“So what were you all talking about?” Jake asks, heaping salad onto his plate.
I guess he’s going to hear anyway. “My parents have been getting harassed,” I say. “Phone calls at home, making threats. And last night someone called the hospital—”
“Why would someone do that?” Jake asks.
“Anti-abortion terrorists,” I say. I refuse to call them pro-life because they’re not. If anyone is for life, it’s my parents and the nurses at the clinic, saving women’s lives every day. The person who’s threatening to kill us? Yeah, he’s not so much about life at all.
Jake raises his eyebrows. “Calling them terrorists is a bit extreme, isn’t it?”
“Um, threatening to kill people and leaving bombs in hospital restrooms is extreme.” I put down my fork. “Anyway, what’s the definition of a terrorist? Someone targeting innocent civilians and using terror to accomplish a political goal? Check.”
“Your parents aren’t exactly innocent though,” he says. “Not if they’re doing abortions.”
“Jake,” Diane says, a note of warning in her voice. “Let’s change the subject.”
Jake turns to her. “You can’t be okay with this, Mom. You can’t support this.”
She sighs. “Jake. Please. Just drop it. My personal views are beside the point. Franny is our guest and—”
“Because she’s lied to us,” he snaps. “We’ve been taking money from them, Mom. Her horse’s board has been paid for by them, with money they made killing babies. You don’t have a problem with that?”
“Shut up, Jake,” Leah says. “Just shut up. You don’t know anything about it. You’re just saying that because it’s how Dad used to think.”
I stand up, my heart beating so hard I think it might explode. Diane grabs my arm.
“Sit down, Franny. And Jake, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“But you—” he starts.
Diane cuts him off. “I may not agree with abortion, but I certainly don’t think Franny’s parents or anyone else should be in danger because of what they do.”
“But Mom, they—”
“Enough, Jake. That is enough.” Diane raises her voice. “Go to your room. Now.”
Jake doesn’t move. He just laughs. “I’m twenty-three, Mom. You can’t give me time-outs.”
“I’m leaving anyway,” I say. The room, their three faces—it’s all a blur through the tears in my eyes. Tears of anger. If I don’t leave, I’ll hit him. I’ve never in my life wanted to hit someone like I do right now.
Diane stands up to. She looks like she is about to cry. “Please excuse my son’s rudeness,” she says. “I am so, so sorry.”
Leah gets to her feet. “Oh, Franny… I’m coming with you.”
“No,” I say. “You’re not.”
I can’t get out of there fast enough. I run down the driveway, fumble with my keys, get into my car and floor it. I can barely see through my tears, and I know I shouldn’t be driving right now, but I don’t care.
I just want to be back in my own house.
A couple of hours after I get home, Mom calls up, “Franny? Leah’s here.”
I open my bedroom door and yell down the stairs, “Come on up.”
I can hear the low murmur of Mom and Leah talking and then Leah’s footsteps on the stairs. I flop back down on my bed and wait.
Leah slips into my room and closes the door behind her. “You haven’t told them? Your parents?”
“What, that your brother thinks they’re murderers? No, I didn’t think they really needed to hear that right now.” None of this is her fault, but I feel angry with her anyway. I wish she hadn’t come over.
“I don’t blame you for being upset,” she says carefully.
“Oh, that’s generous of you.”
She flinches. “Franny. I can’t help what my brother thinks, okay? I don’t agree with him. You know that. And I don’t know if he even agrees with the stuff he’s saying himself. He’s just mad because he doesn’t like me being with you, so he’s spouting the kind of stuff Dad used to say.”
I sit up. “The kind of stuff he’s saying is the kind of stuff that gets people like my parents killed.”
She shakes her head. “It’s just words. He’d never—”
“Just words? JUST WORDS?”
“Shhh,” she says. “Your parents will hear.”
“You don’t get it,” I tell her.
“I get it,” she says. “My brother is a jerk. I don’t blame you for being mad. But don’t take it out on me.” Her eyes shine with tears.
“There’s no such thing as just words,” I say. “Seriously. Saying that my parents murder babies? That kind of language is what makes people do crazy stuff.”
“Only if they’re already crazy.”
I snort. “There’s no shortage of crazy out there.”
“I know,” Leah says. She reaches out to me, runs her fingers over my eyebrows and cups my face in her hands. “It’s scary. But my mom was okay, right? She didn’t freak out.”
“No. Jake kind of took care of the freaking-out side of things.”
“I know. I’m really sorry.” She bites her bottom lip. “He’ll get over it.”
“I’m not so sure I will,” I say.
“You don’t have to.” Leah kisses my forehead, my nose, my lips. “As long as you still love me, even though my brother’s a pain in the you-know-what.” She hesitates, pulls back and studies my face. “You do, don’t you?”
I laugh. “I do. Even though you can’t even say butt.”
But after she leaves, Jake’s words still echo in my mind. Killing babies. Murdering babies.
I can’t stop thinking about it. Something feels…off, somehow. I replay the conversation at the Gibsons’ dinner table and realize what it is. Jake didn’t seem in the least surprised about my parents being abortion providers.
Maybe he’d overheard me telling Diane.
Or maybe he already knew.
Maybe that’s the real reason he’s been so cold to me. Maybe it isn’t just about me being involved with his sister.
And then I remember that low, muffled voice on the phone. Those same words. Baby killers.
What if it isn’t just a coincidence?