Never Said

  light the fireplace,

  and sit alone

  to eat.

  annie

  “Where’s Sarah?”

  Mom wants to know.

  I’m at the piano.

  Going through what we’ll play.

  Thinking about the change

  in Dad.

  Letting the music carry me.

  Playing.

  I’ve missed the piano. It’s

  taking me awhile to

  get used to the keys again.

  They are cool, foreign,

  under my fingers.

  Can’t believe it’s been almost a year

  since I played

  not including this last-minute practice.

  But it’s like being on a bike.

  I remember

  and love

  the feel of this.

  “Huh?”

  “Your sister?

  She’s not at the office.

  Not with Dad at the airport.”

  My heart flutters.

  Sarah’s missing?

  She wasn’t home for dinner.

  I close the piano then

  call her phone, but she doesn’t answer.

  There’s a just-like-that

  headache behind my eyes.

  I check her room

  panic trying to control me

  and see her in bed.

  sarah

  What are you doing in here?” Annie asks. From the tone of her voice I can’t tell if she’s mad or worried. “Why are you in bed?” She sits on the edge of my mattress.

  I roll over. “It’s Emma Jean and Dad, isn’t it?”

  “What?” Annie sounds confused.

  “They’re sleeping together, aren’t they?”

  It’s not a question, because by now I’m sure. I pull the covers over my head. Feel four years old.

  “Does Mom know?”

  In the darkness I peer out at Annie. For a moment, she looks like a ghost.

  “Is that why you hate men?” I’m still under the covers. I can smell dinner. Can hear my father talking to Mom. When did he get home? “You found out about them, didn’t you?”

  Annie throws back her head and laughs. Flicks on the light. Doubles over. Keeps laughing. Then when she’s wiping tears from her eyes, she kisses my forehead. “You are so cute. Dad would never do that. Let’s go practice.”

  Relief floods me, then a spark of anger.

  “What do you mean? I thought . . .”

  Annie grabs my hand in hers. “Dad is absolutely devoted to Mom,” she says. “He’s just been too busy with work. Remember our apology last night? I heard him talking to Mom, later. Telling her, essentially, what he told us. And Emma Jean? She can have her choice of men, and does. Nope. It’s not that.”

  “But,” I say. My face burns. I feel stupid to have made such a mistake. But thankful. Really thankful.

  “Look, Dad can be a real jerk, but he’s an honest jerk, unlike a lot of people at his company.”

  When we’re done running through our piece, Annie closes the piano and says, “What in the world made you think Dad was having an affair?”

  There’s laughter in her voice and I tap her with the violin bow.

  My face goes cold then hot. “You hate the office. Hate the parties.”

  Annie’s still on the piano bench. She fiddles with the Mozart book, running the pages through her fingers. Dad is gone now, off for drinks. Mom went with him.

  “Gone to relax,” he told us, “before the party tomorrow.”

  “Look, he’s been selfish. But right now I think he’s just worried about growing the business.” Annie straightens the music then flips off the light.

  “I’m trying to figure things out,” I say. I loosen the bow and put my violin in its case. It’s dark now. And I’m hungry. Starving. That ride home with David wore me out. My supposed discovery did too.

  “Emma Jean has a boyfriend who’s two decades younger than she is. She’s not interested in Dad.”

  “Are you sure?” I look my sister right in the eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why do you hate Mr. Freeman? And Dad’s office.”

  Annie looks at me. Her mouth becomes a slash in her face. She takes a breath and says, “Wanna go running?”

  saturday

  sarah

  Sarah.”

  In my dream, Annie’s voice, soft like the moon’s light, comes into my mind.

  “They found him,” I said.

  “Sarah.”

  “He wore a dress and used superglue to put on the beads.” Mozart plays in the background, sounding a lot like when Annie sings.

  “Sarah. Wake up!”

  “Annie?” I sit up. “You scared me. What time is it?”

  “Scoot over,” she says.

  I peer at the clock on my bedside table. It’s 1:44. “Why so early?” I move, heavy with being tired, to let Annie crawl in bed with me.

  “I’m ready to talk.”

  “Ready to talk about what?” And then I know.

  This isn’t Tommy stuff. It’s something else.

  She gets under the covers. She’s cold. Like she’s been outside cold.

  “I can’t sleep thinking about tonight. When everyone comes over, I mean.”

  “Why? Are you nervous?” I tuck the pillow behind my back.

  She shakes her head. She smells like an old penny. She has been outside. Her feet are freezing.

  “I had a bad dream,” she says into my hair. She leans against the headboard too. Rests on my shoulder. She’s shivering. “It was about him.”

  “Tommy Jones?”

  “The man.”

  “Mr. Freeman?” My heart has stopped working. I should pound my chest. Make my heart beat again.

  “No. He was just the first person I saw . . . after. I guess . . .” Annie’s quiet. Then, “I wanted to be mad at someone. He was my best option. My first option. After.”

  “After what?” My mouth is dry. “Tell me.”

  She’s quiet. I’m so awake I can hear the house moving in the cold. “What do you mean, the man?” I say. “A man? Not our neighbor?”

  She shakes her head. Nods. Says, “Yes. No. Another man. This is . . . it’s like . . . it’s my fault. Like I had something to do with it. Because I did, you know? Because of the way I looked. Because . . .” She takes a breath, chews the air. “Because I said I liked him. Loved him.”

  “Okay.” I wait, finish breathing. My heart slams in my head now, giving me an instant headache.

  “I want you to know this. It’s not Dad’s fault.”

  “Dad?”

  “He was always encouraging.”

  “Annie!”

  “Listen, Sarah. This is hard to talk about.”

  I close my mouth. Keep it tight.

  “At work. Daddy had me stay extra hours sometimes. And sometimes.” Annie stops talking. Takes my hand. “And David Carter was there.”

  “Okay.”

  “I had a crush on him and he said his wife didn’t love him and he kissed me and I let him. More than once. And then, then in the office after everyone was gone, he wouldn’t stop. And I was okay with it.”

  Annie’s voice has gone low. Soft. Pained.

  Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe this isn’t real. He took me home yesterday. He has that car seat. A wife. Children.

  “I thought I loved him. Tommy had already tried stuff at school. There were the notes. And I was sure, sure David cared. He said he did. I think he still does. He still says he’ll leave his wife.” Annie sucks in air. “And he was a real man. You know? Not a kid.”

  A part of me wants to tell Annie to shut up. To not tell me this.

  “He kissed me and touched me and said Lisa didn’t love him and he knew that I did and I could show him and he would be gentle.”

  I’m numb. There’s a bad taste in my mouth. Strong. Wicked.

  “Do you believe me?”

  I can hardly say the word. “Y
es.”

  “When I saw how far it was going to go, I told him no. But he touched me anyway. He pushed up on me and breathed down my neck. We were in Dad’s office on that sofa. The leather one. Then David’s hands went everywhere. Everywhere, Sarah. And then . . .”

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “He said he loved me. Said he wanted to be with me. And we did it. Had sex and I told him no, but he said it would be okay.”

  “Annie.” My voice was all air. “Oh, Annie.”

  There’s a pause that weighs as much as a boulder.

  “Can you believe I lied?”

  “How? How did you lie?” My words aren’t whole. I crawl out of bed, try to take a few more breaths.

  “By not staying a virgin. I was going to wait until marriage.” She’s crying then.

  I think of Annie loud and proud about waiting. How can words hurt my brain? This does. It hurts my brain and my heart and my stomach.

  “It happened a few times. I’d call him at home and he wouldn’t answer. And then when he saw me at work . . . he’d stay after hours and so would I.”

  “You were fifteen.”

  “Sarah? Are you okay?”

  “No,” I say. I go to the window and open it. “No, you were fifteen.”

  “And older.”

  I hesitate. “Is it over?”

  “Not really. He still asks me to see him. Tells me he’s doing me a favor being with me even though I’m fat.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No.”

  We’re both whispering.

  “When was the last time you were with him?”

  Annie rolls onto her back. “The end of last month. I decided I would never see him again. But he’s still texting me.”

  Outside, the night is still. The sky is clear with icy stars dotting the darkness. Like a blanket, the cold pushes in through the screen. Fresh air settles my stomach but does nothing for the rising panic.

  “Only you know,” Annie says. “I’m talking with a school counselor. Though I haven’t told her this. Not what happened. I haven’t told anyone but you, Sarah. I’m not ready yet.”

  I put my hands on the windowsill. Press my forehead on the screen. I breathe deep to keep the nauseated feeling away. The screen smells musty. David Carter. With the little babies and the chatting. The BMW and the wife. The ride home and the small talk.

  I go back to bed and crawl in beside Annie. “You have to tell,” I say. “You said no. That’s rape.”

  “I can’t. I said yes later.” Her voice is desperate. Frightened.

  “You have to tell someone.”

  Cold air blows into the room. Papers rustle on my desk. Annie cries next to me. There’s only the sound of her sobs. For several minutes she weeps, and I cry with her.

  “I’m ashamed,” Annie says after a while. “Like it was something I did. Like I took advantage of how I looked. Like I made it too easy. I let him care for me and I let me care for him.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I say. “Look. Look. I’ll tell Mom and Dad for you, okay?”

  Annie’s quiet. “I’m tired. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Annie says, “After the party, okay? I’ll do it after the party. I don’t want to ruin things for Dad.”

  “He’ll be here,” I say. “With Lisa.”

  “What’s one more day?” Annie says. “We let Dad have his moment.”

  I don’t answer.

  “Okay?”

  I nod. “You tell in twenty-four hours,” I say, “or I do.”

  annie

  The house is full

  and I wait

  wanting to see him

  and hating him at the same time.

  sarah

  I stayed in my room all day. I had to. I can’t eat. Can’t think. Can’t do anything. Annie’s revelation makes me want to call the police. But I’ve promised. Not until this is over.

  “Come on down with me,” Annie says about seven thirty. “We need to mingle. Do the piece. Then you want to go for a drive?”

  “Sure.”

  She’s wearing black, like Mom requested. My sister looks . . . beautiful. She smiles at me, and I see she’s scared.

  “I’m sorry, Annie. I’m sorry.” I clutch her close. We stand in my bedroom, together. Hugging. Maybe like when we were in the womb. “I’m sorry.” I’m sick with anger at myself. I should have known. Twins know things. I should have stopped this. Stayed at the office with her. Not been so afraid.

  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  We go downstairs holding hands.

  There are so many people that my anxiety rears its ugly head (cliché, but exactly what I’m feeling) and I can’t swallow.

  “It’s okay,” Annie says. She doesn’t turn loose of my hand. Holds on. Guides me to the dining room where two caterers keep the table filled with food.

  “Where’re Mom and Dad?” she asks.

  But I’m looking for David Carter.

  And then I see him. He’s watching us. Drinking a glass of wine. Watching Annie. His arm is around his pregnant wife.

  I can’t eat. Annie nibbles at a baby quiche. She socializes. Takes comments about her hair. Her piercings. Is she thinking of a tattoo? What are her goals?

  I don’t speak to anyone. Just sort of smile. I can’t think. Move like a robot, jerky. David watches us where we go. Wherever we stop. Has he always done this? Or does he want my sister now?

  Then Dad calls us in.

  “My gorgeous daughters,” he says. Dad grins. Mom hangs from his arm. I want to laugh that I thought he would have an affair.

  But the real truth, it’s worse.

  Far worse.

  “The halftime entertainment.”

  “Oh,” I hear Emma Jean say. She’s with a good-looking man in jeans and a sports coat. She’s dressed in a gown. “These two girls are talented. Love this part of the evening. Everything else is so pretentious.” I can see the diamond at her throat glitter. She nods at me. Smiles.

  Somehow I’m standing at the piano. I test the strings on my violin. My knees shake.

  Annie says, “We’re almost done here, Sarah. Then we go.”

  I nod.

  I hate this. Hate it!

  She plays the first few chords.

  I join her.

  Close my eyes.

  Think of the music.

  The sound.

  Rhythms.

  Get lost in the arrangement, the perfection of the notes together. The way I feel as I play and, no, I won’t think of anything. Not anything.

  It’s a longer piece. No one moves. Maybe they don’t breathe the whole time. Maybe I don’t either.

  Then. It’s over. Everyone claps. Dad hugs us, me first. I put away the violin. My hands shake hard now, like they waited until everything was over to come undone. Dad raises his champagne glass. Mom clinks her glass against his. Annie has moved to the edge of the living room.

  Then David Carter is there.

  Like a spirit.

  I see him walk toward my sister, get too close.

  His wife is talking to someone across the room from him.

  I watch him lean over Annie. See her shake her head.

  She looks at me.

  “Leave her alone,” I say. My voice is low. Flat. Crushed toward the carpet. This playing, this performance has taken everything out of me. I want to leave the house. Now.

  David says something to Annie, who looks away, her face stricken.

  “Leave her alone.”

  I don’t even close the violin case, but step toward Annie, push past a guest from out of state. Dad won’t like that, but I have to get to Annie.

  “Leave her alone,” I say again.

  “Oh, Sarah,” David says. And then. “A moment alone with your sister, please.”

  “Don’t speak to her. Don’t.”

  “It’s okay, Sarah,” Annie says. “I want to.” Her eyes are huge. She bites at her bottom lip. Her fac
e has lost all color.

  “No!” My voice comes out far louder than I mean it. “I know,” I say, “Daddy. Daddy!”

  “Shhh, Sarah,” David says. He’s in my face. There are too many people here. Too much breathing. Sweating. Talking. Eating.

  “Forget it, Annie. Never mind.” David turns. Walks across the room.

  “Sarah?” Annie says, and she’s shaking her head in slow motion. Whispering later. Later.

  “Dad!” I say.

  sunday

  sarah

  I’m not sure how, but the news goes through the neighborhood like wildfire.

  Someone drops off a basket of chocolates. Someone else a loaf of homemade bread. When I step out to get the paper, I find three cards in the mailbox. They’re all addressed to Annie, all hand delivered.

  Is it because the police showed up at the door? Because Dad nearly knocked out David’s teeth? Because David’s wife went screaming outside and drove off in that BMW?

  All night I dreamed awful things. Annie kept crying out and I couldn’t reach her.

  Each time I woke up, I saw in my mind her chopped-off hair. Her black room. All that extra weight. I cried myself to sleep, twice.

  This is how I want to be were like printed words in my head.

  Mom and Dad and Annie left early with the plan to be gone for the day. “To see a lawyer,” Dad said. “Then to the police station.”

  “Lock up,” Mom said, and Annie grabbed me in a hug, her face splotchy from all the crying, her eyes swollen.

  “Thank you,” she said. Her breath was warm on my face and I wanted to cry again. “When I saw him, I just wanted to be with him. You saved me.”

  “We’ll text you,” Dad said.

  All the air in the house leaves when my family drives away.

  I walk from the kitchen to the hall, up to my room, to the basement and the pool table and back to the kitchen. I’m watching Judge Judy on YouTube when the doorbell chimes. I jump. Who can it be? A part of me wants to hide but it’s noon, not midnight like it feels it should be, and this could be the police.

  Instead Garret stands at the door. “I heard,” he says.

  A breeze rushes in the house, making me think there could be an end to winter in a month or two.