82. The Right Thing

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

She’s wearing a coat and holding her arms across her chest as if she’s still cold. I’m blasting the heat as I drive down the snowy road.

“Did he … did he rape you?” I ask.

“No!” she says, louder, but she looks at me as though she’s furious with me. “I’m not some delicate little flower that you need to save, Chris.”

“Jocelyn, I didn’t—”

“If you want someone that’s pure and untouched, you best look somewhere else.”

I shove the brake and send both of us into the dashboard. The car stalls at the edge of the road.

“Why are you yelling at me?” I say, my own voice none too soft. “You called me, and it looked like I got there just before something bad happened, so don’t give me any attitude.”

Jocelyn closes her eyes, and a sob leaks out of her.

I hold her then while she cries, and tell her I’m sorry and that it’s going to be okay.

“We’re going to go back to my house. Okay? He’s never going to touch you again.”

“I’m just—”

“Don’t, Jocelyn. You don’t have to explain. You don’t have to say anything.”

“It’s just so …” She’s gasping for breaths between her cries. “I’m—I didn’t want you to see—to know—”

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The only thing that matters is that we get you to a safe place and then we notify the cops.”

“Chris—I—”

“Shhh.”

“I’m—I didn’t want to pull you into this, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing.”

I feel her haggard breathing against mine, and I know that I did the right thing too.

When we get home I’m going to tell my mother everything.

I need some help with all of this.