dad’s.”
“Cory! Dad? Should we do something?”
“Yesterday after school I told Mr. Harding my suspicions.”
“Involving the Principal’s a pretty serious thing to do, Son. Do you think you should’ve talked to me first?”
“Trust my gut. That’s what you always tell me.” Dad nodded.
“I really hope you’re wrong.”
“So do I, Sis.”
“Any idea how it turned out, Son?”
“Just that she’s gone. There was no padlock on her locker today, and it’s cleaned out. I hope she’s okay. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”
He hesitated, assessing how much to reveal. A former deputy sheriff, and now a nine-one-one dispatcher, Dad had a lot of contacts.
“Yeah, she’s okay. I’m afraid you called it, Son. The Sheriff picked up Danny Yirzbik and his boys last night.”
My dinner squirmed.
“The boys rolled right over. Apparently, it was going on for years. They were victims before they were perps.”
“Daddy, do you mean that their father...? He… That’s crazy – he... eew! Eew!! Dad! Why would anyone do that?”
“That’s just the way it is sometimes, Bug.”
“It’s not just about sex, Sis; it’s about power over someone. Isn’t that right, Dad?” He nodded. “Incest almost always involves violence, coercion, or other kinds of abuse. The worst part’s that guys who do it’ll mess with your brain and make you think you deserve it.”
“That really happens?”
Dad nodded again. “It’s a problem up here. Nobody wants to talk about it, of course.”
“It wasn’t on the news.”
“They’re being held on drug charges. The Mayor wants to keep it quiet, but the prosecutor is hoping for some attention. Probably having his good suit pressed. The arraignment isn’t until Thursday.”
Jessie glanced at me and looked away. She looked uncomfortable.
Dad changed the subject.
“How did your chemistry test go yesterday, Bug?”
I ate my dinner, watching them interact. I knew he longed for the closer connection they used to share, but Jessie had become guarded and withdrawn. At least she wasn’t violent or as volatile as she had been for a while, back when her love for me had turned bitter. She answered his questions and picked at her peas.
After a while she said, “May I be excused, Daddy? I’m not hungry now.”
“Go ahead, we’ll clean up. And both of you...” Jessie turned. “Like a lot of stuff we say at this table, any gossip about Amanda stays right here.” We both nodded.
“Wow, Dad. Those boys are going to need therapy.”
“Doesn’t sound like they’ll get it. The prosecutor wants convictions. If they go to Marquette they’re going to need protection. They’re just eighteen and nineteen.”
And this was exactly why no one could know my secret. Scandal. Separation. Prison. But the worst was what it would do to Dad and Jess. I couldn’t let that happen.
“No winners, huh?”
“Nope, no winners, Son, but one survivor. You observed, analyzed, and acted appropriately. I’m proud of you. Maybe you should consider law enforcement.” He’d loved being in the Military Police and then working for the county, and this wasn’t the first time he’d suggested it.
“We don’t know it was me, Dad...”
“An anonymous tip from a classmate – what are the odds?”
“Crap. I really didn’t want to be right.”
“But you were. You saved that girl, and maybe others, too.”
It should’ve made me feel better that I’d helped her, but it didn’t. I knew that I wasn’t much different from those three creeps in jail. I was morally deformed and going to hell with them.
“Dad, Mr. Yirzbik is evil, isn’t he?”
“We all have good and wickedness in us. What he did was evil. You start using other people as objects; debasing their humanity… those are thoughts and actions that ultimately make things like slavery and genocide possible. Why do you think you picked up on it?”
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“What do you mean?”
“It’s a big leap from someone looks sick to child abuse.” His eyes were watching mine. “Why do you think you made the connection?”
“Um, I guess that I study people, like you’ve taught me. I look for patterns. I wonder why people behave like they do.”
“Nothing else?”
I felt his eyes searching me with their mind-reader gaze. I had to answer, but he’d catch me if I lied.
“There was something about the way she looked at me. Like when I first saw Jessie and knew…”
“Galahad finds a damsel in distress?”
“I wasn’t thinking of her as girlfriend material, if that’s what you mean.”
“Hmmm.” He looked back to his plate and stabbed the last bit of pastry crust. He chewed slowly, a pondering crease in his forehead. “But you have someone else in mind?”
“Right now it’s just a spectator sport,” I said carefully.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
Damn, that was close.
He added sternly, “You aren’t going to use that as your topic.”
“It’s okay, Dad, Mr. Palmer approved it.”
“Let’s get the dishes, and I’ll explain the consequences to you. Then you can decide.”
Later, at my desk, I wrote about marriage laws. It fit the assignment and I knew a fair bit about it.
In most states you could get married at eighteen, sixteen with parental consent, and even younger with a judge’s order. Some allowed first cousins to marry, but that was still a felony in other states. I did a couple paragraphs on bigamy, and added how infidelity was still illegal in many places but was seldom enforced. My original topic would have been easier – I’d already spent a couple years studying that subject.
Sis was talking on her phone. Her door was closed but I could hear her through the heat vent we shared. I looked out my door at the old picture in the hall. The two of us smiling at each other on the couch.
When she finished her call, she walked into my room and sat on the edge of my bed.
“What’re you working on?”
“Current Issues.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a bit. “Do you ever think about that?”
“About what?”
“Us. Sex.” Blunt as always. A cold chill of terror raced through my blood. I should never have risked using that as a topic.
“You mean like Amanda? No way! I’d never do anything like that to you. I’d never hurt you.”
Her cheeks glowed a rusty tint. “No, I mean, we used to be so close. Physically. When we were kids.” My palms were suddenly sweaty.
“Sure, but like you said, we were just kids; it could never be like that now. And that has nothing to do with Amanda.”
“Yeah, I get that. But, I guess, do you think of me, as a girl, ever?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, just trying to buy time. I think my voice squeaked a little.
“I mean, what if you... had those urges? What would you do?”
Whoa! Did she expect me to detail my fantasies about...?
“You know, would you tell me?”
“How do I know? What would you do if you had an urge to kill me in my sleep?”
“Why would I do that?”
“My point exactly. If I do a paper on sibling murders, would it mean I wanted to kill you?”
Her strong, small shoulders eased under her sweater. “Oh, okay, duh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply...”
“Look, Sissy, you’re gorgeous, smart, and I adore you. But you’re my little sister. And as Dad says, it’s not always about you.”
We both heard that phrase regularly.
“Do you think it’s a sin?” she asked.
“To kill your brother in his sleep? Yes, it’s definitely a sin, and I’m totally against the whole concept.”
“No, like, what if two people felt an attraction, even though they were related. Do you think it’s ever okay?” I was really glad to hear her talking about other people instead of me. At least we were speaking hypothetically.
“I’m not the right person to ask about sin. But if somebody felt that way, I think they’d need some serious psychiatric help.”
I could sure use some help. Hey, maybe that was something to think about – not the school counselor, but a professional, one with legal privacy privileges. Wait, those don’t apply if you’re only fifteen. Also, probably not if they decide you’re deranged, or any kind of threat. The ray of hope quickly dimmed. But what about a confessional? Her movement interrupted my train of thought.
She got a tissue from my bedside table and blew her nose a couple times. As soon as we started using the furnace in the fall, the air in the house would dry out. It made your nose itchy, and everything had static electricity.
“Anyway, Dad convinced me to change my topic. Have you started your paper?”
“Not really. I have to talk to Dad about it, too.” She rolled her eyes.